Hello everyone! The day has finally come Day 3 is finally here!
If you are a current patron, I would recommend playing the Patreon version pinned on my page simply because it has more content (primarily NSFW content).
However, if you are not a current patron then please head on over to itch.io and you can finally play the long awaited Day 3 update!
I've also created a Devlog with everything that was updated from the Day 2 version if you were curious to see what's been updated since.
I hope you all enjoy and it would mean a lot if you could comment, rate, or share the game with others!
Thank you all so much for your patience and I really do hope that you enjoy playing Day 3!
The day has finally come, the free version of Day 3 is finally here! It's the longest day yet, so I can only hope that it was worth the wait!
I would really appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or rating on itch.io if you haven't already. It's a huge morality boost hearing what you guys think about Day 3 and how the story is unfolding!
For those curious, I've gone through and made a rough list of everything that I worked on and updated these past few months.
Day 1+2 Updates
Updated Content Warnings!
Fixed some minor typos and programming fixes.
Marcelo's coworker finally has a sprite!
Day 3 Update
Days 1 + 2 had about 35.5k words and Day 3 ended up having 50k words! That gives us a total of about 85.5k words! I believe that translates to about 6-8 hours of gameplay if you explore all of the branches/routes.
There are 60+ new backgrounds. (Including alternate versions)
There are 25+ new illustrations. (Including alternate versions)
3 new npcs.
New animated backgrounds.
There are over 100 new sprites! (Including new npcs)
ch.7 pt 2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)
directory: read under the end for an author's note.
tw: heavy depictions of self harm, suicide, and depression.
now playing: hate yourself by tv girl.
when alfred had finally arrived back at the batcave with a full tray of hot teas and coffees in one hand, as promised, the atmosphere was almost exactly as he predicted.
tense.
heavy.
but alarmingly quiet at the same time.
like a single drop of a pin would be enough to shatter the glass-like silence blanketing the entire cave.
no one had said a word when the ding of the elevator had sounded, but the eyes all pointed at him were enough to tell a story. like they'd all been awaiting his arrival, a hungry pack of wolves desperate and in need of answers from the only man with answers to their questions about you.
just who you are. where you are. and why — despite never truly knowing you — do you matter so much to them?
answers enough to satiate that clawing grip of insanity, guilt, and collective desire to impulsively take you back from where you're hiding and find the answers through you instead.
alfred doesn't feel a sliver of goosebumps from the heavy stare of dick near the panel of computers, wrecked with swarming emotions, he tears his attention off the heavy clacking of barbara's keyboard searching for any clues about your whereabouts, he strides, slow, steady, and calm, towards tim who had been scrolling through his phone in a shared effort to stalk through your information, with duke watching over his screen from behind. he sighs when he finds stephanie, accompanied by cassandra patting her back and whispering assurances, leaning her body against a crate of artillery to find balance after another wave of nausea had overtaken her.
the butler walks forward, closer and closer to the section of computer screens, and he places the tray down with no haste. barbara pauses, hesitates — likely riddled with doubts if she even deserves to be given a chance to unwind when time was ticking in search of you — but still, she wheels herself closer, taking a cup of coffee for herself, thanking alfred with a hesitant quirk of her lips, then returns back to her place.
typing once more. quicker, like the guilt had settled into her thoughts right after.
beside him was bruce, who maintained his neutral, frowning expression. for a moment, memories of your own expressions emerged into his mind. of the day he first saw you, stone faced and neutral like your father. unresponsive, silent, and dangerously close to disappearing into the shadows, if not for your labored breathing; just like your father.
you two were always the like the sides of a coin.
he turns to see the culprit's eyes glued to the screen filled with tabs of barbara's online searches, unblinking, as if the goal of finding you would solve anything other than the questions about your location—
as if stalking you would be enough to compensate for the years he wasted turning his back on you, never knowing a single thing about who you are as a person. what your goals were. your aspirations. everything.
deep down, alfred knew how bruce had been the most troubled. had been riddled the most with guilt and regret. he knew bruce would stop at nothing until he'd done enough to earn an ounce of your forgiveness. he'd move the world, fight wars he knew would be impossible to win, twist every fabric of reality if he could, to undo the years of aching silence he'd unknowingly forced upon your life and be the father he was meant to be for you.
he knew, but doesn't speak up, only closing his wrinkled eyes and shaking his head after staring up at the man, your father's, face: glowering, solid, and lit up by the reflection of the screen. most likely thinking of all the ways to make it up to you, apologize, before he could even see you in person.
he was not surprised by anyone.
alfred doesn't even flinch from when behind him, damian's sword cluttered to the floor, its sharp clang! echoing across the room like church bells singing its last song.
photographs, diagrams, illustrations, layouts, even notes about their vigilante identity.
the bats above have flapped their wings in sudden, waking alarm. the same way the pages of your heaviest, most tattered sketchbook flattered across the cave's floor, revealing, to the eyes of many who can see the papers closest to them—
displayed to them like artworks you'd find in museums. intricate pieces of evidences, headlines, even fucking graphs that gathered data comparing the frequency and correlation of their public sightings and presence along the manor. drawings of their hero costumes, old and new, from when dick was a young robin, to even the updated suits right after tim took charge of the mantle.
dick, who had been silent throughout the ordeal after jason had ended the call, was too shaky and afraid of what knowledge the entries hold. yet he had gathered all the willpower and courage to grasp the collection of paper that had landed right near his foot. his fingers rub along the frayed edges, but even with its age can he read the blurred ink lines running meticulously across the pages.
(yet his panicked eyes also run over the splotches of dried blood carelessly painting the papers. it wasn't just a tiny amount too. it was everywhere. like paint thrown across a canvas, it's smeared over some texts, blotched the sides and the bottom and— why was there blood? why was there so much? whose blood was it? the questions flood endlessly in his brain, and he's afraid even the answers would devastate him to the point of no return if he ever discovered it was yours.)
despite his disbelief, he skims over some paragraphs, takes in every bitter word, every spiteful phrase that had filled every blood-stained page.
the first thought that came to dick's mind was... well, it was impressive. any child of bruce, adopted or not, was destined for great things. yet even outside of bruce, dick knew his baby bird was always capable. but he never knew the extent of how great those things were.
it was another failure on his part.
it was another failure as your eldest brother.
he never really knew you, had only seen a part of you in his memories, but never the true you—
before he even discovered countless of your sketchbooks, journals, even the medals alfred had forgotten to store away, all hidden within your room; to dick, you were just the kid with shining, bright eyes in the face of your mother's tragedies. hopeful, naive, one of the youths dick had promised to protect as long as he lived. but he never had put an effort to know about your hobbies, your interests, your goals or your true thoughts.
not until now...
where even then he's hesitant to know, in fear that your hope for him had rotten and all that remained was rightful hatred.
so much so that when he flipped the paper to its back, his worst nightmares had begun to fester into reality.
he feels as if his heart had begun traversing its way up his throat, ceased, and then refused to move.
"journal entry #15: dick grayson and nightwing." it starts, followed with printed pictures of him swinging around the city, captured by cameras on standby. colored illustrations of his suits had a timeline plastered to its bottom, ranging from him as robin, to his transitions as nightwing.
you long knew about his identity of nightwing; your entries dated from nearly six years ago, when you were about to hit your thirteenth birthday mark—
then he vaguely recalls back-reading through one of your messages, and remembers your invitation to have him come to your small celebration.
"my bday's coming soon!" his phone screen had never looked so blurry until the time he'd scroll through the far dates of your texts, noticing how by every new message, your enthusiasm slowly dwindled. yet your first ones were once so full of life — and he realized he should've never dismissed your message as just some trick towards him; maybe then things would've been different. maybe you would be here, with him, laughing and painting the manor with your shining presence — he never realized you'd even went through great effort to ask for his number through alfred.
"you don't have to buy me a gift or anything, your presence is enough of one already!" you invited him alone. it should've done a great deal of pride to him, and yet all he ever did was make mistake after mistake, restricting your phone number to limit the spam.
you also said you planned cupcakes instead of a cake, said it was too much for you to finish. it was unusual at first— but then, sitting in your creaking room with the humid air of your tiny room clogging his brain, it took a little thinking to realize you'd been celebrating all your birthdays alone.
when your mother had died, when jason had already been dead, everyone, even alfred, was too wrapped up mourning and grieving. dick had spiraled enough with every argument towards bruce, then tim came into the fray— without your mother, it had just been you and alfred. you were never close to tim.
you've been reaching milestones alone.
another failure as your older brother.
he wants to vomit, crumple on the floor and dry heave— he wants to die thinking some more.
you were so desperate to even have one guest to your birthday party. was it even a party in the first place?
you were so fucking desperate you'd even told dick you'll do whatever flavor of frosting he'd prefer. you never thought of yourself at that moment, you only thought about dick coming to your celebration, of anyone coming.
then all of a sudden, dick realized that during the date of your birthday, he had actually been in the manor.
and worse? he'd spent it with alfred by his side the entire time.
he spent your birthday with alfred.
fuck...!
he could've spent it with you!
it was only after the late hours of the night did the butler dismiss himself with a worried furrow of his brows, seeming more insistent in leaving early rather than staying with the athlete. dick before didn't understand why for the first time in a while, alfred had other matters to attend to when tim was at a sleepover and bruce was in the middle of press conference. dinner would come later that night, dick was about to ask alfred why if he hadn't left his side already.
at that, he shrugged his shoulders, returning to his room, opting to sleep the night instead and waking up at midnight where he'd follow up with bruce over patrols, see if they could talk things out.
he should've known.
alfred's hasty footsteps echoing across the hallways should've been a sign of suspicion, but dick had been far too consumed with other worries. about his team, about his argument with bruce, about bludhaven and everything else weighing his mind.
worries that he shouldn't have to prioritize when he'd done nothing that day except converse with alfred, ranting to the manor's butler about mundane things to distract himself with that clawing feeling that something felt wrong amidst the silence—
because then he wouldn't have to imagine his baby bird, standing there all alone in the kitchen, ingredients at stand by, looking around to find every hallway, with no one coming to their little celebration.
how many times has that happened?
how many times have you been left to your own device, hopelessly waiting for a miracle?
how many birthdays of yours had he rejected without knowing, in favor of prioritizing something else, someone else?
how many birthdays, milestones, celebrations did you have while the entire family spent nights separate from each other— or spending with each other, whilst without you, instead?
dick completely understands if you've fucking despised every bit of him after always ditching your invitations—
because now, you've written your personal notes about him beside all the drawings. even a single skim of the paragraphs of text was enough for dick to know this was written not out of awe. the more he reads under his breath, the faster the pace in his heavy heart quickens.
"dick is- is nightwing." he stutters, ignoring the squeak of barbara's wheelchair nearing him, too engrossed to even notice her grabbing some of the pages from his hands.
he continues to read, as if under an unwilling trance, mind fogged with every word that shifts into vivid imaginations of your self writing these entries in your too-small bedroom.
"it's- it's obvious from the way they share the same acrobatic moves that... that he does in secret in rooms where he thinks i'm not looking.
his eyes flip to another carelessly erased line, making out every letter through blurry eyes — a reflection to what you truly think, but still ashamed to admit — lips quivering as he whispers, "he- he does it in front of everyone but, but me. like he's ashamed of even acting like himself, like i'm undeserving of even seeing a part of him natural to others—
"no, little bird. you were never..." he disrupts through his narration, tries not to tear the paper out, which kept revealing every bit of resentment you felt for the athlete from the start. he could feel every venomous word injecting into his veins, he couldn't do anything to stop reading at the same time.
dick wanted to know every emotion you felt, and yet, biting his lips—
"it's me who doesn't deserve you. you shouldn't... shouldn't talk about yourself like this. nobody deserves you..."
it was all he could comment. he wish you could hear these sentiments in person, he wishes you were here just so he could disprove every line, every insult you'd written off as cruel jokes meant to hurt yourself.
cruel jokes that always came with dripping ichor.
no matter how aged and dry the blood may be, he couldn't wash away the scent of it clinging on shriveled paper; another wave of guilt clings to his heavy heart.
yet the truth continues.
"he does these— these flips i see him perform on TV as nightwing, and i remember all the times he'd mindlessly do handstands or jump from the second floor to the next, smiling to anyone who'd see. they don't know how lucky they are, dick was never this way to me...sometimes he'd also do it when i'd sneak into the cave and find him talking with the others...
"every time he does, he's got the same..." charming, was what was supposed to be written next, but you've scribbled over the word, violently, as dick's trembling fingers runs over the back of the paper, feeling the torn page, the heavy handed words engraved in every line; imagining just how much animosity had filled your entire being to the point you'd replace charming with—
"he's got the same... dishonest— the same disgustingly huge smile he always gave me whenever he made excuses that he's busy, that he's got work, hero work — he never says, i pretend to never suspect — to do.
"i- i understand that," he stutters, biting his lips at the sarcasm which bleeds into every word. "you can't stop someone like dick. when he's got his mind set on a goal, not even bruce or damian can talk him out of it. in that order of things, my opinion would never matter, hah. i just was never considered into a goal. so i understand. it's not like i can be mad for any longer when he still smiles at me while making all these excuses and- and sometimes even promises of next time's. at least he doesn't see me as a villain, he doesn't mistreat me or anything. so i can't blame him, he's... still nice.
"but then again, it's also so obvious, of course, that the only difference between me and the people he saves on TV is... is that the smile he shows them... is genuine.
"and the one he shows me is still just the product of an afterthought—"
dick couldn't finish reading the entire entry before slamming the papers down on the panels beside him, quivering hands wracking across his hair and slamming into his face.
his eyes, they fill with salty water faster than he could swallow down the heavy lump residing in his throat.
for a moment, the manor's air stills once more.
his thoughts betray him and fill him with pictures of your younger self, your scarred fingers writing alone in your room— the blood dripping down and on to the paper from the deep cuts etched into your skin, from your swollen fingertips sore from all the words you've etched with faded ballpens. how, despite the pain wracking throughout your very body, you'd continue to write down the feelings too heavy to express, once hopeful eyes slowly dimming until it bursts to flames.
until all you felt was resentment dick deserved to feel from you.
the more he imagines your own pen stabbing every word into paper, the more it starts to feel like every word was a thousand knives stabbing into his very skin. if not for the panels keeping his stability, leaning to his side, he'd collapse.
