#nonchalant reader

Was it his best idea to stalk around outside your school the next day, waiting for the opportunity to catch you doing whatever and confront you? Well if you asked Damian he’d say yes, of course!

On the other hand, if you were a normal person you’d say no, what the hell compelled someone to do such a thing. 

It’s pretty obvious who.

─── ´ˎ˗

“Remember, if Isla clenches her fist it means she is probably about to hit you, and just be nice and polite and I’m sure Oli will like you too, okay?” You said, coaching Duke after school before your friends came out, making sure it didn’t do anything to warrant a punch to the nose. 

This did not encourage him anymore, Duke even just breathing around Isla made him a target, you told him that Oliver and you would make sure she didn’t hit him, so that was.. vaguely reassuring. 

Neither of you noticed the figure perched up on the nearby ledge of the entrance, listening to your every word with a worsening glare aimed at you both. ‘Thomas, that traitor..’ he thought to himself, hand clenched on the edge to prevent a fall.

Soon your two friends joined you and Duke, ‘one glaring at Duke like he owed them some kind of favor, and the other shaking in his boots like a coward’ is how Damian’s thought train basically went. 

“Hey, I’m Duke” he greeted with a hand out, the shyer one of the two shook his hand, responding in kind.

“I’m Oliver, it's nice to meet you properly- Isla, no!” He said, grabbing her clenched fist while looking at Duke with an apologetic smile, not missing the nervousness in his eyes. 

Isla shook him off, glaring at Duke through the narrow slits of her eyes, “I want it to be known-” she began, “- that I don’t like you, and I probably never will, just get that straight."

Duke gulped at the threat, which was funny because Isla chose to fully deck herself out in rainbow beaded bracelets and charm necklaces. Rattling around like an instrument, surely if she shook her fist you'd hear the little jingles from her handmade jewelry.

"Noted.." he said, voice tinged with uncertainty as he took a step back from the duo, closer to you, "Am I safe yet?"

Your face tensed as you considered it, "Uh, if we go out for food and you pay I think we'll be good."

'Ah, a bribery I see..' Duke thought, nodding as he touched his wallet through his right pocket, "I can do that!"

From above them Damian scrunched up his face, "tt.. coward" he whisper under his breath, watching your little group walk towards the bus stop— the bus of all methods of transportation, are you serious?

You four pushed your way onto the bus, squishing through the crowd to whatever free seats were available, to your dismay there was only two with an empty status, so Isla and Duke bit the bullet and sat on the ground.

She didn't mind, neither did he, what he did mind was the elbow being jabbed in his side. You and Oliver laughed as they pushed one each other back and forth, slowly Duke became more comfortable with pushing back after you and Oli encouraged them.

You cackled behind your hand, entire body shaking with laughter, it was after that single moment when your body angled itself against the window to keep still when you took view of a very, very familiar vehicle.

One of the many vehicles that came courtesy of Wayne Manor, you flipped back around to the others eyes wide with suspicion, hastily you whispered to them.

"Guys, don't panic but I think someone from the manor is following us.." Duke's brows raised immediately, perching on his knee to glance out of the window.

"That.. definitely looks like something a Wayne would drive" he said, observing the car that drove closely by the bus, "a certain one at that."

"You know who it is?" You questioned, leaning over his shoulder while simultaneously using his back as a shield, out of fear Oli had entirely hunched over in his seat clutching his head.

Duke hummed in thought before nodding, "Yesterday, Damian saw me when I got back to the manor, maybe he got suspicious?"

"Dammit, I always hated that one.." you snared, it was a lie actually, found him annoying— most definitely, but you never hated him. Yet.

Isla clambered over you three, looking out of the window, her earlier playfulness evaporating instantly. "If that's someone from your family I'm gonna burn down the manor, Damian you said?"

"Isla, I love you and what you're willingly to do for us, but tone it down, I like you outside of prison bars." You said, still watching out the side of the bus at the sleek car which likely cost more than your tuition.

Part of you already somewhat knew that if someone was in the car, then they probably spotted you and the others watching them. But that didn't mean you couldn't act oblivious.

You grabbed Duke and Oliver's shoulders, pulling them back with Isla slumping into the ground off their backs. "Okay, here's the plan—" everyone began to listen intently, "—we do nothing." Isla's protest began very quickly, you shushed her, pointed finger shushed against her lips, "LISTEN, I mean we act entirely normal, like annoyingly so, he's obviously spying for something to let's make it so he doesn't find it."

"You really just prefer to be petty, don't you?" Oliver said, giving you a not-so-disapproving look, small tilt of his lips meaning he was definitely going on with your little scheme.

"Is this normal?" Duke asked, looking at the evil grins you three gave each other, Isla turned to him with her finger pointed at his face, "If you go along with this, we'll be alright, and I will stop trying to hit you."

"Done." He said, no hesitation, you giggled to yourself, the thought of a hero— the signal— being wary of Isla, was hysterical.

Soon after the bus came to a stop, you four waited for the crowd to start moving before heading out with them. No, you weren't provoking Damian, he was the one choosing to subject himself to your antics without thinking clearly.

"Where's he?" Isla whispered as you four walked down the street, your steps out of sync, Oliver the slowest with hesitation.

Duke clicked his tongue, the best at seeming natural apart from yourself. "Knowing Damian, he's pretty good at being sneaky—" leaving out the part where it's because he was born and raised an assassin "—we just have to stick to the plan."

"The plan being hardly a plan at all" you corrected, "all we do is act all cool, like we usually are!" Isla chuckled under her breath, hand grabbing onto the side of your bag.

"Like we usually are?" Her tone was amused and partly sarcastic, playful as her steps fell into sync with your own.

"I'd say we're pretty cool, right Oli?" you turned part way to him, he nodded, still a bit tense but there's no reality where he'd back out.

"Hey, what about me?" Duke asked, walking up to you and Isla with his mouth down turned at the corners in a frown, borderline pouting.

You couldn't help but laughing, surprised you still had any laughter left after how much you'd been giggling that afternoon. "Yes yes, you're obviously included too now Duke, welcome to the group."

Isla pinched the skin of your arm with a frown, head faced away from Duke, frowning very clearly to you, you patted her shoulder and kept walking, Oliver catching up to you three as you started talking.

Your words were easing into the air, not forced, even Duke mixed in perfectly well with your banter despite this being the first time he was apart of your group.

─── ´ˎ˗

Meanwhile, Damian was feeling his patience ticking down like a bomb as he watched you four walk down into a greasy Batburger, taking up one of the booths beside the window and picking up the germy menus.

He winced at the look, watching you and your friends so happily peruse through the diseased filled pages, scowling as he continued to observe.

"What are they doing.." he snarled, soon you left the table after a short game of rock-paper-scissors, you being the one who loss.

From where he peered around into the window, Damian observed a few things, one of your friends looked like a scared wet-cat half the time, and the other— a random girl he'd seen around school, was much more bright and lively, reminding him of Stephanie. Duke seemed to banter with her despite acting like he was scared of her earlier, and it made him even more confused.

You came back to the table quickly, holding a long receipt that he couldn't read from the distance. "Spending fathers money on such.." he was unable to even think of a word for the gross food you were going to consume.

Sliding next to the girl, you started talking with the group, and it annoyed him— how much you were having fun. Laughing so hard your fist had to hit the table repeatedly, legs kicking into each other from below as you four bantered. Damian zeroed in on you specifically, he watched everyone the same, you weren't special.

But when he saw you well, you were always so.. 'chill' as Dick would've said, back when he first arrived at the manor and he threatened you, you quite literally just said "welcome" with a sword to your throat.

That's when Bruce stepped in and scolded him for doing so while you walked away to some part of the house, later he found out that you weren't that much more than but a footnote in the family tree. So he didn't bother with you.

Until you decided to lash out at everyone that night. It was the most emotion he'd seen out of you in all the time he'd known you, which was only a year or so, give or take.

Watching you laughing with your friends and Duke like a bunch of children— it was too foreign. That's when his pocket buzzed, quickly taking out his phone from it he looked at the alert from Tim, a simple 'ready for patrol tonight?'

He scoffed, it was insulting, he was always ready. And that's exactly what he sent before going back to his stalking, or rather recon of you and Duke with these strangers.

After ten minutes your group had gotten up and came back to the table with two trays full of food, a couple of bat burgers, some jokerized fries, all the things Damian sworn against since the day he was born. The way your face crinkled as you took a bite, you… irked him for a reason he couldn't place.

Thirty minutes later he watched you and the rest walk out to the bus stop and decide that he wasn't going to get you doing anything today, whatever that anything was.

So he got back into the sleek black car which was definitely garnering a few looks because who drives this kind of car near Batburger of all places. Tapping the back of the drivers seat, he said "manor" before brooding out the window.

─── ´ˎ˗

Duke glanced around the parking lot, not a single sign of Damian present, "Think he's gone yet?" He asked, looking at you three, Isla looked around, not seeing any sign of him.

"Maybe?" She turned to you, "Did we succeed or what?" Isla joked, tugging at your ear playfully while Oli sipped on his drink.

You smiled, "I think we won for today?"

They cheered, Isla squealed and hugged you tightly, Oliver whooped and jumped into the air with a hand in the air before stomping back down onto the gravel, Duke chuckling at the enthusiasm. He looked up at the sky, clouds slowly disappearing against the soft blue, a sign that it was going to get dark. Nudging your arm he tilted his head, pointing at the bus.

"We should get going?" You questioned, in response he nodded. Isla frowned, bottom lip pushing out the front of her lip in a pout.

"It's only four though?"

"Four thirty" Oliver corrected.

"Right, four thirty, why are we leaving?" You took a look at Duke and sighed, you had to come up with an excuse quickly because you were not explaining that your friends favorite heroes were the family they hated. Also it wasn't your secret to spill.

You cleared your throat, "Well you see, unlike my dinners, the rest of the family usually eats together. And sometimes Alfred serves it early so, Duke's gotta go otherwise someone will ask questions."

"Oh…" Isla replied, fists clenching as Duke began to back away, her anger broiling up again. "I see, you better be going then… Duke." The way she said his name sent a shiver down his spine, he looked at you quickly.

"Are you-" he was cut off.

"I'm staying with Isla." You said, no hesitation with your arm looping around her own, stepping back a little to stand beside Oli.

"Gotcha, I'll see you uh.." he was going to say tomorrow but; well it was Friday. He fumbled over his thoughts, "next week?" His words filled with uncertainty.

Part of you felt bad, so you pitied him. "Yeah, probably, I'll text you if we have plans to hangout though." As awkward as he was, you all actually had fun from what you saw, Isla pulled at your arm, shaking her head like Duke couldn't see her. Mouthing an over exaggerated 'no' to you.

But Duke smiled, brightly so. "For real? I'm holding you to that!" He said before running off while waving with his hand behind his back, "see you guys later!"

Your mouth curved up, 'I knew he was cool' you thought, before turning to Isla and Oliver. "Hope you don't mind, but he seems cool right? Better than stalker Damian."

Isla still frowned but Oli smiled, "True, Isla don't act like you having fun" he said, messing up her hair as she flung her arm around to get him to stop.

"I guess! I still don't like him a hundred percent alright? But if you invite him, I will try my best to be fine with it!" She declared, hand raised high into the air, the blue sky gradient with the colorful beads of her bracelets. "Anyways, let's go to my place!"

Her hands grabbed your and Oli's hand, pulling you both along, running across the streets of Gotham and down to a different bus route that headed to her place.

And you chuckled a little with every step, Oliver smiling shyly at the passersby who watched with amusement at the three teens running freely around the city.

─── ´ˎ˗

"Damian? Why're you sulking more than usual?" Steph asked, poking fun at him and his solemn while her legs laid off the side of the couch.

He grimaced, "what are you doing here. You don't even reside here." Steph chuckled, sitting up, using her legs to pull herself forward to sit of the arm rest of the sofa.

"I live here half the time Damian, I live here." She deadpanned.

"You can't live somewhere half the time.. you either do or don't!" He refuted, clearly irritated, any other day he'd just walk away while grumbling. But something made him much more irritable, and Steph immediately tied it to you.

"This wouldn't be about that night right?" Steph asked, hesitant because she did not feel like fighting Damian today, it was too early, and she was not in the mood.

Safe to say she didn't get an answer, he just growled at her— mentally she giggled, thinking he was acting like Titus— then headed to his room, bag heavy on his back. She watched him disappear, nail tracing against the stitching of the leather sofa.

Huffing out a breath, she flopped back down onto the cushions, groaning. Her phone buzzed against the table, she turned her head lazily to it, hand reaching up and slapping the screen to turn it on. Picking it up, she unlocked it and raised her brows. Just a single message from Cass, about you.

CASSANDRA: I texted them.

She shot up, eyes shot out of her sockets with absolute disbelief.

