💠 She/Her 💠 20 💠 Writer 💠 Into a bunch of fandoms 💠 Marvel 💠 Spiderverse 💠 DC (principally Batfamily) 💠 Harry Potter 💠 Percy Jackson 💠 Love history 💠 Into Yandere stories 💠 Haikyuu 💠 EPIC: The Musical 💠
A/N: Hello! How's everyone been? So sorry for the lack of content, but! Here we go. This is a request of @ap2004. Sorry for taking a lot of time but here it is. I hope you like it!
Melody x masc!Reader Eric & Ariel x masc!Reader (platonic).
Twelve-year-old boy sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the movie poster on his wall.It was his favorite movie: The Little Mermaid 2: Return to the Sea.
He had watched it so many times that he could almost quote every scene. Melody’s curiosity, her bravery, and her longing to explore the ocean always made (Name) feel inspired.
But tonight, it just made him feel worse.
Earlier that day at school, some kids had laughed at him for liking “baby movies.” One of them even grabbed his notebook where he had been drawing characters from the movie.
“Why don’t you like normal stuff?” they had said
Even his older cousin had teased him earlier that week.
“You’re too old for cartoons.” (Name) sighed and lay back on his bed.
Sometimes he felt like something was wrong with him. Like he didn’t fit anywhere.
He whispered to himself quietly.
“Maybe I should just be someone else… someone different.”
The room suddenly filled with a soft, glowing light. Leo sat up.
“Huh?”
The glow grew brighter until the entire room vanished.
(Name) hit the sand with a soft thud. The sun was blindingly bright, and the sound of seagulls replaced the hum of his bedroom fan. He looked up to see a massive stone fortress stretching into the sky.
"Who goes there?" a voice called out.
He scrambled to his feet, brushing sand off his jeans. Approaching him was a girl with a dark ponytail and adventurous green eyes. It was Melody.
"I... I’m (Name)," he stammered, his heart hammering against his ribs. He knew he couldn't tell the truth, at least not yet. "My fishing boat... we hit a massive swell in the storm. I must have been washed over the barrier"
Melody’s eyes softened instantly.
"A survivor! You’re lucky the sharks didn't get to you first. Come on, my parents will help you."
She led him into the palace, where he was met with the warmth of Queen Ariel and King Eric. They offered him a room, dry clothes, and a seat at their table. For the first time in months, the heavy fog in (Name)’s mind began to lift. He spent his days exploring the tide pools with Melody. While she complained about the wall keeping her out of the sea, he listened with an empathy no one else had ever shown her. He understood the feeling of being trapped.
The castle was alive with music.
It was Melody’s birthday, and the entire kingdom had gathered to celebrate.
(Name) stood near one of the tall pillars, watching quietly.
The lights, the laughter, the elegant dancing…
It still didn’t feel like his world.
But for once…
he didn’t feel out of place either.
“(Name)!”
Melody suddenly appeared in front of him, grabbing his hand.
“Why are you hiding over here?”
“I’m not hiding, I just—”
“Avoiding dancing?” she teased.
(Name) let out a small, nervous laugh.
“…Maybe.”
Melody rolled her eyes.
“Come on.”
Before he could argue, she pulled him into the center of the ballroom.
“Just follow me,” she said.
(Name) tried his best not to trip, but ended up laughing.
“I’m terrible at this.”
“Good,” Melody grinned. “So am I.”
For a moment… Everything felt light.
Easy.
Melody looked happy. Really happy.
Then—
“SEBASTIAN!”
The chef burst into the room, chasing after Sebastian.
Everything spiraled into chaos.
Plates crashed.
Guests screamed.
Melody tried to help Sebastian escape, but in doing so, she knocked into tables and decorations.
(Name) rushed forward.
“Careful—!”
Too late.
The entire ballroom turned into a mess.
Music stopped. Silence fell.
Then... Laughter.
Some of the other kids whispered, then openly mocked.
“Nice party, princess.”
“Way to ruin everything.”
Melody froze.
(Name) clenched his fists.
“That wasn’t her fault,” he muttered, but it didn’t matter.
Melody’s smile was gone.
Without saying a word, she turned and ran out of the ballroom, while Ariel ann Erick called out for her, (Name) looked towards the direction Melody had went to with a worry face.
(Name) hesitated, but then he followed Melody, but slowed when he saw Ariel heading in first.
He stayed outside the door, not wanting to interrupt.
Inside, Melody laid on her bed, clearly upset. Ariel saw her daughter an sighed before approaching her gently.
“Melody… it’s okay. It was just an accident.”
Melody kept turned away from her.
“It always happens… I always mess things up.”
Then Ariel noticed it.
Ariel sat beside her, trying to comfort her, but she noticed something on her bed.
Her expression changed.
“…Where did you get that?”
Melody hesitated.
“I found it” she said as she opened it and revealed the beautiful scenary of Atlantica with mermaids and tritons swiming around the kingdom as a slow but nice song played in the back
Ariel’s face hardened slightly.
That medallion, the same one connected to the past. To the danger.
The same one she had tried to keep away after Morgana’s attack long ago.
Ariel stood.
“You went near the wall, didn’t you?”
“…Yes.” Melody answered
Ariel stepped forward, now firm.
“You know you’re not allowed to go near there.”
She reached forward and took the medallion.
Melody immediately stood up.
“Give it back!”
“No, Melody,” Ariel said, her voice strict now. “You know you can't go near...”
“I hate that wall!” Melody snapped.
Ariel froze.
“It’s like you’re hiding something from me!”
(Name), still outside, felt his chest tighten.
Melody continued—
“You always told me Atlantica and mermaids were just fairy tales!”
She pointed at the medallion.
“Then why does this have my name on it?!”
Ariel’s expression shifted, anger, fear, and worry all mixed together.
“That’s enough.”
Her voice was sharp.
“You are forbidden from going near the ocean again. Do you understand?”
Melody’s eyes filled with frustration.
“…I don’t understand you at all.”
In one quick movement, Melody grabbed the medallion back.
“Melody—!” Ariel called out for her
But it was too late.
She ran.
Right past the door, right past (Name). And at that exact moment Eric was entering the room just to see his daughter running away and then looking at his wife with a confuse and worry look.
Melody rushed between them and disappeared down the hallway.
(Name) stood frozen for half a second.
He had seen it all.
The argument.
The anger.
The hurt.
“…Melody.”
He didn’t wait a second and ran after her. Out toward the night and toward the wall.
(Name)’s heart raced. Melody would be in danger, the whole kingdom, and even Atlantica were in danger.
He already knew what was about to happen next.
But now, it was different.
Because this time, she wasn’t alone, he was with her.
The night air was cold against the shore, waves crashed softly as Melody struggled to push a small boat into the water.
“Come on… just a little more…”
Nearby, Sebastian scuttled anxiously.
“Dis be a bad idea, child! A very bad idea!”
“I have to go!” Melody insisted. “I need to know the truth!”
(Name) ran across the sand, slightly out of breath.
“Melody!”
She turned, startled.
“(Name)? What are you doing here?”
“I saw you run,” he said, stepping closer. “Don’t do this. The ocean, it’s dangerous.”
Melody shook her head.
“I don’t care. I need answers. About the medallion… about everything.”
(Name) frowned.
“You don’t even know what’s out there.”
“And neither do you!” she shot back.
That hit.
For a moment, they just stood there, the sound of the waves between them.
Then Melody turned back to the boat.
“I’m going.”
(Name) sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“…Then I’m coming with you.”
Melody blinked.
“What?”
“I’m not letting you go alone.”
He pulled off his formal jacket from the party, tossing it onto the sand.
“…This thing was uncomfortable anyway.”
Melody gave a small, relieved smile.
Together, they pushed the boat into the water and climbed in, leaving the small crab behind.
(Name) rowed steadily.
The castle disappeared behind them.
Minutes passed. Then hours passed as well. Soon, there was nothing but water in every direction.
Melody looked around, quieter now.
“…We’re really out here.”
(Name) nodded, still rowing.
“Yeah.”
Then, a small gray fish with a large dark fin on its head popped out the water.
'Undertow' (Name) thought to himself
“Well well,” the fish said slyly. “Lost, are we?”
(Name)’s grip tightened on the oars.
'I knew it.'
Melody leaned forward.
“Do you know anything about this?” she asked, showing the medallion.
Undertow grinned.
“Oh, I know someone who does. Morgana. She knows everything.”
(Name) immediately spoke up.
“That’s not a good idea.”
Melody looked at him.
“But what if she really knows?”
(Name) shook his head.
“This feels wrong.”
Undertow interrupted smoothly.
“She can tell you why your name is on that medallion… and who you really are.”
Melody hesitated but then nodded.
"Take us to her. Please”
(Name) sighed under his breath.
“…Yeah. Great.”
Two stingrays surfaced, attaching themselves to the boat and began pulling it forward quickly.
The ocean rushed past them and Melody held onto the edge as she looked sadly at the medallon.
“…I feel kinda bad.”
(Name) glanced at her.
“For leaving?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t even tell my parents…”
(Name) softened slightly.
“It’s okay to have questions,” he said. “To want answers.”
She looked at him.
“And… you’re not alone. You have me, evenif it's only for arguing"
Melody let out a giggle.
“Thanks.”
After a while the motion of the boat, the quiet ocean, it made them both sleepy.
Melody leaned against him and (Name) hesitated for half a second but then gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders and he rested her head against him.
'Relax. It's only your favorite character leaning against you, why would you even be nervous for?' he asked himself in his head but his face was completly red.
And slowly…they both fell asleep.
When they woke everything had changed.
Cold air.
Thick fog.
Icebergs surrounded them.
“…Where are we?” Melody whispered.
The boat drifted into a frozen cave.
Dark.
Echoing.
And them Undertow swam ahead.
“Welcome.”
Inside, seated within a large orange shell was Morgana.
She smiled sweetly.
“Well now… what do we have here?”
She helped Melody out of the boat with surprising gentleness.
(Name) climbed out on his own, eyes locked on her.
Suspicious.
Alert.
“Come, come,” Morgana said warmly. “You must be freezing.”
She offered food.
Strange-looking.
Unappetizing.
“…I’m good,” (Name) said bluntly.
Melody stepped forward.
“I was hoping you could tell me about this,” she said, holding up the medallion. “Why does it have my name on it?”
“…My mom wouldn’t tell me.”
Morgana’s expression softened.
“Oh, I understand that feeling.”
(Name) narrowed his eyes slightly.
'Mhm… sure you do'
Morgana continued,
“That medallion… is part of your destiny.”
Melody leaned in.
"My destiny?..”
“You were never meant to stay on land,” Morgana said gently. “You are something far more special.”
“…A mermaid”
Melody’s eyes widened.
“That’s impossible"
Morgana smiled.
“Not at all, my dear child”
She reached for a small bottle.
“Something that once belonged to my dear sister, Ursula.”
(Name) stepped forward immediately.
“Okay—no. This is a bad idea.”
Melody stopped him.
“…This is what I want.”
(Name) hesitated.
"Melody—”
But it was too late.
Morgana placed a single drop on Melody’s foot.
Green magic spiraled around her, light swirling, transforming, until—
A red tail replaced her legs.
Melody gasped.
“I’m… I’m a mermaid!”
(Name) dropped to his knees beside her, staring in awe.
“…Whoa…”
Morgana laughed softly behind them.
(Name) glanced back at her—suspicious.
But he said nothing.
Meanwhile Melody was already in the water.
Laughing.
Free.
And that was a sight (Name) could get used to.
(Name) sighed and then looked at Morgana.
“Turn me into one too”
Morgana raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
“I’m not leaving her alone”
A small smirk crossed Morgana’s face.
“How touching.”
With another drop of the potion, green light surrounded him.
And in an instant. he transformed.
A tail of (f/c) shimmered where his legs once were.
Melody turned, eyes lighting up.
“You too?!”
(Name) smiled slightly.
“…Told you I wasn’t letting you go alone”
Hello! Yeah, this took me a bit toooo loooong and I'm sorry for that! I was busy with tons of things. To be honest, I wasn't happy with the first results of this request so I re do it tons of times, but I liked this one the most though I never thought it would take me this long! Still I hope you all liked it! Especially @ap2004! I had fun doing it and I'm sos sorry if it took a bit long but I will do a part 2 of this one, as it was getting a bit long.
I was wondering if you could do Hades (1997's one) with a reader that has Persephone traits.🌷🌺 (I don't know if you write for this specific character)
Into the Underworld
A/N: Hello! Thank you for the request! Sorry I took some time to do it but it's finally here! I hope you like it. -Izadi / Aliz
Being the daughter of Demeter was… overbearing, to say the least.
Warm sunlight, endless gardens, pastel gowns—your entire life was wrapped in vines and mother’s rules. Don’t stray too far. Don’t talk to strangers. don't think about Olympus. Don’t even think about the Underworld.
Unfortunately for your mother, her domain was pretty close to the entrance to Hades' so it was pretty normal to see him going in and out of it, especially since he had some problems with this new hero named Hercules. You had never once talked to him, not only because of your mother's orders but because he was a bit intimidating so you just watched him from afar, always hidden from him and his little demons.
So of course the first chance you got… you wandered just beyond your mother's garden on earth, toward a silent cavern rumored to touch the shadows beneath the world.
And that’s where you felt it the heat, the darkness, and a voice like silk dipped in wildfire.
“Well, hell-o, sunshine.”
You jumped as blue flame flared, then smoothed itself into the shape of a tall god with wicked smirk, black toga, and hair like living sapphire fire.
Hades.
The god everyone whispered about. The one who didn’t belong. The one you definitely shouldn’t be staring at.
“…Hi?” you managed to say
He laughed like you’d surprised him.
“You must be new. Usually people scream.”
“Why should I scream?” you tilted your head to the side
“Oh, I like that.” He leaned in, eyes glinting. “Name?”
You hesitated. He already knew. Of course he knew. But saying it out loud felt like stepping off Olympus itself.
“(Name)"
His flame flickered. Recognition. Interest.
“Demeter’s kid. The flower princess.”
Your cheeks burned, not from only shyness but a bit of anger by only being known because of your mother.
“I’m not just that.”
“Oh, is that so?” He circled you slowly, like a predator admiring a spark of rebellion. “So what are you doing out of mommy’s garden?”
“I wanted…” You swallowed. “I was just curious about your realm… I wanted to see something different”
He stopped. For a moment it wasn’t jokes or theatrics, just a god who understood being trapped by destiny.
“You came to the right god then” he murmured.
Your heart raced. Hades extended a hand, palm open, flame dimming gentle.
“Ever seen the Underworld? I could show you. Just a tour. No soul-binding contracts. Scout’s honor.”
“As far as I'm concerned you were never a scout” you pointed out
"How are you so sure about that, little petal?" he asked you
"My mom" you simply shrugged
“Fair enough, god's honor. Better?”
You laughed, actually laughed. And Hades looked at you like the sound lit a world no one else could reach.
You placed your hand in his.
Darkness swirled, warm instead of cold, thrilling instead of terrifying. Marble faded, shadows grew, and the earth embraced you not trapping, but welcoming.
Hades didn’t squeeze your hand too tight.
He just… held it. Like you were something precious.
Something wanted.