"no..."
god no.
have you always thought of him this way? was he always like this to you?
he didn't mean to treat you like you were nothing.
he didn't mean for you to portray his tired smiles and his dismissive hands as a sign of disinterest, of falsified emotions, of dick acting like you never mattered when he was just— he was just so oversaturated with the guilt of jason's death, his fights with bruce, his teammates, the teen titans, the loss, the grief. he didn't mean anything—
but that wasn't a fucking excuse.
not when he'd left you waiting for thirteen years, not when he'd treat you like a second option, waved you, told you, "not today!" with a smile betraying his every intention.
he'd never given you a chance, that was an undeniable fact. even when you were always home, even when he found the time to be home for all the others.
he doesn't understand himself, he wanted to so badly—
call you, his baby bird.
he wants to fix things, correct his mistakes, even if it were too late, even if the image of him, once bright and shining, was now tarnished into a stranger you'd despise. dick just wanted to — no matter how much he rubs his eyes with his arms to rid the spilling tears, bites his lips, crumples the fragile paper with shivering fingers to numb his emotions down before the guilt devours him whole — he wants to apologize a thousand times. he wants to take back every wrong action of his and consume you in all his emotions, the good, the bad, the ugly— just so your opinion of him would change.
just so you wouldn't see him as the brother who was never there.
who was always running off to bludhaven to avoid you.
dick wanted to grovel, he wanted to crumple into a ball and remove the aching lump that had resided in his throat ever since he found your room. the tears he thought would never fall from his eyes were already bursting before he could even cease it. and ashamed as he may be from being seen in all his rawest form by the others; the pain, the guilt, the memory of your wide-eyed smile, the sensation of your tiny fingers holding tight against his palm overpowers any embarrassment he thought he'd felt.
god, he misses you.
he wants to see you — the paper has long since been shriveled by his powerful grip, his head buried in his arms, all the tears he'd been holding back came rushing out of him 'til it turned to dry heaves, and alfred's gloved palms patting his back doesn't compensate for anything other than unneeded sympathy. the silence that the others had allotted for your grieving older brother wouldn't change the fact that you're still the missing piece inside the manor. and for the first time in a while, he felt the same shadow that had cloaked his entire being from the moment he'd found out jason died after he'd returned from that space mission, that he was too late to even save the boy; too late to save you from yourself — dick had never despised himself as much as he did now.
he knew he could never be forgiven, he knew that for as long as he lived, he would never live up to the image of him you once held in high regard anymore.
yet as he laments all the moment he could've been your older brother, could've been your family, your hero— he still pictures the quirk in your tired steps, the way your eyes lightened, the way your wide smile revealed your chipped teeth from the very moment he first left you at your room; and it only makes the tears run down faster.
he imagines that little child all alone in the kitchen on the day of their birthday, blowing on the little candle of their cupcake in the dark of the night, making a wish for a better one next year.
have you even received a gift from any of them before?
— god, his eyes clamp down harder, drowning the world in all the darkness — a sight you've probably been accustomed to living here, dick hates thinking about it — he doesn't even want to imagine anymore, biting down at his tense arms, trying to stifle his sobs.
yet no matter how much he tries, he couldn't get rid of the hole that had ripped right into his chest, the ache thumps louder in his heart every time your little smiling face appears in all his thoughts, it was a pain that clawed into emptiness, settled deeply in every scar wracking across his body.
a reminder that even with all his sacrifices, all the battles he fought— he still couldn't save you.
he still couldn't save his baby bird.
if you had wished for a new family in that lonely birthday of yours, he understands you.
if you had wished for one you can actually call your own, for a father who was never absent, for a family who never turned their backs on you, for an older brother to never once break any empty promises; he truly understands.
because dick could be the leader, the dependable older brother, the hope of bludhaven. he could spend his entire life saving others. he can grow, fix his relationship with bruce, with jason, raise damian, become the idol everyone knew and loved and never once doubted.
he can be the change his city needs to be a better place—
but no matter what, at the end of the day—
he'll always hate himself.
the voices within the cave remained silent.
at the same time, no words were needed to be said.
it was difficult to ignore dick's weeping all throughout, his lonesome bawling was the only sound that filled the empty space. the only sound that penetrated the suffocation everyone but alfred felt.
even the bats had stopped their panicked wings from flapping due to the earlier commotion. the stalagmites that once dribbled water had deafened into nothingness. if it was because everyone had succumbed to their own thoughts, or if it was because it seemed the manor had stilled the noise for you— nobody knew the answers.
there was truly nothing filling the air except for dick, and even then his sobs were stifled by his arms.
the clawing silence remained, the volume of dick's sobs had grown softer. he had been mumbling "sorry's" and incoherent apologies all throughout. sometimes there were promises, other times he'd choke on his own tears and beat at his chest, begging for something they couldn't hear.
nobody could easily approach him, let alone ask if he was alright.
the answers were already obvious.
alfred had ceased from any physical comfort he'd offer to the shivering hero, withdrawing his palms and returning to bruce's side. bruce, whose face, once neutral, now softened when he shared a glance with the butler.
like him, he knew his words wouldn't do any help. it might even make things worse—
it might make dick storm off the manor and find you alone.
as much as they felt pity, both alfred and bruce knew dick was too far gone to be even offered anything to make him feel better. any affirmations, small or big, words or not, couldn't soothe the all consuming guilt he'd felt.
all they could do was leave him to his own bubble, ignore the guilt eating at their conscience too. not even a remark was heard from a wide-eyed damian, who had watched his eldest brother the entire time, who felt like part of this was his fault too.
and yet he didn't mean to drop your sketchbook for the entire family to see.
he didn't mean to be a part of the spiral of events leading to dick's breakdown.
it was his sworn duty, an unspoken promise, to keep things of yours all for himself. the entirety of his early training inside the batcave was just a distraction for him to extricate any thoughts he had of you. he'd hidden your sketchbooks in corners of the cave, in cabinets where he's guaranteed nobody, not even tim, would open, let alone access.
then he tried to train with his sword as intended while waiting for the rest to arrive at bruce's announcement.
yet even if his slashes against the training dummies were harsher, even if he had to remind himself that you shouldn't be infecting his thoughts as much as you did for others— like dick, he couldn't erase any memories he had of you. he couldn't erase the gruesome illustrations you drew, your aggressive reaction from the last time you've talked to him, even that one memory you had together that had been pestering him long before you even left the manor...
in the end, he found himself in the middle of the open space, fingers running across the spine of your thickest sketchbook; one figured he hadn't opened before. with papers stuck in between pages, and pages ready to fall off if he even dared open the book.
the one he held was different from the others. it had no front cover title like it typically does. not even a name etched on any side. your other sketchbooks always had old and peeling stickers embedded into its covers. some were nonsensical, others were what he speculated to be your favorite characters from shows he also watched — he never realized just how similar you two were. if it were him in the past, he'd reject the notion, spit on the shoes of anyone who'd dare point it out — you'd use a white acrylic markers on some textured pages, draw stars, zigzags, swirls; anything that gave it personality.
anything that screams the fact it's yours.
but this one was fancier, a more expensive sketchbook. left blank and barren, like you didn't want any trace of it linked back to you.
everything about it was bizarre.
damian knew that although your voice was the one everyone heard the least, the things you owed had marks, titles, names that were unique only to you.
if anyone else had taken your possessions, even if you were a stranger to most, they'd know it'd be yours.
damian knew how desperate you were to be known.
to be seen.
that's why everything of yours had to be yours. it needed to have pieces of you stuck on every corner, it needed to scream you.
the fact that he knew all this, the fact that he knew information, unknown to others, about you at all, despite his inherent refusal to acknowledge your existence within the manor—
he wouldn't explain.
but he knew either way, and that was all that needed to be said.
... hence why it was strange how this sketchbook of yours has no identity traced back to you.
but to damian, it also meant something special. something sacred if you were keen in hiding something. damian believed it's special if only he had the access to whatever knowledge you'd hidden in your sketchbooks—
except when he'd open through the middle pages, he was greeted not by the more intimate journal entries you typically opt to write in blank pages, not by the graphic drawings he'd expected to see— but by an array of faded blueprints of the cave he stands in now, sketchbook spreads of their costumes: front, middle, and back; all drawn so accurately, it sends shivers across damian's spines to imagine just how intimately close you were to the suits to even know the patterns up close.
even speculations about the items they carry inside their utility belts, backed by newspaper clippings that show candid photographs of the vigilantes takings candies, ropes, and of the like out of their belts.
you weren't hiding something from them.
if you did, you'd have taken this sketchbook to your grave, you wouldn't have left it alongside your other belongings, things you thought would carry dust, be discarded by alfred. but you've known more about them far longer than they did you, you've compiled entries about what you've learned, little notes; passive aggressive remarks. you knew about their hero identities—
damian wasn't horrified about you knowing about them, even if your compiled proofs were shoved right in his face, even if he felt the hairs on his body prick up— he'd drawn a sword right to your neck at the first meeting; you were bound to be curious either way. about your half-brother. about the life he had prior to gotham. alfred had given you a quick rundown about the young boy before you'd greet him by the door.
the sweat running down his forehead, his legs feeling like jelly, his pupils dilating wasn't attributed to your discovery of their secret identities.
damian wasn't that afraid of that fact, even if there was a lingering ounce of astonishment.
no.
he was shaken by the thought that you knew so early.
that you were aware of the different life they led outside of yours. that you were almost purposely kept out of the picture and that you knew—
you knew so well that your largest sketchbook yet, and it was by far one of the oldest too, spanning from inexperienced sketches of batman's costume from the very start, to the whiter, more untouched pages by the very back.
— his fingers had not shaken just carrying the sheer, behemoth-like weight of the book, but the weight of your knowledge, the regret that had suddenly invaded all his thoughts; it had him slip both his book and his sword right out of his hold like butter, just right before he could remember to tighten his grip.
the crash was deafening like the wringing in his ears. he'd stick to his spot for a second, frozen in place whilst the others had begun to notice the contents of the paper.
then the rest became a blur to damian, the young boy looking down at his hands, his scarred fingers, his calloused palms. he's sworn to use them for good as robin, as a protector of this city alongside batman.
it wasn't easy.
the change was not sudden for damian. you can't just undo the years of battle and gruesome training he'd went into being an assassin. but there was still an undeniable change. becoming robin by force, being treated like an outsider at first, dealing with judgemental stares, working with his father's disappointment, meeting steph and finally being treated like a kid by her, getting closer to dick— having to prove his way into being a worthy holder of the mantle he had now.
damian asks himself:
was he worthy of redemption after all these years? was he worthy of atonement for all the blood he shed? when even in the path to proving himself— he'd never been good to you?
would forgiveness come naturally after he'd told you you were better off gone in the first place?
he'd taken a step back, sensations unwelcome but not unknown had invaded his every being: the warmth he felt when he first saw you, followed by the burning rage, the unworthiness, the envy.
your once unafraid eyes staring right at him, your welcoming nature, holding that damned tray of sweets staring back at him in mockery, all the traits he saw in himself in you if he wasn't raised to be like who he was—
you knew about their nightly endeavors, you knew of how often you've been left behind and excluded from everything, and yet you remained kind.
kind, but also afraid to take another step in his direction.
you've learned to shake under his gaze, learned to turn the opposite way when you've crossed paths, not only in the manor but in school, in public where anyone could see that these two half-siblings never acted like they were.
you changed your seating arrangement so you'd sit off at the far corner of the already long and winding dining table; only for the distance between you and your family to turn wider; eating with utensils barely clanking the ceramics, turning away from everybody, excusing yourself too early.
sometimes, you wouldn't even come down at all.
you shrink in your position every time he'd enter the library, leave without a word, watch him and dick become closer brothers than you ever had the chance of even spending a second with the eldest.
you both were the outsiders, and yet only one remained the victor.
you'd done everything to avoid more pain into your already miserable life. you'd done nothing wrong and damian had purposely inflicted more and more until your cup of patience was drained and you'd almost exploded at him. if he wanted to prove himself to be the rightful vigilante of the city, then why'd he act like villain to you...?
what was it about you that had him feeling so deliberately jealous?
... before his questions could be answered, he had already been counted into the family.
they were kinder to him now, less cautious—
he'd learn to speak less formally, gained friends at school, joined a football team, earned crushes, got teased; he had been counted in invitations before it was even considered.
he learned that it was alright to not act older than his age. he'd been treated like the boy he is, a young child still cluelessly navigating a world full of mysteries.
life was faring well, as well as it could get in gotham, and yet...
he was constantly reminded of how you were the only one in the family who was the first to treat him with compassion.
you were the one who'd open the door on him first before everybody else, despite alfred's cautious warnings, despite knowing the boy younger than you would be acknowledged far easier than you who had lived in the manor for the entirety of your life.
you were everything damian was not. you were everything damian wished to be.
he'd read your entries, learned about your bitterness, and you never took it out on him despite all your venomous words cutting through paper. you held yourself back from lashing out. you never reciprocated the same damning words he'd spew right at you. never fought back except for the very end; where you'd learn to avoid him if it meant a day of peace.
when he'd learn to miss you after.
where shortly after, the manor had become quieter.
he looks at his palms again.
these were meant to protect, meant to shield his older sibling from harm, to serve common people like you who had no power against the crimes of this city. you were the only non-vigilante in the family, the only person vulnerable enough to walk on the city's streets with the risk of danger with every footstep, and he was your baby brother— but he should've been far beyond that.
he should've been your protector too.
... and yet all these hands had ever done for him was hurt you.
no one else was there to protect you from his harm.
damian doesn't understand why. he remains lost in thought, lost for words.
lost in the regrets that'd pile up in his chest until all he could feel was the same sting, like an open wound poured with alcohol, when you'd glare back at him after another round of verbal assault, when you'd run away from the boy, when he stalked you all the way to your room and found you piercing through fragile, already scarred skin with yet another razor— that he swore he'd thrown out before, that meant you'd went and bought another, unable to live a day without constant physical torment—
your head was tilted down, eyes drawn wide open, blankly gazing at the crimson droplets beading and dripping from your thighs. this had turned into a habit. just another coping mechanism.
this became routine.
numbing down every bitter emotion beating out of your chest by hurting yourself with something worse.
and damian could only watch you fall deeper into a hole he helped dig.
what kind of hero was he if he couldn't even save his older sibling?
he recalls you, peeking through your doors, how you hit back loud sobs, head buried on your quivering, bleeding thighs, still afraid of being heard, blood seeping out of lips from all the times your teeth would pierce through wounds meant to heal, your nail beds had been bitten raw, fingertips stained with red, too, as you run your hands, ripping, tearing at matted hair; even if you were located in the far, abandoned corners of the manor, you'd learn to regulate your sobs in fear of it echoing through the halls.
to him, you were like a wounded animal, a terrified dog who'd learn that noise meant another inflicted bruise, another horrific slash across your body. being heard never meant being seen, being judged for acting the way you do. you'd shrink in the far corners, until you could be mistaken for a faint silhouette, and it was far better than knowing you were only acknowledged, but you were never offered a helping hand.
whilst damian had all the help he could get into becoming better, you'd disappear into the sidelines, only to become worse.
even if damian himself had tried every means of delaying your hurt without you ever knowing, you'd always find another way. you'd always be one step ahead of him, and you'd be back to picking scabs, back to scratching your neck, biting your knuckles, running off to find alfred, to every corner of the room only to find nothing—
because the butler had been busier in the batcave, day by day, caring for damian, losing his attention to you as a consequence.
back then, he found that a bragging right. another reason to shove in your face, another 'why' on why he's better than you. why your presence is a stain against the growing family. because the butler you love, who you thought would always be by your side had began catering and offering his own familial love towards the youngest— the youngest who'd done everything to remind you you were nothing and nobody.
he thought, at the sight of you falling on your knees after hours of searching for alfred through winding hallways, empty rooms, dizzying stairways until you'd land inside the library, begging, whispering under your breath, to any god, to any deity willing to hear you, while tears had begun cascading down your swollen eyes and hollow cheeks— he thought he'd laugh, thought he'd feel relief, like a heavy weight would be lifted from his chest just being witness to you falling into despair at the lack of alfred's presence.
he thought the pathetic sight would only make the pride heighten in his heart.
instead, all that came to him was his limp arms laying still on his sides, not a sound unable to escape his tightening throat. wide, terrified eyes had settled on your heaving body.
crumpling down on the carpeted floors, you were unable to breathe.
unable to release anymore of your pathetic sobs, you'd resort to clawing on furniture, the sharp edges of the coffee table violently hit your sides, you wince, you release a sharp cry, but still, you continue stumbling far deeper into the nook of the library, afraid of being heard.
the sight before him was a wretched show.