[ME]: WGAT. WHAT

[ME]: SAY YOUR KIDDING

CASSANDRA: I'm not?

[ME]: WHY DID U DO THAT, Cass, I love u, but WHY

CASSANDRA: Last night, you texted me that you felt bad.

CASSANDRA: So I reached out, they haven't replied yet [STICKER]

[ME]: U can't brush this off with a cute sticker Cass

CASSANDRA: Dick does it whenever Bruce texts??

[ME]: I CANT RIGHT NOW, BYE

CASSANDRA: OK, coming over tonight anyways

[ME]: SHUSHHHH

Yeah, sure. She was venting to Cass about feeling bad for how she ignored you, and she may have brought up wanting to fix things but that didn't mean she wanted it to happen!

It was just one of those things that you say you'd do but never actually follow through, Stephanie did not realize how bad that sounded at the time.

Cassandra did, and she acted, no time to backtrack because that’s neither how she was raised nor trained.

─── ´ˎ˗

"Oh shit..?" You said, hand clutched in your phone as you sat by Isla on her bed while Oliver sat nearby on her beanbag. She looked at you with worry.

"What? Did something happen?" Her words caught Oli's attention, both now turned entirely to you, waiting for an answer.

You grimaced at your phone before turning the screen to them, "Cain texted me-" "CASSANDRA?? THAT CAIN?" Isla screamed, grabbing your phone to read the message.

CAIN: I took your number from Steph's phone.

CAIN: I'd appreciate it if we could talk, me, you and Steph, reply when you see this please.

"How formal.." Oliver whispered, hand raised to his chin, bottom lip resting on his pointer finger. "I mean.. are you going to..?" He asked carefully, looking at you while you looked like you just ate the sourest lemon.

"Ugh.. I probably should, but I don't feel like it." You wallowed in the avoidance of it all, so badly you wanted to just step away from everything.

Part of you was convinced you had that right, the right to walk away from the people who didn't care. To Damian whose first words to you were threats and degrading comments about your self worth. To Dick who acted around you more than he did with the press, or how he would ask you three questions like clockwork before ditching. To Stephanie, who gave up trying to connect with you, and Cassandra who didn't try in the first place.

To Tim, who never even considered you someone to listen to despite being the one who’s always supposed to hear everything, the informant second to Barbara who couldn’t hear you. To Jason, who wasn't the same person he was before, who you tried to understand but purposely kept confusing you. And to Bruce, the man who took you in because he had to, who never wanted to be anything more than the man who provided yet never cared.

But then, there was the part of you that resented that logic. To be like them, and walk away without even trying to fix it, you hated it, you thought you deserved better— and you did. Not to apologize to keep the peace after breaking it, but the idea of even being remotely similar was grimacing.

You were always one who could compartmentalize what other people couldn't, to put the pieces together that the other threw away, and kept them safe for the day they might ask for them back.

When you were a kid, before Isla and Oliver. That loneliness, watching things that you hoped the others would be interested in even if you hated watching, from horror to romances, documentaries to sitcoms. Hoping they'd walk by and at least take two seconds to pay attention, not even to you, just to see if they would.

When you spoke about your day, when you kept quiet, no matter what you did, no one questioned, no one asked, no one cared. It was so embarrassing how hard you used to try, thinking about it made you tear up.

And before you realized, your sides were squished by two bodies, Oliver on your right, Isla on your left, hugging you tightly while your salty tears dripped down the curves of your cheeks, some leading to your lips, making you taste it, and the rest staining Isla's freshly cleaned blanket. "Fuck" your voice croaked.

Your friends knew not to ask, or pressure, because this has happened before. Times when your emotions came back to you, not because you lost them, never. You felt happy, angry, everything but never could you burst out into tears by choice, that mental reset of crying until you suffocated.

When your cries tightened your throat, and your face turned red, those times became rare, and when they hit? Fingers twitched and tensed, shoulders stretching forward and backward, ear ringing.

You wailed loudly, leaning into Isla, sobbing into her shoulder. Senses picking up what was happening around you— Isla's room door opening, Oliver trying to explaining you were not hurt, leaving and shutting the door behind himself while Isla rubbed your back gently, her bracelets rolling over your skin satisfyingly.

Time wasn't a concern, at some point he came back with a cold glass of water, just waiting patiently by your side, hand on yours to comfort you silently. After you managed to calm down, breaths still shaky, you sat up.

Back aching from having been hunched over, you looked at Oliver who pressed the glass against your cheek. The coldness was refreshing from how warm your skin was, you took it from him, relishing in the condensation around the surface. You drunk it slowly, still hiccuping over your breaths, Isla left the room and later came back with a brand new fluffy blanket, from the laundry room, warm still from being dried. She draped it over you, rubbing your shoulder and hugging you, Oliver quickly scrolled through his laptop and put on your favorite movie.

If asked, you couldn't answer whether or not anyone even spoke after that or if you three just relaxed into the quiet. Nothing but the sound of your favorite script, the rattling of Isla's window and the faint buzzing of her space heater in the living room.

That night, you stopped thinking, and simply rested in the presence of people who cared. You'd decide what to do when you were in the right space to do so.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Another chapter finished, released this a bit earlier than intended so I apologise for any mistakes. I had a bit more I wanted to write, but I figured if I did then it’d be put out much later which I wouldn’t want after how much I made you all wait before.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

T A G L I S T

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-> thank you for reading, I’ve had much love over time and it’s more than I can handle so I appreciate everyone. Thank you so very much.

♫ NOTE: taglist is closed

Their captain, Vance, was a lanky, preening peacock who strutted around like he owned every ripple on the Grand Line. He fancied himself the next Pirate King, a second coming of Roger. Mostly, though, he just looked like a guy who’d stared at too many wanted posters and thought, Yeah, I could totally pull that off. His crew was a collection of rejects from a circus that went bankrupt: a parrot-obsessed brute whose feathered companion squawked incessant insults, a blind navigator who insisted he could “feel the waves” (which usually led to hitting them), and a cook so ancient she held earnest conversations with her butcher knives.

You, however, were entirely unfazed by their particular brand of madness. All you needed was a lift, so you’d signed on for the truly thrilling tasks: swabbing decks, peeling potatoes, and generally fading into the background. You were practically a human shadow, keeping your head down and your mouth shut.

Until they spotted it.

The Red Force. Shanks’ ship. The Yonko’s infamous Jolly Roger unfurled against the horizon like a scarlet middle finger, screaming, “Stay the hell away!” But did these brain-addled nobodies on the Skeletal Sirens heed the warning? Of course not. They saw it and collectively thought, Hey, why not poke the sleeping dragon with a very tiny stick?

Vance’s grin stretched wider than a kraken’s maw, as if he’d just won a lottery no one else was even aware of. “This is our moment!” he shrieked, slapping his sword against the deck with a clang that sounded suspiciously hollow. “The Pirate King’s legacy starts now!”

You, meanwhile, let out a long-suffering sigh, peeled a banana with surgical precision, and settled onto the railing, eyes half-lidded. Because, no, you were definitely not here for this.

The ensuing “battle” was pure, unadulterated chaos. Swords clanged like kitchen pots in a hailstorm, shouts echoed, and almost every one of those glorious freaks went down faster than a lead balloon in a hurricane. Blood, sweat, and gunpowder fumes mingled in the air. You watched, serenely munching your banana, utterly unbothered. Let them play their silly little pirate game. You just wanted to reach the next island.

Because this? This was not your fight. Not today, not tomorrow, probably not ever.

The symphony of clashing steel and cries of agony swelled around you, but you barely deigned to look up from your banana. One by one, the Skeletal Sirens toppled like poorly stacked dominoes. The parrot guy emitted a final, squawking curse as he plummeted overboard. The blind navigator, bless his heart, tripped over his own two left feet and vanished beneath the waves with a surprisingly polite gurgle. And the ancient cook, mid-lecture to her bread knife, barely managed a choked gasp before a blade found its mark. All in a matter of seconds.

A particularly grimy pirate, a fresh cut bleeding stylishly across his cheek, staggered toward you, his grin crooked and manic. “Hey! Are you gonna help, or just sit there like a damn fruit-eating statue?!” He brandished his rusty cutlass, clearly expecting you to spring into heroic action.

You slowly turned your head, eyes locking onto his with an expression of profound disinterest. Then, with a deliberate peel-snap, you took another bite of your banana. Silence descended, heavy and far more deafening than the cacophony of battle.

From the deck of the Red Force, a shadow detached itself—a tall figure, moving with an almost lazy grace, eyes surveying the wreckage with cold, practiced precision. His scarred face twitched into a faint smile as his gaze finally, inevitably, settled on you.

“Interesting,” the man murmured, his voice a low rumble. “She doesn’t belong here.”

It was Benn Beckman, Shanks’ first mate, a man known for his unflappable demeanor and unnervingly accurate aim. His sharp eyes cut through the chaos, sensing something far deeper and infinitely more dangerous lurking beneath your quiet, banana-munching exterior.

Beckman’s gaze lingered, as if weighing your very existence, before he melted back into the shadows cast by the towering mast. The fight, what little was left of it, raged on. But you? You simply finished your banana, cracked your knuckles with a tiny, almost inaudible pop, and waited. Because this whole unfortunate mess? It wasn’t your problem. Not yet.

You flicked the banana peel overboard with a casual flourish, watching it twirl once in the air before plopping into the ocean with a tiny, utterly unconcerned sploosh.

“Should’ve just stayed in the South Blue,” you muttered, dusting your hands off on your pants as if you’d just finished a delightful picnic, not witnessed the utter, spectacular decimation of an entire pirate crew.

The deck was eerily quiet now, save for the creak of wood and the pathetic groans of the Skeletal Sirens scattered across it—some twitching, most unconscious, all entirely irrelevant. Vance, the so-called next Roger, was face-down with his rear end pointed optimistically skyward, his sword bent in half beside him like a discarded toy.

You sighed and leaned back against the railing, lifting your face to the sky, letting the gentle breeze caress your skin.

That’s when one of the Red-Haired Pirates—a younger guy, full of unearned swagger, clearly trying to prove his worth—shattered the silence with a triumphant yell. “You missed one!” he bellowed, charging at you like he’d just stumbled upon the final boss of a particularly irritating video game.

You blinked.

And when the blade came whistling down, you merely sidestepped. Lazy. Effortless. Like avoiding a particularly slow-moving tumbleweed.

Then, with a barely perceptible exhale, you flicked your finger against his forehead.

CRACK.

He went flying. Truly airborne. Spinning like a kicked can, flipping through the air with a long, shocked scream that dopplered into the distant blue.

BOOM. He hit a mast. Slid down it. Didn’t get up.

You stared after him, one eyebrow twitching up ever so slightly. “…Oops.”

Up on the deck of the Red Force, a few heads swiveled in unison.

“Was that—?”

“Yup.”

“Wasn’t he—?”

“He was new.”

One of the senior members slapped a hand over his eyes with a groan. “Aw, hell, I told him not to run off.”

Even the crew members who’d been mid-chuckle started to quiet down as a familiar, powerful presence stepped forward.

Shanks.

He’d been leaning casually near the helm, sipping from a bottle, watching the entire spectacle unfold like a particularly amusing play he’d already seen a dozen times. But now, his single visible eye sharpened, settling on you. Not with alarm. Just… a profound, amused intrigue.

“She’s not one of theirs,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

“She flicked Enji into the air,” Yasopp mumbled, a note of bewildered respect in his voice.

“Flicked.”

Shanks let out a low whistle. “That’s gotta hurt.”

Then he grinned. Broad and boyish, like a kid who’d just discovered a particularly fascinating bug.

“I think we just found the most dangerous person on that whole ship,” he said, tipping his bottle in your direction.

And you?

You had already settled yourself cross-legged in a patch of sun, watching the waves roll by, completely uninterested in the utter pandemonium you’d just unleashed. You yawned.

“Can I please just get dropped off at the next island now?”

You tilted your head back, cracking your neck with a lazy stretch. The sun felt gloriously warm. The screams had mercifully stopped. You could finally hear the seagulls again.

“Hey,” you called out, not bothering to raise your voice too much. “Red guy with the fancy coat.”

Shanks, mid-swig, paused and blinked. “…Me?”

You nodded once, propping your cheek on your knuckles. “Yeah. You heading to Eddora Isle next?” You said it like you were asking if he had a spare lighter. No care in the world. Just casual, as if you hadn’t just launched one of his crewmates into low orbit seconds ago.

A dead silence descended upon the Red-Haired Pirates. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Yasopp’s rifle slipped a little in his grasp. “Did… Did she just call him red guy?”

Lucky Roux blinked at you, then at Shanks. “Did she just ask for a ride?”

Shanks blinked a few more times, processing. “Uh… yeah. Yeah, Eddora’s our next stop.”