“Welcome to my kingdom, sweetheart.”
The Underworld wasn’t dead. It shimmered obsidian rivers, glowing souls, gardens made of starlight and night-blooming flowers. You gasped.
“You have flowers?” you said as you walked towards them to look at them "I thought it was impossible"
“Yeah, but even death can like beautiful things. Just don’t tell Zeus. I’ve got a reputation.”
You touched a midnight blossom. It opened for you, petals glowing gold. Life in death. Light in dark.
Hades stared not at the flower, but at you.
“You belong here,” he whispered.
"What?" you asked when you didn't hear him
“A-ah, nothing, that you can come here anytime you want. Y'know this flowers need a lot of attention and time, which I don't really have”
He walked behind you, now towering over you.
"This flowers need someone like you"
His smirk returned—softer this time, hopeful and dangerous all at once.
"Maybe" you smiled at him over your shoulder
"Think about it petal. You know where to find me" he winked at you
Your heart thundered. You should say no. You should run. But his hand was warm, and the darkness wasn’t scary it felt like freedom, from your mother, from Olympus.
The next couple of weeks, you started visiting the Underworld every time you had the chance. You arrived and started looking around the small garden, which in time it bloosomed into a bigger one thanks to you cares.
While you worked, Hades was there talking to you about this guy named Hercules, Olympus or his work at the Underworld but mostly, he listened to you talk. He loved your voice, your expressions, your laugh, everything. He loved everything about you.
And like that, months went by and you couldn't deny your feelings for the god of death, but you were too afraid to even confess to him in fear of ruinning your relatinship you had with him so you just kept quiet and continued your life.
Meanwhile, Hades was already head-over-heels for you. Everytime you appeared at the Underworld he felt it became warmer, his heart started beating like crazy nd from time to time he tripped over his own words.
But stil...
You sit among flowers that normally bloom for you, but today?
Demeter notices immediately.
They wilt in your hands.
Your thoughts are elsewhere, down beneath the world, where blue fire and wicked smiles live.
Demeter’s eyes narrow.
“Where did you go yesterday?”
Your breath stalls. “…I wandered around the garden mother”
"Is that so?" then she took your hand and noticed black dust on your hands and fingers
“Into shadow,” she snaps. “Into his realm!”
She speaks his name like it’s poison.
“Hades.”
You flinch and that’s all she needs.
“My daughter does NOT consort with that monster!”
“He’s not—”
“You will not leave the garden again.”
The wind slams the garden gates shut. Vines coil around them like shackles.
Your voice shakes. “Mother— this isn’t fair—”
“You are young. Foolish. I will protect you, even from yourself, my flower” she caressed your cheek before leaving
That night, she whispers to Zeus and Hera. Their eyes calculate, cold.
“Marriage,” Zeus decides. “Best way to secure her future. And keep her away from the Underworld if that is what you want”
Demeter smiles with false sweetness.
“A good, proper god. Someone who fits her role.”
“Hercules” Zeus proposed “He’s been gaining some fame around the mortal world and besides, he’s quite the looker”
Demeter’s eyes lightened up like she was already picking wedding wreaths.
“Perfect. My daughter will marry the hero of Olympus”
Zeus clapped his hands.
“We’ll arrange for them to meet naturally. A chance encounter. Let sparks fly… with a little divine… encouragement” Lightning flickered playfully at his fingertips.
Far below Olympus, the news trickled through shadows, gossip carried by whispering shades.
Demeter nodded “She believes she chooses her own path. We simply… place the stones”
Pain bursts into the throne room panting. “Boss… boss… bad!”
“N-no, worse! The spring kid…! Sunshine…! She is in trouble!”
Hades froze. His flame flickered sharp.
“…What kind of trouble?”
Panic tumbled in behind him. “Demeter locked her away! She can’t leave Olympus!”
“And…” Pain squeaked “...they’re gonna marry her off!”
Silence.
Hades stood up slowly, fire creeping up his arms, blue-white and trembling.
“Who.”
“Her… her… they said… Hercules.”
The Underworld goes dead still.
Hades’ expression shifts, not rage, not theatrics. A deeper wound. A hollow ache.
“So that’s it,” he said quietly. “She visits me once and gets a life sentence.”
His flames sputter low, grief disguised as annoyance.
“That’s just perfect,” he muttered bitterly. “Sunshine chooses freedom once and her mother locks her in a flowerpot.”
He sank into his throne, staring into nothing. Trying not to look like he was breaking.
“I knew it,” he murmured “Hope is a trap. A shiny, sweet trap.”
Pain whispered “We should… leave him alone.”
Hades glances at the empty space beside his throne… where you might have sat.
For the first time in centuries, the Lord of the Dead looks lonely.
Not vengeful.
Not furious.
“She deserved a choice,” he whispered “Even if it wasn’t me”
Just lonely.
You finally earned a day outside, not freedom, just supervised sunlight.
Demeter’s hand rested firm at your back as you walked through fragrant olive trees and glittering fountains.
His flame faded to a dim, aching blue, before turning red.
“Smile,” she warned softly “He must like you.”
You gritted your teeth.
You were divine, a goddess, not decoration that only looks pretty.
Ahead, there was a tall figure in bronze armor turns, sunlight catching auburn curls and innocent blue eyes.
Hercules.
He looks… earnest. Sweet, even. A heroic puppy in lion skin.
When his eyes landed on you, he froze, breath caught like you are dawn itself.
“Oh,” he murmured “I didn’t know Olympus still had miracles.”
You flush, not from flattery, but from the suffocating pressure of expectation behind you.
Demeter pushes a gentle laugh. “Go on. Talk.”
You stepped forward. Hercules scratched the back of his neck, shy but genuine.
“I- um… I’m Hercules and you’re- you’re beautiful”
“I’m not here for courtship,” you answer honestly. “Just a walk”
His smile faltered. He tried again anyway, determined, hopeful as they both began to walk.
“I could… show you the training grounds? Or the constellations later? Heroes aren’t much, but I’d try to be someone worthy.”
His sincerity ached. Your life would be so easy if you could love this hero.
But you were made of spring and rebellion now, and your heart had already brushed against shadows and embers.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered “You’re kind. But my heart isn’t free to give”
Hercules swallowed in disappointment. He nods, heartbreak soft and quiet, not angry.
“Whoever he is,” he said, his voice gentle, “I hope he knows he’s lucky”
You wanted to answer but… The ground trembled.
The wind died.
A cold flicker of blue flame coiled through the air like smoke tasting sunlight.
Hades stepped from the shadows.
Tall, dark robes trailing like nightfall, eyes burning lightning-blue.
No dramatic flourish.
No grin.
Just raw, aching intensity.
Hercules stiffens, instinctively reaching for his sword. He pushed you behind him, trying to protect you.
You inhaled sharply as you moved to the side so you could look at him “Hades—”
He wasn’t looking at Hercules. He only looked at you, like he’s been starving and finally found food.
“You’re here,” he whispered, voice rougher than you’ve ever heard it.
“Lord Hades,” Hercules said cautiously. “What are you doing here?”
Hades’ gaze snaped to him, cold and ancient.
“She isn’t yours.”
Hercules squared his shoulders.
“And she isn’t yours either.”
Hades stepped closer, shadows curling around his boots, possessive and furious and hurt.
“I know.”
The admission stung the air. He turned his eyes back to you.
“But I will not stand here and watch Olympus decide her fate like she is a prize goat in some divine marketplace.”
His voice broke, flame crackling low with jealousy and fear. Then, softer:
“I can’t lose you.”
You whispered his name, and something in him snapped like a bowstring.
In one sweeping motion, cool darkness wrapped around your hand, protective, desperate.
“Come with me”
Demeter materialized from behind a tree, wrath in her voice.
“You dare—!”
“Watch me,” Hades snarled, fire erupting around his shoulders like a storm.
Hercules stepped forward, fists and sword ready. But Hades’ flame flared, not violent, a warning.
You met Hercules’ eyes, apology in your gaze. Then you meet Demeter’s, defiance in your spine.
And then…
Your fingers laced into Hades’ hand.
His expression shatters — relief, disbelief, desperate longing.
You chose.
“Hold on,” he murmured
Shadow engulfs you both, cool, soft, like diving into dark velvet water.
Olympus faded.
Demeter screamed your name.
Hercules whispered, “I hope he deserves you”
Your feet touched the obsidian stone, warm like midnight sand.
And then you were gone.
Hades stands before you, no smirk, no theatrics. Just a god with trembling hands, fire dim and flickering like a candle in storm-wind.
He was terrified.
“Say something,” he breathed
The shadows settled.
“I should be furious,” you whispered “You interrupted my “date””
His eyes squeezed shut, bracing for your hatred.
“But I’m not”
His head snapped up, shock flashing across his face.
You stepped closer.
“You took me because you were scared of losing me.”
“I—” his voice cracked, raw, thin, human for one breath, “—I’ve been unraveling without you. Every time Olympus kept you away, every day you didn’t come… I thought I’d go mad.”
You rested your forehead on his chest.
He froze like your touch might shatter him.
“I missed you too,” you confessed
Flame stuttered in his hair, blue flaring gold at the edges.
He exhales like he hasn’t breathed in weeks.
One hand rises slowly, reverently to hover at your cheek but not yet touching.
“Tell me I wasn’t wrong,” he whispered
“You weren’t wrong,” you said
Then quieter, trembling:
“But you didn’t give me some heads up”
The air tightens. His hand falls.
“I couldn’t wait,” he said “They were planning to give you to someone else” His voice sharpened, jealousy, fear, godhood colliding “To him.”
“Hercules didn’t want to own me. He’s kind.”
Hades scoffed, jealousy sparking flame.
“Oh, sure, muscle-boy shows up, bats baby-blues, and suddenly Olympus wants to play matchmaker—”
“You think this is about him?”
“Yes!” he snapped then immediately winced “No. Gods—no. It’s about them caging you.”
“They don’t get to choose my cage,” you whispered “Not Olympus. And not you.”
Silence. His flame calms — dim ember, wounded.
“You’re right”
Two words heavy like stone doors.
“I don’t want to be your prison,” he said “I want to be where you go when you choose.”
Your anger softened, not gone, but thawing.
“I did choose,” you say quietly “When I took your hand”
The River Styx churned. Ghosts scattered like startled birds. A voice erupted from the air, furious and divine:
“HADES!”
He swallows hard, like hope hurts.
Demeter materialized in blinding emerald light, wild-eyed, hair like storming wheat, power flooding the cavern.
“You stole my daughter!”
Hades stepped in front of you, protective and lethal, flames roaring tall.
A quake ripped through the throne chamber, roaring earth, shrieking stone.
“She wasn’t yours to barter like livestock!”
Demeter’s fury shook the land of the dead.
“You will return her or I will bury this realm in rot and emptiness—”
“No,” you said, stepping forward. Both gods whirled to you. “I am not leaving, mother”
Demeter’s face crumpled, anguish piercing wrath.
“You’re being manipulated—”
“No,” you repeated “I am choosing.”
Demeter trembled, heartbreak, betrayal.
“(Name)… you are flowers themselves. I need you.”
“I know,” you whispered “And I will return. But not as property.”
Hades looked at you like you just lit the universe.
“I’m learning from him,” you said “And I want the chance.”
Demeter breathed like someone stabbed her heart.
“If you stay,” she rasped “not expect me to stay with my arms crossed”
You looked at Hades. He looked like he would break himself to protect you.
“You are still my daughter,” she whispered “And I will fight for you to have a life. Not a prison.”
She faded in a storm of petals, leaving cold silence behind
Hades turned to you, stunned.
“You just rewrote fate.”
You smiled weakly.
It had been a couple of weeks since you arrived at the underworld, You started learning more and more about the place and the spirits that lived there. Everyone was so nice to her, that made her feel at home. Still, she missed her mother from time to time but was happy about her new home. Hades had noticed that, and had gifted her the garden of his palace for her so she could have some plants of her own, and somehow, he managed to have her built a garden with mortal flowers and plants as well to have an artificial sun down there.
Soon, the day of her coronation arrived, making everyone excited.
A chorus of soft voices:
“It needed editing.”
Murmurs. Whispering spirits. Heads peeking through walls like curious children. A shade bowed as you passed by.
Hades flushed — actually flushed— like he wasn't sure whether to pretend or panic.
“They’ve never done that for me,” he mutters.
“They love you,” you said, smiling. “They just need a bit of warmth”
“Our queen…”
He stared like you were that warmth.
“Life in the dark…”
As you entered the throne room, it quieted. And suddenly both of you were very, very close.
“Spring below…”
Your fingers graze his jaw, cold skin warming beneath your touch.
His breath caught in his throat.
Flames brighten, slow, hungry, reverent.
“If I kiss you,” he whispered “I won’t be able to pretend I don’t worship you."
You shivered.
“I don’t want pretending.”
His hand cupped your cheek, thumb trembling. Your lips brushed, barely… a spark, a promise…
And then he pulls back, breath shaking, eyes burning worship and restraint.
“Not like this,” he murmured “You deserve your choice unclouded by chaos”
You rested your forehead on his.
“I’m not going anywhere”
His voice breaks into a soft vow.
“Then stay and let me earn you”
“You have already earned me, Hades” then she kissed him on the lips passionately, making everyone cheer for them.
“And by the way, this is my choice” she said breathless but with a smile on her lips as he smiled down at her.
“Good, because after that kiss I can’t help but do it again”
Hades kissed you again, as he snapped his fingers and a crown appeared on your head.
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! I hope you spend the holidays happy and with all your loved ones. I thought I would publish along Dicember but with university and holidays I had very little time to write plus I spend time with my sister hahaha.
Anyway, I also wanted to thank you for last year! It's already been a year since I published the first chapter of 'Forget me not' and to be honest I never thought I would had a lot of support! But now, I'm very thankful for every one of you as we are also more than 1000 people and you have no idea how happy that makes me!
Well I just wanted to give all a quick but meaningful thank you. And as I've been telling people, If you send me a message from tumblr, I will take some time to answer as I don't know why tumblr doesn't show me the messages. So I'll leave you here my instagram: aliz.wrtx_xd
I normally answer quicker in instagram so if you want to leave a request there or in the question box is more than welcome!
So yeah I write for all of that but you could always ask me for a request and I'll see if I'll write it or I don't because i'm not used or don't like writing about certain topic and i hope you all understand that if I ever say no to a request.
Anyway, no, there's no number limit for requests :D.
Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.
Yan! Batfamily x gn!reader
Masterlist
Chapter 8
You were in your room, listening to music while folding clothes (or at least trying to), and despite the peaceful scene, your head was in a mess. You couldn't stop thinking about the past few days. It had been a mess these past few days. First, Bruce showed up at your apartment (literally), paying your rent, then the university revoked your scholarship when Bruce reappeared in your life, and a few days ago, you ran into Tim, who, surprisingly, talked to you a lot despite yourself.
You knew something was wrong; you felt it in your heart, but neither Alfred nor Duke had mentioned anything about Bruce's change of attitude during their calls.
They'd tell you if something was wrong, right?