'but i've seen people suffer far worse.' his thoughts try to convince him, but his fingers tightly clenching the hems of his shirt tells another story.
'i've beheaded assassins before, i've seen guts mangling out of hanging bodies, stacks of corpses piled on top of another. the stench of rotten decay is as familiar as the polluted air in gotham—'
... and yet you crumbling into a ball in the corner dealt a far worse nausea residing in his thoughts, a lump forming on his chest the same way it always does when he notices another round of makeshift gauzes had been carelessly slapped on your heavily clothed body.
damian was terrified at the way you carelessly threw yourself into more danger.
damian was terrified of what your carelessness might entail.
... your little brother imagines your dangling body suspended in the air, neck embraced by a rope. and nobody would've known you were gone, nobody would've been there by the time the last exhale has escaped your purplish lips.
you'd be dead, and you'd be mourned for far too late.
and suddenly his vision spins, a wave of bile clung stubbornly up his throat.
damian doesn't want to imagine anymore, then he feels a draw, a magnetic pull, like he'd want to come out of his hiding spot, reveal himself to you— not to insult you, shame you for being weak. but your younger brother watching you hide behind bookshelves, gazing blankly, paired with the horrifying imagery of your deceased body—
one he couldn't just erase from his thoughts...
he doesn't like admitting it: but all he wanted to do was to comfort you the same way alfred had always stuck by his side, the same way stephanie had brought him to that bounce house and treated him like a young boy— damian wanted to, he needed to sit by your side. he doesn't want to see you cower in fear anymore, for your pupils to shrink, for your first instinct to turn the other way and away from him.
all he wanted was to lean his head against your shoulders, pretend like he had never once drawn a sword on you, like he had never committed any of his past mistakes— all he wanted to be your younger brother.
maybe it was a way to comfort himself too.
maybe he just doesn't want to be ridden with nightmares of your limp, decaying body for every second he'd shut his eyes.
but he wasn't brave enough, not yet. he regrets not being enough. he regrets simply resorting to watching you over in the shadows instead. watching you curl over, nails blunt from being bitten raw digging deep in your knees. he watches you try your best to steady your lungs, to contain the nasty bile tethering over the edge of your lips. the longer you sat there, accompanied only by the dust motes floating under the dim, warm lights in the library, the more the shame, the regret, the undulating hatred in himself curled bigger and bigger until it became mocking voices, violent imagery of what could, what would happen to you if he doesn't come save you right now.
... yet despite it all, he never once came out of the obscurity of the shadows. he never had with you. he never did until it was too late.
he remained stationary, engulfed in nothing but guilty conscience.
and really, it was ironic: two siblings suspended in the dark night, and yet only one had truly seen the light.
and damian notices, he always notices, no matter how much he pretends to never care,
that the longer you cried all by yourself...
the more it seemed to never end.
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
PLEASE READ: oh my god, i poured all my heart and soul into this, cried a bit bec i was afraid of losing progress again, and then cheered some more when i finished. so i'm begging for comments, interactions, any of ur fave lines please. there's a lot of parallels between dick and the mc. and then between damian and mc too. and u guys don't know it, but your comments and submissions were so much help in making me finish this early 😭🙏 also, thank u guys for ur patience! i appreciate all the kind comments, all the encouraging words in my inbox. honestly, i never expected a&a to be as much of a passion project as it is now. it used to be an outlet for my emotions, and it still is, but i never realized how many people actually loved the reader as much as much. that's it, love y'all !!!
ch.7 pt 1: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)
directory: read under the end for an author's note.
"hi big bro—"
unsent.
"hi dick!!! i just got your number from alfie :DD he said it might be easier for me to contact you through your phone since it's not often that you're here in gotham :( which sucks but i understand! at least i've got something else to talk to you with!"
"so that brings me to my plans!!!—
"but first, do you have the time to hang out, please! it's my treat! :))) it can be in a restaurant or just here, over at home. together!!! i rmr you promised me the manor tour, i really really hope you didn't forget it!"
"also, my bday's coming soon! you don't have to buy me a gift or anything, your presence is enough of one already! i'm planning on cupcakes since a cake is too much for me. so if you're free around the afternoon next month, you can choose whatever flavor of frosting you want! alfie's helping me bake it, and i really hope you can come to my celebration!"
"but anyways, i'll be waiting for your reply, dick! if you can't hang out within this week then... oh well! i'm not available next week since classes start, but i hope it's this week since i really really miss you, hahaha :)))"
"p.s., don't forget about my birthday!"
...
"hey dick! any updates so far??? :(( my bday's just passed, but it's alright! i wasn't expecting too much from you since i know you've got responsibilities and such hehe."
"... so you might be busy—"
"but i understand!!! :)) just text me once you're online and if you read this! you don't have to accept my invites, i just gotta know so i wouldn't waste any reservations. so please, please, please answer me!"
"... please."
...
"dick!!! i heard it's your birthday through alfred! so happy birthday, dick! may many blessings come your way because you're the bestest ever! i've got a gift all wrapped up for you, though i know you're in bludhaven right now, alfred helped me arrange it to be delivered to you soon! just text me when you want me to send it over. love you!!!"
...
"am i blocked? :( sorry to assume, but i think my messages aren't coming through your phone. oh, and i still have your gift, by the way! even though it's been a few weeks, there's nothing wrong with a belated happy birthday gift, right?!"
...
"hello???"
...
"i miss you."
...
"please just answer me for once..."
...
"... i'm starting to think you hate me, dick."
unsent.
...
"alfred told me about what happened. i didn't know you had a fight with bruce back when it was your birthday. i'm sorry that happened, dick."
...
"hey... if you need anyone to talk to, you do know i'm here, right? you don't have to run off to another city at all and ignore everybody in the house when things get bad. we could talk it out, spend some time together, talk nasty things about bruce behind his back, do anything, just anything. it doesn't even have to be dinner dates— we're siblings, you told me we are."
unsent.
...
"... we're still siblings, aren't we? do you consider me as your sibling, dick?"
unsent.
...
"i miss you. even if it's been quite some time — some years — since we even had an actual conversation. you're still an older brother to me. i hope you know that. even if you and tim and all the others act like i'm not here. i still love you all. it hurts to admit it, but i do."
unsent.
...
"is it because i'm not one of you guys? is that why everyone pretends i don't exist? because i'm not some hero like you? or is it a secret third thing? do i even exist in your minds? just tell me—"
"please just fucking tell me. so i stop hoping for something, dick."
unsent.
...
"that was insensitive of me, i'm sorry, dick."
"i wish you could just reply to me. just once."
"... i'll see you after a few months again, i guess."
...
"i saw how you were with tim and damian and the others."
"i saw you all at the theatre, with them. with your friends, the titans, and all your siblings. even bruce had the gall, he found the fucking time to visit you guys over there."
"wow, just wow."
"i saw the posts, the selfies, everything. you were having so much fun weren't you? i wish that was me. i wish i had that kind of bond. i wish i was part of something. i wish i could afford to take my friends to the theatre, have some fun, take great selfies, laugh and pretend like nothing in the world bothers us. but they've been taken away from me, they all started to avoid me because they saw the way you and the others ignore me too in public. they think there's something wrong with me because of the way you treat me out in public— they think that if they copied your actions, it'd be enough to warrant your attention in public too."
"haha. that hurts a lot, being ignored by even the people you call your friends. can't you see just how much you're also indirectly hurting me?"
"i wish you had the decency to at least invite me. you could've just placed me on the sidelines, i could stay quiet if you wanted me to. i don't mind being the fucking wallflower."
"because at least that meant i was invited—"
"because at least that meant you thought of me for even one fucking second. that i mattered more than just your flimsy promises of "next time.""
"it would've stung less if you had just confronted me and told me you and all the others never cared all along."
"i mean it's obvious you never did. i just wish you said it to my face. i just wish you'd come to my room for once and tell me i never mattered. but even that's too much of a favor, huh? i'm just so irrelevant to you. i should've known how it'd all turn out for us— and yet..."
"i didn't know you were capable of giving so much love."
"i didn't know that the dick grayson i knew in my eyes, who used to be my light before, who used to give me so much hope right after mom left the world; who also ignored me, who always turned the other way around or shooed me off when i asked for his time— i didn't know he could smile so much with other people around him. i never knew there was that side of you that could make everybody feel better, safe, loved."
"whenever i think of you, i think of your stupid back and your wandering eyes. that's all i ever see: you turning away from me like the sight of me repulses you."
"at this point, that just makes me the problem, huh?"
"bruce acts that way too. between me and tim. you two welcomed him easier than you did me. i should've known from the start that i didn't even matter at all. i should've known that a child like me before wasn't pitiful enough to be even noticed. i don't even know why i expect so much when it comes to me. i shouldn't even act so entitled when i don't even exist in this hellhole."
"... i hate you dick, i hate you so much."
unsent.
...
"i wish you knew how much i fucking hate you. but you don't even read my messages."
unsent.
...
"it's always the same with you people. i don't even know why i even try in the first place."
unsent.
...
"i'm sick of pretending like i'm happy every time i greet you here and in person. you make me sick."
"but if i saw you that way, then you probably see me as something worse then. i'm a disgusting, selfish, attention-seeking leech to you, aren't i?"
"that's probably why you could never look me straight in the eyes."
"you hate me more than i claim to hate you."
unsent.
...
"i hope you remember how you were supposed to take me out for dinner. i hope you remember how you promised to take me around the manor. i hope you remember how much i think of you and the others everyday whilst i couldn't even be a passing glance to any one of you. i hope you remember at least even a semblance of me before i leave for college."
"but you won't."
"i know you won't. even if i paraded all over the halls of this stupid house and announced i'd be killing myself, none of you wouldn't even bat an eye."
"if you couldn't even fulfill a promise you made to me years ago, a promise you made to me months ago— then you sure as hell wouldn't care if i left this place. there's nothing worth staying here for anymore."
unsent.
...
"it's just so unfair, dick."
"everyone here is so unfair."
"what did i even do to deserve this?"
"did i do something wrong? did i say something wrong? did i hurt anybody? did i kill anybody? what did i do to make you ignore me so suddenly before?"
"i want to know the answer so bad, but it's too quiet when you're all not around for the night."
"it's just too quiet."
"like i'm not even deserving enough to be considered noise around you."
unsent.
...
"sorry for being too much."
"i didn't realize how annoying i sounded in every message of mine."
"i won't be long in this manor anyways... so for all it's worth—"
"i won't bother you anymore."
...
home sweet home.
a resounding click! echoed throughout your apartment as you kick your door closed. you brace yourself for the pain subsiding in your sides, kneeling down — and keeping your crutches as support for your weight — to place the cardboard box you held to your right, it was a flimsy thing punched with holes to allow air to enter and right atop of it was a container of your favorite meal jason had insisted you keep.
afterwards, you pulled yourself up as slowly as you could, wincing and taking in deep breaths in the middle of standing up.
finally, safe and sound.
a relieved sigh escaped your parched throat. leaning back, your eyes had shut closed, embracing the wriggling darkness. there, you remain standing, brain detangling every thought and notion you'd forcefully put aside to stay sane throughout your entire hours long journey to at least reach the safety of your apartment.
a moment. you just needed a moment to take it all in.
the air was crisp, a cold and unforgivable reminder that winter had started to take a toll on the temperature.
yet it wasn't enough to cool your torrid thoughts.
yesterday, or two days ago- you couldn't fathom the time you were spent drunk: the flirting, the buzzing noise, your lightheaded words, your night ending in near death. when you were unconscious from the bloodied hits of that awful, pungent man and his lackeys. jason, his worries, your confessions, your life.
you need to recall everything. you need time to think—
alone.
it was hypocritical of you to desire seclusion — when you had spent your entire life mourning for another human presence beside you — but you needed to be alone right now, no matter how suffocating and prickly the silence of your apartment was; something bigger was swallowing you whole.
you opted to have mary leave you be after a long day despite her insistence to at least accompany you all the way to your apartment, or just stay with you for the night up until morning where she'll get her roommate to pick her up by car. but you really couldn't handle the offer, even if tempting, since you couldn't deal with another human presence right in your space or else you'll break.
as much as she felt like a guiding light directing you away from the darkness that was jason's suffocating obsession to keep you safe — like you suddenly mattered in his life, like he didn't spew all that bullshit about being your older brother when he never acted that way with you before — you just couldn't afford hearing out her valid defenses, wanting to drown more in your emotions more than pretend like you're stronger than you are.
it didn't take much to convince her to go her way.
your sad, pleading eyes begging her for an ounce of space, to give you time to rest was enough to have her frown. despite her valid defenses about safety in the night, your mind was set on being left alone.
and she did after some back and forth, leaving the lobby with a grim sigh, calling her roommate to come pick her up. after you had watched her back slowly fade into the distance, you went your merry way up the elevators, down the winding halls, ignoring the aching in your sides, the sour mildew clinging in the air, the almost alive, pulsing and breathing of the walls; up until you reach the very room you stand in now— trying your best not to be reminded of the ghostly silence that had always followed you.
so now, it was only you, yourself, and a mass of anxiety and paranoia that had started to dig its way into your heart and had sat beside you in all your isolation.
you wanted nothing more than to rid these new sensations: the unbidden comfort you felt when you finally felt jason's embrace, the smoke and ash still clinging in the fabrics of your jacket bringing you nostalgia to when you first met him under the moonlit night in that kitchen, the gratitude you disallowed yourself to feel when jason had remembered your favorite dish and went as far as buy it for you, all warm and toasty on the bedside cabinet from when you woke up—
you wanted nothing more than to sit in the middle of your room and stare into nothingness, spend hours passing time if it meant leaving your thoughts and worries buried deep somewhere before it could ultimately devour you whole again.
you don't want to want anymore.
you need to make yourself not need anymore.
because if you fall into that madness named desire, you're afraid you'll only end up unfulfilled and alone once more.