You stood up with a long, put-upon sigh, dusting your pants off like this was a regular Tuesday morning commute. “Perfect,” you said, walking toward the Red Force with absolutely zero hesitation. “Thanks. I’ll ride with you guys, then.”

You stepped over the unconscious body of one of the Skeletal Sirens, used their prone captain’s back as a convenient stepstool, and casually boarded the Red Force without a second glance back at the carnage.

A low whistle slid from Yasopp’s lips.

“She just—walked on.”

“She’s not even asking permission,” Roux added, watching in awe as you started eyeing a sturdy-looking barrel as a potential seating option.

“Should we… stop her?” one of the newer members mumbled, sounding less brave than he intended.

“Did you want to stop her?” Benn Beckman asked dryly, still meticulously cleaning his rifle, not bothering to look up.

“No.”

“Then sit down.”

Shanks watched you find a suitable spot, plop down, and kick your feet up like you owned the place. He scratched his head, his grin widening into a full-blown, delighted smirk.

“…Well, damn,” he said, leaning against the railing. “You always make your entrances like that?”

You looked up, your expression as dull as a cloudy day. “I was just supposed to mop floors.”

And just like that, the Red Force became a whole lot more interesting.

The Red Force creaked a low, satisfied groan beneath your feet as it pulled away from the wreckage of the Skeletal Sirens—now nothing more than a pathetic, floating monument to regret and spectacularly bad decisions.

You leaned against a crate, methodically picking dirt from beneath your fingernails. No one stopped you. No one could stop you. The air around the Red-Haired Pirates had subtly shifted; they were still pirates, sure—but now they were pirates carefully observing the human enigma lumped lazily on their deck like a stray cat that had just, inexplicably, mauled a lion.

“So, uh…” Lucky Roux ambled over, juggling an apple in one meaty hand. “What’s your name, anyway?”

You didn’t even bother to look up. “Y/N.”

“Oh. Cool. So, where are you from—?”

“South Blue.”

He blinked. “O-Okay. What’d you do before—?”

“Nothing.”

“…You got any—?”

“Nope.”

There was a pregnant pause. Roux blinked again, slowly backing away, whispering, “She’s like talking to a rock that can kill people.”

Across the deck, Yasopp leaned on the rail with a lazy grin, nudging one of the younger pirates. “Bet you can’t knock her back a step.”

The rookie puffed out his chest, cracking his knuckles with all the misplaced confidence of a man who hadn’t witnessed Enji’s spectacular aerial ballet. “Bet I can.”

Benn Beckman didn’t even look up from where he was cleaning his gun. “Please don’t.”

“C’mon,” Yasopp egged him on, eyes twinkling. “It’ll be fun.”

The rookie swaggered up to you with a half-cocked grin. “Hey. Y/N, right? Wanna—”

CRUNCH.

He didn’t finish the sentence. You hadn’t even looked at him. You’d just tilted your foot sideways—a mere toe tap, really—and the guy went flying into a barrel so hard it exploded into splinters.

A muffled groan emanated from inside the wreckage.

“…Okay,” Yasopp muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s two down.”

“She didn’t even look at him,” one pirate whispered in disbelief.

“She doesn’t even know his name,” another added, clearly traumatized.

You stretched your arms over your head with a tired grunt and turned your face toward the sun again, as if the whole incident was a minor inconvenience.

Shanks approached next—grinning like he was walking into a bar fight he’d specifically arranged for his own entertainment. “You always this talkative?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

You squinted one eye open. “Only when someone’s bothering me.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Fair enough. So… what are you doing out on the sea? Got any grand dreams?”

“I want to get off at Eddora Isle.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

He blinked, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face. “You’re not running from the Marines?”

“No.”

“Not chasing treasure?”

“Nope.”

“Not avenging anyone, looking for your long-lost brother, hunting a devil fruit, or trying to become Pirate Queen?”

You opened both eyes, a look of profound revulsion on your face. “…What? No. Ew.”

There was a beat of stunned silence on the deck.

“…I like her,” Shanks announced suddenly, beaming at the crew, who exchanged uneasy glances.

“She scares me,” someone muttered under their breath.

“Same.”

Yasopp leaned in conspiratorially from behind Shanks. “Does she even know who we are?”

Shanks turned back to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Do you?”

You looked him dead in the eye, your expression as flat as yesterday’s soda. “You’re Red Coat.”

Shanks paused. “…Close enough.”

You closed your eyes again, clearly signaling the end of the conversation.

From that point on, no one dared to ask questions. They just gave you a wide berth, treating you like a particularly sleepy, yet highly volatile, landmine. You had no idea you’d just become the most mysterious, most feared, and most aggressively chill passenger the Red Force had ever had the distinct pleasure of transporting.

The Red Force was slicing through the waves in that lazy, effortless way only a Yonko’s ship could manage—when suddenly the water ahead exploded.

A massive sea king erupted from the depths like a furious, liquid mountain, showering the deck with salt and sea foam. Its colossal head reared high, jaws snapping, eyes wide and furious, clearly having a very bad day.

“Sea king!” someone bellowed. “Prepare to fight!”

Chaos erupted on deck. Swords were drawn, guns cocked, and the crew scrambled into battle positions with shouts echoing over the beast’s guttural roar.

But you? You just sighed.

Without a word, you pushed off the railing and plunged into the churning ocean below.

The crew froze. Beckman slowly lowered his rifle, blinking in disbelief. Yasopp muttered, “She’s got a Devil Fruit, right?”

Shanks’ single eye widened, a mixture of shock and dawning amusement spreading across his face. “Maybe…”

Seconds later, you burst back from the water, slick hair plastered to your face, muscles gleaming under the sun. Clutched casually in your arms was the sea king’s massive, dripping eyeball—pure white and utterly, irrevocably destroyed.

You hauled yourself up the side ladder with a casual grunt, ignoring the stunned silence that had settled over the entire crew.

Shanks blinked twice, then again. “You… you killed it?”

You shrugged, adjusting your grip on the enormous, slimy orb. “It was looking at me funny.”

Lucky Roux’s jaw hung open so wide you could probably see his breakfast. “She ripped out its eyeball.”

Yasopp let out a low whistle. “That’s not normal strength. That’s insane strength.”

Beckman gave a slow, deliberate nod, his eyes narrowing, a dangerous curiosity in their depths. “No Devil Fruit needed.”

You wiped your hands on your pants as if you’d just finished a particularly messy snack, then looked around at the wide-eyed pirates.

“Well,” you said, tossing the eye overboard with a soft plop, “that’s one less headache.”

Shanks shook his head, grinning wider than ever, pure delight bubbling up. “You’re definitely not from around here.”

You smirked, plopped down on the deck, and started peeling another banana.

“Just tell me when we get to Eddora Isle,” you mumbled, clearly done with the day’s quota of excitement.

The crew exchanged looks that clearly said: We have absolutely no idea what we just signed up for.

The Red Force cut through the sapphire waves, the salty wind tangling your hair as the sun dipped low, painting the sky with streaks of fiery orange and soft pink. The ship creaked and groaned underfoot like an old beast settling into a steady pace, the rhythmic slap of water against hull keeping time with the crew’s low hum of activity.

You sat cross-legged on the deck, legs stretched out, arms resting on your knees as you watched the horizon blur and stretch. The sea was calm now—the earlier chaos reduced to nothing but bewildering stories and wide-eyed, slightly terrified stares.

Beside you, Shanks lounged casually, one boot resting on the railing, his crimson coat fluttering like a battle-won banner. “So,” he started, his voice easy and low, as if you were discussing the weather, “why exactly are you headed to Eddora Isle? You don’t seem like the typical ‘I wanna be Pirate Queen’ type.”

You blinked slowly, chewing thoughtfully on your now-half-eaten banana. “Honestly? I’m just hungry for the island’s bakery. Heard they have the best sweet buns in the Grand Line. Thought I’d try ‘em out.”

Shanks raised an eyebrow, a slow, amused grin creeping onto his face. “You’re serious?”

You shrugged, utterly unfazed. “Yeah. It’s the little things.”

The crew nearby froze for a moment, glancing at each other like someone just admitted their life’s ambition was to become a professional napper.

Lucky Roux let out a low whistle. “You’re here for buns?”

“Better than glory or revenge,” you muttered, taking another bite.

Yasopp chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s the most refreshingly normal thing I’ve heard in years.”

The sea breeze picked up, tugging at the sails and whipping your hair into your face. You brushed it away lazily, eyes half-lidded, and let a small, genuine smile slip free.

For the first time since boarding the Red Force, you felt a flicker of ease. The crew wasn’t so weird anymore—not entirely. Maybe you weren’t just a stowaway. Maybe you belonged here in your own strange, lazy, banana-loving way.

Shanks tilted his head, watching you with genuine curiosity, his expression unreadable. “You don’t wanna fight, you don’t want treasure, you don’t want power. What’s left for someone like you?”

You tapped your chin, thoughtful as the sun sank lower, painting the sky in ever-deepening hues. “Maybe just… peace. Sweet buns. And maybe a little less excitement.”

He laughed, the sound booming across the deck like thunder rolling over calm seas, entirely without malice.

“Fair enough,” he said, raising his bottle in a mock toast. “To peace, sweet buns, and unexpected allies.”

You clinked your fist against his arm lightly, still smiling faintly. The Red Force sailed on, carrying you all toward whatever awaited on Eddora Isle—and whatever chaos, quiet, or ridiculousness the future might bring.

The Red Force finally dropped anchor off the coast of Eddora Isle, the ship gently bobbing in the surprisingly murky water. You hopped down onto the dock, expecting… well, you weren’t exactly sure what. Maybe something charming—a bustling port town, or at least a bakery that didn’t look like it was about to spontaneously combust.

What you got instead was a landfill masquerading as an island.

Trash was piled high like grotesque mountains: rotting crates, broken barrels, and enough slimy seaweed to choke a sea king twice over. Rats scurried through the garbage like it was a five-star buffet, and the smell hit you like a punch to the face from a very large, unwashed fist.

“Is this… Eddora Isle?” you asked, blinking at the towering piles of refuse, a hint of genuine dismay in your voice.

Shanks chuckled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, well… it’s a bit rough around the edges. The bakery’s supposed to be here somewhere.”

You narrowed your eyes, stepping cautiously over a particularly suspicious puddle that seemed to be actively pulsating. “Supposed to be.”

After a not-so-pleasant trek through what could only be described as the world’s worst trash dump, you finally found the bakery. The sign was faded and peeling, the windows grimier than a pirate’s soul, and the “fresh buns” inside looked suspiciously like overcooked rocks.

You took a hesitant bite.

The taste? Somewhere between burnt seaweed and profound regret.

You almost choked. “This isn’t sweet buns. This is a crime against buns.”

Shanks laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair, tears streaming down his face. “Welcome to Eddora Isle!”

You sighed, wiping crumbs off your mouth with a look of utter defeat. “I think I’ve officially lowered my expectations to negative infinity.”

After a moment, you looked up at the Red Force crew lounging nearby, still grinning at you like you’d just survived a culinary apocalypse.

“Well, what now?” you asked, folding your arms, resigned to your fate.

Shanks stretched, a wide yawn escaping him. “We’re headed to Kaito Cove next. Heard the rum there’s strong, and the fish are plentiful.”

You raised an eyebrow, a flicker of interest in your eyes. “Mind if I hitch a ride?”

He smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. “Thought you’d never ask.”

And just like that, you found yourself settling back onto the Red Force—the strangest, most chaotic, yet strangely accommodating crew you’d ever met—and heading toward your next stop.

Maybe this lazy pirate life wasn’t so bad after all.

The Red Force was back on the move, slicing through the waves toward Kaito Cove, and you found yourself—somehow—no longer just a reluctant passenger but a semi-official member of this bizarre pirate family.

It started small. You didn’t exactly volunteer, but when the cook shouted, “Y/N! Grab that sack of salted fish!” you shrugged and did it without complaint. The crew blinked like they’d seen a ghost—or maybe just a ghost who didn’t mind doing chores.

Lucky Roux cracked a genuine smile. “Didn’t think you’d stick around after the bakery disaster.”

You tossed the sack over your shoulder with surprising ease, barely breaking a sweat. “Food’s food. Besides, it’s better than cleaning puke off the deck.”

That earned a genuine, booming laugh from Yasopp, who was fiddling with his rifle nearby. “She’s got a point.”

Slowly, the impenetrable walls you’d built around yourself started to crumble—not because you suddenly craved friendship, but because you didn’t have much choice. They kept cornering you with questions, relentless in their curiosity.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s your favorite drink?”

You shrugged. “Water.”

“Really?” Enji muttered, wiping blood off his sword, looking genuinely disappointed. “That’s boring.”

“Boring’s underrated.”