Anyway, you have to forget this. You've lived your whole life being ignored by them; you don't need them. You were walking toward your closet, already with all your folded clothes in your arms, when your cell phone started ringing. You jumped at the sound, causing a few pieces of clothing to fall from your arms. You sighed as you walked back to your bed, leaving the still-folded clothes on your table. You grabbed your cell phone from your nightstand and checked the caller ID.
It was Alfred.
Without thinking much, you picked up your phone and answered it.
"Hi, Alfie," you greeted as you refolded the clothes you'd dropped.
"Master (Name), it's a pleasure to hear from you. Have you eaten well? How's everything over there? And your classes? How are you, my little one?" the old man replied.
"All good, Alfie," you smiled at the same questions he always asked you every time he called.
"I'm glad to hear that, my child." You could feel his warm smile through his words.
"Do you need anything, Alfie?" you asked.
"Normally, it's to check on you, my dear, but now I really need to ask you a favor."
"Sure," you nodded. "What's that favor?"
"As you well remember, every year the Waynes do a joint interview and take a family photo..."
Oh, you knew where this was going.
"No," you said immediately.
"Please, (Name), it'll only be for a few hours."
"A few hours to you is an eternity to me. Besides, I'm not even part of the family anymore," you said.
"Don't say that, sunshine..."
"And you know better than anyone that none of them ever cared until Duke came along. They're only interested in me going to keep up appearances," you interrupted again.
You heard Alfred sigh on the other end of the phone.
"(Name), they're sorry."
"Oh yeah, so sorry that Bruce decided it was a really good idea to take away my hard-earned scholarship," you growled.
"Or at least come for Master Duke and me. You don't know how much we miss you, especially the young master. Since you left, he's been spending time in your room like before, doing homework or just hanging out there."
Those words hit you right in the Achilles' heel.
You adored Duke with all your heart and somehow you felt identified with him because both of you had lost your parents and now thinking that he felt alone like you did when you were little made a whirlwind of guilt form in your stomach.
Now it was your turn to sigh. You remained silent for a few minutes before responding with a grunt.
"When's the damn photoshoot?"
You definitely didn't want to enter the mansion. Despite your years, you still felt very small standing in front of such a structure, but let's be honest, that wasn't the reason you were nervous.
In truth, in the morning you were very sure of your decision to go to that damn photo, because you were only doing it for Alfred and your brother, but as you were on your motorcycle heading towards Wayne Manor, your willpower weakened so much that you were about to turn around when you were going to knock on the door, but before you could do so the door opened abruptly.
"(Name)!" a voice behind you exclaimed.
You turned to see who it was and smiled at Duke, who was looking at you as if he had stars in his eyes. Now you can't leave.
"Duke!" you said with the same intensity as him.
The two hugged, and that's how you saw the interior of the mansion.
Everything was chaos inside the mansion, photographers and stylists everywhere, but you could see Jason and Damian between them, who were leaning out of the living room door. For a moment, you made eye contact with them but looked away, pretending you didn't see them.
“I can see everything is almost ready” you said as you broke the hug
“Oh yeah!” he nodded “Everyone is getting dresssed up already”
“I see” you nodded
“Master (Name)” you turned around when you heard Alfred
“Hey Alfie!” you hugged him and he hugged you back
“It is so good to see you, darling”
“(Name)…” A voice said behind you, you pulled awa and noticed Bruce and next to him Dick, both of them ready for the picture
“Bruce” you said curtly
“It is so good to see you, pretty bird” Dick came closer to you with that warm smile of his
“I wish I could say the same” you turned towards Alfred
“You told me you had prepared an attire for me?”
“That is right, Master (Name). Please follow me”
You followed Alfred, ignoring the stares of the rest while you went up the stairs. Alfred guided you towards the hallway where room’s of your supposed siblings were.
“Where are we going, Alfie?” you asked him
“To your room, of course”
“My room? First of all, I don't have a room here anymore and besides, myroom used to be upstairs” you said confused
“You will always have a room here” he stopped in front of a door and opened it
Inside the room was bigger than your first one. It was decorated just like your aesthetic, with new stuff and old stuff you left behind. On the bed there it was the clothes you were supposed to wear.
“You shouldn't have”
“Well you deserved it” Alfred placed a hand on your shoulder
“No, I mean it. You shouldn't” you sighed
“I'm going to change” you turned to look at him
“(Name), is that you?” A voice and some footsteps could be heard
They both looked to the side and saw Barbara, Cass and Steph all of them already dressed up
“Girls” you greeted with a small nod
“(Name)! Do you need help with your hair?” Stephanie asked you
“Yeah, or even some makeup?” Barbara suggested
“No thanks. I can do it on my own”
Then you went into the room and closed the door before any of them could say something. After a few minutes you were ready and walked down the stairs just to find the rest of the family being prepared.
“You look splendid, my dear” Alfred smiled at you as he took your hands in his
“Thanks, Alfie” you smiled back
“I see your attire fit you” Bruce walked towards you with a soft smile
“It did. Not really my style but this would do” you shurgged and noticed the girls’ sad faces
You knew he would make the girls choose your outfit for the day, after all, they were considered the experts about fashion.
“Anyway, are we doing this or what?” you crossed your arms as you looked at Bruce
“Yes, just give us a couple of minutes”
You just nodded and turned around just to find Duke behind you. You smiled when you noticed him.
“Hey bro. You’re looking fine”
“Thanks! You also look nice, (Name)” he hugged your shoulders
“Meh…” you rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless
You relaxed more when Duke was around. He was kind of your safe boat and nothing else mattered when you two where together.
Maybe that’s why you never noticed the glares the rest of the family were giving Duke.
After a few minutes, they started to organize how the photoshoot would go. Obviously, Bruce would be sitting in a big chair, with you and Damian sitting next to him on some extra chairs. Behind Damian was Cass, behind Bruce. There was Dick standing, and finally, Jason was standing behind you, and between Dick and Jason was Alfred. Duke was standing next to Damian, Tim, and Stephanie were standing next to you.
To be honest, you were uncomfortable but you tried to mask it. it took a couple of minutes until they all agreeded to take their places as most of them weren’t happy about it.
Finally, when the photos were taken, you were the one to stand up. You walked towards a window close to the door. You passed a hand through your hair and sighed.
This was exhausting. Coming back to the Manor, seeing people that ignored you for years and you were wearing you didn’t like that much.
Then you turned around to go upstairs to change clothes.
“(Name)” Alfred took yor hand as you were walking upstairs
“Yes, Alfie?”
“How about you have dinner with the whole family?”
“Alfred….” you sighed
“(Name), please”
“Alfred no. I already came here to play along this charade. That’s more than enough and please don’t send Duke to convince me” you said before going up the stairs
“Well, at least go to your father’s study once you change clothes. He needs to talk to you”
“Alriiiiiiiight…”
You went back to your room and changed back into your clothes, not caring at all about the clothes they gave you you tossed them on the chair of the desk. Once you were done, you walked out of your room and found Damian outside making you jump out of surprise.
“Jesus!” you exclaimed
“Why aren’t you having dinner with us?” he asked you
“Oh why, hello, demon” you glared down at him
“Answer”
“Because I don’t want to” you walked away
“Why?” it sounded more like an order
“Because no” you kept walking down the stairs
“Stop bothering them, demon spawn” Now Jason was leaning against the staircase
You just rolled your eyes and continued going down the stairs.
“So… (Name)… How you’ve been?” Jason walked beside you
“Fine” you said curtly
“And… how is university?”
“I dunno, why don’t you ask Bruce?” you were still salty about your schoolarship
“Oh yeah, I heard about it. Bruce can be an ass”
“Well now I have to talk to that ass now so..” You walked faster to avoid him and on the end of the stairs were Dick, Tim and Duke. The first two were about to talk but you immediatly walked towards Duke.
“Hey Duke” you put a hand on his head in a tender way before going into Bruce’s study.
You closed the door behind you and everything looked the same about the study. Tons of books, papers, boring furniture, a vase on the desk full of Forget-me-nots…. Wait a minute…
You walked towards the desk. Those flowers were new. Since when Bruce liked Forget-me-nots?
You touched their petals, and smelled them…. Damn… They smelled like them…. Like your parents…. Like home…
Then you looked down at the desk and noticed something familiar…
“What is this doing here?” you asked yourself as you took your photo album
You started to pass the pages and at first everything seemed fine until you found that the picture with your mother, father and you had a post-it on the face of your father. It had written information about him, from his birth date to his death date, when he met your mother, why he died, where he worked at, some of his works…. It had tons of information on it.
You put the book down and looked through his papers. He had folders…. Bruce had folders about you and your parents. You took the one that had your mother’s name and started reading it.
It had general information but also, very specific information such as… Your mother’s favorite flower was forget-me-nots.
You had never told anyone that information only Alfred knew it as you used to ask him to buy some of those flowers when you were going to visit your parents.
“No… It can’t be…” You shook your head “H-he couldn’t…”
You put the folder down and took yours. It had tons of information about you… from general information you were sure the goverment had but some other was more personal that not everyone knew about you.
“No… Could have they…?”
Then you saw your number written on one of the pages.
“They did” you groaned and broke the papers they had of you
The door opened and you looked up and noticed Bruce and behind him the rest of the family.
“You…” you said clearly pissed at him
Bruce closed the door behind him to leave the rest of the family outside the study.
“(Name)—” he started to say but you interrupted him
“What the hell is all of this?!” you yelled
“(Name), please—” he tried to explain
“Please what?! Am I now one of your pathetic little villains you chase every night?!” you continued yelling
“Villain? No! Why do you think that?”” he asked, between confused and worry
“Then why the hell do you have damn portfolio of me?!” you threw him the riped papers at his face
“Of mom!” you now threw him on the face the files he had of your mother
“Of dad!”
When you said dad, Bruce’s face seemed to darken.
“I am your dad, (Name)!” he raised his voice more “It isn’t (F/N)! He stole what was supposed to be mine!”
“Then where the hell had you been all my life?!” you shouted at him
“All my life I’ve been nothing more than another furniture in this damn house! Always in the damn shadows of everyone!” some tears rolled down your cheeks
“The only ones that had been with me where mom and (F/N)! Both of them are my parents! You are only the unlucky bastard who I share blood with!”
Before you knew it, you felt a sharp pain on one of your cheeks.
Bruce had hit you…
BRUCE HAD HIT YOU..!
When Bruce realized what he had done it was too late. His glare became softer and he tried to reach for you.
“(Name)… I’m so sorry.. I-I didn’t mean to…” he placed his hand on your shoulder but you pulled away from him
“Let go of me you freak!” you shouted at him as tears rolled down your eyes
“I’m not your child! I’m not part of this family! I’m the child of (M/N) and (F/N)! I’ll never be a fucking Wayne!” you walked towards the door of his office
“(Name), please wait” he tried to reach of for ou by taking you by the wrist but you pulled away
“Don’t you ever dare to fucking touch me!” you yelled “Don’t you ever look for me or talk to me ever again!”
You opened the door and found on the other side the rest of the family. You stormed out of it and turned to the rest of them and pointed at them with your finger.
“And all of you, circus of freaks! Leave me alone! I don’t want you near me ever again! I’m not your sibling! I’m not your friend! So pretend I’m fucking dead for all of you just like you’ve done my whole fucking life!”
“(Name), dear please” Alfred took your hand but you pulled it away
You could see in Alfred the hurt in his eyes when you pulled away from him.
“Please what, Pennyworth? PLEASE WHAT?!” you yelled once again “Did you expect it to turn everything just like this? Oh, please do tell me what you were expecting from all of this!”
“I-I… I just wanted you to come back home…” he placed his hands on your shoulders but you pushed him away
“This isn’t my home!” you told him “And you know that better than anyone!”
“You always saw how they treated me! And still you wanted me to come back?!” you exclaimed
“This is your home, my sun” Alfred reached for your cheeks to wipe your tears
“No… My home was destroyed when my parents died years ago” you pulled away from him
“I trusted you Alfred. You and Duke but both of you betrayed me” you said coldly
“No (Name), that’s not..!” Duke tried to explain to you but you interrupted him
“No, Duke” you glared at him “All of them had information of me that only you and Alfred knew about me!”
You took some steps away from all of them.
“I hate you” you whispered but they all heard you
Then you turned around to open the door of the mansion and leave. You walked towards your motorcycle and put your helmet on.
You didn’t look back, didn’t listen to their yells. You just turn on your bike and left.
Hellooooo! FINALLY! Here it is the next chapter of the 'Forget me not' series! I hope you like it and thanks for your patience! As always, you know you can leave any comments if you like or leave a heart! I'll be happy for any kind of interaction.
Anywayyy thanks again! I'll see you in the next one!
A/N: Hello! This is my first ever request so I hope you all like it especially @anyadouc44, I hope you like it! Anyways,I'll leave you all ro read. Thanks.
Andy x Fem!Reader
Masterlist
You were 7 when the new boy moved into your neighborhood. He seemed shy at first and only played with his toys, either in his room (whose window overlooked yours) or in his backyard. Although he played alone or occasionally with his sister, you always saw him with his toys.
One day, you plucked up the courage to approach him while he was playing.
"Hi! You're new to the neighborhood, aren't you?" you asked as you peeked around the other side of your patio fence.
Andy raised his head and immediately became nervous when he saw you. He wasn't good with girls from his old school, so talking to one made him nervous.
"Y-yeah... I'm Andy..." he introduced himself.
"Andy... Well, I'm (Name)," you introduced yourself.
"(Name)..." he looked at you as if he'd never seen a girl before.
Then, when he noticed you staring, he looked away.
"H-hey... Would you like to... play?" he asked, still shy.
You smiled at his shyness.
"Sure!" Without thinking twice, you approached him so you could play together.
Later, you discovered that Andy was going to attend the same school as you, so you started spending a lot more time together. Little by little, you both started spending more time at each other's houses, but no matter the location, he always brought at least one of his toys to play with you, which were usually Buzz or Woody.
Now 10 years old, you were both playing in Andy's yard when your parents called you for dinner. Being kind and knowing that Andy loved his toys, you helped him carry them back to his room. As usual, you put his toys back in his chest except for Woody and Buzz, which were his favorites. When you closed the door to his room to follow him downstairs, however, before going after him, you heard a noise inside his room. Quietly, you opened the door and peeped from inside to verify what those noises were.
What you saw inside paralyzed you.
"Ugh... I'm getting too old for this," Ham complained as he tried to get out of the toy box with the others.
"Okay, okay, they're just kids," Woody said, helping him stand up.
"And we're Andy's toys, and we should be there for him," Buzz encouraged Woody.
"Yeah, and that girl (Name) has some really good toys, too," Jessie said.
"Oh yeah!" Rex said happily. "She put this skirt on me and said it made my eyes pop!"
"You see, Ham? Besides, they take good care of uuUSS!" Jessie was on top of the bed so she could be with Buzz and Woody, but she slipped on the sheets as she tried to get up.
Immediately, seeing that Jessie was about to fall, you reached over to pick her up so she wouldn't hit herself. She fell into your hand and turned to see who was holding her.
A collective gasp could be heard when she saw you there.
"Y-you're... Y-you're alive..." You said, surprised, looking at Jessie.
"Uh... Hi, cowgirl!" Woody greeted you from the bed.
"God..." you said, still not believing they were alive.