"ngh!" it didn't take long before your crutches slipped away from your sore shoulders, legs sliding against the floor. when your bottom hit the ground, the striking pain of the collision crashed like violent waves in a storm, rolling all the way to the wounds on your hips, and—
"shit! fucking hell, it hurts." you cry out curses, the tears you try to desperately contain had started to roll down your sunken cheeks. your throat, parched and devoid of hydration, sounded like the young kid who'd cried out to the sight of their deceased mother.
stupid, stupid, just stupid.
your entire life is just one cruel, endless joke.
right beside you, your crutches thud against the hard floors, metal beating down like strikes of thunder. you wince at the volume, eyes shutting once more. and just like thunder, your bitten lips couldn't clamp down faster than the racing shrieks aching to be released.
"just...! when will everything just end?" your question hangs in the air as your head lulls against the hard doors, palms clenched around your waist to satiate the violent throbbing. you knew nobody would answer you, you knew that the alfred you'd always imagine comforting you couldn't always give you answers — because he's just a figment of your imagination, because he's who you always run to when the questions become too heavy and convoluted, when the silence was too loud and nagging — you knew that, even if you'd beg to the gods you cursed, even if you'd unblock dick and told him to give you answers, abided in your friends, found counseling—
you knew that there is no end to this curse you call life.
you knew that running away from problems meant you'd tire sooner, that it'll begin to catch up to you and lock you up once more.
you hated being alone, you wished you had someone to lie to you and tell you it'll all be better in the end; you wished your mom was right beside you like she was in the damned dream, you wish to still remember the sensation of her gentle fingers running across your matted hair, hear her voice consoling you until your tears had ceased to roll down your cheeks
like a child dreamed of reliving their happiest birthday everyday, you wish she was alive still.
you wish your life had ceased at five years old. you wish you'd lay right beside her decaying corpse instead of laying on the floor of your dingy apartment; alone, and barely alive, but never living the life you dreamed of living from when you were that stupidly naive child.
but you're here, an unwilling victim to your misfortune, and you have no choice but to live through it all. killing yourself is a choice you never wanted to touch upon, a choice you never wish to entertain anymore.
if you did, what would your mother think of you in the afterlife?
if you did, what measures would someone like jason make just to bring you back alive?
shaking your head, a chuckle, sardonic and bitter and loud, cuts you off from your tears, remembering how nobody but alfred even knew you'd left the fucking manor. nobody but him checked up on you, nobody acknowledged you from when you were there, so what of it when you're not?
only your small circle of friends threw you a small welcome party to a new life, spoiled you to the pleasures of alcohol and sleazy bars. they'd announce a toast to independence, to freedom, to a life away from them.
but were you truly away if they were never that close to begin with?
if jason hadn't been coincidentally in the same area as you from behind that bar, then would you still be alive to tell the story? would you just be another news article buried under the countless masses of headlines?
no, you're good as dead. no world-altering event, no pit, no magician could save your soul from being shattered and ripped from within your body.
would they even care? would your so-called family even mourn someone they never truly knew?
"no, god, as if they cared about me at all."
as excruciating as it is to admit, the thought made your wobbling lips quirk upwards, head bury deep within your palms. then, your fingers trace across lingering scars and lumps across your scalp, a reminder of all the times you'd pick at skin until it bled.
it's absurd to think about the answers to the questions you'll never escape from. but the answers were as clear as the day you were born with no father by your mother's side:
you don't matter in their world:
you wish they didn't matter to yours too, but you've been too attached to the concept of someone else caring about you for even the slightest. feelings like those are hard to detach from, especially if the love you yearned for was a love once reciprocated by your mother—
but whatever, life and time, trials and tribulations, they never cease for just a single person.
no matter how pathetic and miserable you were, you had to keep going on. if not for your mother, then out of spite from jason's insistence that you couldn't survive alone when it had always been the opposite— when you've pretty much lived your life without his company anyways.
you're fine without him, without them.
no, no.
you're not fine. there was no world where you've been fine for more than a second, but you've been better off without them at the same time. that's what makes a difference, you convince yourself.
at least here, in your sullen, little apartment, there was nobody else allowed to consume your space and your thoughts.
at least here, the only danger you have against yourself is you.
and yet, the silence only grows bigger and hungrier.
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
PLEASE READ: 3.4K+ words. special post, it's supposed to be longer. but you know what happened? my phone restarted, i opened my notes app and huzzah! the first part i was editing got half of it deleted! the other parts are safe except for this one. this was supposed to be four scenes in total, amounting to 7k+ or more. i didn't even get a single grasp on its final word count. it fucking sucks, i despise the world for doing this to me. but as promised, here's the chapter, no matter how short it is. i apologize if it's not on par to your expectations, honestly, it gets better in the (supposed) second half of this part. but again, life happens. things happen no matter how much it sucks. i'll be rewriting the second half of this tomorrow and hopefully i can post it by the next night. if there are any delays, please spare me, i'm trying my best to not cry over my stuff getting deleted.
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half of Mexico is in chaos, stores are burning, cars are exploding, there are shootouts, services are being canceled and our president is doing nothing, and I don't see many international media talking about this
porfa si eres de méxico quédate en tu casa, resguárdate y no salgas si no es TOTALMENTE necesario, cuídense mucho 🫶💜
all for your sake. pt 1. (again &. again mini-series)
ft. platonic! yandere batman (mostly bruce wayne for now) x gn! neglected single parent reader.
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
— masterlist !
just had a damning thought about a&a reader with a kid.
you who had a child while you're way too young through a failed relationship, trying your hardest to hide the kid from your own father, bruce, afraid the kid would only turn devastated at the thought of their own grandfather neglecting them the same way you were too.
and a bruce wayne who only recently learned about the news of your kid and tries his hardest to acquire at least an opportunity to confront you and assure you that he wouldn't make the same mistake and provide you all the care, the funding, the necessary things a single parent heavily needs in raising a child alone— and that includes him, your siblings, your family, as part of the package.
now, he's seated on your springy couch, across from you as the waft of hot coffee stirs you awake and alert from what words bruce had just thrown your away.
you couldn't exactly recall everything he'd told you, for it was too much for your mind to comprehend amidst the heavy night after all your shifts, but what stood out the most was his last sentence that was all you needed to hear for you to realize the weight of his promises:
"come live at the manor."
that was exactly the reason why he'd even come to your shabby apartment in the first place, without an invitation, without a warning— without your knowledge that he knew all along where you lived despite all the precaution you took for your entire location to be well under wraps away from what was once your family.
but that's not your main concern right now. gotham is under the bat's protection, it's a given he'd know, but even if you pretend that everything happening right now is normal; it still doesn't calm you down from the momentary panic you felt when you saw your father in all his suited glory right at your doorstep with that stupidly gentle smile he had plastered on his face when he invited himself in.
but again, that's not your main concern.
your father, and by extension, your family stalking you is not your concern. you repeat in your head, as the thought of your kid's safety comes hurling at you like a boulder— but you shake your head. no. don't overthink it. don't think of them as a threat towards your child's safety.
because what truly worries you is his sudden insistence of taking you into the manor after just having realized you'd have kept hidden a child from away from family for way too long.
although you wanted to deny that offer so badly, just wanting your own child to depend on you as not only a subconscious act of vengeance against bruce, but also because you can never trust anymore promises — not after being left alone to grow up yourself, not after your failed relationships where 'i do's' were just a distant fantasy, not after the world had hurled stones at you your entire life, treating you like a joke — you also had to think of your child's future.
after all, you saw the way your mother struggled just having to bring food to the table.
you saw the way the light slowly drained from her eyes.
you saw the way you yearned for stability.
you didn't want your child to go through the same hell as you. they were too lovely, too innocent like you once were. bubbly, and curious, and pure as the light that gleams in their eyes. untouched by cruel hands that could bruise their vulnerable skin.
their chubby cheeks, their grateful smile accompanied by their crooked, chipped teeth. the way they say their thank you's like the chirp of a bird from across the room when you'd given them small gifts. they should be playing in playgrounds, crying because they tripped after playing too rough with other kids their age, and running towards the sound of your voice calling them to come home— not this.
not locked up in some apartment, all sheltered without any friends or any other family other than their parent to tend to them.
yet it was so reminiscent of your relationship with your mother's.
of that time where everything seemed so simple. where all you ever worried about was how to portion your food with her without her feeling guilt nor shame for having you think of sharing with her.
all that made you happy was her then.
all that made you happy was your child now.
you don't want to shatter that innocence. you don't want to sacrifice their gleeful smiles to the same hell that took away your youth. you'd rather die. gotham is way too cruel, it took your mother away from you too soon. it takes and it takes and it takes.
at least in the manor it could shelter them, even if it's the same cage that left you feeling rotten from within. even if it's the one you tried so hard to crawl away from with bleeding fingers and desperate gasps.
"come to the manor, please." when you looked up at him, eyes momentarily peeling away from the sleeping child on your chest— curious, but still closed off from showing him the true intensity of your bitter emotions, he only reiterated what he told you just moments ago.
"your child will be safe in a place where crime could not reach them—"
'and you will be safest there, too.' he doesn't say aloud, but from the glint in his eyes, you could only ever guess what the other unspoken words in the air meant.
if it means danger, or another round of misery from being ignored and treated as some faceless ghost, then fine, as long as your child is safe and sound; you're satisfied.
you can't think of him genuinely caring for you. that was a concept long unknown and unfamiliar, a territory you couldn't thread on because bruce wayne was never known for loving you.
if he cared for his grandchild now more than he does you, you could accept the slight envy swirling deep beneath your stomach just thinking about the fact that bruce can love your kin, your own blood, but couldn't love you.
you could swallow every bitter truth shoved into your mouth until it eventually swallows you too.
but you couldn't ever possibly think of anyone in the family loving you as a universal truth. you'll simply just throw it all up and pretend he'd never said anything remotely akin to acting like a father.
you inhale, shakily staring at bruce, waiting for him to continue.
he does so, leaning forward, "and it will be good for your child as they grow. there will never be a moment where they will be alone—" ouch, you flinch internally at the choice of words. if he knew that was a low blow to you, then maybe he chose to stay silent about it as to not reopen anymore wounds that he already had, "they'll have your siblings as uncles and aunts to care for them. their education, from kindergarten to college, will be paid for and planned in full. whatever course, whatever extracurricular they want to pursue, i'll provide the necessary means to support that
"and you—"
"me?" you wince, unused to bruce fully ever acknowledging your existence.
he merely nods, ignoring the way your eyes dart around.
"you can continue college without anymore disruptions. i know you dropped out to care for the kid, but i also know you still wanted to pursue your dreams, so the family's here to watch over your child for you if you ever decide to return to college.
"you'll have us help care for you every step of the way, the way it should've been all those years ago, (name)." he stands, knees accidentally hitting the short coffee table acting as a barrier between you two. you flinch like a wounded animal in response to the sudden noise, watching with cautious eyes, your hold on the sleeping child tightening ever so slightly, when bruce circles the table to reach you.
you curse the couch for acting as another barrier trapping you once he nears you, and wish your child wouldn't wake up from the sudden thumps whirling within your chest, but bruce only leans down, meeting your eye level, and places his heavy palms on your laden shoulders.
the gesture wasn't comforting, it wasn't as nice as the young you would think it would be, but it was enough to ground you from a round of what feels like an incoming heart attack when bruce stares back of your panic stricken eyes with unquestionable certainty and one of his smiles that only guarantees a million mysteries as to what it truly means.
only that it means he's already won something you never even agreed to.
bruce wayne— no, your dad, he cups your face like a father would when checking up on his child, and leans down to leave a small, but gentle kiss on your forehead, that smile never once leaving his face when he leans back to stare at you once more.
"wha—"
"you'll understand, wouldn't you, (name)?" the question is heavy, it doesn't require an answer, and it doesn't quite connect to any of his previous statements. you're not sure what it means, but something tells you it's not meant for you to decrypt unless you want to return to your teenage self, already about to have another bout of a full blown panic attack.
instead, you mindlessly whisper in reply.
"no i don't, bruce..."
"(name)," he says your name again, like it's a broken statement always stuck on his tongue. like he's not quite used to saying it.
you could only gulp, the lump in your throat as thick as a glacier.
"i miss it when you used to call me 'dad'," he comments, laughing airily, but the joy doesn't reach the way his eyes stoop low just to look at you with more of his unsaid sentiments.
'yeah, and i miss it when i used to be stupid and actually thought of you as my dad,' you wanted to reply in snark, but opted not to when your child suddenly began to stir in their sleep, muttering jumbled words as they adjusted their position to bury themself deeper on your chest.
you sigh, patting your kid's head, then you gazed back up at bruce, who watched the scene before him way too intensely.
after a momentary beat of silence, he says:
"so, what is your decision, (name)?"