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in magnificent shades of pink and gold, Shanks found you sitting near the helm, legs dangling over the side, idly tossing small pebbles into the shimmering water.

“Never thought I’d see the day when Y/N actually joined in,” he said, sliding down beside you with an easy grace.

You glanced at him without much interest, a pebble arcing into the sea. “I didn’t exactly ‘join.’ I’m just… here.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. “Sometimes ‘just here’ is exactly where you need to be.”

Over the weeks, you learned their names—well, most of them. Yasopp was the sharpshooter with the dry, often sarcastic wit. Beckman was the quiet, calculating first mate who didn’t say much but whose intelligent eyes missed absolutely nothing. Lucky Roux was the lovable, perpetually eating goofball who always had a ridiculously exaggerated story. And Enji, the hotheaded swordsman, still tried way too hard to impress you and failed spectacularly every single time.

And Shanks? He was the unpredictable storm wrapped in a boyish grin, somehow both recklessly impulsive and profoundly wise.

You didn’t open up much. Your answers remained short, your expressions largely deadpan. But the crew noticed. They noticed when you stopped hiding in the shadows and started sitting with them during meals, when you’d let out a quiet snort of amusement at their truly awful jokes, when you challenged Enji to a drinking contest and, to everyone’s stunned surprise, actually won.

One night, Yasopp nudged Shanks, a thoughtful look on his face. “She’s different, huh?”

Shanks grinned, his eyes twinkling with a shared secret. “Yeah. She’s exactly what we didn’t know we needed.”

And you? Well, maybe, just maybe, you were starting to believe that, too.

The Red Force hummed along under the golden afternoon sun, but all anyone could really focus on was the one thing that had become abundantly, gloriously clear—Y/N’s appetite.

It started off innocently enough. A quick bite here, a snack there. But soon, it was less “snack” and more “full-on, apocalyptic feast,” and the crew was a fascinating mix of amazed and slightly terrified.

Lucky Roux watched in stunned silence as you polished off an entire loaf of crusty bread, a massive chunk of salted fish, and half a wheel of cheese—all before midday, and seemingly without blinking.

“Does she ever stop?” he whispered to Yasopp, who was busy cleaning his rifle but clearly keeping one eye, or perhaps both, on your impressive performance.

Yasopp smirked. “She eats like the sea itself is gonna starve if she doesn’t.”

During meal times, you became a whirlwind of efficiency and focus, your fork (or sometimes just your bare hands) moving faster than anyone could possibly follow. Plates disappeared at a rate that made even Shanks raise an impressed, albeit slightly bewildered, eyebrow.

One evening, as the crew gathered around for dinner, you were already halfway through a massive pot of stew, dipping a hunk of crusty bread into the bubbling broth like it was your lifeline to existence.

Shanks leaned back, bottle in hand, a wide grin stretching across his face. “You know, Y/N, I’ve seen a lot of pirates with big dreams. You? You just want the biggest plate on the table.”

You shrugged, cheeks full, a tiny crumb clinging to your chin. “Food’s the one thing that never disappoints.”

Enji, ever the eager, desperate-to-impress fool, attempted to share his secret stash of incredibly spicy dried fish. You took one bite, your expression unchanging, then proceeded to devour the entire bag like it was a bag of particularly mild potato chips.

“Careful,” Yasopp warned with a grin, rubbing the back of his neck, “or you’ll eat us out of house and home.”

You flashed a lazy, almost cat-like smile. “Good.”

The crew started to joke that if Y/N ever decided to leave, they’d have to rename the Red Force the Red Feast, or perhaps the Bottomless Pit.

And honestly? You didn’t care what they called it.

levi had never thought a simple dinner would be… this much work.

he walked beside you, hands tucked neatly in his pockets, chest stiff. you, on the other hand, were wandering the streets like you owned them, sunglasses perched perfectly on your nose even though it was dusk. casual, untouchable, untamed. levi’s jaw clenched.

“y/n,” he said, voice tight, “uh… are you sure you want to go in there? it looks crowded.”

you glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “i thrive in chaos. you, on the other hand, look like you might pass out if someone bumps into you.”

levi’s face went hot. “i—i can handle it.”

“sure.” you didn’t skip a beat. you reached over and gently grabbed his elbow, steering him past the line like he was a delicate artifact. levi froze for a second, then realized he couldn’t fight you without looking ridiculous. you didn’t even flinch.

once inside, you immediately claimed a booth, sliding into the seat like it was your throne. levi, careful to maintain military-grade posture, sat opposite you, trying not to stare at how effortlessly cool you looked resting one arm on the back of the seat.

the waiter arrived, and levi opened his mouth to order, but you leaned forward, calm as ever.

“let me do it,” you said. “you look like you’re about to combust.”

levi blinked. “i… i can—”

“nope.” you cut him off with the kind of authority that made soldiers obey without question. you ordered with ease, even subtly suggesting a healthier option for him. levi stiffened, caught between gratitude and mortification.

as you waited for your food, you casually reached across the table and adjusted the collar of his uniform. “loosen up. shoulders too tense. you’re scaring the waitress.”

levi froze mid-breath, heart doing an unprofessional somersault. “i… i’m fine.”

“you’re fine,” you echoed, smirking just slightly, “until you get a cramp from pretending you’re made of steel.”

when the food arrived, you quietly ensured his plate was arranged properly, cutting his meat and nudging him to try a sip of his soup before it cooled. levi wanted to protest but found his voice locked somewhere behind his escalating blush.

“you’re… really… calm,” he muttered finally, leaning back, flustered.

“it’s what i do,” you said, effortlessly leaning one arm on the table, chin resting in your hand. “keeping people alive and functioning. part of the job description.”

levi groaned inwardly. of course. of course this cool, unflappable person also knew how to ruin him silently without even trying.

halfway through dessert, you caught him fumbling with the napkin, sighing like it was a life-or-death mission.

“here,” you said, folding it neatly and placing it on his lap. “relax. breathe. stop trying to impress me with basic coordination.”

levi looked like he was about to combust again. “i’m not—”

“yes, you are,” you interrupted lightly, grinning. “admit it.”

he exhaled sharply, defeated. “i… am.”

you leaned back, finally satisfied, arms crossed casually. “good. now we can eat in peace.”

levi tried to stay composed, tried to act like nothing had happened, but every time you gave a small smirk, or adjusted something for him without a word, he felt himself unraveling all over again.

by the time you left the restaurant, he was a mix of exhausted, flustered, and utterly enthralled. and you? you walked down the street like you’d done nothing out of the ordinary.

except, levi knew better. you’d done everything, and he’d let you.

levi had resolved himself: tonight, he was going to act normal. cool. collected. untouchable.

you met him outside the training compound, hair slightly messy from the wind, hands in your pockets, grin already teasing. “ready?” you asked, voice calm, casual, like nothing could rattle you.

levi swallowed. “i… am.”

“good,” you said, sliding an arm through his. “because i’m taking care of you tonight.”

levi froze. “i—what?”

you squeezed his arm lightly, leaning close enough that he could smell the faint scent of oil and coffee. “you heard me. no overthinking, no stressing. just… follow my lead.”

he tried to protest, of course, but the heat in your eyes made him shut up immediately.

at the small arcade you wandered into, he flinched at the loud sounds. you tugged him gently toward a claw machine. “okay, first lesson: have fun. i got this.”

levi’s brows knitted. “you’re… babying me.”

“maybe,” you admitted, pressing a coin into his hand. “but romantic babying. pay attention.”

he scowled, fumbled with the joystick. you leaned behind him, hands lightly brushing over his as you guided his movements, murmuring softly. “slow… a little to the left… perfect.”

levi’s face heated, not just from embarrassment but from the intimacy of it. your fingers lingering, your voice so calm, so sure. it was unlike anything he’d ever felt, and he didn’t know how to respond except to keep letting you lead.

“see?” you said as the claw scooped up a plush toy effortlessly. “nothing to worry about. you’re safe. i’ve got you.”

levi’s jaw nearly hit the floor. i’m a grown man, a captain, and they’ve got me feeling like this?

you didn’t stop. on the walk back, you took his hand without ceremony, entwining fingers. “don’t stiffen,” you murmured. “it’s okay to let go. i like it when you let go.”

he tried to say something, anything, but your thumb brushing over the back of his hand stole his words.

at a quiet little café, you ordered for both of you again. “extra whipped cream for you,” you said, setting the cup in front of him with a smirk. “it’s cute when you’re flustered.”

levi groaned, hiding his face behind the cup, heart pounding. “i—i’m not cute.”

“cute and flustered are basically synonyms for you right now,” you said, leaning forward, resting your chin in your hands, eyes soft. “and i like it. a lot.”

levi’s chest tightened. his composure, the thing he clung to for years, was melting under your touch, your voice, your calm, effortless presence.

“y/n…” he started, voice low, desperate to be stern and in control.

you reached across the table, cupping his cheek gently. “it’s okay, levi. you don’t have to do anything. i got you. just… let me.”

and that was it. the dam broke. he leaned into your hand without thinking, letting you cradle him, feel the warmth of your steady, nonchalant assurance.

you leaned in close, whispering softly, lips near his ear: “see? being taken care of isn’t so bad, is it?”

levi let out a small, defeated sigh. “no… not with you.”

you smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “good. now you’re mine, even if you pretend to fight it.”

levi wanted to protest, wanted to reclaim control, but he couldn’t. your calm, your cool, your quiet confidence had him completely undone. and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t mind at all.

he was yours. completely, hopelessly, and utterly.

The walk back to your place was quiet, the kind of silence that felt intentional. Levi’s hand stayed in yours the whole way, your thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles over his knuckles like it didn’t even register as something intimate. He noticed. He noticed everything. He just didn’t say a word.

Every time he even thought about pulling away, your grip tightened slightly. Not enough to restrain him. Just enough to remind him you were guiding this.

Inside, you flicked on a single lamp. Warm light filled the room, softening the edges. Levi lingered near the door, arms crossed, posture rigid like he could still armor himself if he tried hard enough. His eyes, though, kept finding you. Waiting. Watching.

You shrugged off your jacket, draped it over a chair, then looked at him.

“Come here.”

It wasn’t a question.

Levi moved before his brain caught up, stopping in front of you, close enough that he could feel your warmth. You tilted your head, studying him like a problem you already knew how to solve.

“You did good tonight,” you said easily. “Letting me take care of things.”

His jaw tightened. “I wasn’t—”

You stepped closer, lifting a hand to the back of his neck. Slow. Unrushed. Giving him time to pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t.

Your thumb brushed along his jaw, grounding, steady. “You don’t have to explain yourself,” you murmured. “You don’t have to be on all the time. I’ve got you.”

His breath stuttered. Just once.

You guided him back until he sat at the edge of the bed, hands resting on his knees like he didn’t trust them anywhere else. You stayed standing between his legs, fingers smoothing down his sleeves, straightening his collar, movements precise and gentle. Familiar. Caring.

“Look at me,” you said softly.

He did. Gray eyes searching your face, stripped of their usual sharpness. You leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his lips. Not hurried. Not demanding. Just enough to make him lean forward on instinct, chasing you when you pulled back.

“Good,” you whispered, brushing your forehead against his. “You’re doing great.”

His hands came up to your waist, tentative, like he was asking permission without words. You didn’t stop him. You just rested your hands over his, anchoring him there.

He exhaled, shoulders finally dropping.

You stayed like that for a moment, quiet and close, Levi letting himself be held without needing to lead or command or protect. Just existing in your space, under your calm, steady attention.

And for once, he didn’t fight it.

He let himself be yours.

hehehe..

Luffy found himself sitting by your sleeping figure day after day, awaiting the moment you woke up. He was always careful with you, especially since you were one of his precious nakama’s, treating you the same way he did everyone else.

So the crew was slightly surprised that day when he’d fallen asleep next to your form, his wrist and chest all bandaged as he held your hand in your sleep, missing dinner for the first time on the third day of your unconsciousness.

Yes. Dinner. Which meant staying with an injured you came as a high priority for him even if he usually wouldn’t miss dinner for anything in the world.

It’s probably why he was drooling right now, his eyes shut dead asleep, tongue hanging out his lips lazily, his drool pooling on a spot of the blanket you were snuggled firmly under, the fabric wetting until it stained the shirt you wore underneath.

Surprisingly, that’s what finally woke you up. As you blink to adjust your vision to the dark, you feel the wetness of his drool seeping into your shirt, eyes peering down to find his messy raven hair scattered across your chest over the blanket, his bandaged hand and wrist claiming your hand firmly even in his sleep. You can’t help but feel the warmth spread through you immediately at the revelation of your captain resting his head on you to sleep, cheeks warming as you pause to just watch him, his chest rising and falling evenly with each content inhale and exhale.