"Please don't tell Andy about this," Woody asked you.
"And try to forget about it too," Buzz suggested with a nervous smile.
"I uh..." Then you heard Andy shouting your name for you to come down.
You gently put Jessie on the bed and then turned to look at them.
"O-okay... I won't give Andy anything," you promised.
"Thanks," Woody said sincerely.
You smiled at them and left, closing the door.
The next few days were a bit strange playing with the toys, but over time, you got used to it. From this experience on, you started treating the toys more kindly than usual, to the point that Andy teased you about it while you just rolled your eyes.
Over the years, the toys watched you both grow up and fall in love with each other (so much so that it helped you both become a couple, and to this day, they take credit for it. You can only roll your eyes and laugh). In your sophomore year of high school, Andy finally asked you to be his girlfriend, and you gladly accepted.
Now you were both ready for college, which meant that your childhood was over and the doors of adulthood were now open for both of you.
"I'm organized. In my own way," he just laughed.
"Have you seen my phone?" Andy asked you as he searched for it.
"No. Not really," you admitted. "Do you want me to call you?"
"Yes, please," he said as he continued searching.
You grabbed your phone and dialed Andy's number. His phone started ringing and was apparently in the toy box.
'So this was their idea,' you thought as you heard Andy's ringtone coming from.
Andy walked over to the toy box and opened it. From there, he pulled out Rex, who was holding the phone. He snatched the phone from Rex's hand and then turned it off.
"Hey! Be more careful with him," you said as you went over to kneel beside him.
"After all these years, you still care about these old toys?" He mocked you.
"Ha. Ha. Of course. After all, these toys brought us together," you pointed out.
Andy rolled his eyes and then put his cell phone in his pants pocket.
"This had to be Molly's idea," Andy said, a little annoyed. "I've told her a thousand times not to touch my things."
"Stop blaming your sister for your clumsiness." Now it was your turn to make fun of him.
"Whatever," he rolled his eyes but smiled at you. "Come on, my mom wants you to go try something she made."
"Sure," you giggled.
Andy closed the toy box and stood up, helping you to your feet. Holding hands, you both left the room, but not before closing the door and seeing the disappointed faces of the toys.
"So tell me, have you thought about doing anything with those toys?" you asked him as you walked to the kitchen.
"I honestly haven't given it much thought," he admitted.
"Well, you should. They're good toys," you told him as you walked into the kitchen.
"(Name)! It's great that you're here!" Andy's mother greeted you with a warm hug.
"Hello, ma'am," you greeted her with the same warmth.
"So, tell me, have you already organized your things for college?" She asked as she leaned against the kitchen counter.
"Everything's ready, otherwise I would have driven my mom crazy." You giggled as you stood next to Andy and he put an arm around your waist.
"That's great! As you can see, my son here hasn't packed anything yet," his mother mocked him.
"Hey! I already have some things packed," Andy said with mock offense.
"Yeah, if it weren't for (Name), you'd still be sitting at your desk doing nothing." His mother crossed her arms.
"But no more delay. Since you're active, you have to decide what's trash and what goes in the attic."
"But Mom," Andy said exasperatedly. "We're leaving on Friday."
"And the garbage comes today, so here." She gave him a box that said "university" and garbage bags.
Andy sighed but listened to his mom and grabbed the things.
"And (Name), be a sweetheart and please make sure he does it right," his mother urged.
"Understood," you said, giving her a military salute and following Andy back to his room.
"You know I can hear you, right?" Andy called out from the hallway, making both of you laugh.
"Stop being such a sourpuss," you said with a slight mocking tone.
"I'm not sour," he defended himself.
"Of course- Hi Molly!" you greeted the little pubescent girl.
"Hi (Name)!" she greeted you excitedly, then turned to look at Andy. "Can I borrow your laptop?"
"I already told you no," Andy growled as the three of you entered her room.
"But remember, in a few days your room will be mine," Molly said mockingly.
"Can you get out of my room?" Andy asked as he placed the box and bags on his bed.
Meanwhile, Molly approached the toy box and asked Andy, "Why do you still have your old toys?"
"Molly, I told you to get out of my room," Andy growled again, which made you laugh.
"Three days and it'll be mine!" she sang as she left Andy's room.
"I don't know how you handle him (Name)," the little girl told you.
"Sometimes I don't even know," you said from your place, leaning against the wall, watching the little conflict between the siblings.
"Molly, don't you dare think you're also safe," her mother told her from the stairs.
"You have lots of toys, and you could donate some of them to children at the nursery."
"And you, Andy," his mother entered his room again.
"Decide what you want to do with those toys. You can donate them to Sunnyside, too," his mother suggested.
Andy seemed a little put off by the choice.
"No, Mom," he said quickly.
"Or you could also sell them," he suggested again.
"No, Mom. Who's going to want these old toys? They're junk."
That surprised you, so you decided to intervene.
"They're not junk. Don't you remember all the adventures we used to have with them?"
Andy just rolled his eyes.
"Well, you have until Friday to decide. Otherwise, I'll throw out everything that isn't packed for college or the attic," she said, then left his room.
"Whatever you say, Mom." Andy sighed as he ran a hand over his face.
Andy sat down in his chair, and you smiled at his tired state. You walked up behind him and hugged his shoulders.
"Bitter," you whispered in his ear, making him laugh.
"Shut up," he said with a smile.
"Do you think you can help me put these books in a box? They're for the attic," Andy asked you as he kissed your arm.
"Sure," you kissed him on the cheek and pulled away from him.
"I'll get a box," you said, then left the room in search of a box.
Andy walked over to the toy box and opened it. He grabbed Mr. Potato Head and said through his teeth, "I don't know why she insists on taking care of them."
Andy looked at the door and got up from his chair. He walked over to his bed and grabbed a black trash bag and started putting all the toys in it until only Buzz and Woody were left. After a moment of decision, Andy put Woody in the university box while he put Buzz in the black bag with the others. He closed the bag and headed for the attic.
Meanwhile, you were walking back to Andy's house with a cardboard box in your hands that you got from your house.
"Oh, I see you two are finally getting along," you teased him when you saw him helping Molly with the donation box.
"Ha. Ha," Andy said sarcastically.
"Hey, where's your mom going?" you asked Andy when you saw his mother leaving in her car.
"Oh, she's going to Sunnyside to donate Molly's toys," Andy explained.
"Oh, right. I'll pick up your books," you said as you walked in. But before you left, Andy grabbed you by the waist and kissed you, then let you go.
"Eww," you heard Molly say, then went back inside.
You walked into Andy's room and closed the door behind you.
"Psst... Woody..." you called as you approached Andy's college locker but didn't find anything.
"What the...?" You searched the entire room and couldn't find Woody or any other toys.
You were looking under the bed when Andy walked in.
"Hey... What are you doing?" he asked, making you stand up quickly.
"Nothing! I was just looking for Woody," you said with an embarrassed smile.
Andy laughed lightly and helped you stand up.
"Why are you looking for him? I left him in the..." Andy looked around and couldn't find his cowboy.
"Box... I swear, sometimes it seems like those toys are alive"
"So what did you do with the others?" you asked.
"I put them in a bag to take them to the attic." He looked back at the place where he had left the bag, but it was gone.
"Hey... where's the bag?" He asked you.
"Bag? There wasn't a bag when I got back," you said.
"What? Well, maybe Mom already brought it up to the attic," Andy guessed.
"Oh yeah, right," you nodded, but you weren't sure.
The next morning, you were resting peacefully in your bed when your cell phone started ringing. Somewhat clumsily, you picked it up and answered it.
"Hello?" you said sleepily.
"Hello, (Name)?" Woody said from the other end of the phone.
"W-Woody? Is everything okay?" That made you get out of bed.
"No. Nothing's okay."
Woody told you everything that happened and everything the other toys had told him about Sunnyside, the place where his toy friends were at the time.
"It can't be... Andy thinks his mom took them up to the attic," you told Woody.
"That's what I told them, but they didn't listen." Woody sighed.
"I can't leave them there."
"Neither can I," you told the cowboy.
"That's why I called you. I have a plan and I need you to help me with it."
"Okay, but where the heck are you?" You asked the cowboy.
"I'm in Sunnyside, but don't worry, I know what to do."
"Fine. What should I do, Sheriff?"
All day Andy had been lamenting over his toys, thinking they were lost, so you had been comforting him. You were both in his bed, with him lying on top of you.
"Come on, my love..." you murmured in his ear.
"I know I said they were trash, but... It's not true..." Andy murmured.
"I know, my love." You kissed his temple. "You'll see, you'll find them."
"How are you sure of that?" He turned to look at you.
"Because like you said, they seem to have a life of their own. They always come back to you."
Andy smiled and softly kissed your lips.
"Yeah. I hope you're right."
That same night, Woody's plan was about to begin. Your job was simple in his eyes, but complicated for you. You had to enter Sunnyside, where the trash cans were. You honestly thought it would be simple: get in, get the toys, and return home, but you didn't consider that there would be security around the school.
For several minutes, you searched for an entrance without being noticed until you finally found the trash cans. You carefully walked toward them and saw your friends along with some other toys.
"He abandoned all of you!" you heard a deep voice exclaim.
"That's not true!" Woody exclaimed.
You leaned forward to get a better look and saw a pink teddy bear in front of your friends.
"Tell me something, Cowboy, if you child truly loves you, why would he abandon you? Do you think you're special, cowboy? You're a piece of plastic! You were made to be thrown away!"
"That's not true, bear," you spoke from behind them. "They're not trash, and if it weren't for them, Andy and I wouldn't be a couple."
"What the heck?" Lotso said, surprised by your appearance.
"(Name)!" Your friends exclaimed upon seeing you.
"Hey guys," you smiled at them. "We've missed you so much."
Lotso glared at you, but a wicked smile soon appeared on his face.
"It doesn't matter if you're here. I'm sure they don't want you to get caught on private property," the bear said as he leaned forward to see the approaching garbage truck.
"Damn..." You muttered under your breath.
"How about you come back with me to the Sunnyside family?" Lotso proposed. "That way you won't rot in the garbage and your friend won't have any serious consequences."
"That's not a family! It's a prison!" "I'd rather rot in the trash than go back!" Jessie exclaimed.
"Fine, whatever!" the purple octopus began to push them toward the trash can.
"NO!" You walked over to try to grab them, but you were terrified of someone seeing you.
Out of nowhere, a half-naked Ken appeared.
"What the...?" you said when you saw him, but you had to duck down to avoid being seen.
"Stop! Lotso, please don't do that!" Ken begged the bear.
"Please, Ken! She's not the only Barbie, Ken!" "There are 100 million just like her!" the bear yelled at her.
"No, there's no one like her to me," Ken said, smiling at Barbie.
"Aww..." you said, hearing his words.
It would be cute if this weren't such a dangerous situation.
"Well, then join her!" Lotso exclaimed, throwing him towards them, causing Ken to almost fall into the dumpster, but you quickly caught him so he wouldn't fall in, even though you were about to. The other toys helped him up so you could regain your balance.
Barbie hugged Ken and he stood up.
"Sunnyside could be a cool place, but it was Lotso who turned this place into a prison!" the doll exclaimed.
Lotso just smiled evilly.
"Does anyone agree with Ken?" he asked, but no one answered.
"I wasn't the one who replaced them!" Lotso exclaimed. "It was their boy! All the kids are going to replace us!"
"What? Don't you remember Daisy?" Woody asked.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lotso said.
"Yes, Daisy. Your little girl."
"She replaced us!"
"No, she lost them and only replaced you! She gave him the love a child can give a toy, and you lied to Big Baby!" Woody threw Daisy's charm at him, and Big Baby looked sad.
"Mom..."
"What?! You want your mommy back?! Stop acting like a baby!" Lotso yelled at the baby, destroying the charm, making Big Baby cry.
"Push them all!" Lotso ordered the purple octopus.
"NO!" You yelled for your friends, and without thinking twice, you reached out to try to pick them up, but the distance was significant.
"This is what happens when fools want to think!" He hit Big Baby with his cane.
"WE'RE ALL TRASH! THOSE ARE TOYS!" Lotso couldn't continue his evil dialogue, because Big Baby picked him up and threw him into the trash can, then closed the lid.
"He's gone...!" Rex exclaimed.
"Scary...!" said Mr. Potato Head.
With the lid closed, you could finally get closer to your friends.
"Hey guys! What a night, huh?" You laughed out of nervousness.
"You have no idea," Woody smiled at you. "Despite your age, you're still an excellent cowgirl."
"Thanks, the best one taught me," you winked at Woody.
Behind you, you heard someone sticking out their tongue. It was Big Baby, sticking his tongue out at Lotso.
"Aw...." you said, dying of tenderness. "Aren't you a little cutie?" You stroked his cheek, and he laughed happily.
"Okay, there isn't much time," you said as the garbage truck got closer.
"Just come with me," you said to your friends. But on the way, one of the green aliens got stuck in the slot of the dumpster.
"Oh, I can't believe it!" Woody exclaimed as he approached him since you had your hands full with the others.
However, as Woody lifted the lid of the dumpster, Lotso reached out and grabbed the cowboy's foot.
"Woody!" Jessie and you exclaimed simultaneously.
You left the toys next to a wall so you could go get Woody. You opened the dumpster, but it was too deep for you to fall in too. Before anyone else could do anything, the garbage truck arrived and took the dumpster.
"Come on! Get in!" Jessie exclaimed to the others to get on the dumpster to help their friends, but this only caused everyone to fall into the truck.
"Is everyone okay?!" Woody shouted to his friends, and some responded.
"(Name)?!" They shouted for you.
"I'm fine," you told them while you were cleaning up trash.
"Okay, everyone go with Buzz!" Woody ordered his friends. "(Name), stay on the edge! They can hurt you more than us."
You nodded, but before you could do anything, more trash started falling in.
"Damn!" You exclaimed.
You grabbed your phone and dialed your boyfriend's number. After a few minutes, he answered.
"My love?" he asked sleepily.
"Andy! I need your help!" you shouted to make sure you woke him up.
"H-help?" You heard the bed sheets rustling. "(Name), what's going on? Where are you?"
"Go to the dumpster!"
"What? Why?" he asked, alarmed.
"Just do it!" you said after hanging up.
When you hung up, you put your phone in your pocket to look for your friends. You found them dragging Buzz out from under a television. You quickly approached them.
"What happened?!" you asked, alarmed.
"A television fell on him while he was trying to save me!" Jessie explained.
Out of nowhere, Buzz started moving his head as if rebooting and looked around, confused.
"It wasn't me, was it?" was the first thing Buzz said when he smelled the disgusting environment they were in.
Everyone sighed in relief and overjoyed to see their space friend safe and sound.
"(Name)? Woody?" he said, surprised to see them there.
"Hello, astronaut," you gave him a military salute.
"Welcome back, friend," Woody greeted him.
"Tell me, where is this?" Buzz asked.
"A truck on the way to the dumpster!" Rex replied.
Upon arriving at the dumpster, everyone was dumped in the garbage. It wasn't that hard for you to locate you, but it was going to be hard to spot the others.
"Guys!" you shouted for your friends. "Are you okay?!"
You heard murmurs and coughs, which was good enough for a yes.