"i..."
bruce's offers were way too good to be true. way too considerate. he didn't just have your child in mind, but also you, too. it opens up a million doors for opportunities you otherwise could've never provided your own child. and bruce was right with something else; your child would be safer and happier with an entire village willing to help prepare them for the future.
you're willing to sacrifice your entire world just to see them not end up like you. they were your bundle of joy. the only light shining upon your bleak world. you wouldn't know what to do with your life without them, even if you've never asked for what was supposed to be a mistake of a lifetime, they've proven more to be a blessing to you than the burden your ex told you they were when they dropped off the crying child at your doorstep.
and the sight of them grappling on your clothes, begging you to not leave them like your ex did warranted both pain and empathy in your heart. it was just like all those years ago, when you've only had alfred to love and cherish you, even if it wasn't enough. you know what it's like to be unwanted and abandoned. you've experienced being unwanted in your entire life— your child doesn't deserve to think of themself that way.
it's way too perfect to pass up, but what only made you hesitate were the intentions bruce refused to outright tell you. what would he earn with this favor anyways? it's not like you could pay him back with affection or love. it's not like you could face your siblings, all childless and younger than you ever looked, and play pretend, like they never once ignored you in favor of their duties as vigilantes.
you're only doing this for your child's sake.
you're reminded that everything you do now, your choices, your decisions, your jobs that you juggle tirelessly, are all done with your child in mind.
if you took away your child's future from them, you could only see yourself in bruce's footstep. you could only see yourself as some greedy, heartless monster who only ever thinks of themself in the picture.
you stare at them, gaze still shaky and unsure, but your embrace on your child said otherwise, as you nod a wordless agreement with bruce's offer at staying in the manor for stability. you heart still wavers in your decision, if what you're doing is right or wrong, not missing the sinister beat of dread in your chest as your child lays asleep in your protective hold.
he only hums, then places his hand to ruffle your already tangled hair. thinning and unwashed and ugly. you feel filthy after your shift, not even having the time to wash up since you've got a hungry mouth to feed and dishes waiting to be washed— but you're reminded time and time again that this is the fate you chose to uphold as you look down at your sleeping child, smiling softly at the drool slowly seeping into your apron.
and...
you ignore the way bruce's eyes flitter between you and your kid, you couldn't read the way his thoughts had drifted to fantasies of what could've been you and him on the couch. with him lulling you to sleep. with you, comfortable, and safe, and happily dreaming in his arms.
but you've grown too fast. you had a child you didn't want in the first place — the same way bruce did with you — yet had to keep. the heavy bags he now sees closely in your eyes wordlessly told him about your sleepless nights working late to provide for the child. swimming in them was exhaustion only a parent could understand, a playful youth drained to care for another life, an identity lost, just to be labeled as a parent and not anymore as an individual.
the weight of sacrifice is something bruce is aware of, but amidst it all, there was still so much love in your eyes. too much love into the tiny life you held in your arms.
love that bruce had never once given you, slapping him in the face at the sight of you gently grazing your fingers across the growing hairs of your child's scalp while you look down with a tired, but oh-so fond smile at the growing kid under you.
the difference between you two was that you loved the child despite all the pain you'd have to feel looking into at the same eyes as your ex, whilst bruce refused to look at yours; didn't even acknowledge yours.
you have so much love spilling beneath the seams for the product of a loveless relationship. you could've abandoned ship, sailed away to a different city, refused to look at the eyes of your own child like bruce once did; but you were better than him in every way. you took it all in stride, you chose to dismiss the sick and twisted discomfort stabbing every pore in your skin just to care for a life you only knew for a short amount of time.
— whilst bruce could only discover the love he always had in his heart after it was too late. after you've left the manor with a resolve to sever everything that could ever associate you with him.
but, ah, he'll prove himself better for your sake too.
he'll be the father you've always wanted, even if it felt dire and unrequited. he'll show you love, he'll show you care, he'll be with you every step of the way like he promised to— even if you're not some young kid anymore begging for affection, you were still his kid, as were all your siblings. all his promises towards your child extended to you too. he'll provide you the safety net you always needed but never received back then.
even if you'd have to kick and thrash and beg to be let go once you'll realize that your freedom is limited to the manor and your university once you're back home, bruce is willing to take every hit and every punch all in stride as a father should be.
even if it takes him using his own grandchild as bait for you to stay, he's already planned ten steps ahead of time an entire scheme to at least turn your own kid to be as equally protective and paranoid for the safety of their parent just to keep you safe and sound.
and to bruce, all of this sounds reasonable and necessary.
because, after all, just as you're choosing to step into the doors of what once was your cage for the sake of your child—
bruce is also willing to make the sacrifices necessary for the sake of his own too.
a/n: miss me? well, i miss y'all too except i had to go on a long hiatus for a lot of reasons. leave comments, i love them since they motivate more further <3 otherwise, this is dedicated to my friends @thecloudsaremyhome, @mishkradetsa, @gluttonousriceflour, alongside everyone else who's been supporting me for a long, long time.
all for your sake. pt 1. (again &. again mini-series)
ft. platonic! yandere batman (mostly bruce wayne for now) x gn! neglected single parent reader.
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
— masterlist !
just had a damning thought about a&a reader with a kid.
you who had a child while you're way too young through a failed relationship, trying your hardest to hide the kid from your own father, bruce, afraid the kid would only turn devastated at the thought of their own grandfather neglecting them the same way you were too.
and a bruce wayne who only recently learned about the news of your kid and tries his hardest to acquire at least an opportunity to confront you and assure you that he wouldn't make the same mistake and provide you all the care, the funding, the necessary things a single parent heavily needs in raising a child alone— and that includes him, your siblings, your family, as part of the package.
now, he's seated on your springy couch, across from you as the waft of hot coffee stirs you awake and alert from what words bruce had just thrown your away.
you couldn't exactly recall everything he'd told you, for it was too much for your mind to comprehend amidst the heavy night after all your shifts, but what stood out the most was his last sentence that was all you needed to hear for you to realize the weight of his promises:
"come live at the manor."
that was exactly the reason why he'd even come to your shabby apartment in the first place, without an invitation, without a warning— without your knowledge that he knew all along where you lived despite all the precaution you took for your entire location to be well under wraps away from what was once your family.
but that's not your main concern right now. gotham is under the bat's protection, it's a given he'd know, but even if you pretend that everything happening right now is normal; it still doesn't calm you down from the momentary panic you felt when you saw your father in all his suited glory right at your doorstep with that stupidly gentle smile he had plastered on his face when he invited himself in.
but again, that's not your main concern.
your father, and by extension, your family stalking you is not your concern. you repeat in your head, as the thought of your kid's safety comes hurling at you like a boulder— but you shake your head. no. don't overthink it. don't think of them as a threat towards your child's safety.
because what truly worries you is his sudden insistence of taking you into the manor after just having realized you'd have kept hidden a child from away from family for way too long.
although you wanted to deny that offer so badly, just wanting your own child to depend on you as not only a subconscious act of vengeance against bruce, but also because you can never trust anymore promises — not after being left alone to grow up yourself, not after your failed relationships where 'i do's' were just a distant fantasy, not after the world had hurled stones at you your entire life, treating you like a joke — you also had to think of your child's future.
after all, you saw the way your mother struggled just having to bring food to the table.
you saw the way the light slowly drained from her eyes.
you saw the way you yearned for stability.
you didn't want your child to go through the same hell as you. they were too lovely, too innocent like you once were. bubbly, and curious, and pure as the light that gleams in their eyes. untouched by cruel hands that could bruise their vulnerable skin.
their chubby cheeks, their grateful smile accompanied by their crooked, chipped teeth. the way they say their thank you's like the chirp of a bird from across the room when you'd given them small gifts. they should be playing in playgrounds, crying because they tripped after playing too rough with other kids their age, and running towards the sound of your voice calling them to come home— not this.
not locked up in some apartment, all sheltered without any friends or any other family other than their parent to tend to them.
yet it was so reminiscent of your relationship with your mother's.
of that time where everything seemed so simple. where all you ever worried about was how to portion your food with her without her feeling guilt nor shame for having you think of sharing with her.
all that made you happy was her then.
all that made you happy was your child now.
you don't want to shatter that innocence. you don't want to sacrifice their gleeful smiles to the same hell that took away your youth. you'd rather die. gotham is way too cruel, it took your mother away from you too soon. it takes and it takes and it takes.
at least in the manor it could shelter them, even if it's the same cage that left you feeling rotten from within. even if it's the one you tried so hard to crawl away from with bleeding fingers and desperate gasps.
"come to the manor, please." when you looked up at him, eyes momentarily peeling away from the sleeping child on your chest— curious, but still closed off from showing him the true intensity of your bitter emotions, he only reiterated what he told you just moments ago.
"your child will be safe in a place where crime could not reach them—"
'and you will be safest there, too.' he doesn't say aloud, but from the glint in his eyes, you could only ever guess what the other unspoken words in the air meant.
if it means danger, or another round of misery from being ignored and treated as some faceless ghost, then fine, as long as your child is safe and sound; you're satisfied.
you can't think of him genuinely caring for you. that was a concept long unknown and unfamiliar, a territory you couldn't thread on because bruce wayne was never known for loving you.
if he cared for his grandchild now more than he does you, you could accept the slight envy swirling deep beneath your stomach just thinking about the fact that bruce can love your kin, your own blood, but couldn't love you.
you could swallow every bitter truth shoved into your mouth until it eventually swallows you too.
but you couldn't ever possibly think of anyone in the family loving you as a universal truth. you'll simply just throw it all up and pretend he'd never said anything remotely akin to acting like a father.
you inhale, shakily staring at bruce, waiting for him to continue.
he does so, leaning forward, "and it will be good for your child as they grow. there will never be a moment where they will be alone—" ouch, you flinch internally at the choice of words. if he knew that was a low blow to you, then maybe he chose to stay silent about it as to not reopen anymore wounds that he already had, "they'll have your siblings as uncles and aunts to care for them. their education, from kindergarten to college, will be paid for and planned in full. whatever course, whatever extracurricular they want to pursue, i'll provide the necessary means to support that
"and you—"
"me?" you wince, unused to bruce fully ever acknowledging your existence.
he merely nods, ignoring the way your eyes dart around.
"you can continue college without anymore disruptions. i know you dropped out to care for the kid, but i also know you still wanted to pursue your dreams, so the family's here to watch over your child for you if you ever decide to return to college.
"you'll have us help care for you every step of the way, the way it should've been all those years ago, (name)." he stands, knees accidentally hitting the short coffee table acting as a barrier between you two. you flinch like a wounded animal in response to the sudden noise, watching with cautious eyes, your hold on the sleeping child tightening ever so slightly, when bruce circles the table to reach you.
you curse the couch for acting as another barrier trapping you once he nears you, and wish your child wouldn't wake up from the sudden thumps whirling within your chest, but bruce only leans down, meeting your eye level, and places his heavy palms on your laden shoulders.
the gesture wasn't comforting, it wasn't as nice as the young you would think it would be, but it was enough to ground you from a round of what feels like an incoming heart attack when bruce stares back of your panic stricken eyes with unquestionable certainty and one of his smiles that only guarantees a million mysteries as to what it truly means.
only that it means he's already won something you never even agreed to.
bruce wayne— no, your dad, he cups your face like a father would when checking up on his child, and leans down to leave a small, but gentle kiss on your forehead, that smile never once leaving his face when he leans back to stare at you once more.
"wha—"
"you'll understand, wouldn't you, (name)?" the question is heavy, it doesn't require an answer, and it doesn't quite connect to any of his previous statements. you're not sure what it means, but something tells you it's not meant for you to decrypt unless you want to return to your teenage self, already about to have another bout of a full blown panic attack.
instead, you mindlessly whisper in reply.
"no i don't, bruce..."
"(name)," he says your name again, like it's a broken statement always stuck on his tongue. like he's not quite used to saying it.
you could only gulp, the lump in your throat as thick as a glacier.
"i miss it when you used to call me 'dad'," he comments, laughing airily, but the joy doesn't reach the way his eyes stoop low just to look at you with more of his unsaid sentiments.
'yeah, and i miss it when i used to be stupid and actually thought of you as my dad,' you wanted to reply in snark, but opted not to when your child suddenly began to stir in their sleep, muttering jumbled words as they adjusted their position to bury themself deeper on your chest.
you sigh, patting your kid's head, then you gazed back up at bruce, who watched the scene before him way too intensely.
after a momentary beat of silence, he says:
"so, what is your decision, (name)?"
"i..."
bruce's offers were way too good to be true. way too considerate. he didn't just have your child in mind, but also you, too. it opens up a million doors for opportunities you otherwise could've never provided your own child. and bruce was right with something else; your child would be safer and happier with an entire village willing to help prepare them for the future.
you're willing to sacrifice your entire world just to see them not end up like you. they were your bundle of joy. the only light shining upon your bleak world. you wouldn't know what to do with your life without them, even if you've never asked for what was supposed to be a mistake of a lifetime, they've proven more to be a blessing to you than the burden your ex told you they were when they dropped off the crying child at your doorstep.
and the sight of them grappling on your clothes, begging you to not leave them like your ex did warranted both pain and empathy in your heart. it was just like all those years ago, when you've only had alfred to love and cherish you, even if it wasn't enough. you know what it's like to be unwanted and abandoned. you've experienced being unwanted in your entire life— your child doesn't deserve to think of themself that way.
it's way too perfect to pass up, but what only made you hesitate were the intentions bruce refused to outright tell you. what would he earn with this favor anyways? it's not like you could pay him back with affection or love. it's not like you could face your siblings, all childless and younger than you ever looked, and play pretend, like they never once ignored you in favor of their duties as vigilantes.
you're only doing this for your child's sake.
you're reminded that everything you do now, your choices, your decisions, your jobs that you juggle tirelessly, are all done with your child in mind.
if you took away your child's future from them, you could only see yourself in bruce's footstep. you could only see yourself as some greedy, heartless monster who only ever thinks of themself in the picture.
you stare at them, gaze still shaky and unsure, but your embrace on your child said otherwise, as you nod a wordless agreement with bruce's offer at staying in the manor for stability. you heart still wavers in your decision, if what you're doing is right or wrong, not missing the sinister beat of dread in your chest as your child lays asleep in your protective hold.
he only hums, then places his hand to ruffle your already tangled hair. thinning and unwashed and ugly. you feel filthy after your shift, not even having the time to wash up since you've got a hungry mouth to feed and dishes waiting to be washed— but you're reminded time and time again that this is the fate you chose to uphold as you look down at your sleeping child, smiling softly at the drool slowly seeping into your apron.
and...
you ignore the way bruce's eyes flitter between you and your kid, you couldn't read the way his thoughts had drifted to fantasies of what could've been you and him on the couch. with him lulling you to sleep. with you, comfortable, and safe, and happily dreaming in his arms.
but you've grown too fast. you had a child you didn't want in the first place — the same way bruce did with you — yet had to keep. the heavy bags he now sees closely in your eyes wordlessly told him about your sleepless nights working late to provide for the child. swimming in them was exhaustion only a parent could understand, a playful youth drained to care for another life, an identity lost, just to be labeled as a parent and not anymore as an individual.
the weight of sacrifice is something bruce is aware of, but amidst it all, there was still so much love in your eyes. too much love into the tiny life you held in your arms.
love that bruce had never once given you, slapping him in the face at the sight of you gently grazing your fingers across the growing hairs of your child's scalp while you look down with a tired, but oh-so fond smile at the growing kid under you.
the difference between you two was that you loved the child despite all the pain you'd have to feel looking into at the same eyes as your ex, whilst bruce refused to look at yours; didn't even acknowledge yours.
you have so much love spilling beneath the seams for the product of a loveless relationship. you could've abandoned ship, sailed away to a different city, refused to look at the eyes of your own child like bruce once did; but you were better than him in every way. you took it all in stride, you chose to dismiss the sick and twisted discomfort stabbing every pore in your skin just to care for a life you only knew for a short amount of time.