You watch until you notice his lips moving softly, mumbling in his sleep as he starts to nibble on the blanket, unable to reign in his hunger even in sleep. It makes you smile a little at first, but then he starts chewing and licking the blanket more..needily, to say the least, his sloppy mouth slathering his saliva all over the damn spot of fabric. You can see the needy movements of his hungry lips and tongue, causing your skin to jump a little as you flush with heat, jolting up to sit up straight, effectively nudging his head off of you gently as you push him away a little to compose yourself.

“Mnn? Sanji, is dinner ready…?” Luffy mumbles incoherently, his sleep-drunk eyes gazing at you when he rubs his eyes drowsily, blinking to take on the image of you. His voice gruff from sleep, hair drooping over his half-lidded eyes. He’s too dense to notice the soft flush on your cheeks, nor the way you seem to grip the blankets a little too tight, defensively shifting away from the spot of fabric he was nibbling and licking at.

“OI! (__), YOU’RE ALIVE AGAIN!” He exclaims so joyously as his eyes widen when he realizes you’ve awoken, his gaze relieved and proud, most likely thinking of the way he saved you back then. Your gaze drifts to his injured wrist again, and you’re shuffling uncomfortably as you watch him jump up from his spot, clasping his rubbery arms around your shoulder and engulfing your entire being with a relieved, firm squeeze of happiness, his body pressing into yours.

Damn him, you couldn’t even wake up without that nonstop fluttering in your chest everytime he came close like this. You just couldn’t concentrate when his firm muscles fluttered around you as his strong rubbery arms held you close to him, rough palms gentle on your skin, pressing you into him, while the familiar sea-scented waft of his raven black hair overtook your senses, his face nuzzled into your neck. You were utterly and completely within his complete hold.

“I almost thought you’d never wake!” Luffy pouts into the crook of your neck, seemingly extra clingy now that you’re awake.

You merely smile nonchalantly, huffing him back while trying to brush away the heat you felt on your cheeks frkm before, hugging him back gently. “Of course I’d wake.” You reach over to hold his wrist, wrapped in bandages. “Sorry you got hurt, Captain.” You murmur, feeling guilty for having to have him save you and get injured for it.

He presses himself further into you, the wetness of the blanket spot from earlier rubbing into you and you flinch softly at the wet feeling, blushing again. “I’m glad you’re safe, (__).” And for a moment, his voice is gruff and low, whispered words tickling your neck, and you shift slightly at his sudden protective tone, before it’s gone again as quick as it came as he chuckles heartily into your neck. “Shishishishi~!”

Flustered, you push him back softly to give you space, but his chest only stretches, the rubber skin stretching as you push, then snapping back in place pressed right to you when you give up on pushing at him. “I didn’t need your help..” You mumble again, stubborn still despite it all, disliking his injuries for your safety.

“Whats wrong, (__)? Does it still hurt?” Luffy’s arms fly away from you to jump over to check your almost-healed leg, his animated motions comical when he jumps from position to position, eyes fixed on your leg, limbs sprawled and back hunched over to look closely at it.

“It looks fine to me.” He mumbles contemplatively to himself, pouting a little as he squints.

You can’t help but bristle when he seems not to have heard your words, so you repeat yourself in a more stern tone.

“Captain, I mean it when I say I can handle myself on the field. There was no need to injure yourself like that.” Your stubborn prideful ass hated the fact he got hurt for you, even now. You just hated seeing him risk himself like that, he was reckless enough as it is!

Luffy’s eyes snap over to yours from the foot of the bed, hands carefully paused, hovering over the bandages on your leg. He blinks, his gaze rather blank.

“What do you mean? I saved you, (__).” He pauses a moment, watching you.

“Don’t you want me to?” He asks, confusion evident in his handsome but charming childlike features.

You shake your head a little.

“Not if you get hurt in the process, Captain. You’re vulnerable to blades. You should’ve just let me take the hit.” You say nonchalantly, unafraid of pain if it means protecting Luffy.

“You know I’d take any blade for you as many times as I need-“

“No.”

You blink. He sounds so firm, his voice emanating his captain’s aura. Only rarely do you hear this demanding low tone of his.

“Captain.” You mutter lowly, frowning softly, about to protest.

He gazed at you intently, dark eyes unwavering.

“I said no.” He says rather simply, as if entertaining no other option. In truth, he hated when you said things like this. Yes, he was happy you cared for his well-being, but he hated the fact that it always came before yours.

But you couldn’t tell that from his low gaze, you could only make out the fact he won’t be backing down.

“But if you keep getting hurt like this-” you try to gesture to his bandaged wrist.

“No.” He cuts you off, voice demandingly low, gaze hard.

“I will not allow another scratch on your body, (__).”

His gruff voice resounds in the room, and you grip your sheets tighter at the fluttering in your chest at his promise to protect you. Your eyes stay on him, a silence enveloping the two of you as you both watch each other a moment, before chopper waddles in, carrying healing tonics for you, weeping comically as he jumps up to hug you with relief, crying about how your leg was in such a bad state and he was so scared you wouldn’t wake up. At that, all danger that emanated from Luffy seemed to disappear as he grinned cheekily at you, as if the previous conversation hadn’t even really happened.

Sanji is next to barge in, fawning over your beauty despite being bedridden, scurrying away only to come back with a freshly prepared steaming meal just for you, weeping comically at your ‘unique sleeping goddess beauty, while the others all come filing in to hug and comfort you.

All the while, you’re unaware of the way Luffy seemed lost in thought, crouching at the foot of your bed, hunched over your almost-healed leg, watching you behind all the ruckus and clamour of the crew.

Unusual, yes. The one who is usually at the heart of the chaos is now watching you silently, like a hawk.

It’s only when he shifts himself off the bed that your eyes glance over to his, unsure what he’s thinking behind those deep eyes, lingering so heavily on yours before he slips away while you become distracted with all the attention from the crew after waking up.

“He seemed really worried.” Zoro says after a while, when the energy had died down a little and the others had gone back to their daily endeavours. He leaned against the frame of the door casually, fixing his bandana on his arm as he speaks.

“The captain?” You blink.

Zoro huffs, bemused. “Who else? The rubber man stayed by your side for three days while you slept.” The swordsman muses a moment. “He’s never been so careful.”

You’re a little surprised, but you don’t show it. He was Luffy afterall, he would’ve done the same for any crew mate. Right?

“I suppose I’ll just have to get stronger, then.” You say nonchalantly, leaning back on the backboard of the bed, fingers playing with the blanket fabric.

Zoro just watches you, before huffing a little and turning to face out the door, throwing a hand up to signal his departure, as he contemplates a moment, mulling over his words before speaking deeply.

“Try not to worry him like that again. Luffy’s become..a little protective of you, (__).” And with no other explanation, Zoro strides out the door liesurely.

You sit there in silence. ‘Protective?’ You’re well aware of the way Luffy treats his crew, with such care and cherish, it’s what drew your heart to him. So what exactly did Zoro mean? Say something you don’t know, for a change, Moss-Head. You shake your head softly, drifting back asleep into the comfy covers of your bed.

———

The moment Zoro clicks the door shut, he’s met with Luffy’s figure leaning leisurely against the wall beside the door.

“Running your mouth again, Zoro?” Luffy’s voice is steady, strawhat low over his droopy eyes, back against the wall and head lowered slightly, arms crossed loosely, faced forward.

Zoro just huffs, not bothering to look over at him. one of his hands settling on the hilt of his three swords on his side. “Scared she’ll find out?”

“Find out what.” Luffy feigns ignorance quite easily.

Zoro moves, shifting to stand right in front of him.

“Romance within a crew won’t end well, Captain.” Zoro’s voice is warning. Careful.

“It could jeapordize the balance we’ve maintained so far.”

Luffy pauses, listening. He doesn’t say anything for a while before he looks up at Zoro, gaze steady. But unusually intense.

“What romance?” He replies smoothly.

Zoro watches him a moment. He’s never seen that look in his friend’s eyes, even since he first saved him from the marines and got him in his crew. He can tell he’s doing his best to reign himself in for the sake of his crew and his position as captain, so Zoro just huffs, starting to walk away leisurely.

“ ‘s long as you’re aware. Captain.” He waves casually, leaving Luffy by the side of the door to where you slept soundly, eyes hidden with the rim of his straw-hat, as he remains there with his hands clenching softly, as if to hold back, guarding your door silently as you sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aahh I cant i love this type of Luffy sm, but if it’s getting to the point of derailing from his actual personality pls tell me! I can get a little enthusiastic with this type of Luffy, so it might come off too strong! 😭

also idk if y’all got the vibe of a little bit of forbidden love but i hope u did cuz that’s like the perspective so far since Luffy’s real intentions are showing a little now!!

But anyways thank u so much for reading all the way here! I hope u enjoyed it, and lmk if you’re all up for a Part 3!!! 🤭

Part3!!!!!

In the manor, the windows were strong enough that even the harshest of storms wouldn’t shake them. Isla’s house wasn’t like that, her windows rattled and the sounds were shut out by old walls sturdier than most modern construction.

On the way to her house you gave her a short message, no details, just asking if you could stay over. She replied that she already set up a spot for you, along with that stupid sticker she loved to spam in chat.

Now here you were, quietly scrolling on your phone while Isla periodically kept checking up on you from her bed. You laid on the pullout beneath her; you felt bad for staying over but you really needed a pause.

You couldn’t go back to that house right now —if ever— so what’s the plan now? You put your phone away to the side with your charger and began to rummage through the backpack you filled in a hurry with clothes and the necessities.

Only things like your wallet, half of your school books and your charger, if you needed the rest of your books you supposed you were just screwed.

Isla tried to talk, but it was clear you didn’t really want to, so she just went to the kitchen, heated up some leftovers, and handed them to you before going to sleep with her unicorn sleeping mask on.

If you were being honest a part of you wanted to block the entire family— granted you only had half their numbers, but Duke would be the exception to that.

He sent you a single message an hour after you left.

Duke: I’m sorry for not trying harder, if you ever need a nightlight on a walk, I’m here.

No, you didn’t reply, and the message didn’t give you as much comfort as it might’ve before all of this happened, but you liked that he was trying.

You had blocked Dick and Bruce’s numbers earlier because you were annoyed at all their excuses, only keeping Duke’s and Alfred’s. You had Stephanie’s too, but it was lost somewhere in your contacts.

Everyone else? You never had their numbers to block in the first place, and that’s okay. God there was so much to do now.. first of all you really need to avoid everyone, probably not healthy but neither is getting stabbed which you know all of them are fully capable of.

You don’t think they’d do that but it’s better safe than sorry.

Lying on your back on the old mattress you looked up to the ceiling, the glowing stars on Isla’s ceiling that hid the damp spots from past leakage. It was only around a year ago that you three fixed it, only took three weeks and thirty videos to learn how to do so— as well as Bruce’s money because that was not cheap.

You felt the quiet rumble of a chuckle in your throat to the roof of your month whilst recalling it. The warmth of that small core memory was enough to lull you to sleep.

─── ´ˎ˗

His heart ached, a weird feeling. It didn’t hurt, it stirred and wouldn’t settle like water. Even if it did stop, the smallest drop of guilt caused a ripple in his chest right after.

Duke ignored the knocking at his door, Stephanie asking for him to come to breakfast without receiving an answer. He’d been up since five am, tossing and turning before eventually giving up on sleep as a whole.

Slowly the knocking stopped before being followed by steps becoming more and more distant.

He sighed and turned to lay on his side, phone in hand— you still hadn’t replied. If it were any consolation he’d have told you all he thought, how you were family, and how he was sorry.

But he knew it was pointless, if that was enough then you would have replied. Maybe he’d see you at school?

You had no classes together, but you’d see each other at lunch and during hall breaks. There was only one thing consistent about your schedule and it was who you spent it with: two people he didn’t know the names of, and who were probably housing you right now.

He’s no Tim; he can’t figure out where you are by any means just through the little things he’s noticed. But he’s smart enough to know that you’re with who you’re supposed to be with right now. It hurts knowing that place isn’t here, with everyone at the manor.

Yet he can’t blame you.

So instead he’ll get up, try his best to hide his dark circles, and get dressed before eating breakfast with half a mind, ignoring Steph and Bruce’s concerned glances.

─── ´ˎ˗

Cass watched the three leave for school, Tim walking out with a distracted ‘bye’ head downturned to his phone. Damian didn’t say a thing and Duke was clearly preoccupied, but he tried his best to smile at her before stepping out the door.

“… this is about last night” She said to Steph, still sitting at the table with her elbows on the table now alone after Bruce left, hair tucked behind her ears carefully to prevent it from touching her breakfast.

Looking at Cass, Steph sighed, pushing back her hair and leaning back in the chair away from her breakfast. “Yup.. dammit..” her hands lowered to rub her shut eyes, the pressure of her palms soothing some of the dryness.