"The claw!" the aliens exclaimed as they ran excitedly toward the garbage crane.
"Don't go! Wait!" You exclaimed with Woody trying to stop them but because of the fall, one of your sides was hurt.
Suddenly, some trucks started pushing garbage onto an electric conveyor belt that was carrying it to the incinerator. Fortunately, you were able to avoid it, but your friends weren't, causing them to fall onto the belt.
"No," you exclaimed as you watched your friends fall, but you weren't going to leave them there.
You took out your phone and texted Andy, saying only, "Incinerator."
After sending that text, you ran toward the incinerator to try to locate your friends as quickly as possible.
You found one of the entrances and finally entered the incinerator.
"It can't be..." you muttered as you saw the huge fire in the center.
"Guys!" you shouted for your friends. In the distance, you could see something moving; it was them.
You went down to the garbage dump, and the first thing that happened was that you got burned, since many of the materials burned when heated. But you didn't care and continued walking toward them.
"Guys!" you called again once you were closer, now turning to look at them.
"(Name)!" They all exclaimed when they saw you.
"Is everyone okay?" you asked.
"Yes! But what are you doing here?! It's too dangerous for you!" Woody scolded.
"I'm fine," you giggled. "It's just some burns, nothing serious."
"It's not like that, (Name)..." Buzz was about to scold you, but you interrupted him.
"Just come here." You opened your arms for them to approach you. Little by little, they all approached you and hugged you, and you hugged them, preparing for an imminent impact.
Out of nowhere, a white light appeared above you. Everyone looked up and saw a claw come down to grab them. Everyone was confused, but the claw positioned them in front of the person controlling the crane.
"Andy!" You said, relieved to see your boyfriend, who was accompanied by three green aliens.
"You have a lot to explain, (Name)," he said, then looked at his toys. "And you guys too."
Andy released them onto solid ground where they could see the sun.
"Oh my God..." You lay down, not caring that you were surrounded by trash.
"(Name)!" You heard someone call your name and sat up when you saw it was Andy.
"Andy!" You tried to get up, but the pain prevented you. Immediately, Andy approached you and carried you bridal style so you wouldn't have to walk.
"Hey... Everything's okay..." he murmured against your hair.
The last thing you remember before everything went black was Andy saying sweet nothings in your ear.
When you woke up, everything was bright and no longer smelled bad; on the contrary, it smelled of chlorine and disinfectants.
"Ugh..." you groaned as you tried to sit up.
"No, no, cowgirl. You need to lie down," a voice next to you said. It was Jessie.
"Jessie?" On the nightstand were Rex, Ham, Mr. Potato Head, the aliens, Stinky, and Bullseye.
"Guys... What happened?" you asked.
"You fainted when Andy ran to see you at the dumpster," Mrs. Potato Head told you.
"Yeah! He brought you here," Stinky added.
"Andy... And where is he?" you asked.
"I'm here," Andy said as he entered your hospital room.
Buzz and Woody came out from under his jacket and joined the others.
"So there they were," you laughed softly at the sight of the two friends.
"They all wanted to come with me so I could buy you something from the cafeteria," Andy said as he sat down in a chair next to your bed.
In the end, they decided it was best for the two of them to come with me, but that's not important."
You sighed. You knew it was your turn to be scolded.
"I know..." you sighed.
"What the hell were you thinking? How could you risk your life like that?" Andy asked seriously.
"I had to..." you tried to explain, but he interrupted you.
"You could have just told me!"
"I know! But would you believe me if I told you we had to save your toys from a kindergarten?"
"No, but..." Andy sighed and leaned back in his chair. "You almost died. Look at how you looked."
"It's just burns and wounds." "Nothing serious," you assured him, but he glared at you.
"Andy," you took his hand. "I'm fine," you assured him.
He squeezed your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips to kiss them.
"Don't do it again."
"I don't make promises," you said with a smile.
"(Name)..."
"Okay, okay. I'm not going to do it again."
"And you guys," Andy turned to look at him. "I should apologize to everyone."
"No need, cowboy," Woody assured him.
"Yeah, everything's okay! We made mistakes too," Buzz told him.
"Even so, I never should have called you trash or put you in trash bags. Please forgive me."
Everyone climbed on top of Andy to hug him, and he hugged them back as best he could.
"Now, are you ready to go to college with us?" Andy asked, and everyone's eyes lit up.
Yeah, it was more than certain that this was the family you wanted to be with.
Hello! I hope everyone liked this one-shot! It was my first ever one-shot and to be honest I'm proud of it! But still i hope @anyadouc44 liked this as well! And have to thank her as this was a beautiful challenge for me and a nice walk across memory lane as Toy Story was one of my favorite movies growing up! Anyway, thank you so so much and I'll see you in the next one!
A/N: Hello! How's everyone been? Well, I'm just leaving over here the story of the promt I uploaded the other day! This is the idea of this post: Post
So I hope you like it and would love to hear your opinion!
Warnings: None, just that the author's first languaje isn't English.
Bodyguard! Father! Reader (Platonic) & Fem! Famous Producer! Reader (Romantic) x Kpop Demon Hunters
Masterlist
Reader's Pov
My father always told me I had a special gift. I said it was nothing, but he knew it was so much more.
The melodies, lyrics, and tempos always came to me as easy as breathing. It was something natural, and I think that's why I could never stay still for more than two minutes.
I always cretided Dad for my musical tastes, and he made me from a very young age a fan of the well-known group named 'Sunlight Sisters'. I guess that by being their bodyguard, some of their songs must have sticked on him.
And life was good... until my parents divorced. To be honest, I don't know how they even got married. They were so different! While dad was warm and playful, my mom was... cold. I guess the only thing they had in common was that they took their jobs seriously. While Dad was a bodyguard, Mom was a renowned lawyer in Japan. Unfortunately for me, Mom won my custody as Dad used to go around Korea and the world a little too often, so I moved to Japan with Mom. Despite that, I still called him and always answered and visited him in Korea during vacations.
And don't get me wrong, Japan was great! But I had always felt a closer connection to my father, so when I turned 18, I decided to study in South Korea, much to my mother and her family's chagrin.
I decided to study music, and my father always supported me with my decision, saying he was proud that I was following my heart.
Before I finished studying, I was already little by little, I rose through the ranks in the music world until I became one of the youngest music producers in the world. But despite having worked with famous idols, my favorite idols and proud to call friends were Huntr/x.
My dad was the one who put them in contact with me. At that time, they were starting their career, but despite that, they were under the eyes of the whole media thanks to their connection to the 'Sunlight Sisters'. They wanted something new, something fresh that most didn't understand according to them so I listened.
I listened to their ideas and their songs and had them back some of my own ideas of how to make true their visions, how to make their melodies and lyrics a bit better. And they liked them.
Ever since we've been working together.
The forming of our friendship was something natural, awkward at first but natural nonetheless. Rumi was the most tense, always wanting everything to be perfect, wanting to be perfect, Zoey was pretty chill but still a nervous wreck, and Mira... she was serious most of the time, and to be honest, she was like a hawk.
But with time, the four of us relaxed considerably thanks to Dad and Bobby. It felt as if we were in play dates instead of music sessions, but I wouldn't have it any other way. As we *worked* (in reality, we just slacked in our job and pretended to work), we laughed, chatted, and ate, and oh boy, those girls really had a big appetite so I placed in my office and living room a mini fridge and a basket with some drinks and food for them.
I will be forever thankful for my Dad introducing them into my life as they were the most authentic group of idols and people I've ever met.
Huntr/x's pov
"Happy fans! Happy Honmoon!" The girls said as they toasted with their raymeons
"Wait! There's no water in these" Zoey pointed out as she looked down at their dry ramens
"Um... Excuse me, miss?" Rumi called for the flight attendant who was weirdly watering a flower with coffee
"Yes, Miss Hunter... xi...?" She turned to look at her with a nervous smile
"We asked for hot water-" she was interrupted
"Right away!" She turned to look at them and bowed
"You're welcome. Arrideverci. Goodbye" she turned away and left
"Uh okay...?" Rumi said a bit weirded out
Before they could question the lady further, Rumi received a call from Bobby.
"Hi Bobby!" The three girls greeted their manager
"Yeah, hi! Um... what are you doing?" He greeted him, his voice betraying the nervous he was feeling. Behind him, there it was, F/N, their bodyguard who was trying to calm down the fans
"About to eat our pre-show ramyeon" she showed him their ramen
"Pre-show? What about the show-show?" He showed them the fans and how F/N was struggling to keep them calm
"Hi F/N!" The girls greeted when they saw him
"Girls-" F/N was interrupted when someone took Bobby's phone from him
"Hey, that's my phone!" He exclaimed, and they could hear F/N's chuckle
"We love you!!" The three girls that took the phone said excited to see their idols
"Oh, we love you too!" The three girls said at the same time
Then the phone was robbed again and passed to some crying dudes.
"You're so sweet!"
"Yo! I just go this!" Another fan took the phone and showed them a tattoo with a heart and Huntr/x written in it
"Uh..." Rumi and Zoey said a bit weirded out
"Sick" Mira smirked when she saw the tattoo
"Hey! No. Gimme that" F/N took the phone before giving it back Bobby
"Thanks F/N" he smiled quickly at F/N before looking back at his phone
"Why are you so late?!"
"Late?" Rumi asked and looked confused at Mira and Zoey
"Fifty thousand fans are waiting for you! They even made sings and everything!" The girls looked out the window and noticed how their plane was flying away from the stadium in which they were supposed to perform that night
They sat back down again and glared at the plane tribulation, now fulling knowing that those weren't humans.
"How can you be late? I wish you were here!" Bobby cried
"Keep your shirt on, Bobby. We'll be there in three" Rumi said as she kept glaring at the demons
"Wait! Is (Name) there?" Zoey asked with her mouth full
"(Name)? Oh yeah, she's backstage"
"She's been asking about you, girls" F/N said from the back
"Really? Tell her we'll be there shortly, Bobby." Then Rumi hung up the call
"UGHHH!" Both Mira and Rumi groaned while Zoey ate angrily
"I didn't even get to finish my ramyeon!" Mira exclaimed
"Why do they always interrupt our snacking?!" Now Rumi exclaimed
"They will face my wrath!" Zoey crushed some of her chips in her hand
Rumi stood up and walked towards the tripulation.
"Um, excuse me"
"Please take your seat" said the weird woman
"Yeah, we don't have time. You're a demon, right?" Rumi said tiredly
"What do you mean?" it was obvious the nervousness in her face and voice
"You're smiling all weird, watering plants with coffee, and those guys? Come on" she pointed out every single weird thing those demons were doing
"Oh! We were just-" Rumi took her wrist to reveal some patterns
"Oh look! Patterns."
"Oh these? These are just..." Rumi stepped on her foot and fully transformed in a demon, the rest also transforming back into their real form
"The rest of you can come out. We're in a hurry" Mira and Zoey stood up next to Rumi
Then the biggest of the demons of that small group walked out of the cabin to fight the hunters.
"Oh, you got the patterns. Now you gotta die" Mira said
"The only ones dying tonight are your--" the demon was interrupted by an erupt that came from Mira
"Uh.." the demons looked weirdly at the hunter
"I said the only ones dying tonight are your--" he was interrupted once again but now by Rumi
"I'm sorry what?" she asked
"Your fans" We're gonna eat your fans! And while we are at it we'll eat your little shooting star as well!" he exclaimed, loosing his patience
"WHOA!" The three girls exclaimed
"No"
"No, thank you"
"No no no"
"Not our fans" Rumi sad with a smile "Nor our sweet productor"
"When you mess with our fans and friend..." Zoey said
"We need to make it hurt" Mira smirked
Then their fight began.
--
Third-person POV:
Bellow the Honmoon, where the light and darkness meet, there it lied hundred of demons who where waiting along side their king for the demons that had their butts kicked by the hunters some minutes ago.
In the middle, there it was the same demon flight attendant, she was walking slowly and afraid towards Gwi-Ma, their king, as she knew she had failed with her duty of killing those hunters and their lovely shooting star.
When she was about to go up the stairs, Gwi-Ma used his power and brought her towards him by using the patterns on her skin.
"Let me guess. They got away again?" Gwi-Ma's voice resonated throughout his domain
"T-the hunters... T-T-They're too strong!" she said, obviously afraid of the king
"I understand"
"You... You do?" she looked at him hopeful
"I understand you are weak!" he roared before envolving the demon in pink flames
"Pathetic! Useless! All of you!"
All the demons looked ashamed at their own mediocrity and failure ever since those hunters appeared so long ago.
"Don't you idiot know once the hunters turn the Honmoon gold, its over for us!"
They all looked mortified, even some of them started crying. But before anyone could speak a voice and bipa were heard.
"There once was a mighty demon king. Stop me, if you heard this one before" the man began to recite
"He was in total control. He feasted on souls. The world trembled when he roared. But.... Then some hunters sang some songs. Now all he does is starve" He flew down from his high position on the arch of the realm.
"Can't get at the souls, and his flame grows cold. Just a whisper in the dark..."
And will he let the fire go out?
Is this the end of him now?
Dying king with a crumbling crown?
Will he let the fire go out?
"I let you keep that voice, Jinu and you dare to mock me with it?" the fire asked
"I'm no here to mock you" Jinu answered
"I'm here to help you" some guys stood behind Jinu
"It's time for a new strategy" Jinu and the rest of the boys flew towards where Gwi-Ma was
"We fight the hunters where they least expect it. Go after the very thing that powers the Honmoon. The fans... And their shooting star" he looked up at his king
Then they proceed to stand in some funny stances that according to them were for kpop idols.
"A demon boy band?" then Gwi-Ma laughed, his subjects laughing in the same way
"What makes you think that could work?"
Jinu snapped his fingers and made the demon features of his demon friends more human and attractive.
"Oh yeah. Totally gonna work"
"Yeah. A hundred 100%"
"Okay. I know you, Jinu. In 400 years you've never done a single thing that didn't serve yourself. What do you want?"
"The memories. I want them erased"
"Alright" Gwi-Ma agreeded "But listen closely all of you"
That picked the interest of the soon-to-be boy band.
"Before you take the Shooting Star's soul, use her for your advantage"
That made all the demons gasp.
"B-but the leyends... They never mention that a shooting star can write for demons because of their lack for a soul" Jinu pointed out
"A shooting star is supposed to be able to write to someone with a pure heart... It doesn't specify that it has to be a pure good heart... It can be a pure evil heart as well..." the demon king explained which made the rest of the demons finally understand his point.
"And as far as we are all concern, she doesn't know that she's a shooting star. Don't tell her or she may get scared and won't help you. understand?"
"Yes, Gwi-Ma" they all said in unison.
Reader's Pov
Normally, producers don't do any of this stuff but here I am in the backstage of my idols friends as I talk to my father who happens to be their bodyguard.
"You should've gone out" he told me "It was wild and that entrance they did was pretty cool"
Alongside Bobby and the rest of the staff we were waiting for our girls.
"Well I was okay backstage. I didn´t need more attention, it's enough that the fans ship me with the girs" I chuckled
"Still" he gave me a side hug and walked towards the elevator when we heard the elevator coming down
"Yeah. Just need a little water" Rumi's voice could be heard from the inside.