— whilst bruce could only discover the love he always had in his heart after it was too late. after you've left the manor with a resolve to sever everything that could ever associate you with him.
but, ah, he'll prove himself better for your sake too.
he'll be the father you've always wanted, even if it felt dire and unrequited. he'll show you love, he'll show you care, he'll be with you every step of the way like he promised to— even if you're not some young kid anymore begging for affection, you were still his kid, as were all your siblings. all his promises towards your child extended to you too. he'll provide you the safety net you always needed but never received back then.
even if you'd have to kick and thrash and beg to be let go once you'll realize that your freedom is limited to the manor and your university once you're back home, bruce is willing to take every hit and every punch all in stride as a father should be.
even if it takes him using his own grandchild as bait for you to stay, he's already planned ten steps ahead of time an entire scheme to at least turn your own kid to be as equally protective and paranoid for the safety of their parent just to keep you safe and sound.
and to bruce, all of this sounds reasonable and necessary.
because, after all, just as you're choosing to step into the doors of what once was your cage for the sake of your child—
bruce is also willing to make the sacrifices necessary for the sake of his own too.
a/n: miss me? well, i miss y'all too except i had to go on a long hiatus for a lot of reasons. leave comments, i love them since they motivate more further <3 otherwise, this is dedicated to my friends @thecloudsaremyhome, @mishkradetsa, @gluttonousriceflour, alongside everyone else who's been supporting me for a long, long time.
This is a little writing for purely funsies. I have a hyperfixation on arctic (and snowy area-related) animals, so I made this. It doesn't make complete sense, but just go along with it ^^;
Since they are hybrids (basically just humans with animal traits), they aren't exactly like their animal counterpart, and it doesn't have to take place in any specific area, just somewhere snowy and/or cold.
If I get enough positive feedback, I'll make another one with a different theme of animals! <3
TW: Infantilization, platonic yanderes
Vanek — leopard seal dad
❄️ Vanek's species are solitary and highly territorial. He's never been close to anyone, not even in his own species. Family has never been a big deal for his kind, given that his species mature quickly and are on their own as soon as they are old enough.
❄️ But then, as he's hunting, he sees you. It isn't very often he sees humans up close; they're usually far away in the safety of their ships, and he doesn't pay them any mind. But you're different. You are small and you are alone, and he's curious.
❄️ It's rare he takes an interest in something that isn't food or a possible rival. And yet, he can't take his eyes off of you. Vanek doesn't really have much experience with any kind of love, so all these new feelings leave him confused.
❄️ All he knows for sure is it breaks his heart seeing you shivering in the cold, how weak and helpless you look against the harsh climate. Something primal in him tells him that you need protecting.
❄️ Unlike most of his kind, he builds a den, with lots of nice warm furs and other things he thinks you may need. A nice little home where he would raise his little pup to be strong and healthy. But first he had to go and retrieve said pup...
❄️ He's a massive man who towers over you, and his lack of communication and social skills definitely doesn't help.
❄️ "You can trust me! I would never harm my own pup." *Cue smile with bloodied razor sharp teeth, then sadness and confusion when you start cowering.*
❄️ His patience only goes so far before he drags you home.
❄️ He accidentally scares you a lot. If anyone else made you scared, he would have murdered them for it... but since it's him you're running away from he'll probably just sulk.
❄️ It'd take a lot of adapting from both of you.
❄️ "Did you know my kind don't like cuddling? They don't typically make warm fur nests like these either, even for their pups. I suppose I'm just kinder than they are. Now stop squirming away!"
❄️ "Please do not talk about leaving ever again. Papa will get sad if you do...."
❄️ He tries to mimic human expressions but gets them wrong half of the time. You'll also have to get used to his scary smile.
❄️ Genuinely will not hesitate to kill anyone/anything he perceives as a threat. The bloodlust and ruthlessness is an ingrained part of him.
❄️ When you start growing used to his company and less scared of him, he'll be over the moon. He does not get how personal space works and you can't even blink without him watching you.
❄️ He sings to you often, lots of songs that sound familiar to you, like nursery rhymes. His kind, despite being some of the loneliest creatures, sing somewhat often... And he's going to put those pipes to good use for his little baby! <3
❄️ Vanek has never had kindness shown to him, so if you show him any sort of affection, he short circuits a little bit.
❄️ Has to learn how to cook food for you because everything he eats is raw.
❄️ He allows you to leave the den, but only when he's watching over you. You're free to walk around outside with your hyperprotective leopard seal dad trailing closely behind.
Juniper — snowy owl parent
🤍 Snowy owls are typically good parents, and Juniper would like to believe they are no exception!
🤍 The issue is that they have no biological chicks of their own, and there aren't many options in terms of mates. At least, none that they'd find worthy enough.
🤍 Not to mention, they aren't willing to bring chicks into this cold, lonely world... even if they do feel lonely by themself.
🤍 Imagine their delight when you stumbled into their territory looking so small, helpless, and adorable. Truly like a precious newborn chick in need of protection!
🤍 Juniper wants to protect you! They don't mind at all when you fall asleep in their nest. Never have they been so grateful that their kind typically nest on the ground. After all, you seem quite delicate and cannot fly.
🤍 However, the owl is not very good with boundaries. They keep hooting and cooing at you, preening you and coddling you until you grow uncomfortable. Unfortunately, you trying to wriggle out of their hold does nothing more than cause them distress.
🤍 "Why don't you want your mama's love? Am I doing something wrong???"
🤍 They bring you lots of warm furs, blankets, and other things to line the nest and make it more comfortable for you. Even if you tell them it isn't necessary, they won't stop bringing you shiny trinkets, food, anything that appeals to them.
🤍 Everything's for you!!! You just gotta stay!
🤍 Juniper's feathers are incredibly soft. They make for a wonderful pillow. They encourage this behavior.
🤍 If they think someone is harming or even trying to harm you, they go ballistic.
🤍 When hunting for you they try to find prey you haven't tried yet, because variety is important!!!
🤍 They love how small you are! You are so teeny tiny compared to them, they adore wrapping their wings around you completely and resting their chin on top of your head. When they rarely allow themself to fall asleep, that is how they sleep, so you're protected from all sides and kept warm! Double the benefits, zero downsides!
🤍 They tend to talk down to you in a very patronizing way but they don't mean to do it. This is how they've seen humans talk to their toddlers and children, so surely it must be the way humans show their love towards each other??
🤍 Juniper adores making little flower crowns for you, along with bracelets and necklaces. Resources for said materials can sometimes be rare to come across, especially when winter rolls around... but seeing your eyes light up when they return with a basket full of plants makes the effort worthwhile.
🤍 While you may think you could possibly sneak past Juniper while they're sleeping, they still have amazing hearing! You will not escape their grasp.
🤍 Seeing you all snuggled up in the warm nest fills them with such pride.
North — snow leopard dad
🩶 Snow leopards are shy and quiet by nature, but very protective of their cubs. North is no different.
🩶 His den is tucked away deep in the mountains. There isn't another living being in sight, which is exactly how he likes it. Or liked, before meeting you.
🩶 One day, when returning to his home with food, he notices there is something strange lying in the middle of his path. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that this "thing" is a human.
🩶 Although he's been told to avoid humans and not draw attention to himself, he finds it difficult to just leave you be. Humans aren't used to the mountainous climates and terrain, and the way you lay there reminds him of a tiny lost baby cub. He worries for you.
🩶 Before he can rationalize his choices, he picks you up and brings you home. Luckily for him, you remain unconscious throughout the trip.
🩶 He carefully lays you on the bed and wraps you up with the warmest, thickest furs and blankets he owns. You shiver weakly against him, but don't stir. North spends the rest of his afternoon fretting over you as he prepares a stew from his spoils of the morning hunt.
🩶 A few days pass before you finally awaken. It doesn't take long for you to become frightened upon realizing you're in a stranger's home. North wishes you wouldn't look at him like that...
🩶 It takes a lot of soothing and coaxing from him before you start trusting him again. You're both isolated up here, it wouldn't do either of you any good to be hostile towards one another. Sooner or later, you settle back into your routine again and enjoy each other's company.
🩶 But then, one day, you start talking about your home. The place where your loved ones reside... your real family...
🩶 This makes North realize you don't intend to stay forever. The thought brings him immeasurable pain,,, why would his cub ever wish to abandon him? To go back out into that cruel, unforgiving world?
🩶 It doesn't matter what lies beyond the mountain. What matters most now is keeping you safe. Here, within the safety of his den. If he has to force you to stay, he will, even if he cries at the idea of you being upset with him.
🩶 "No one will love and care for you as much as I can."
🩶 You belong to him now. His precious cub.
🩶 North loves cuddling with you. He'll curl his tail around you protectively so you feel extra cozy. He's constantly fussing over you to make sure you're happy and comfortable.
🩶 Snow leopards are known to be good mamas! North takes pride in this trait and wants to be the best mama ever.
🩶 When you do become more comfortable around him, if you sneak up on him, he'll pretend to act shocked and jump in the air, just so you can feel proud of yourself.
🩶 He purrs whenever he is happy! He can't help but purr every time he's around you. In fact, he's almost always purring now. He's the happiest he's ever been in his life now that he has a cub of his own <3
Faina — polar bear mama
🩵 Polar bears spend most of their life alone and typically only interact with others during mating season. Faina has never had anyone else accompany her on her treks, until you came along.
🩵 Polar bears don't usually live in areas humans inhabit, but it's not unusual for them to migrate close by every once and a while in search of food.
🩵 During one such trek she finds you.
🩵 You're terrified at first, because polar bears are one of the few animals that will actively hunt humans if given the chance.
🩵 Luckily for you, Faina isn't your average polar bear. She's surprisingly gentle despite her size and strength. All she does is scoop you into her arms, cooing something about how cute and small you are.
🩵 "What a fragile little thing you are... Don't worry, baby, we'll get you somewhere safe."
🩵 She carries you all the way to her den, humming as she goes. You're too scared to do anything about it.
🩵 Her home is surprisingly cozy. You were expecting it to be some dank, dark cave full of fish bones. Instead, you find it furnished nicely. There's a fire burning steadily in the center, surrounded by animal pelts for warmth. She sets you down beside it.
🩵 If you ask if she's going to eat you she thinks you're joking until realizing you're serious, then she gets sad.
🩵 "I'd never hurt my baby!! I took you in so I could care for you! I just want to be your mama :("
🩵 Never mind the fact she very much kidnapped you....
🩵 She's an expert cook! She knows you probably don't enjoy eating raw meat and prefers to prepare cooked meals instead. She has no problem catching all sorts of fish for you (and berries if you want variety or don't eat meat!)
🩵 The second you show signs of sickness, Faina immediately jumps to mama mode. She tucks you into bed with thick fur blankets and brews special medicinal teas. You cannot leave your nest until you are feeling completely better!!
🩵 She gives the absolute best hugs. Warm and cozy, like a giant teddy bear. Even with those strong muscles wrapped around you, you know she'd never squeeze hard enough to actually injure you.
🩵 She's obsessed with giving you kisses!!! Expect lots of forehead kisses, cheek kisses, nose kisses... Especially if you've done something worthy of praise. She'll pepper your face in kisses!
🩵 Very clingy. She constantly wants to hold you.
🩵 But she can be very scary and protective when it comes to protecting her territory and you.
🩵 No one can threaten her baby! Polar bears are VERY protective and Faina is no different, maybe even worse because she never really had anyone else but herself to fight for. You've given her another reason to fight.
🩵 Whenever she takes you out on walks, always carrying you or at least making you hold her hand, she'll become a completely different person if she senses a threat. Her adoring smile turns into a snarl, showing off her sharp teeth.
🩵 You better hope no one comes searching for you. If they're on her territory, then you can't reason with her. Anyone who dares set foot near her home is a danger to you in her eyes. She doesn't care if they mean well or not. She won't take any risk.
🩵 It's hard for her to find nice things for you to decorate your space in the cave. But she tries to keep an eye out regardless! If she spots something she thinks you'll like she brings it straight to you, hoping you'll love it. Your happiness is her reward! And maybe some cuddles after too <3
Taiga — arctic wolf papa
💙 Taiga is alpha of his pack. As such, he is incredibly overprotective and attentive.
💙 As soon as his pack finds you in their territory, they bring you to him, the leader, so he can decide what to do.
💙 They treat you like you're some sort of injured pup. Not necessarily their pup, but a pup nonetheless. Because wolves have extremely strong family units, it's hard for Taiga to imagine leaving you behind. You need someone to take care of you.
💙 You get to stay in his den. He makes sure everyone stays out and that nobody bothers you, unless he gives them direct permission.
💙 He's very quiet and stoic, and only speaks when necessary. You have a lot of difficulty reading him.
💙 But he's very physically affectionate, despite not speaking often. You wake up every morning with him wrapped around you protectively, growling if anyone dares try and come close.
💙 Sometimes, in the morning, Taiga will groom your hair if it's messy. He's used to grooming the pups in the pack, so doing it for you isn't weird at all to him. It's just natural parental behavior. And since he sees you as another pup in need of care, he treats you no differently than the others.
💙 If you're more on the playful side, he won't even mind play-wrestling you. However, he definitely takes care not to seriously harm or injure you. You're just a pup after all, he'd never actually use his strength against you.
💙 He takes you out hunting occasionally so you can get some exercise. His pack knows better than to tease or bully you. Taiga keeps a sharp eye on all of them to make sure everyone is kind and gentle to you.
💙 Everyone in the pack looks out for you and cares deeply about you! They don't even think of you as human, but as a wolf hybrid like them! Just without the ears, tail, fangs, and scent.
💙 They are extremely protective. Outsiders are treated with hostility, and you should never venture far from the camp, or else they will come after you and retrieve you.
💙 If he catches you trying to leave his pack to return home he gets angry and scolds you.
💙 "Do you not realize what could happen to you if I wasn't there?! If another pack found you they would surely kill you, or worse."
💙 "This is your pack. I am your new family now, and we are yours. Get used to it."
💙 He also gets grumpy if you refuse to call him Papa.
Lumi — reindeer papa
🤍 Reindeer are very social creatures, usually living in herds together. Lumi's no exception.
🤍 However, Lumi still prefers some solitude from time to time, which is how he comes to stumble across your frozen body lying helpless upon the snowy ground. Your current condition fills him with fear at first, before he realizes what it must mean... this must be fate! He has found his calf!
🤍 So Lumi scoops you up with surprising gentleness and carries you back to his little wooden cabin, where he lights the fireplace and lays you down. For hours he nurses you back to health, keeping you warm by wrapping several layers of soft blankets around you.
🤍 When you wake up he feeds you soup. You look confused and frightened, so he comforts you by petting your head and telling you that everything will be fine now.
🤍 His antlers are velvety, and surprisingly pleasant to touch! If he catches you staring at them he lets you feel them as long as you want.
🤍 The idea of you leaving leaves him absolutely heartbroken. Where would you go? How could he survive without seeing your smiling face? Who will take care of you like he can? Your home is here, with him.
🤍 The herd adores you. Unlike Taiga's pack, who'd treat you more like a little sibling and don't mind a bit of rough housing, everyone in Lumi's herd babies you.
🤍 He loves sitting by the fire, cuddling you close with a cup of hot cocoa.