Without a word, she felt the familiar presence of Cassandra at her side, a hand on her shoulder, head falling to the side landing on her hand with a dreary look. “I feel so bad Cass; I don’t know what to do about it..”

“It’ll be okay.” She replied, and maybe it would.

But maybe it wouldn’t.

─── ´ˎ˗

“Are they.. dead?” Oliver asked, watching you rest your head on your desk, blankly staring out the window without a care while Isla sat behind you.

She shrugged, lifting her shoulders high enough to touch her earrings before dropping them. “Rough night” she replied, leaving it at that, not wanting to speak too much for you.

He nodded, taking his own seat next to you while placing his bag on the back of it. He gave your arm a gentle pat, likely meant to be encouraging before taking out his text books. Great, first class of the day being science and you don’t have your science book. Oliver had to awkwardly manoeuvre himself to share his, even though you insisted he didn’t need to.

And after that, class wasn’t much better. There was English, social studies, history, and physical education— which you only have one book for, your social studies book you never took out of your bag.

When lunch came around you just sat outside with Isla and Oliver in your usual spot by the entrance, her mom was kind enough to make you a separate lunch since you didn’t have one from Alfred.

It was basic, in a plastic container with small packs of cookies, chips and a sandwich. If she found a twenty dollar bill on her counter though, you weren’t gonna admit it was yours.

Your two friends were clearly worried, but you still hadn’t told them everything. Only that going home probably wouldn’t be your best choice mentally— you had to specify that because otherwise Isla would’ve gone full physical assault on the Waynes.

So when physical education came around by the end of the day you practically gave up trying at all, walking around the field instead of running and sitting against the fence instead of doing whatever they were making you do that day.

The teacher called your name, yelling at you to stop acting out and join everyone, but you just shrugged and looked to the side dejectedly in an attempt to make her feel kind of bad.

And it worked! She said as long as you brought a better attitude next time you could skip out today! It made you feel a bit icky to manipulate someone by acting all sad, but last night brought a whole load of new issues, so if anyone deserves to act out, it’s you.

‘that’s problematic thinking..’ you thought for a minute, before watching everyone being forced to run ten laps and decided ‘nope, it’s fine’.

Oliver and Isla weren’t in your class this time around, the schedules could get so confusing which was the main reason you weren’t participating.

When the teacher finally let you all go change before dismissing you all for the day, meanwhile you were wondering who you could stay with, Isla’s mom said it was okay to stay again, but two nights in a row?

As you pondered your options, walking between a few of your classmates, you heard someone distantly calling your name but ignored it. That was until that person ran up from behind you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

You flinched from the contact and immediately swung your arm back, elbow hitting whoever it was before looking back with a deadpanned expression. “What-"

Looking down at the person who fell back against the grass, you immediately felt bad. “Duke?? Shit, sorry-"

“Nah it’s-" he coughed out a wheeze “-fine!” He smiled at you, taking your hand that you held out, using your help he pulled himself back up while rubbing his ribs where you struck him.

“Sure.. totally fine” you said, meeting his eyes as he dusted himself off and caught breath. “So uh, did you need something? If it’s about last night or leaving you on read I’m sort’ve sorry.”

Ignoring the ‘sort’ve part’ Duke frowned, “No, not that- it’s.. can we talk somewhere else?” He asked, looking at the few stragglers of your class who were too nosy for their own good, walking one inch per minute just so they could listen in.

You took out your phone from your pocket, “Uhm, yeah can I just go change first?” the hand holding your phone lowered to gesture at your physical ed uniform which was a waste because you didn’t even do anything but whatever.

He nodded, “Yeah, of course, I’ll just wait by the front?”

“Mhm” you replied before walking to the locker rooms, wondering if he could see the rigidness of your steps, heels of your feet digging deeper into the grass than necessary.

Your mind zoned out as you changed, mindlessly listening to the sound of other students, lockers clanging loudly as they slammed closed, quiet clicking of locks followed right after. The humidity of the room messed with your senses, not even comprehending how empty it became until someone accidentally bumped your shoulder on the way out.

“Sorry” they said before walking away, you turned to look back at them before realising you and only a couple of others were left. You shook it off, slowly the world around you came back into focus as you finished changing before running out to see the teacher so she could dismiss you.

After doing so with a very stern warning to not slack off next time she finally let you go, immediately you walked through the halls to see Duke. He was leaning against the concrete wall of the entrance, the fibres of his uniform stuck to the small, rough grains of it. Your shoes felt heavier as they dragged across the ground, taking steps to him.

From the corner of his eye he caught you walking his way, the corners of his lips raised up into an albeit very awkward grin, the kind that reaches your cheeks but not your eyes.

“Hey!” He waved you over, back pushing itself off the wall and moving over to you, he looked across you for a second, taking in the fact that your physical ed socks were on your feet instead of the mandated school ones.

Your head nodded forward to preferably move the conversation, “Hi, so you wanted to talk?” The minute your words reached his ears he hunched forward, posture becoming as limp as a noodle, he looked so utterly defeated.

Surprised by the action, you stumbled backwards a step or two before getting your balance back, he looked up apologetically. “Yeah, can we maybe talk somewhere else, Bat Burger? My treat?”

Unsure of what to say or you, you shrugged your shoulders and nodded, very clearly not certain in your decision. But Duke ran with it, likely his best choice considering the circumstances and the fact you could bolt at any second.

“I’ll call Alfred to take us” your brows met where the center of your forehead was, creasing in disagreement though you still couldn’t muster any kind of wording. “Or.. the bus?” He said thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed like they were scanning your face for any kind of sign which admitted worked when your expression loosened and your brows met your eyelids once again.

Duke smiled, his shoes grated on the gravel as he spun 90° on them and ran to the bus stop, not checking to see if you were following. You thought about ditching for a second; before remembering that it’s not Duke who did you wrong by any means, and Oli would definitely be on the bus, so you decidedly chased after him.

Somehow you spotted Oliver during your less than comfy conversation with Duke the minute you got on, glancing down the aisle while scanning your bus card. “Maybe we should sit here-” Duke started to say before you ran past him, well, ran is generous.

You more accurately bounced on the tips of your toes like an unpracticed ballerina desperately trying to get off stage to the side. Oli caught sight of you before you ended up tripping and landing right beside his seat, his arm reached out to catch you.

It didn’t end up being effective, simply lessening the impact of your fall as your legs buckled and you hit the deck. “Augh-!” You grunted out upon landing on your hands and knees.

“Dammit!” From behind you there was someone hastily walking through the aisle full of people and backpacks, people whispered about your unfortunate misstep while Oliver tried to check if you were okay.

You were; by the way. Just very sore from how you landed, your palms burned from the impact whilst your knees ached, carrying most of your weight. You managed to recognise Duke’s voice over the others, calling your name as his hand landed on your back to steady you.

“Are you alright?!” He asked worriedly, his other hand reaching to grab your upper arm to help you up. You stood on wobbly legs as you regained your sense of direction, looking straightforward and then around at the others.

“Perfectly fine” you said unconvincingly, Oliver moved aside, shoving his bag down to the ground to free up a seat for you. Your body slumped into it, you winced at the aching in your knees and the searing heat in your palms. At once the exhaustion of it all hit you and you really couldn’t be bothered with anyone at that moment.

Duke was watching you, eyes focused with worry. Your shoulders rolled back as you sighed, “Wake me up when we get to Batburger..” you added before leaning on Oliver and falling asleep instantly— Duke didn’t have to know you were just pretending so you didn’t have to deal with him; also, you really were tired.

From your side you felt his presence fade away, his steps lost in the chatter. Oliver whispered quietly, “He’s in a different seat..” and thanks to his cue you opened your eyes, irises dashing around quickly to double check your surroundings before relaxing.

“Thanks Oli..” your words exited your mouth with a sigh right after.

“Anytime but..” he picked at his nails for a second before sighing, “why is Duke here..? I know sometimes he takes the bus, but I mean with you? When you texted us that you were busy I didn’t think you meant with him or anyone for that matter..”

Your brows pushed up before returning to their original place, “said he wanted to talk,” your shoulders shrugging to emphasise that you also did not know the answer beyond that.

At the same time you frowned, face scrunching up whilst you turned to Oliver, “Hey wait, what’s that supposed to mean??”

“What’s what supposed to mean?” He replied, looking genuinely confused as you continued.

“You said ‘or anyone’, did you think I was that much of a loner??” You scoffed out that last part; and you felt even more insulted when he started laughing.

“Yes! I do, because me and Isla are your only friends?” Okay, yes, it was true, they were your only two— very amazing— friends. But he didn’t have to say it like that.

Despite your bruised ego though you found yourself laughing along to his own, a melodious mix of both your and his voice entering the air.

In your moments of joy you failed to take into consideration the person who was listening from the front of the bus, Duke has his back pushed up against the entirety of his seat, listening to how relaxed you sound with your friend.

He held his phone in a solid grip, ignoring the texts he was getting from the family group chat which you weren’t even a part of.

There was a lot he regretted, and this was one to add to the list.

─── ´ˎ˗

“It looks like Neither of us want to be here longer than necessary so just get to the point please” you said, sitting across from Duke in a greasy Batburger while eating a basket of fries, salted to as close to perfection as possible.

He’d been mute since you both got off the bus, giving both you and Oliver a glance from the door while you said goodbye, since then his eyes stayed stuck to anything that wasn’t in your direction which was a touch infuriating considering he called this little meeting.

His throat cleared before looking you in the eyes, “Right.. so last night got a bit- ""unhinged?” You cut in, chopping on a few fries.

“Yeah, just wanted to make sure you’re all good, guess you’re staying with your friends?” He asked, you bobbed forward in response, taking a sip of your drink, the plastic straw scraping at your gums as you gnawed on it.

“Yeah, staying with Isla right now, but I’ll probably go to Oli’s house in a few days, don’t wanna intrude too much at one time.” The taste of the fries and the fizziness of your drink distracted you from how much he was fidgeting, you weren’t close but even you knew this was a lot.

He slumped forth, chest and arms hitting the edge of the somewhat sticky table, “I’m really sorry for being as shitty as everyone else!” his words caught the attention of a few strangers around but you just waved them away, ready to interrupt him because he was not as bad as everyone. But he was very insistent on continuing after seeing you were about to speak.

“Just- listen please, I should’ve said something, anything. And I really want us to be family, more than I want us to be strangers.” His tongue brushed the cracked dryness of his lips away as he unmistavely tried his best to proceed.

“If you would-” ”I forgive you” “-what?” Your sudden interruption caught him off guard, and when he registered your words it was surprise that took over in its stead.

“I'm forgiven? Just like that? But-” your hand shoved its way into the face before his face, the grease and water droplets on your finger tips shone in his eyes.

“Hush, I said you’re forgiven, besides I said last night you’re one of the people I’m cool with” you shrugged, sipping at your almost empty drink. “The only reason I didn’t reply was in case you were spying for the others, they don’t seem like the type to let go of being told off easily.”

Through his nostrils a puff of air in place of a laugh brushed into the atmosphere, snickering as his elbows leaned onto the table, “Damn, well I assure you I’m not spying. No one even knows we’re talking right now so let’s stay cool, please..?”

You nodded, “As we should be, just don’t forget to text me next time everyone suddenly remembers I exist, saves me a whole lot of trouble, and dealing with Conner of all beings.”

More sounds of his surpressed laughter choked out as he agreed, hands running over his face to his hair, “Right, sorry again. I have no clue why I didn’t think to text you.. or anyone for that matter, I’m sure Tim could’ve found it even if he didn’t have it..”

The final drops of your drink that would fit through the straw suctioned into just air as they entered your anatomy, “A bit late to make things make sense dude, but we’re alright, I mean it. You’re also paying for my meal so I owe you some grace, even if it is Bruce’s money.” You replied, shaking the empty cup as the loose plastic straw began to tap against the sides like a maraca.

From before you Duke felt a massive weight being lifted off his shoulders; as well as clarity that he didn’t have prior. Thinking logically, why didn’t anyone think to reach out to you directly? Why confront you and try to fault you even after you did everything right?

But you were correct in saying that it was late to think about it, you seemed to care much less than he did, your posture was relaxed, so much so you were almost lying down on your seat. Shaking your cup rhythmically with an absent look in your eyes, he came to the conclusion that you really were.. just fine with it.

Your meeting ended after leaving no crumbs and clattering all your trash onto the tray before disposing of it. On the walk out he turned to you, hands in his pocket, one of which was tight around his wallet which you obviously couldn’t see.

“Hey so.. if we’re cool do you mind telling me where you’re staying? Swear I won’t tell Bruce or anyone, just want to make sure you’re safe” anywhere else to you this’d have sounded like an excuse, but it’s Gotham. His worry made sense.