Before the doors were opened, the staff ran towards it, leaving me and my father behind.
"Did someone say water?" Bobby asked when the doors opened
"Hi Booby!" the girls greeted him
"Water! Now!" he ordered the staff
We could both here the rambling of both Bobby and the staff about their show.
"He never stops, does he?" I laughed at Bobby's ramble
"If he did, he wouldn't be Bobby" my father smiled as he looked at the manager being robed
I rolled my eyes but smiled.
"And... when are you asking him out?" I asked and he tensed
"What?" he turned to look at me
"What?"
Before he could say anything else someone shouted my name.
"(NAMEEEEEEE)!" The next I knew I felt Zoey's arms around me
"Woah! Hey girls!" I hugged Zoey back and gereeted them
"Hey (Name)!" Rumi greeted
"(Name)" Mira said in a chill - cool way
"So did you like the show?" Zoey stopped hugging me to look at me
"Of course!" I nodded "The fans were going crazy with this last concert"
"You say that to me" Dad groaned
"By the way, hello girls to you too" she said to the idols
"Ooops, hi (F/N)!" they greeted him
"So (Name)... are you up to come with us to our couch and do nothing?" Mira asked as she placed an arm around my shoulders
"Yeah! You also worked very hard" Zoey chimed in
"Sorry girls, but I was going to have dinner with Dad" I apologized as I looked at him
"Oh... it's okay" Mira said "After all, we have two weeks of vacation"
"Once again girls, congratulations" I hugged the three of them
"You did amazing as always" from my back I took out three flowers that were made from silky cloth but looked real
I gave a pink one to mira, a green - blue one for Zoey and a purple one for Rumi.
They all blushed when I handed them the flowers but accepted them. It didn't matter how many flowers I gave them, they still blush at them.
"T- Thank you, (Name)!"
"T- Thanks, (Name).."
"Thanks...."
We said our last goodbyes before my father and I took our stuff and left the stadium.
"Sooo..." my father said as we walked in the empty streets
"So?" I asked
"When are you going to accept their advances?"
"Advances?"
"Yeah! Everyone can tell those girls have something for you"
"They are just being nice, Dad!" I blushed
"I'm their producer after all.."
"Right..." he said in a teasing way
"You're the worst!" I pushed him with my shoulder and he just laughed before hugging me on the shoulders.
F/N's Pov
Before having (Name), I was terrible at cooking, but I learned because she had always has good teeth to eat, so that's why I suggested to go and by some stuff to cook because I knew that if I treat her to some restaurant she would've drained my wallet.
"Thanks Dad for cooking" she thanked me as I prepared some rice while she "helped" by making small talk as she sat down on the kitchen counter
"You don't have to thank me, dear" I told him "Ever since the tour started, we haven't had time to be together. Either you were helping with the whole planning or I was taking care of the girls"
"I know" she chuckled "It's just like old times"
"Yeah..." I smiled with melancholy
Before my divorce with (Name)'s mother, we used to be together all the time, we used to cook together, watch movies, play... But that came into an end when I started spending less time with them.
"Is it ready?" she asked, interrupting my thoughts
"It's almost-" the phone ringing interrupted me
"What? No... They said they were going to wait for two weeks.." I turned around to face my daughter
"What's wrong?" I asked
"The girls published their new single"
We stayed quiet for a couple of seconds and looked at each other.
"That means..."
"No more relaxing time!" we both whined
Then my phone started ringing. It was Bobby.
"You should put a heart next to his name" my daughter teased me as she handed my my phone
"Stop it, brat" I said in mock offense as I answered the call
"Hello?"
"Is that how you greet your love?" (Name) whispered me and I just pushed her softly making her laugh
"(F/N)! You won't believe this!" Bobby said excited
"The girls launched their new single, didn't they?"
"Yes! Wait, how did you know?" he asked
"I'm with (Name). She got the notification" I explained
"Hi Bobby!" (Name) shouted
"Hi (Name)!"
I chuckled at this interaction.
"You know what this mean right?"
I sighed and groaned.
"Yes..."
"LET'S GO PROMO!"
A/N: Hello! Well, this is the begining of a new story! I hope you liked it and I invite you to interact in any way you want.
A/N: Hello! I know I KNOW I said I would post the next chapter of Forget me not BUT! My sister got me obssed with Kpop Demon Hunters, and since its release, I've been down bad for every single character from that movie ever since so here is one of my ideas!
Famous Producer! Reader (Romantic) x Kpop Demon Hunters
Bodyguard! Father! Reader (Platonic) x Kpop Demon Hunters (kind of)
This small draft is about Huntr/x and I'm planning to write one about the Saja Boys in this same storyline.
Masterlist
ACTUAL FANFIC / STORY: Shooting Star 1
Imagine you being a famous producer. You've been working with tons of famous idols, from groups to solo idols, but the ones that were your favorite and the cherry on the top for your career were Huntr/x.
And no, you didn't meet them just because. You see, the girls need new ideas not only for songs or dances but to advertise and produce their songs at the beginning of their career and despite having the old producers from the 'Sunlight Sisters' their ideas were... old, and they didn't get the ideas that Huntr/x had in their minds.
That's when your father came in. He was a bodyguard, specifically the 'Sunlight Sisters' bodyguard and later on Huntr/x's. He saw how his girls struggled with explaining their ideas to the old producers, so he gave them your number, and after a lot of things about it, they told Bobby to schedule an appointment with you.
At first, you didn't think too much when you saw the email of this guy named Bobby and just decided to give it a shot because of the name of the group, which you found cool.
But your jaw dropped when you recognized the girls or, specifically, the girl.
Rumi. Kpop royalty. She was at your door with two of her friends. And she wanted you to produce their first song. Yeah, you.
You were a bundle of nerves, and to be honest, you made a fool of yourself in front of them. Just a bit. But they found that very cute.
"So... You're (Name), right?" Rumi asked kindly as she smiled at you
Meanwhile, you were staring at her and her friends as if you've never seen someone like them, but her voice pulled you back to earth.
"I uh... Sorry, what was the question?" You chuckled nervously
They couldn't think of you as more than a cute and a bit awkward producer but damn weren't their jaws down to the floor when you started working.
Your face changed immediately. Your eyes were focused, and your lips were in a fine line as they explained to your their song and ideas. They waited for you to interrupt them once you got confused but that never happened.
Once they finished explaining themselves, you started giving them some ideas and suggestions, leaving them completely surprised that you had understood their vision.
"We know there is a lot we are asking for, so it would be valid if you had doubts or didn't understand at all" Zoey said, a bit embarrassed, not by their ideas but the complexity and how she thought none of them could explain themselves
"Oh no. I understood," you assured her."So basically, what you want is..."
Yeah, and you proceed to explain exactly what they all wanted for their song and it's production.
Ever since that day you became their producer and friend... Well, at least that's what you call them, for them you were more than a friend.
But it wasn't only your personality or work that pulled them towards you. You had something special, something that made the moon honmoon around you react differently.
Around you, the honmoon was yellow, a very chirpy and happy yellow, but you never seemed to notice it, or if you knew it, then you never paid mind to it.
For our 3 hunters, it was fascinating and scary. Maybe you were hurting their honmoon without knowing, or maybe you knew about it but didn't know what to do about it. They were sure that you weren't doing it on purpose as they didn't feel tense around you but didn't know what to do.
That's when they went to Celine. She was impressed and excited which left the girls confused but then she explained herself.
"As you may know, yellow is one of the 5 principal colors of Korea. It represents fertility and abundance, but many years ago, it represented high status and wisdom. Ever since the first hunters appeared, there's been a few people who presented this kind of color with the honmoon. Those people had an ability that was believed given by the gods so they could help fight evil. They're gifted with powerful minds full of emotions and creativity, which later one was discovered could help the hunters write and perform their songs better and give the honmoon more strength. Not every generation was lucky enough to meet one of these 'shooting stars' as they called them, but the three of you must be the luckiest of all. Now that you're so close to seal the golden honmoon, this shooting star appears right in front of you. Let them help you, but don't tell them anything. They may get scared and don't understand our duty as hunters"
And that's how your friendship began.
Meanwhile, your father was happy that you had found some friends in those girls (even though he noticed the way the three of them looked at you or how they asked about you) and to be honest he would be more than happy to see you with them in a more romantic relationship but that was your decision to make.
"Hey F/N (Father's Name)! Have you seen (Name)? I wanted her opinion about some lyrics" Zoey said as she walked into a room where your father was resting and talking with Bobby
"Oh. They must be at their apartment" he said
"Really? Oh, well. And do they like jajangmyeon?"
"What does that have to do with checking some lyrics?" He asked her
"..."
"Zoey..."
Before anything else happened, Zoey ran away like a little child that had been caught painting the walls.
"Hey F/N" Mira greeted him as he was checking the security points of a stadium where the girls were going to preform
"Yes, Mira?" He turned to look at her
"Which is (Name)'s favorite color?"
"I uh... it's f/c" he answered a bit, confused by her question
"Really? Thanks!" She turned around and ran towards backstage again
"Girls, I know her favorite color!" He heard her shout at the other two hunters
"Really? Awesome!" Some other voices could be heard from the backstage
"Wait Mira!" He called out for her
"Why do you wanna know their favorite color?! Mira!"
Yeah... Your father was a bit overprotective over you, but hey! He was your father. He had a valid reason.
But he still trusted those girls as he had seen them grown over the last years.
Everything was perfect for them. The honmoon was about to turn golden. You were by their side supporting them, oblivious about the risks they face every day and the importance of the songs you help to write and produce. F/N and Bobby were also by their sides and the fans adored them.
Nothing could go wrong, right?
Well, everything went downhill when a new boy band was forming at the Underworld.
Hello! I hope you like this small writing because I had fun writing it and I have more ideas! Still I would like to see if you had any ideas or something like that or even requests!
Anyway thank you so much and see you in the next one!
Hi! How's everyone been? I know it's been a while I do something here hahaha it's just i've been busy with university but I'm officially on vacation now so I hope I'll post more.
Anyway, Chapter 8 from the "Forget me not" series is on the works and I hope I finish it soon. And again, thank you for the support of the series, I never thought someone would like it but knowing some people appreciate my work It really motivantes me.
Aside from that, I also have been having some new ideas for some new stories so I'll leave a small survey(? (I don´t know If its correctly said like that hahaha) down here so I can know which story all of you want to read next. For now there are only Marvel or DC related as aré the fandoms are into for the moment the most but I also like others one so If you want another request from other fandoms please don't be afraid to ask!
As always any type or interaction is welcome and asks are open! So feel free to ask whatever you like.
Anyway, again thank you for everything and I'll see you all soon!
Izadi <3
Which story would you like to read next?
Yandere DC x civilian! barista! reader
Yandere DC x neglected! underestimated! reader x Yandere Marvel
Yandere Justice League x scientist / doctor! Reader w/ Yandere protegees
Yandere Justice League x twins! readers x Yandere Avengers ver 1
Yandere Justice League x twins! readers x Yandere Avengers ver 2
Yandere Batfamily x mother! reader x child! reader
So when you say “They are on Bruce’s side no matter what” dose that mean that if reader told them about how neglectful Bruce is they would go “it can’t be that bad! He’s your father! Of course he loves you!” Or does Reader only think they would save like that? Also I’m curious about what readers first or more interactions with them are like.
I think that they would be skeptical if you told them. Yes Bruce is a very complex and complicated person, but he loves his kids. Loves them. He would do anything for them, with Superman witnessing how much Bruce struggled after Jason died.
They would need proof that their friend and coworker for years is able to do that. Able to not love his kid and neglect them.
Except for Martian Manhunter. He believes you.
Superman meets you before you move to Metropolis, so reader was around 14. He has seen you and Conner hanging out though and due to him having some issues at the idea that Conner was created using his dna without his consent, he keeps his distance. However he’s aware of you.
The first time you two officially met was at a Gala, he’s being clark and you, being the one Wayne that’s always forgotten, are there as well, with media swarming the others. He accidentally dropped his notepad and you, being somewhat nice, picked it up and gave it to him, telling him to be careful with it since the vultures are out, pointing out some very prominent news reporters that are known for their love for scandals. He says thank you and you nod and slip away, stealing 2 bottles of champagne to bring to your next match, thinking that Superman needs to get a better disguise.
Wonder Woman met you at a fight. While reader doesn’t stop the fight life after rehab, they were just more mindful of their health. WW is so impressed at your fighting abilities, but she can’t help but notice how familiar they are…
She will investigate you, and you will avoid her will every fiber of your being, not wanting the Amazonian to bother you while you fight.
The Flash met you when you were visiting Central City for a vacation with your friends. He knew immediately you were from Gotham, how you may ask?
You saw someone getting robbed, you saw and then grabbed their throat and choke slammed them down onto the pavement. Reminds him of a coworker of his. He gives you a pat on the back and tells you good job, but please don’t do that again, you can get hurt. You stared at him so uncomfortably. You REALLY remind him of a coworker of his.
Aquaman met you when you were about to come home to Gotham. You and some friends decided to go surfing since you never done so before. You also met Aqualad for the first time, you fell off your board staring at the pretty Atlantean.
Aquaman had to save you 😭 you’ve never been more embarrassed in your life 😭😭😭 saved by a mf fish. The king of fish in fact. But you said thank you and invited him and aqualad to join you and your friends for a beach barbecue, they said yes.
Martian Manhunter tried to arrest you. Didn’t know this til know but his day job is detective?? For some reason I thought his day job was doctor. Anyways, he tried to arrest you after busting an illegal fight ring you were fighting in.
He read your mind and wow! You are so sad man. Like damn. Earthling, get some help. He let you escape, mainly bc you are Batman’s kid.
He was going to confront batman, but then decided to ask you. You nearly hit him with your emergency brick, he dodged tho. He told you how he knows you and what he’s seen, he asks if you want him to confront Bruce. You ponder on it for a long time, thinking about all the possibilities before saying “no”. You have long accepted that you don’t want Bruce or his family, confronting them and making them feel guilty would just make you cry with rage bc seriously??? Shame is what makes you care???
He respects your decision and keeps his mouth shut.
-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.
Yan! Batfamily x gn!
Masterlist
Chapter 7
You were peacefully resting in your bed, dreaming about your celebrity crush when your obnoxious alarm clock rang. You groaned at the sound and normally you would turn it off but, today was an important day, today you were going to apply for your mentor. Without further ado, you got out of your bed, excited and somewhat nervous. It wasn't an exam but, you had to make a kind of resume and depending on that you were going to be assigned a journalism professional or as you would call it a mentor who would guide you in a more professional way. You would be fine with any professional, but you would like to have a mentor who had an excellent professional career and experience.Without thinking you got out of bed so you could start getting ready to go to college. You quickly had some breakfast and left your house like a flash, however, Mr. Johnson, the older man who rented you the apartment where you lived
.“Good morning, (Name)!” The older man who was sweeping the entrance of the building greeted you.
“Good morning, Mr. Johnson!” You greeted him with the same energy
“I see you are very happy today and with a lot of energy” he smiled at you
“That's right! It's a very important day today” you explained
“Oh really? Then I won't stop you anymore” the older man said softly
“Thank you! Have a nice day!” You said to walk again but out of nowhere you remembered something and turned around.