🤍 Lumi prides himself on being very tidy. There's not a single spot of dirt anywhere in his cabin.
🤍 Everyone in the herd has a little cabin to themselves, until they migrate to the next location for the year. Everyone always works together to build them.
🤍 He's a patient dad, but very firm. If he tells you to do something, he expects you to listen. He has your best interests at heart.
🤍 If he needs to be stern with you, he'll use his disappointed parent voice, which is one of the worst things in the world. He's a gentle giant most of the time, so hearing him upset with you will make you feel terrible.
🤍 He loves making you little wooden carvings! Lumi's herd is skilled in all sorts of crafts. He'll carve you little animals and people for you to play with.
🤍 He's not much of a talker, but he loves listening. He'll listen to you talk for hours about anything and everything, as long as you're talking to him.
🤍 Like the others, he's extremely protective. He will literally charge at anything that so much as looks at you the wrong way. Nothing is a threat to you while he's around.
🤍 Lumi can and will carry you on his back. Reindeer are incredibly strong, and he has no issue with your added weight, especially when migrating.
🤍 The herd thinks you're the cutest thing in the world. They'll bring you flowers and berries and other little gifts all the time. The calves in the herd love playing with you
🤍 Lumi loves nuzzling you with his nose. It's a very reindeer thing to do, and he finds it incredibly comforting. He hopes you do, too.
Anuk — arctic fox mama
🩶 As an arctic fox, Anuk is small, clever, and incredibly resourceful. She's also a bit of a hoarder, especially of things she finds pretty or useful.
🩶 She discovers you while scavenging. You're shivering in the snow, and you look so lost. She immediately takes a liking to you. You're like a helpless little kit!
🩶 She leads you back to her den, a cozy little burrow dug into a snowdrift. It's a bit cramped, but it's warm and safe. She's lined it with all sorts of soft things she's found, like fur scraps, bird feathers, even some discarded human clothing.
🩶 She'll hide your things and then "help" you find them, just so she can feel needed. She'll also hide things she doesn't want you to have, like your shoes or anything that could help you leave.
🩶 She's very touchy and loves to cuddle. She'll wrap her fluffy tail around you like a blanket. It's incredibly soft and warm.
🩶 "My sweet little kit, you're so cold! Let Mama warm you up."
🩶 She's a mischievous trickster and loves to play games. Her favorite game is hide-and-seek, but she always knows where you are. She just likes to watch you search for her, all panicked and adorable.
🩶 Even though she teases you all the time, if she thinks you're genuinely sad, she'll quickly switch into mama mode and comfort you.
🩶 "You're homesick? Awww, darling... but this is your home. With me. Oh, c'mere, let Mama hold you."
🩶 Since she is small and nearly defenseless compared to most hybrids, one of the few times you'll see her angry is if you leave the safety of the den without her knowledge.
🩶 "Do you understand the kinds of creatures that live out there?! Kits don't belong wandering around by themselves!"
🩶 Anuk sings to you often. Arctic foxes are known to vocalize often.
🩶 She also loves tickling you for fun. It always ends with you both laughing.
🩶 She'll bring you things she thinks are pretty, like shiny rocks or colorful bird feathers. You have a little pile of these "gifts" in the corner of the den.
🩶 Anuk is very clever and resourceful. She knows how to find food even in the harshest of winters. She has to learn how to cook some things for you, but it doesn't take her long to get the hang of it.
🩶 She absolutely loses her mind if you try to leave her. You wouldn't make it two feet before she's on you, crying and begging you to stay.
🩶 "Please, my sweet little kit, please don't leave your mama all alone... I wouldn't know what to do without you... don't you love me?"
🩶 She's very manipulative, but she does mean everything she says. The thought of being alone again is unbearable to her. If you leave, who will she care for? Who will she talk to whenever she's lonely?? Who will she cuddle with when she goes to sleep??
🩶 You're all she has, and she's all you need. And she'll make sure you know it.
🩶 Anuk knows its selfish, but she doesn't care. She'll do anything to keep you with her.
Fannar — gyrfalcon papa
🩵 The gyrfalcon is the largest falcon species. Fannar is certainly an impressive individual. He's large and imposing, with strong wings and sharp eyesight.
🩵 Fannar prefers the mountains and tall cliffs. From his lofty heights he has a great vantage point. He is able to see everything beneath him. He hunts alone.
🩵 He spots you walking far below and becomes intrigued.
🩵 He decides to swoop down and inspect this mysterious creature. You appear to be cold and tired. He flies over you for a long while, watching you curiously.
🩵 After a while, he swoops down and gently lifts you into the air, carrying you to his nest high up on the cliff. You cry out in surprise and struggle a little at first, but he soon has you securely held in his grip.
🩵 Once back in his nest he tucks you among his furs, keeping you close. He stares down at you with curiosity. This is his new fledgeling, he's certain of it!
🩵 You're the center of Fannar's world now. His beautiful, precious chick! He'll spend his days hunting for food for the both of you, bringing it back to you. He will take good care of you!
🩵 He may be intimidating but he's got a soft spot for his chick, and dotes on you constantly.
🩵 "You're so tiny and fragile, my fledgling. But don't worry, Papa will keep you safe from harm."
🩵 He gets upset if he sees you near the edge of the nest, and pulls you back. He'll cover you in his feathery wings.
🩵 "What are you doing, fledgling?? You can't fly yet, don't lean over the edge!"
🩵 Sometimes Fannar likes to carry you places. His wings are strong, so carrying you isn't any trouble for him. He especially likes it if you enjoy it, too.
🩵 Being territorial and solitary means he'll take no chances with predators coming near his nest. If someone threatens you, they'll have to deal with a very pissed off papa falcon.
🩵 Fannar loves to preen you. You're not a baby bird, so you don't need it as much... but he insists on it anyway because it's bonding for him. And he enjoys spending time with his chick and taking care of them.
🩵 Doesn't even realize he's being possessive, it's just common for his kind to be very protective of their chicks...
🩵 He loves giving you cute nicknames like chick, fledgling, little bird, baby, etc.
🩵 When he comes back to the nest he expects you to come greet him and help him put the things he hunted/collected away. He gets grumpy if you don't, but understands if you're napping.
🩵 At night he wraps you up snugly in his wings to shield you from the chilly air.
🩵 He isn't always stoic, though. He does have a sense of humor, and sometimes teases you in a loving manner.
WARNINGS/TAGS: Running away, mentions of rituals and sacrifices, adoptive yandads, polyamorous yandads, violence, implied death (no one serious), gender neutral reader, immortality, platonic/parental yandere, infantilization
WORD COUNT: 4.8k
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Polyamorous dads! <3 I've kind of rushed this near the end, but I've been dealing with some writer's block, so please excuse it ^^; let me know if there are warnings I forgot!
Several years ago, when you were still a child, you had been chosen as a sacrifice to give your village mercy from four powerful Gods, all for a more plentiful harvest. This choice wasn't made willingly on your part.
In fact, you weren't even asked! You were just plucked up from your bed and shoved into the ceremonial temple where offerings were to be taken.
You remember being terrified when you saw the Gods' faces, thinking it was time for your inevitable demise. But that never happened.
Instead, the deities decided you were far too precious to be eaten, and the next thing you knew, they had started raising you as their child.
Autumn has always been the calm and collected one of your parents. He's always there to give you good advice, and amazing food, especially baked goods. It's easy for you to tell him anything and everything.
Winter is quiet most of the time, but is probably the most cuddly. He's always worrying about your comfort, always making sure you've got warm enough clothes on during winter, or tucking you in with extra blankets.
Spring is clingy beyond belief. He hates not being able to be around you, or see you. He cries very easily if he doesn't know where you are. And he loves spending time with you, and gossiping with you.
Summer likes giving piggyback rides, and play fighting with you. He's definitely the most extroverted out of all four of your parents.
Life with them hasn't been too bad over the years, all things considered. Sure, they're all very protective of you, but you know they'll do anything for you at any time.
Now that you're old enough to live away from them though, you feel that things need to change. You want freedom, to have your own life.
The problem is, convincing Autumn, Winter, Spring, and Summer about that is easier said than done.
They like having you all to themselves, after all, so why would they let you leave the nest?
Since Autumn is the easiest to talk to, you nervously approach him as he rakes the yard of leaves. A gust of wind makes some fall back down onto the ground anyway, and you see him sigh deeply, looking quite irritated, until he looks at you.
He immediately softens his gaze at the sight of you, smiling. "Hello, dear! What can I help you with?"
"Um...hey..." You kick at the leaves a bit with your feet, avoiding eye contact with him. "I actually wanna talk with you..." His expression immediately turns worried. "It's nothing that serious! It's just... I think you'd overreact the least."
"I'm listening." Autumn gestures towards one of the garden benches nearby for you to sit, which you do so.
Taking a deep breath first, you try to organize your words. "So... I've been thinking a lot lately..."
"Yes?" Autumn says gently, setting down his rake and sitting next to you. His brows are furrowed, still clearly worried.
"Well, you see, I really appreciate you and everyone else raising me all these years, but..." you hesitate, trying to get the rest of what you need to say out before it hurts his feelings. "I want to be like the other humans, and start living on my own, being more independent... stuff like that."
He blinks slowly as he processes what you just told him. Then suddenly, without saying anything, Autumn stands up, grabs the rake again, and continues gardening.
This... was a surprisingly neutral reaction.
But then again, Autumn never gets mad.
"...Papa? Did you hear me?" you ask cautiously, watching him scoop up the scattered leaves into neat piles.
"I did."
"...and?" Now you're standing, feeling offended by the lack of response.
"And I don't have any response to give."
"You... don't have... any response to give...?" you repeat incredulously. This wasn't going how you wanted it to at all! "Well, I... uh, figured that since you were the most level-headed, that you wouldn't be upset about this!"
"I never said I was angry with you."
His nonchalant attitude makes you frustrated, especially since Autumn still isn't looking at you. "Let me guess: disappointed?"
Autumn finally looks up from what he was doing. "I suppose I'm just... shocked. I can't wrap my head around the fact my child would rather be with humans than with their parents."
"I'm human too," you mutter.
"Yes, but we chose to raise you, keep you safe, nurture you." There's an edge to Autumn's voice now. "You can't possibly want to waste your time among people who didn't even want you in the first place?"
Ouch. He hit you where it hurt, bringing up that you had been a sacrifice.
You glare at your Godly parent. "Don't bring that up, it isn't fair."
"Well, it's true. And now that you're grown, I refuse to lose you. Because I love you dearly," Autumn replies, staring at you intently, the golden sheen in his eyes seeming brighter than normal. "And you will not be leaving us so long as I have something to say about it. That's final."
Before you can protest, he walks back into the house. Feeling annoyed, you head back inside yourself.
If Autumn is saying no, you decide maybe Winter will be more understanding. Just getting permission from one of them should be enough...
You find Winter out on the patio, drinking coffee, as per usual. You're not sure why he does, given he's so tired that even caffeine doesn't make much difference for him, but he seems to enjoy the flavor enough.
When you walk towards him, he gives you a sleepy smile. "Hi, sweetheart."
"Hey, Mom." The way he looks at you, like you're his whole world, almost makes you want to abandon your plan entirely. Almost. "Um, is it okay if we talk? About something sort of... well... serious?"
Winter frowns, looking very worried already, but he nods. "Alright..." As he sets down his mug on the little glass table, his fingers shake, something they always do when he's nervous or uncomfortable. "You're not hurt, are you?"
"No, nothing like that! I promise," you quickly add on, sitting down across from him.
"That's good," Winter breathes a sigh of relief, calming down some. "Then what's wrong?"
Gazing up at Winter's gentle face, you wonder how exactly to go about telling him, so as not to break his heart. Especially since he tends to internalize things far too much.
But after thinking through how best to phrase it, you end up spitting the truth out, unadulterated. "I want to move out."
"What?" Winter's voice cracks on that simple word, pain flashing across his features.
Ugh, that's such a guilt trip. You look away awkwardly. "It's nothing personal, I just want... freedom."
"How am I supposed to take care of you? How will I protect you?" he asks frantically. "Are you unhappy here? If so, I'll fix whatever's wrong. Anything. Did I do something?"
You groan softly. He's taking this worse than Autumn, but not quite how you predicted it either. "It's not that. Really! But... I'm human. I won't live forever like you guys." When you reach out to gently grasp his hand, he recoils. That stings, but you forge onward, determined to make your point. "I just want to make memories while I'm young, instead of... cooped up in here!"
"It's exactly because of your mortality that makes me even more terrified," Winter rasps. "You shouldn't be doing dangerous things. That's what your parents are supposed to prevent." He swallows thickly before continuing, eyes wet with unshed tears. "What would we do without you?"
"I'm going to die eventually," you argue, to which Winter dramatically gasps. "What? I'm stating a fact!"
"Please don't say such cruel things." His voice is barely above a whisper. "I'd rather we stopped having this conversation altogether, in fact."
"You can't avoid this!" You stand when he does. "Please, just... try to understand!" You grab onto his arm desperately. "Mom, please."
At your sad expression, and your soft begging, Winter wavers some. His gaze shifts to the floor. "Even if the others agree to it, which they won't... I won't allow this. I'm sorry."
You groan, sitting back down and burying your head in your hands.
So he's against the idea as well. Of course.
"Kiddo, what the hell happened?" Summer asks, having just witnessed his husband come inside crying.
"I didn't mean to make him cry," you mutter.
"Of course I know that. He's sensitive like your Mama, but that doesn't change what I asked." He sits down next to you, not looking angry. Just concerned. "Wanna tell me what went on with you two?"
You don't even have the energy to beat around the bush anymore. "I want to move out."
Summer's jaw tenses visibly. He frowns. "Oh, yeah?"
"Papa already said no, so did Mom," you explain tiredly, slumping over the table, feeling defeated already. "And I already know what Mama will say, he's the most predictable." And he probably heard the conversations both times from wherever he is inside the house, crying somewhere with Winter now. "Dad, please tell me you understand."
There's silence. Your father inhales deeply through his nose. "Actually, yeah."
Hope blossoms in your chest. He's going to let you leave? This could be your ticket out!
"But," Summer continues, much to your heartbreak, "under no circumstances am I gonna let that happen."
"...what? You literally just agreed with me!"
"Not quite, sunshine," he says. "I do understand wanting independence and all that stuff. But you're my baby, and you will never stop being my baby. I love you so much. If something happened to you, I'd lose my shit—excuse my French. So, unfortunately, I won't be helping you out."
Just like that, your hope is destroyed. "I only live once, I told Mom this too. I don't want to spend all my life here."
"Kid, please, don't make us sound like we're keeping you locked away," Summer murmurs. "Hey, if you want space, I can help build an extension to the house for you. I'm sure everyone else will prefer that over you wanting to move too."
"No!" you shout, surprising Summer with your sudden shift in attitude. "That isn't the fucking point! You are keeping me locked away!"