You sucked at your teeth for a second before shrugging, “alright, I’ll text you Isla and Oli’s addresses later, I’m staying with Isla right now but I’ll probably move to Oliver’s soon.”

His smile was almost blinding, your brows furrowed, lips pursing in amusement with laughter concealed in your lungs, stretching your arms and legs as you strolled to the bus stop.

Duke was also very stubborn about making sure you got to Isla’s place safely, you two took the bus and talked part of the way. While on the bus he nudged your shoulder with his own before pointing at some stupid post on his phone which made you laugh.

The entire ride you shared feeds and random posts, sending your favourites to each other to rewatch another time. He got a text from Stephanie which made things awkward for two seconds until you brushed away the topic and kept scrolling.

And after you got off, you were most definitely glad Duke was with you since the sun had begun to set without your notice. He on the other hand grew a bit more cautious, even if this place was far from being crime alley, it had its fair share of muggers and thefts, when he voiced his concerns you just rolled your eyes; “Isla’s mom basically provides for the two of them, child support pays for school and groceries but moving somewhere safer is way more expensive.”

He didn’t ask anything else after that, he got it the answer and that was all he wanted. Before you realised it both of you approached the building, no security or anything, just a door that locked from the inside where only residents could access it with a key.

You texted Isla hurriedly to come down so she could let you in, you have a copy of your own, but it was buried somewhere in your bag, and you also wanted to introduce Duke to Isla, since she’d decidedly hated your entire family.

[ME]: Hey, in front, can you come let me in?

Isla: [sticker] OBVIOUSLY

Isla: why didn’t you just let yourself in, did u lose the key?

[ME]: too lazy to get that also I want you to meet Duke

Isla: …

Isla: like, duke, part of the family, the family I hate?

[ME]: he’s one of the people I’m fine with, just come down and meet him lmao

Isla: FINE; but if I don’t like him I have the right to punch him

[ME]: illegal but alr!

“Okay, heads up, make a good impression or Isla’s gonna punch you.” You warned before scrolling back on your phone, ignoring Duke’s distraught face.

“She’s gonna what-??” His eyes widened, suddenly becoming very aware of his surroundings with his back literally against the wall, and if you heard him squeal when Isla banged on the door without him seeing her, he’d say you imagined it.

“HI!” she announced, swiftly using her key to open the door, flinging it open behind her to greet you with a hug. Completely ignoring the fact she just gave Duke a minor heart attack.

She rubbed your upper arms before turning to Duke, a displeased expression overtaking her past glee. “You’re not allowed inside” she said, right hand cracking her knuckles individually with her thumb, a telltale sign she wanted to and would swing in the next minute.

You caught her forearm before she could and shook your head side to side, “We’re cool Isla, save that right hook for another day.” Said you, already moving and heading inside to the stairs while Isla glared at Duke once more before entering, quickly locking the door with her key before running after you.

Behind the entrance your duo you heard a muffled “GOODNIGHT!” From him, your hand lifted, flicking back and forth in a lazy wave without looking back, knowing he could see it through the small window of the door, what he couldn’t see was Isla’s scowl.

After strolling up one flight of stairs you sighed loudly, putting your left hand on her shoulder, “Y’know I wanted you guys to like, talk right? That’s what I meant by meeting him.”

“And I said I reserved the right to punch him if I hated him.” She replied, rubbing her fist, clearly wishing she took the chance before you stopped her.

“You were in his vicinity for twenty seconds?!” You laughed, coughing over your words as you slapped her back, she scoffed in response, hopping step by step up the stairs, rounding the corner to the next flight with you falling behind.

“Exactly! That’s how unlikable he was!” She said, her rising grin accentuating the dimples on her cheeks as she grabbed your hand, your fingers squished together in her hold, “Now c’mon, mom made fresh pasta just for you so hurry up!”

“Ouch! I fell earlier y’know!” You shook your head fondly, a tiny sigh leaving your lips as they lifted, matching her own smile as you both jogged up the stairs to her where her mom was, awaiting a warm dinner with that same feeling in your chest. Warm, filling, and most of all— not lonely.

─── ´ˎ˗

Duke waltzed into the house with a pep in his step, bag still slung over his shoulder with the smell of a greasy batburger attached to him. Conveniently he walked in just when family dinner was starting, Damian walked up to him with a scowl, nose scrunching as it picked up the smell. “You smell like cheap, unhealthy fast food.”

“Stopped for some batburger, no dinner for me tonight sorry, save left overs for me tomorrow, I’ll eat it on patrol!” Duke replied, practically skipping up the stairs to leave behind an awfully perturbed Damian.

The events of last night still on his and everyone’s minds, he held such resentment to you after your lashing out. After you left, everyone dispersed as if they had anywhere else to be, which was ridiculous because they were all free until patrol which was hours away!

And so, Damian chose to do the one thing anyone in his shoes would do, care to take a guess?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Third chapter is officially done! I’m so sorry, this was meant to be out much earlier but I moved houses, and we had to deal with the wifi acting up which made it hard to write. The ending is so rushed because I wanted to get this out after making people wait so long, I’ve very sorry!

This is really bad, I’m so sorry. I can’t even describe how sorry I am, not only for keeping people waiting but also for how horrid this is.

But I want to thank the awesome who proofread a portion of this, the technical difficulties on my side made it so we couldn’t communicate consistently but I appreciate the help they gave me for a short period of time.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

T A G L I S T

@maradcrs @pennyisangstyhelp-blog @yoruuuen @artsukin @mariana11zx2 @princesslang @princesscosmo @sarah-luz @izukusbiggestfan @itsangelic @pearlyribbons @nightwinglover101 @j-kianab @alephless @dxbriaskibdio @uivira @iamthegreatergood @red-hood132 @junevtv @kohaiyuki @ninininini08 @mewmew222 @rxi-pop @analogicthought @stormnightingale @yoyogirl67 @the-midnight-king-of-poets @roxanne-likes-randomly @anidiots @v10l3tst4tqc @losingmybrain @dreamndestiny @cookiepersona @batt-z @marzi-pan-dulce @kekeanna266 @corach4n @rad4bean

-> thank you to all the people supporting this little series, the kind words that everyone give me really make writing this all the more worth it. So sorry if I missed tagging anyone, I tried to keep track but I may have forgotten so I’m very sorry.

♫ NOTE: taglist is closed.

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C H A P T E R S

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prologue: “it’s not about me, it’s you.”

chapter 1: “who even are you?”

chapter 2: “you lost the right to say anything about me.”

chapter 3: “maybe I’d change my mind.”

chapter 4: “can you still say you have that right?”

chapter 5: “enough of you.”

chapter 6: “go back to a house that isn’t home?”

chapter 7: [unavailable]

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D I S C O G R A P H Y

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♫ PLAYLIST BELOW:

＊ DNA guarantee - Kodi Rhianne

＊ Restless - Untitled

＊ Dog - Daisy The Great

＊ My body is made of crush little stars - Mitski

＊ It’s cold out here - Modern Baseball

＊ To Regret - Mother Mother

＊ Body and Mind - Girl In Red

＊ Miracle - Paramore

＊ Missing Hell - Sushi Soucy

＊ Home - Leith Ross

＊ double edged sword - Hailey Picardi

＊ try again tomorrow - liana flores

＊ Nobody Loves Me - mxmtoons, Cavetown & Ricky Montgomery

＊ Doodles - Rose Betts

＊ Rules - Mitski

＊ Gotta Be a Reason - Alec Benjamin

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

T A G L I S T

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@maradcrs @pennyisangstyhelp-blog @eveeevelyn @yoruuuen @artsukin @mariana11zx2 @princesslang @princesscosmo @sarah-luz @izukusbiggestfan @itsangelic @pearlyribbons @sunnyboysignal @j-kianab @alephless @dxbriaskibdio @uivira @iamthegreatergood @red-hood132 @junevtv @kohaiyuki @ninininini08 @mewmew222 @rxi-pop @analogicthought @stormnightingale @yoyogirl67 @the-midnight-king-of-poets @roxanne-likes-randomly @anidiots @v10l3tst4tqc @losingmybrain @dreamndestiny @cookiepersona @batt-z @marzi-pan-dulce @kekeanna266 @rho-229 @corach4n @rad4bean @husbandofmihawk @herdarlin @notxxvidya @leahgokam @thypplover @oscarquokka @1chaerry @leilakeila @fire126 @applesodie

Cold hands pressed into your arm, shaking you awake, fingers sinking into your skin. A recognizable voice rung in your tired ears, only just now becoming aware to the world.

Your eyes wrinkled, shut tightly from how bright everything suddenly was, trying to peer open. Suddenly the light disappeared, replaced by Oliver's frantic silhouette, "Wake up!"

"Oli..?" Your voice scratched out, groggy from sleep, "The hell is going on, something tells me it's too early for this..” but your words seemingly went unnoticed.

"Okay, don't panic!" He said, clearly in a state of panic, his silhouette dancing across the room with his hands shaking, stuck in a position where they looked like they were supposed to hold something but ended up cramping.

Clearing your throat quickly, you coughed out the next few words in an attempt to calm him down or at least get answers, "Oli, you're panicking."

His hands gripped your shoulders gently, still trembling. "Cassandra is outside right now! " he chuckled nervously as he glanced out the crack in the doorway.

It was inevitable for you to wake up instantly, you rapidly sat up, forcing your senses to arise to attention, eyes wincing at the bright light with specks of dust flying through it. The blanket which fell heavy on your lap, and the sounds of voices in the kitchen area.

You stood up without wasting a second, holding onto Oliver while standing on your wobbly legs until they became stable seconds later. Ignoring whatever nervous mumbles he had, you quickly rushed out the door and winced at the even brighter light from the sun.

Burning, the way it hit the countertop and semi-blinded you, "Shit-" you stumbled forward, catching yourself on the edge of it. Off to the side by the balcony door, Cassandra gave Isla a certain look, the kind that says ‘really?’ without any words.

Isla glanced from you, to Cassandra, back and forth, sucking in her cheeks and biting them with her lips puckered as if she had sour candy on her tongue. "So that.. is actually a clone I created of them, and I stand by my word that they aren't here!"

You looked over at them, particularly at Cassandra who analyzed everything as usual, her voice was calm, or rather monotone really as she greeted you. "Hello, clone?" Her chest huffed out a little bit of laughter, the soft fabric of her shirt flowing as she moved.

"You can laugh-? Stupid question, of course you can, sorry; but what are you doing here?" You asked, brows furrowed heavily with the corners of your mouth dragged down, she adjusted her posture, as collected as ever.

"You never replied to my text last night, so I came to see you." She said, pointing at her phone which stuck out from under a magazine on the table. It was ridiculous to you.

"Now you see, usually people would kind of, just wait? But I see your point." No actually, you didn't. God forbid you needed a day or two, this family is exhausting for people who hardly acknowledged you.

She soughed, "can we speak alone?" her eyes sharply looked at Isla, then to Oliver who stood behind you in the doorway of your mutual friends room, the soft light of her curtains swayed behind him.

Isla shook her head at you, grimace serpentined with frustration and worry; not wanting you to handle this alone, but you shrugged back your arms, the feeling of your clothes pressed against your skin, "Yeah, sure, Isla, mind waiting with Oli?"

“Ughh.. fine!”, standing up with loose limbs, she sauntered over to Oliver, pushing him frailly into her room before tilting back her head to toss you another concerned look.

Her brow raised, questioning you once more wordlessly, 'are you sure?' was the message it conveyed, and you, in response, bobbed your head assuredly, at the confirmation, she walked in and shut her door.

You walked towards Cassandra, taking the place where Isla previously sat, her warmth still radiating off the wooden rim where she held it with one hand. Taking the chance to brush your hand against the miscellaneous sugar and salt packets on the surface of the table.

"So, what is it? No offense Cain but I don't see why we need to talk, I don't owe you anything, and you don't owe me anything." Words hit her like douse of cold water, but no tell showed itself on her face.

Her nails curled into the back of her hand on her lap beneath the table, "Stephanie, she feels.." she wasn't good with feelings, you saw it, it's why you never pushed her when you first met.

"I know, Stephanie feels bad— guilty maybe, but unless she talks to me herself that's not your message to deliver." You weren't mad, there wasn't enough expectations in the first place to be upset about, honestly?

Cassandra frowned, "She wants to, but she hesitates."

"So?" Her eyes shot to you, a bit surprised by your words, quickly you backtracked. "I mean, I'm sorry, didn't mean that in a bad way, but I don't know what to do about that?"

Truthfully, Cassandra knew what she wanted to ask of you wouldn't work, that you wouldn't just forgive Stephanie because she asked, it didn't work like that. It was something she learned after being around others more and more, they aren't people in a fight, actions are predictable, someone's feelings aren't.

You watched as she internally pondered what to do, partially feeling bad, and another part of you couldn't give a care in the world. Your hand tapped idly against the edge of the table while you waited for her to talk.