“Wait, Mr. Johnson!” You called him again and he turned to look at you
“Yes, (Name)?” He asked you
“I'll pay the rent today in the afternoon, it's just that in my rush I forgot the money in my apartment” you said a little embarrassed
“Oh, of course! Don't worry about that, kiddo!” said the older man with a smile
"Thank you very much! See you later, Mr. Johnson!" you said goodbye and then ran back to the university
Fifteen minutes later you arrived at the university faculty where your friends were already waiting for you to enter the classroom and finally be able to fill out those damn forms.
When you had your form in front of you, your mind went blank. What should you start with? Maybe with your grades! Or not, better with your practical performance! You were undecided and that was making you nervous since you only had an hour and a half to answer it.
No... You couldn't have an anxiety attack at that moment... Breathe...
Take a deep breath and close your eyes for a few moments.
You are a good student. A good human being
You can do this
Good. You knew how to start.
That was the fastest hour and a half of your life but you managed to make a decent resume in your opinion. You left the classroom with your friends, satisfied with your writing. With a calm heart you attended your other classes.
The day went by quickly in your opinion and soon you were on your way to your apartment. On the ground floor, there was Mr. Johnson again but now he was sweeping the entrance of his apartment. With a smile on your face you walked towards him.
That was the fastest hour and a half of your life but you managed to make a decent resume in your opinion. You left the classroom with your friends, satisfied with your writing. With a calm heart you attended your other classes.
The day went by quickly in your opinion and soon you were on your way to your apartment. On the ground floor, there was Mr. Johnson again but now he was sweeping the entrance of his apartment. With a smile on your face you walked towards him.
"Hello Mr. Johnson! I'll give you the rent money right now" you said and he seemed to pale a little when he saw you
"Y-you don't have to worry about that rent thing, (Mr. / Miss) (Name)" he said stuttering a little at first but with a nervous smile on his lips
"What? What do you mean? And you know you don't have to call me that right?" your smile faded a little when you heard the old man calling you
"I know, (Mr. / Miss) (Name)" he said still nervous "But I didn't know that..."
"You didn't know that...?" you asked, wanting to know what he meant
"I didn't know you were Bruce Wayne's kid..."
What the fuck?
"No, Mr. Johnson, he... he's not my father" you said a little confused
"No? He came to pay your rent and..." you interrupted
"He did what?" you said angrily
"Yes, and he also bought this building. He gave me a large sum of money and he's going to let me stay here with my family. He's a good man, your father" the older man smiled gratefully at you
No... He wasn't a good man. He and none of his other children were good to you.
What do they want from you now? Now that you were happy?
"No... I-I... I have to go..." you ran towards the elevators to go to your apartment
There weren't any cars that screamed Bruce Wayne outside the apartment complex and much less fit in the small parking lot. So that meant he was gone, right?
When you got to your apartment, you were going to open the door when you noticed something on the knob. It was a little scratched and turned more easily than in the morning.
Oh no...
Oh no...
Anyway you opened the door with your keys and even though everything was dark you could feel the presence of someone there.
"Okay, what the hell do you want?" you said as you turned on the lights so you could see Bruce better sitting on your couch
He was wearing a suit and had his hair combed, most likely he just left Wayne Enterprises.
"You have a nice apartment although... It's a little small" Bruce commented "I could give you a bigger one"
"Answer the question Wayne" you said with anger evident in your tone of voice
Bruce sighed and couldn't deny that hearing you call him by his last name as his rivals normally called him broke his heart a little more. He stood up and walked towards you to stop in front of you.
"I came to see how you were" Bruce said sincerely
You laughed at his words.
"See me? Me? Please! Don't make me laugh" you said with a smile but Bruce could see you were angry
"And you didn't have to pay my rent. I don't want to owe you more than I owe you"
"Owe me? (Name), you don't owe me anything" he was going to take your shoulder but you moved away from him
“I don’t want to have any relationship with you” you said while looking at him coldly
“As soon as I can I will pay you. Including my rent now” you sighed desperately
“You are my firstborn, my blood, (Name), I will always worry about you. We all worry about you” he said while trying to get closer to you but you just moved
I AM NOT YOUR CHILD!
It was what you wanted to yell at him but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you frustrated with just his presence so you just sighed. You were better than him than all of them.
“How did you find out that I lived here?” You asked him, a little calmer
“I am the best detective in the world” he pointed out
“And yet it took you several months to realize that I no longer lived in the mansion” you attacked back, but before he could answer, you spoke again
“Look, I am going to say this to your face. You aren’t welcome in my home, I don't want your charity, I don't want anything from you so please go away” you asked him in a firm voice
A voice that seemed very familiar to him
“Okay” he nodded after a few moments of silence “I’ll leave but I won’t give up”
After that promise he left your apartment making you let out a shaky sigh
How the hell did he know where you lived? That was your first thought, then you remembered Alfred and Duke but soon you dismissed those thoughts when you remembered that neither of them knew where you lived.
The next few days were quiet, Bruce hadn't shown up at your apartment, much less his children. Everything had been very quiet and that put you on alert because you knew very well that Bruce always kept his promises.
You were in class, focused on the professor when suddenly the director of your course named Mr. Wilson, knocked on the door of your classroom.
"Sorry to bother you professor" apologized Mr. Wilson "But I need Mx. (Last name)"
"Sure, Mx. (Last name), please" the professor pointed to you so you could go to the director
Intimidated, you got up from your place and walked towards Mr. Wilson. Once both of them walked out the door you finally spoke.
"Did something happen, Mr. Wilson?" you asked him
"The rector wants to talk to you" the man answered
That took you by surprise. Did something happen? Why did the rector of the university call you?
The rest of the walk, both remained silent until they reached the principal's office.
"The principal is already waiting for you" your director said without further ado and left you in front of the door
Your hands were shaking and you could feel your heart racing. What had you done wrong? That was the question that was going through your head and without thinking you knocked on the door.
"Come in" could be heard from inside and without further ado you went in
When he saw you, the principal smiled at you and motioned for you to sit in a chair in front of his desk
"Did something happen, principal?" You asked politely as you sat down on the chair
"No, nothing bad happened, Mx. (Last Name)" he assured you "I just wanted to tell you something"
"Sure" you nodded and paid attention to what he was going to say next
"Well, you see Mx. (Last Name), I didn't know your father was Bruce Wayne" he started to say but you interrupted him
What..? Bruce had come...? That left you speechless but you spoke anyway
"Y-yes... H-he's my biological father but what does that have to do with this"
"Yes, Mr. Wayne came and told me that from now on he's going to be paying for your tuition so your scholarship has been completely withdrawn"
You paled at his words.
Did they take away your scholarship?
Your scholarship that you had earned with so much effort?
"And he also made a nice donation to the university" the rector noticed your bad state
"But you don't have to worry, Mx. (Last name)! Or should I call you Mx. Wayne?" Your father will cover all your expenses"
"Please don't call me Wayne" you asked him
"Oh..." he seemed surprised but he nodded "Sure, as you wish"
"T-that would be all?" you asked with a broken voice
"Yes... sure" the principal nodded a little confused with your reaction
Without further ado you got up and ran out of the building.
Why did he even have to get involved in your studies?
You didn't want to go back to class anymore and you were going to ask one of your friends to pick up your things, for now, you had to relax. You ran your hands through your hair pulling it a little, while you sat under a tree. You put your head in your hands, trying to control your breathing.
(Name)?" a voice near you spoke and you recognized that voice perfectly
You got up and saw Tim kneeled in front of you while he looked at you with concern.
"Tim..." you said as more silent tears fell down your face. cheeks "W-what are you doing here..?"
"I came to see a friend but... Did something happen...?" he asked softly
"No, nothing" you said as you stood up and turned around while wiping your tears
"Hey! Wait" Tim grabbed your wrist but you quickly moved it away from him
"Could you leave me alone, Drake?" you said irritated
"Something happened to you" the young man confirmed
"And how do you know that something happened to me?" you asked him while crossing your arms
"You were crying and you're angry" he pointed out "Besides, you're not like this. You're normally a nice person"
"And what do you know about me, Drake?" you asked coldly "We've lived in the same place for several years but no more and don't pretend that you don't know why I'm like this. You're Bruce's right hand man, he tells you everything and the rest of his lackeys but mostly to you. You don't know even the half of who I am. So now leave me alone"
You turned around and walked away from him towards another direction on campus, leaving Tim surprised by your words.
"You heard them, didn't you?" Tim spoke into the earpiece he was wearing
Tim couldn't deny that your words didn't affect him but you were right, he didn't know you and he never bothered to do so and that makes him feel guilty...
What would have happened if he had given you a chance like Duke did? Would you be just as close?
Yes, Dick was always with him when he arrived at Wayne Manor but normally he was in Bludheaven and he couldn't deny that there were times when he felt alone until he met his friends from the Young Justice League...
If he felt alone then you must have felt more alone... Only for 15 years...
He would have shared his loneliness with you and maybe today he would be in Duke's place and instead of seeing him with that cold look, you would look at him with love and affection... Like an older sibling looks at his younger brother. And yes, he knows he has more brothers but they didn't look at him in a tender way, but as an equal, as someone else, but he wants to feel that soft love that he sees in Conner and Jon and that he knew now you could give him.
"That's right. They didn't seem too happy that Bruce started paying for their tuition" Dick spoke
"To be fair, I would have reacted the same way" Jason said now who was eating what sounded like some chips
"Jason, you react like that to anyone" Tim said as he started walking
"I don't think you should have gone" Duke said who sounded nervous
"It was good to try" Tim said
"But now they seem more distant than before thanks to father and Drake" Damian said an angry
"Come back Tim and we'll talk more here" Bruce ordered
"Yes sir”
"Alfred, I think this is going to get out of hand" Duke said, as he walked around the kitchen
"I know (Name), they are very stubborn" he said panicked
"And I know them too, Master Duke" Alfred said while washing dishes "I know that what they have always wanted is the attention of the family and now they have it"
"And what happens if they find out that we are part of this? They will end up hating us! I-I couldn't stand it" said the young man scared
"Maybe I should send them a message to tell them that we didn't know about this?" he suggested hastily
"Message?" someone asked from the kitchen door Both Alfred and Duke turned to see who it was and opened their eyes wide when they saw Cass.
"Miss Cassandra" Alfred greeted but she only looked at Duke with an intense gaze
"Message?" the girl repeated again
"Y-yes..." said Duke in a small voice
"You have… (Name)'s number?" asked Cass
"Y-yes..." nodded Duke
"Miss Cassandra" the butler spoke again as he stood in front of Duke
"Yes, both Master Duke and I have (Name)'s new number”
"So both you and Duke have kept it from us that you have my child's number?" Bruce asked in a stern voice.
Once Cass found out about this, she quickly called a meeting when Tim returned. They were all in the Batcave with Bruce standing in the middle in front of Alfred and Duke, the buttler being calmer and the boy who was much more nervous.
"That is right, Master Bruce," Alfred nodded.
"Why did you hide this from us, Alfred?" Bruce asked, a little hurt, making Alfred's heart sink.
"First of all, it is worth clarifying that it was my idea, not Master Duke's, so do not get mad at him," Alfred began. "But I knew that if we told them we had their cell phone number, all of you would try to call them nonstop. I do not want to sound rude, but we know (Name) better than anyone, and they are just as cunning as all of you. If you start forcing this thin thread you still have with them, you will only make them break up, and then we would be in serious trouble. You neglected them for years; this new attention from all of you is uncomfortable and overwhelming. You can not force this if you want them to come home again."
Everyone fell silent at Alfred's words, for he was right. They can't expect you to accept them back so quickly, but eventually you would...
No?
"Fine, Alfred, Duke," Bruce nodded. "Tell us what we should do."
Alfred's heart began to beat faster, though no one could notice. Finally, his plan was coming together now that the whole family was on the same page. Some more than others, but soon everyone would see you as he did.
Hello!
How are you all doing? FINALLY I FINISHED THIS CHAPTER! I hope you liked this chapter and If you did any kind of interaction would be appreciated as I would like to ready your opinions or ideas for this story! Anyway, I also wanted to ask you, would you like to see another character interact with (Names) from the DC universe and outside the batfamily? I would love to know your opinions!
Anyway, I hoped you like this chapter and I also hope to ready your opinions!
hi I'm back again w my what ifs... :) last one I promise then I'll write abt the other one (I got swarmed with so many rehearsals ToT)
what if..
what if a Neglected! Reader that suddenly found herself in a whole new batfam..? Like crossing an alternate universe type shit.
imagine reader being a child of Bruce to a random woman who decided to drop the child in a basket, in front of the Wayne manor. Alfred of course the angelnot that he is, takes the child. not before confirming reader is bruce's
so basically the standard reader grew up alone and invisible in the Wayne manor for 13 years, then suddenly one night a mysterious girl drops by and takes them somewhere else. wink wink;)
now this different universe acts the same except.. reader doesn't exist here, there's not an ounce of evidence that reader exist in this one. basically like the canon batfam without self inserts or think batman: wayne family adventures
so of course reader expects it to be the same as their own universe yet, they didn't expect their family is actually.. nice. Think of it, Bruce has time for them, in fact he actively interacts w reader he pushes all his paperworks on tim, Dick appears immediately when they call for him, Jason likes being around them as they read together, Tim doesn't mind their presence when they tag along at the office- in fact he likes the company, Barbara appreciates that someone brings her tea to de-stress, Stephanie drags reader out to wherever to shop and hang out, Cass likes to watch movies with them, Duke smiles so darn brightly after being praised by reader on passing his quiz and Damian, oh sweet Damian doesn't mind having an older siblings that would like to just sit in peace while he draws whatever he wants, he just wants to spend time soaking in his older siblings presence. so basically this is the batfam universe where they're not assholes lmao
reader badly want to stay sadly, they can only drop by because if they stay any longer their soul will glitch out think spiderman into the spider verse style , so begrudgingly they have to return to the cold Wayne Manor of their own universe.
reader thinks their life is now finally falling to pieces however suddenly their 'neglectful' family suddenly starts behaving a little.. obssesive.. wonder what happened?
The priestess is so sweet, she really does deserve the world. Just image the Champion seeing her sleeping on a little nest of some of the furs and blankets 💚
You guys are FEEDING me with all these cute little imagines today. Ugh, I wanna just eat you up so your ideas are always a part of me.
I can imagine it happening after a particularly long day. Maybe it's after a feast or a celebration, and you're exhausted after hours of socialising and minding your tongue. You sneak away to a quiet room to catch your bearings and before you know it, you're totally knocked out. Curled up in a pile of furs, your hair spilling across your face.
Yandere! Greek Champion immediately notices you're gone but it takes him a little while to find you. Every minute that passes makes him more anxious. What if you slipped away? What if he's lost you?
When he opens the door, he doesn't really expect much. It's a dark room and only the moonlight from the balcony casts any brightness.
And then he sees you.
Touched by the moon, as ethereal as a dream.
He'll probably kneel down next to you, careful to keep his armour quiet. And he'll just watch you - the slow rise and fall of your chest, the way the breeze stirs your hair, your features looking softer and sweeter in the silvery glow of night.