"What?"
"I haven't had contact with anybody besides you four since I was, like, eight! It isn't fair!"
The man glares at you. "Don't talk to me like that."
"You aren't my dad! None of you are my mom or dad! You're Gods, and you decided to raise me yourselves because... why?! Because you were lonely? You wanted to play house?!" You stand up suddenly, feeling your heart pounding harder than it ever has in your entire life. "I am sick and tired of it all, Dad!"
You know you're out of line. But you're so frustrated that you can't see straight.
Summer stands up as well, staring directly into your eyes. "(Y/n), watch that tone. I don't want to ground you."
"Ground me then! It's not like I'm allowed to go anywhere anyway!" You stomp inside, and Summer doesn't follow you.
When you slam the door shut, you turn to see Autumn, Winter, and a now crying Spring on the couch. Great, just your luck. They heard everything. Spring especially looks miserable.
"Why are you all here?" you question angrily.
Autumn is the first to speak. "I think you know the answer to that."
Spring is quick to hug you. "Why were you saying those things?! Was I a bad Mama?" he sobs, burying his face in your hair.
Sometimes it isn't obvious they have no clue what parenting is supposed to be like, and moments like these make it show. Spring is definitely the hardest to stay mad at.
Though it hurts to push him away when he's crying, you do it anyway, letting him look at you through tears and horror.
"Because none of this is fair!" you snap at all of them. "I hate feeling like a bird trapped in some gilded cage!"
"This is for your protection, (Y/n)," Autumn sighs. He gets off the couch and tries approaching you cautiously, hands raised like you're some wild animal. "We love you."
"You don't love me. You just want to own me like some kind of pet," you retort. "If you really loved me, you would want me to be happy."
"And we want you to live, too!" Winter snaps. "I'm sorry if that is a higher priority to us than anything else."
"Well, guess what?! I'm gonna die eventually, no matter if I stay here for the rest of my life or not!" You storm off, Spring's louder cries and Winter's softer ones fading out as you run to your bedroom.
...
A few hours later, you come downstairs, having calmed down a bit more, though you're worried about seeing your guardians again.
You shuffle into the kitchen, where you see Autumn preparing lunch. Not seeing the others, you walk up to him sheepishly.
"Hi, Papa."
"Hm? I thought you didn't see any of us that way now." His tone of voice is cutting, but you can tell it's hiding a lot of hurt. That's worse than how harsh he's acting towards you.
You sniffle. "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad."
Autumn immediately stops cooking when he sees you crying. He comes over, wiping your tears away carefully, like you'll break beneath his fingertips. "Oh... pumpkin, don't cry."
"I didn't mean to upset everybody like I did," you choke out through hiccups. "I hate fighting."
He sighs softly, wrapping you in his strong arms, bringing you close enough that you can hear his heartbeat, and laying a kiss upon the top of your head. "Me too."
Soon enough, you apologize to Winter, then Spring, and lastly Summer. Thankfully, each and every one of them forgive you, even if they disagree with what you want.
Yet truth is, you aren't sorry. You just want as little as tension as possible.
...
Ever since that day, you thought about escaping, but were always held back because... well, it's hard to have much time to yourself to even think about it, when there's four overprotective Gods who consider you their baby.
Not to mention if you tried escaping in daylight, there would be no chance you would get far at all. Autumn and Spring are almost always tending to the garden, Summer is always doing yard work, and Winter... well, sometimes he just likes to stand outside and drink his coffee or hot cocoa.
But you begin thinking maybe, just maybe, during the nighttime, you'll have a better chance at getting away.
After all, it's getting to the point where you feel like you'll suffocate if you stay in this place for a second longer. The desire to be independent is stronger than anything you've experienced.
You wait until late at night, when you think your parents are asleep, which takes forever.
Then you slip out of bed, creeping across your bedroom and out into the hallway.
Every step makes a loud creak in the silence.
It's eerie, the sensation of knowing nobody's around except for your guardians, who might wake at any moment.
Once you finally reach the front door, you take one last glance behind you. Maybe you're wondering if you should just turn back.
Everyone would be devastated. Spring and Winter would probably spend the rest of their lives bawling, while Summer and Autumn would tear apart the world until they find you again.
Is it worth the trouble?
...well, yeah. If you don't do something, you might go crazy. These people love you more than life itself, but it's constricting nonetheless.
So, with that final thought, you quietly open the door, slipping outside and closing it once more, not daring to breathe in case you're discovered.
...
That night, you sleep at an inn in the nearest town. It takes hours to walk there, and your legs are tired by the end, but the sense of accomplishment that you managed to escape in the first place keeps you from completely breaking down.
You're pretty sure you know they discovered you're gone, because early in the morning a raging snowstorm happens. It's December, so you can tell Winter is beyond upset.
For all the other villagers' sake, you leave before one of them can tear down the entire town trying to find you.
...
Traveling is hard, you soon discover.
Your money runs out quickly, and without the means to earn more, it's almost impossible to find a place. You miss your comfortable bed. Hell, you miss having food readily available for you whenever you want.
What you wouldn't give to have Autumn's amazing cooking or pastries, or Winter's warm cups of cocoa in this chilly weather.
Unfortunately, you can't afford those luxuries now.
In fact, it gets so difficult to pay for rent at a motel that you end up sleeping outside more often than not.
Around the second week, you notice damage happening around you because of you, no doubt. Each village you go to, you hear how the one you had just left was wiped out. You don't need to guess by who.
Even the land around you is decaying. Everything from trees to animals, all dying. People everywhere are suffering.
And it's all because of you.
...
Almost a full month goes by, and it doesn't stop, but you realize with horror that they'll never just let this go. What's a month to you is nothing to beings with thousands of years worth of existence already lived.
The next village, you finally decide this isn't a battle worth fighting anymore. That it's better to give up than to keep causing everyone around you to suffer.
You begin your trek back home.
...
It's the middle of the night when you arrive. There are lights coming from the windows, indicating someone must be awake still. The rest of the landscape looks dead.
You swallow dryly, raising a hand and knocking. Before you can get too worked up about the situation, the door opens, revealing Spring.
He has dark bags under his red-rimmed eyes, looking more disheveled than he's ever been. Tears are quick to flood his eyes, and he claps a trembling hand over his mouth when he sees you.
Then he yanks you into his arms, cradling you close to his chest.
The entire time, he cries incoherently, and you think you hear apologies amongst his sobbing. Spring only pulls away to hold you at arm's length, taking in your neglected appearance.
"Oh, honey," he gasps out between hyperventilation. "Oh, look at you...!"
Before you can explain, you're led inside, the warmth of the interior making you want to collapse right then and there. Instead, Spring brings you over to the couch, setting you down so gently that it feels like he thinks you're made of glass.
He sits down next to you, rubbing circles along your back. "Does anything hurt?" Spring frets. "Oh, baby, you must've been through so much..."
The pressure becomes too much for you. Overwhelmed with exhaustion, stress, and emotion, you burst into tears. Spring doesn't say anything, just continues trying to comfort you.
"Mama," you sob. "Where's everyone else?"
"They went out looking for you, like they have every single day since you disappeared," Spring explains with a shaky sigh.
You feel awful for what you've done. The self-hatred gnaws at you, refusing to let you go.
He holds you for another hour, before the other three are bursting through the front door.
Each of them looks as equally exhausted and broken as Spring. Like they haven't slept properly in days. It hurts seeing them so miserable because of you.
Yet it's short-lived, because as soon as they all realize you're sitting on the couch with Spring, you're pulled into hugs.
Like with Spring, they seem afraid you'll shatter, like cracked porcelain that could break at any second if dropped, yet durable enough to be squeezed just enough.
They all take turns examining you, fretting over your condition. Autumn immediately heads into the kitchen, probably to make you dinner. Spring leaves as well to get pajamas and new clothing ready for you.
Meanwhile Winter and Summer keep holding you.
"How did you survive?" Winter asks, sniffling. "Oh, sweetheart."
"That doesn't matter," Summer whispers, rocking the three of you back and forth slowly. "All that matters is our kid is okay."
All that you can think about is guilt. Mostly for the endless amount of lives they surely ended looking for you. You wish you thought this through sooner, but a part of you had hoped they'd give up after awhile.
"I'm tired," you mutter.
Winter smiles weakly at that. "Dinner is almost ready. We'll let you sleep right after."
You nod numbly.
...
The next day, you wake up cuddled between Spring and Summer. It's funny, usually they're the first ones to rise.
You hear talking from the kitchen, wriggling your way out of their arms before exiting your bedroom, following the sound of the voices. They belong to Autumn and Winter, coming from the dining room.
"...we've been putting it off for too long. If they could handle these past few days, I know they're ready." Autumn. "Don't you want this, too?"
"You're right. I just..." Winter. "We've never done this before, all we know its a painful and dangerous process. What if..."
"It's going to be fine, Winter." Autumn sounds surprisingly soft. "You know we're more than capable of helping them through it."
As quiet as can be, you listen in further, trying not to interrupt. It's odd to be eavesdropping, but they're clearly discussing something concerning you. How could you resist?
"I know." Winter exhales audibly. "I agree this needs to happen, I just doubt they'll like it."
"Better that than the alternative, don't you think?" Autumn hums.
There's a pause. "Of course I do, dear."
"I'm glad you see reason. They are our child, and as their parents, it's only natural to do this to ensure their safety forevermore."
Wait... what?
Your stomach drops, and you retreat back upstairs before you're found, hoping they didn't hear your presence.
Yet you aren't quite able to shake what you just overheard.
They plan on doing something to you, that much is clear. Though you still can't figure out what, exactly, the action might entail. They've never harmed you before. Never abused you in any way.
So why is this scaring you so badly?
Maybe the fear is irrational, but it still makes you queasy, sick with worry.
Later, when Spring and Summer are awake, you all sit down for breakfast together. Their expressions seem... forced. All four of them are acting differently around you.
They keep sharing looks amongst themselves. As if communicating telepathically.
No words need to be spoken aloud, and you wonder if perhaps they're giving each other confirmation of what they're planning to do.
If they know that you know, they don't bring it up.
In fact, nobody says anything for awhile.
Suddenly, Autumn clears his throat.
"So... (Y/n), honey... today... we have something important planned for you."
"What is it?" you ask hesitantly.
Everyone goes quiet, like looking for words, until Summer picks up where he left. "When you left, everyone was thinking about what you said. About, y'know, dying." He pauses to look at the other's in confirmation. "We don't want that, and I think deep down, you don't, either. And luckily for you, we have a solution. We didn't use it sooner, because it can easily backfire if you aren't old enough... but you are now."
"By doing what?" you press nervously.
It's Spring who speaks next. "Immortality. We can make you a God just like us." He smiles brightly. "Won't that be great? You can stay with us forever, be safe, protected from harm, never have to worry again about—"
You cut him off, feeling yourself panicking. "You want to force me to become like you?"
Spring looks heartbroken. "Are you saying you don't want to? Sweetie, humans would kill for a gift like this!"
"Yeah!" Summer exclaims. "It's a blessing."
"It's wrong!" you snap, earning a horrified look from Spring. "It's my choice to make."
"Why are you treating this like we're punishing you?" Summer says incredulously.
"It feels like it," you retort.
Winter interjects with his own two cents. "We're giving you eternal life. Safety. This is the only way you can live without ending up in danger. There is no downside to this."
"Yes there is," you murmur. "I don't want this!"
You try to scramble away, but suddenly there's vines wrapped around your ankles and wrists. With a cry, you fall to the floor.
"Papa!" you yell, pleading with Autumn to reconsider. To let you go. You pull at the vines fruitlessly.
Winter cups your cheek, guiding your face to meet his gaze. "I'm so sorry, sweetie," he whispers, sounding teary. "But I swear to you, we're doing this in your best interests."
Summer nods. "It'll hurt. A lot. But we'll take care of you afterwards." He reaches down to help lift you, while Winter brushes some of your hair out of your eyes. "Promise."
You whimper as your guardians guide you upstairs to another room, struggling the entire time to escape. But it's no use. You can barely move at all.
Autumn grabs an old book he had prepared, apparently. Its spine is nearly falling apart, like it hasn't been touched in years. You assume the magic for what they're about to cast lies somewhere in those pages.
"You'll be okay," Winter breathes. He holds your head to his chest, crying with you, alongside Spring. "This is only a one-time thing, I promise, honey." His voice breaks.
Spring blinks away his tears. "Please don't hate us," he whispers tearfully. "It hurts us, too."
Autumn opens the book and starts reading the incantation.
Immediately, a sharp jolt rips through your body. Your skin is burning from the inside. Every single nerve is alight with pain. You scream. Sobbing, you beg for the agony to stop, but it doesn't. If anything, the pain just gets worse and worse.
Through your screaming, you barely register Winter holding you tighter, or Autumn's voice breaking throughout his reading of the spell.
The pain is searing hot now, shooting straight through your bones.
"We're almost there," Spring chokes out. "It's okay, baby. We love you so much."
You try to breathe, but you can't get enough air. Your lungs are being ripped to shreds, filling with fire every time they expand.
Everything fades from view after that; black spots dancing across your vision, accompanied by ringing in your ears as unconsciousness claims you once more.
...
When you come to, you're still in pain. It's nowhere near as intense as earlier, but it still feels as if your body had been dipped in hot lava and freezing cold water at the same time. Your thoughts race wildly. The only sensation keeping you tethered to reality is the hand running up and down your back.
Finally, opening your eyes slightly, everything begins returning back to clarity.
Summer smiles at you sadly. "Hey, peanut."
The silly nickname always made you laugh, but now you can only stay still, limp in your dad's arms.
"Sorry you're still hurtin', bud. I know it's not a great feeling." He kisses your forehead. "At least we know that was the worst of it, yeah? Things can only get better from here."
You look up, flinching from the light hitting your eyes. Everything is blurry.
Winter and Autumn look back at you. They're relieved. Both of them smile when they see you staring at them.
"There you are. Welcome back to the waking world, pumpkin," Autumn smiles.
"We were so worried about you," Winter murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of your head.
Spring comes back with a tray of food and drink. When he notices you're awake, his expression morphs into pure joy. "My little angel! Are you alright? Can you speak, sweetie?"
All four Gods seem nervous for whatever response you have, if any at all.
Instead, you open your mouth and croak out: "Water."
Autumn wordlessly gets you a cup filled with ice chips, and guides you to sip from it gingerly.
Despite having your adoring, cooing parents surrounding you, all you feel is betrayal, hurt, and rage. You're too tired to get angry, though, so you just let your head fall against Summer's chest again.
"Go back to sleep, sunshine." Summer rubs your shoulder soothingly. "We gotcha."
The others nod and murmur their agreement.
You should fight it, insist you're fine, but they're right; you're exhausted. With one final huff, you pass out in Summer's arms.