But after minutes of absolutely excruciating minutes of silence, watching her shift in her seat which was so foreign to you since she never fidgeted, maybe you needed to speak for this to be over quicker. It felt like those times you're meeting with someone one on one when you're twelve, and they wait for you to talk but you just don't know what to say.

Clearing your throat you leaned back against the chair, "Cassandra, I'm not mad y'know, just want everyone to leave me alone, it wasn't a problem until everyone decided it was and even then that wasn't my fault." You straighten up to match her posture, "I've seen a lot in that manor, and I've seen a lot of people come but the only person to go besides Jason which he really had no control over was myself. Difference being not a single person cared, and I'll let you in on a secret, after years I didn't either, not to sound dramatic." Though you knew you did.

Your body was tense, waiting for a reply that didn't come, you decided to just keep talking until something you said spurred her next words.

"I 'disappeared' for a day, not even that, and everyone blamed me the second I got back. I stood in that cave because for some reason Bruce can't bother to have a regular conversation outside of it, everything needs to be tied back to vigilantism. Normal families just talk in the living room, or the dining room if things are really serious, trust me I know."

You took breath, "Oliver has had plenty of family talks and I've just been there sitting awkwardly.. if this happened earlier, like when I was younger I definitely would've agreed to making up instantly because I'd be so desperate for family" you began to ramble a bit, it was stupid but she didn’t interrupt.

"But we aren't family, I accepted that a while ago. Tim even said it himself, which was insane because he is arguably one of the most stable out of all of you! No offense-"

"None taken.." she said, your eyes enlarged just about before grinning, you angled your body to hers, moving closer making chest touching your wrist which still held the table.

Cassandra noted as the small grin across your lips formed, "Finally, you said something! Look, I'm willing to compromise here regarding this entire situation.”

"Compromise? You're strange, and sound a lot like Tim sometimes." She observed how your eyes widened, brows sprung up with disbelief. You coughed, trying to hide your laughter which was an amusing sight to Cassandra as she waited.

“Me and Tim alike, hm?? Don't know what to make of that but thanks, anyways back to compromise." The sureness of it all and the way the conversation kept moving like a tipsy ride made the tenseness in the air loosen.

"What do you want?" You charitably, perhaps pulling out the therapist card was a little bit of a low blow but there was one thing you should've clarified that night.

Bruce wasn't the only one who needed therapy.

Cassandra spoke warily, every word felt like it had a million more behind it. "I'm.. unsure, is that a bad thing?"

You leaned towards her side of the table, not intrusive but just sharing, "No, I'm unsure too, I don't know whether to forgive you guys or not, I want to, but I don't think I should yet, and it's fine, yeah?"

Slowly, she shook her head forward, hand resting on the table, the faint dig of her nails visible on the back of it. "For what it's worth, I think you're apart of the family, you always have been." She added, gently, testing if that was the correct thing to say.

You chuckled and leaned back in the chair, shaking your head softly then looking to the right, focusing on the outside of Isla's balcony. "You don't have to lie Cain.”

"I'm not." She said with the same tone she used during missions, one that means no questions asked, "If.. we were ever to lose all of our memories, and everyone reunited without you, I'd feel like someone's missing, I'd know it."

Her head looked downward to her thighs as she continued, "It sounds like excuses, even if it is I mean it.. when we met, you were nice, I needed that."

"…" you stayed quiet, processing her words, quite metaphorical for her. After long moments of silent, Cassandra slowly looked back up, suddenly flinching at the sight.

Your face vacant with muscles relaxed, only to be ruined by tears following down the slope of your cheeks and onto the table.

Cassandra stood up, her chair clattering behind her as it screeched across the floor. Swiftly joining your side with a tight feeling of guilt in her chest close to where her heart was located, "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to.."

"No, you're all good- I'm just, hearing that from someone who's.." you sniffled and inclined, trailing your hands over your face, picking up your tears at the same time. "Duke is great, but he's new, it's easier for him to accept me but- from someone whose been around for years, that's.. I don't know, I'm not in the right headspace right now!" Your attempt at a chuckle coming out tearfully as a wail, hands grabbing at your shirt while you grounded yourself with deep breaths.

She scanned over you, seeing you talk like this was normal, something everyday. Clutching at your chest while hardly even sobbing, as if your feelings were stuck in your chest and you couldn't get them out. Her hand reached down to yours, and held it, her thumb rubbing over the padding of your palm.

You set your teary eyes on her hovering figure and instinctively held back, your fingers curling around her hand, cautiously as to not hold her too hardly, and without wasting time she hugged you to her chest. "I'm sorry, I'm your older sister.. have been, and will be always."

'Dammit..' this was too much for whatever time it was, 'stupid, sister, whatever..' you thought, somewhat in denial for how much had happened in less than an hour.

You chortled, "Sister hm..? Sounds weird to say, but thanks Cain.." nuzzling your head into her shirt, whatever leftovers of your tears being absorbed by it.

"Cass." She corrected feebly, scared to ask that of you.

But the familiarity didn’t scare you, "… Cass, thanks.. uh, hey you do know this doesn’t mean we’re entirely alright, to be clear?” You said, she looked down at you with a soft look in her eyes.

The soft yet playful curl of her lips with the laugh that slipped through the slip between them lightened the air, “I know, but thank you for the chance.”

Right, the chance. It was so easy to somewhat mend things with Cassandra, but that’s only since she never really did you wrong, not the way the others did.

Will it be harder to accept the others? Are you capable of doing so?

─── ´ˎ˗

From her room, Isla watched with soft eyes through the crack in her doorway, beside her was Oliver watching the scene with you two.

Isla smiled lovingly at the sight, "I'm happy for them.." she said to Oli while nudging him with her elbow.

Oliver needed to bury his head in a pillow to hide his tears of happiness since he had a tendency to cry loudly.

And yet from across the city, in a whole other area, someone did not share this sentiment.

─── ´ˎ˗

Stephanie waited by her phone for an update from Cass, trilling through her lips whilst her arm aimlessly dangled off the side of her bed. By the morning, the first thing that happened when she woke up was seeing a message from Cass about how she was going to talk to you.

No clue how she even had your address, and now all she could do was wait for her to reply. Uncertainty stirred in her chest as she waited, the sound of a grandfather clock in the hallway ticked slowly.

Then of course, someone had to interrupt.

"The heck—??" She said, sitting up quickly and looking towards the very loud noise, only to see Damian standing there, looking even more agitated than usual. Stephanie reeled back quickly.

".. so, how are you doing? Wanna tell me why you’re in my room-" evidently not as he interrupted.

"Where is Cain." The end of his words growling with a snarl as he expected an answer. How did this kid know Cassandra went off to see you? Probably Tim, or maybe he just has a sixth sense like Bruce does for these things.

She smiled, eyes squinting at the little kid in front of her, "No clue! Y'know who knows though? Tim, probably, you should ask him! Actually wait, no, BARBARA, she definitely knows!"

"And why would Gordon definitely know." His eyes narrowed, why was this kid so suspicious of everyone today?

Stephanie huffed, "Because us girls stick together? Duh?" Damian grumbled under his breath, repeating it quietly in a mocking tone of voice before walking over to sit down beside her.

His foot tapped impatiently, but Steph really had no idea what she was supposed to say. She hardly even knew how to answer Cass’s text, let alone the little demon of the manor.

She prayed to no one in particular for a sign, for someone to just come in and intervene, it'd had been how long since she last texted Cass again? Her mind filled the silence, zoning out with only Damian to bring her back into awareness with his classic 'tt's.

'Cass… I swear you better not take too long!!'

─── ´ˎ˗

Away from Gotham, in Bludhaven, Dick sat with his phone in his hand, thankful that he had gotten your number from Barbara. Though it's worth noting that she did say 'don't mess this up' so that was most definitely, totally reassuring.

He never knew you two were close, he didn't know a lot about you other than the little things. Like how when you were younger he'd notice when you got a little trim on your hair, or wearing something new he didn't recognize.

He thought that was enough, that it was a sign that he cared because he noticed, yet to you that wasn't good enough. He wasn't annoyed, or angry at you, no matter what anyone would have believed.

More like he was disappointed he wasn't who you needed him to be, he knew how standoffish Bruce could be, it was one of his many flaws. So he tried to step up in some aspects, but even then, after he ran off to Bludhaven and after some certain events he wasn't there for Bruce, Tim was.

Tim was that stability that he never was, part of him was too envious of his younger brother for being what he wasn't. Dick wasn't a perfect man, but he tried being a good brother, seems he failed at more than that.

The way you looked that night, you reminded him so much of himself when his parents had died. He was depressed, but thanks to his surroundings he managed to get past it, yet what about you?

Your mom was gone, and no one was there for you.

And to think he lost your number on top of everything, the one thing you ever gave him because that's the only thing he had accepted from you. Not the hangout sessions, not the questions you had for him, but your number because he thought it was substantial, your needs above your wants despite knowing how important both are.

His thumbs hesitated, flared beside the outline of his phone with your contact on his screen, your name wasn't even changed because he preferred to use nicknames that you didn’t have, he didn't even have a picture of you to change the plain, empty icon. Eventually he pressed onward, the sound of the keys popping into words from the speakers, ‘just keep it simple’ he thought, but what would be enough?

[ME]: wanna go out for lunch? I wanna talk, think that's okay?

He didn't expect such a quick response.

[NEW NUMBER]: k, where and when? My friends r coming too btw, idc if you say no to that, its my condition

[ME]: no trouble!! they can obviously come! I was thinking maybe a trip to the park, ?? Whenever is fine!

He hissed as his canine tooth pierced into the bottom of his lip, was that too enthusiastic? Did he sound too fake? Why did you want your friends around, did you not trust him?

[NEW NUMBER]: k, weekend works, Saturday or Sunday just txt me which park,

[NEW NUMBER]: oh btw Cass and duke might come

Dick blinked at the screen a couple of times, you made up with Duke and Cass already? And when did you start calling her by her nickname and not Cain, he didn't think much of it until now because he believed it was one of your quirks like how Damian calls people by their last names.

Did you call them by their first names because you didn't think of them closely enough to call them otherwise?

[ME]: awesome!! Sunday it is! Got some work on Saturday !

[NEW NUMBER:] okay, anyways, ttyl? Bye

[ME]: sure! bye!!

'That was so dry..' he winced at his own thoughts, perhaps you usually just talked like that? But your words from that night echoed in his head, proving him wrong.

"I’m not mad, just sick of your shit" you had said with such hatred in your voice. "I was here with you from the start, but it didn’t mean anything" but it did matter. He mourned Jason with you didn't he? There was a time when he couldn't face anyone yes, but that- there's no way you meant it.

Before he knew it, there were tears he couldn't stop, ripping down the skin of his face and staining it wetly. He's such a fuck up, too much so, he'll make it up to you, promise, and if he doesn’t?

He just hopes he can.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A/N: That’s chapter five. I do have an order of characters I want to fix their relationship with reader, the current being Duke then Cassandra, but can you guess who’s next?

This is really repetitive, and badly written, so I’m sorry for that. I think Cass and Duke were the easiest to fix things with because of how little of a part they played, they definitely played a part but it wasn’t as big as the rest.

Reader is a self-aware to a degree, that might not sit with some people and it’s okay, I apologise. Them calling Cass sister is going to be a plot point later, that’s why it was mentioned, usually it wouldn’t have been otherwise.. as for why I made Dick a bit self-deprecating, it’s mainly because he genuinely believed he was a good brother, so unlike the others who were aware of their mistakes, he wasn’t.

There’s a part of me that wants to make reader more immature, since they’re only 17 but what does everyone else think?

I want to once again say thank you to everyone who’s following this series and supporting it, also to announce for those who missed it, we now have as series masterlist so if you’d like then take a look.

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T A G L I S T

@maradcrs @pennyisangstyhelp-blog @eveeevelyn @yoruuuen @artsukin @mariana11zx2 @princesslang @princesscosmo @sarah-luz @izukusbiggestfan @itsangelic @pearlyribbons @sunnyboysignal @j-kianab @alephless @dxbriaskibdio @uivira @iamthegreatergood @red-hood132 @junevtv @kohaiyuki @ninininini08 @mewmew222 @rxi-pop @analogicthought @stormnightingale @yoyogirl67 @the-midnight-king-of-poets @roxanne-likes-randomly @anidiots @v10l3tst4tqc @losingmybrain @dreamndestiny @cookiepersona @batt-z @marzi-pan-dulce @kekeanna266 @rho-229 @corach4n @rad4bean @husbandofmihawk @herdarlin @notxxvidya @leahgokam @thypplover @oscarquokka @1chaerry @leilakeila @fire126

-> thank you to the amazing people who support this badly written work. I appreciate you all.

♫ NOTE: taglist is closed