And when you wake up and cringe away from him - expecting anger or violence or any of his other frightening faces - he'll just touch his knuckles to your cheek and ask if you dreamt of him.
Yandere Greek Champion x Priestess Reader - NonCon
He was chosen by the Gods to slaughter, to strike down all who stand against him. Your city has fallen at last and he has come to claim his prize.
Yandere! Champion with his bronze armour and his scars, sunlight reflecting off him in battle likes he's Ares himself.
Yandere! Champion who cares for nothing but his own glory. He'll step over the bodies of his own men if it meant victory.
Yandere! Champion who's chosen as the head of the delegation sent to your city. The offer is simple - swear fealty to the Greeks, open the city gates and hand over your Champion to be executed.
Yandere! Champion who rides right up to the city walls, even when his fellow warriors stay far out of arrow range. Does he not care for his own life, you wonder, or does he simply think himself immortal?
Yandere! Champion who barely even tries to be diplomatic. Who seems to think war is a foregone conclusion.
When your prince refuses him, Yandere! Champion looks up at the royalty and clergy on the wall above him - the greatest and most powerful of the city - and he spits.
"I will take this city and crush your walls under my heels."
Yandere! Champion who catches your eye and holds it. You, just a minor Priestess of Athena, have somehow attracted his attention.
Yandere! Champion who smiles a slow, terrible smile and you wonder what God whispered carnage in his cradle.
Yandere! Champion who blows you a mocking kiss, even though your robes show your dedication to the virgin goddess.
Yandere! Champion who is true to his promise. His soldiers throw themselves at your gates until the bodies on both sides are piled higher than your head.
Yandere! Champion who cuts down your prince in battle. Who beheads him with one clean sweep and as you watch it happen, you realise he is no mere mortal.
He truly is the God of War's Champion.
Yandere! Champion who doesn't even cheer when the city falls to him. Who simply steps over the shattered gates and heads toward the temple of Athena, his xiphos dripping blood behind him.
Yandere! Champion who finds you just as you're about to run. You're the last to leave the temple. Your love for your goddess outweighed your fear but the clash of swords and plumes of smoke finally broke you.
You're on the broad stairs that lead to the temple when you see him, standing at the bottom and looking up at you. His cloak and the crest on his helmet are a deep scarlet and he looks like a spill of blood on the marble stairs.
Yandere! Champion who takes a step forward for each one you take back. Your hands are trembling and he notices it, relishes it.
Yandere! Champion who smiles at you again. His helmet covers most of his face so all you can see is gleaming bronze and bloodstained teeth.
"Little virgin priestess. Your goddess has abandoned you."
Yandere! Champion who finally reaches the top of the stairs and now that you're on even ground, you realise how he towers over you.
Yandere! Champion whose strides are much longer than yours and he gets closer with each halting step you take away.
"Why else would your city fall? You have been forsaken."
His blade twitches in his hand and it makes you jump. His eyes are on you - a colour so deep they look black. Hungry enough to devour you, devour the city, swallow the whole damn world.
For the first time, you feel afraid in your Goddess's temple.
Yandere! Champion who finally stops. His sword is still streaked with blood and it shines an awful red. His eyes dip from your face to your chest to your thighs. And nothing in his gaze seems noble or honourable at all.
"Run, priestess. Run to your Goddess and maybe she can save you."
You run.
You run through the temple, marble pillars blurring in your vision. The altar, the statues.... Surely no harm can come to you in the temple of Athena? Surely the War Goddess can protect one of her own?
Yandere! Champion who catches you at the base of her statue. Who grabs your hair and forces you to the ground.
Yandere! Champion who digs his knee into your back, one hand in your hair and the other gripping his sword. He's going to kill you, you think. Slit your throat and spill your blood on holy ground.
But he doesn't kill you. No, what he does is far worse.
Yandere! Champion who casts his sword aside and presses himself against your back, his weight trapping you under him.
Yandere! Champion who drags your chiton up your thighs, his breath growing ragged with want. Fingers digging into your flesh like he wants to sink hooks into you.
Yandere! Champion who was promised a prize.
Yandere! Champion who has levelled cities in the name of his God. Who's burnt temples to the ground. Who has forsaken his humanity for glory.
Yandere! Champion who was promised a prize and who demanded Athena's most beautiful priestess.
Yandere! Champion who trails kisses across your jaw and neck and shoulders. Whose lips leave blood behind.
Yandere! Champion who doesn't care to prepare you. Who lines his cock up with your cunt and sheaths himself inside you with one brutal thrust.
Yandere! Champion who pulls your hair so hard you arch your back. Whose weight on you makes his breastplate dig into your shoulder blades. Whose grunts echo in your ears.
Yandere! Champion who thrusts and thrusts and mercilessly keeps going.
Yandere! Champion who fucks you in the temple of the Virgin Goddess. Who desecrates Athena's temple and priestess both. And yet the candles keep burning, the fountains still flow clear.
The pain burns through your stomach like fire. And still you reach for her, for your Goddess.
Yandere! Champion who grabs your outstretched hand and forces it to the floor, who intertwines his fingers with yours in a terrible parody of intimacy.
You plead with her, your voice rough with panic and grief. But the statue's eyes are nothing more than sculpted marble.
Yandere! Champion who finally has his prize, after years of carnage and searching. And who will never let you go.
Yandere! Champion who cums inside of you, his voice rasping in your ear.
"Your goddess has abandoned you, little priestess. And I am all that remains."
And in the awful silence of the temple, with a killer's hands on your skin, you realise what it means to hate the Gods.
ch.5 pt 2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)
directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1, chapter five pt 2,
read under the end for an author's note.
tw: talks about death, prostitution, self-harm, trauma & ptsd, suicidal thoughts, and neglect.
the world was still spinning when you had awoken.
you didn't know if that was good or bad news alone. didn't even know what your current state could do now that you're in some room, subconsciously recalling between the gaps of memories that had caused you to be here.
lying down, with the painful throb of the holes within your body pinning you in place.
what happened?
breakdowns, booze, flirting, tears, comfort, gunshots, acceptance and death—
— lots of it.
all in the span of one night. one singular night which reigned in spilled blood and reopened wounds.
maybe you should've never made a stupid decision in the first place, the calculating, smarter, yet easily shut-down part of you scolds yourself. the events of the night were still fresh, enough to make both your heart and your head throb: were you finally sobering up, or does this ache come from a different type of pain, more painful, more heavily emotional than being met with death?
how long has it been since you were out? how long has it been since he saved you? since he...
the name tastes bitter in your tongue, it's been months, maybe even almost a year since you've last encountered him, let alone talked to him without being met with strained eye contact and cruel scoffs; a painful reminder of how your actions were what stuck the final nail in the coffin for your own neglect against the man, the brother you consider closest to you; despite it never being enough.
jason.
your last interaction was particularly unpleasant, an act of teenage hormones swelling in your very veins caused you to be spiteful towards him, ignoring his casual small talks in favor of refusing to offer your homemade treats and grabbing the jar of your favorite sweets - that you always meticulously and willingly give him whenever he'd make his rare visits - away from his prying hands.
you remember his offended tone, the sudden venom in his words as he asked, too mockingly for your own taste, "what's wrong with you, angel? what's gotten you snappy these days?"
these days?
most days, it was you succumbing to his wants and needs. considering the treats he liked, the books he read, the movies he watched. all an effort painfully done if it meant having his eyes on you for just more than a second.
these days? just what had you done these days that warranted his offense? all you have done, all you ever did, was tag along everyone's tail, watching from the shadows, biting back the poisonous words, the tears that clung at the edge of your throat; ready to uncoil, to pounce the moment your envy unfurls even further.
these days? yeah right, these days, you just wanted to fucking die—
'cause highschool is shit, your life is shit, and you can't- just can't afford to play nice these days. not when they've all been so cruel, not when the people you look up to treat you lesser than the worms they step on when they spend time around the garden- your garden that you've carefully cultivated, all for your efforts to go to waste.
— but Jason won't understand, nobody could. not even alfred could comprehend just how worse your mood has soured. nobody's aware of just how close you are to your breaking point.
you glare at him for a second, wanting to retort, to swear at the sight of his knotted brows and frustrated pose, but the flicker of fight within you has just as quickly extinguished. your shoulders slumped, yet jason remains as rigid as ever in his seat, no amount of softness could be found in his expression, not even the softness he directs at you.
'he doesn't feel the same right now but—'
'there's no point in even trying anymore.'
ignoring the pang of regret in your chest, the urge to apologize with widened eyes, to pretend this was all a dream; you simply turned away in spite of the brimming tears, biting at your raw lips, to escape to another room.
afraid to show anymore weakness, afraid of the consequences, your hurried footsteps had echoed across the hallways.
you left the tooth-achingly sweet treats he originally intended to take by the table.
'he can have it for all i care.'
but are you sure you don't care? are you truly sure, when your chest spiked with frazzled haste just from hearing a familiar scoff - the one he directs to the people he despises - behind you? is it indifference when your hearing began to wring just to block out whatever vile words he spewed that day?
you want to apologize, you truly do, even if you're aware you're not much at fault, but rather him for being inconsiderate to your feelings, your foreign actions, he calls you his angel, but when his angel shows obvious hurt, he doesn't care?—
hah. but you just can't deal with it, with him any longer.
so you let it be, let him think you're just having your rebellious teenager phase, that you being a piece of shit in his eyes would pass eventually.
he wouldn't know, didn't even notice the bandages plastered across the expanse of your aching arms, the bags dipping below your eyes, or your frizzy, thinning hair.
with your last encounter, there was no more after that.
and if there were, you couldn't even call it that, for he was raging fire, and you a blistering snowstorm.
those were never meant to clash, let alone part.
thinking about it now, recalling what's gotten his mind on a twist, in your little, foreign mattress, with your eyes still shut close, lower abdomen still aching; it makes you want to die a little more at how much you never considered your feelings in the past.
you still don't right now - couldn't even make past your crippling self-esteem - but compared to last time, you at least maintained a flicker of dignity.
jason, meanwhile.
he- maybe he had a terrible day that day, you recalled his argument with bruce fresh on your mind that fateful afternoon. how tense and resounding the tension was in the room they'd fought. something over morals, over his still-burning need for justice by unfairly taking the lives of most criminals, bruce stated.
how it never quite changed, even until now.
it's the norm for all their little spats, the usual dynamic with their bated breaths and venomous words, their pitiful angst. how could you not remember, when it's dick who had to physically rip jason off from plunging a weapon on bruce's chin, whilst alfred's disappointed scolding hung in the air — whilst it's you watching in the corner, witnessing the entire scene unfold, useless when it comes to intervening because your words hold no impact for their dynamic?
maybe, just maybe, you could've been more considerate of his feelings when he'd blown bruce off, throwing him the finger before bursting off to the kitchen's pantry - to stressfully feast on the treats you carefully stored in, for moments like these, because he loves to thrash around the kitchen eating your baked sweets - to ruminate on his raging thoughts.
but if you could recall all the moments of his rage, how could he not recall his promise to bring you home some of your favorite dishes the night before that, then?
how could he not consider his so-called angel's feelings, when you had to adjust to his whims?
yeah, maybe you were boiling with rage that time too, not only due to the pressure of highschool, but at yet another broken promise. maybe you just wanted to hide away the tears, the looming expectations to act normal ultimately failing, which translated to your snappy behavior— but you thought:
'maybe, just maybe, my favorite brother, my closest confidant, could understand.'
you were wrong, you always were.
and for that, when you'd run crying to your room, another fresh scar was soldered in both your skin and your memories.
— a painful reminder of losing the closest thing you had in the world, just because you finally felt brave enough to show an inch of your closeted yet forbidden emotions.
your rebellion caused a permanent rift between your already drifting relationship, you despised yourself for that seemingly small, yet highly impactful mistake.
thinking about it now, in your crippled, nearly paralyzed state, makes you just want to forget.
— and remember the even more painful present.
finally, you compiled the strength to blink away the weight in your eyes. remnants of dry, salty tears were still fresh in the corners of your lids, throat parched, mind thrumming with dull pain and aching limbs— it reminded you of your unbidden nightmare just moment's ago; a stark contrast from its pleasantness compared to the damming reality you're actually in.
it felt like a fading memory, that dream, a looming freckled dust of air you couldn't quite catch in your stretched out fingers. how her gentle touch was like a cure to all your ailments, yet her hurried good-byes an eternal scar to the broken pieces of your heart.
oh, my momma.
how you miss her and her angelic presence already.
it never truly occurred to you how much the heavy weight of missing her stumped you from actually maturing. it was always her you mourn in moments of painful respite. her fading advices, her airy voice, her silent hums and warm presence. it was a whiplash to have her in such a wicked environment, in gotham of a places.
seeing her, in that cottage, in all her glory, wrinkles and aged, sagging skin surrounding the expanse of her angelic appearance. she was so young when she had you, and it was all you ever dreamed of— watching her gracefully age before you like fine wine, rather than those... those flashbacks of those bloodied tiles and the ichor dripping down her lifeless, icy lips.
damn be her reputation, she was your momma first, and prostitute, money laundering scam, second. thinking about her just makes you want to shut your eyes once more, return to that restless dream, and stay there forever.
rather than...
— your eyes switch to shuttering quickly, faded imagery still present in the fog of your vision. everything felt suspended in air except for the mechanical churn of the hanging fan on the ceiling, yet the furniture still present itself in shaped globs rather than actual three-dimensional objects. it took you nearly a minute to regain your sight, to finally hone in on your surroundings. albeit the haze and the adrenaline slowly pumping in your veins, your mind telling you to run despite the lack of sensation in your lower half, you slowly take in this...
this unfamiliar room...
a place displaying artillery, heavy weapons on the four corners of the walls, surrounding the dainty, one person cushion you lay on. there's an array of both fresh and bloodied gauze on the tabletop on your right, it seems to be used just recently, on you, probably. they're tightly wrapped on your lower half, you can see through the dark of your blankets and the feel of its restrictions on your guts.
strange how you're here, recalling the events of the night, yet it's still night now.
have you been out for an entire day?
and your phone and other essentials is on the same tabletop, you can even make out the table napkin containing conner's number still carefully tuckered behind your phone case. the faint waft of your favorite takeout caressed your nostrils, if not for the pain of having to carefully churn around the weighted blanket splayed on top of you; you might've sat up to dig in the savory meal.
but you can't focus on your hunger, not just yet. not when the dread overpowers your bodily urges, not when this entire thing feels like it's imitating a sense of normalcy; a room, reflecting the danger of the inhabitant living within, despite your foggy vision still, trying it's best to placate you into feeling safe.
but worse yet, the most dreaded of them all—
a room with your brother in it.
a room with the person you'd least want to deal with, not with just how much you haven't calmed down, how your final resolve was to avoid the very same people who'd always avoided you.
you couldn't possibly face them now, not ever.
not even the man you once came to call your favorite.
the holes in your body, now wrapped tight with gauze, throbs noisily, as if it senses the resounding doom wrapping around your heart, until it spreads across your entire body, now cold with caution. through your careful inspection of your belongings, through the noise of your frazzled thoughts, you haven't felt the dip on the bed you lay on. dim lights surrounded your vision afterall, the same ones still clearing up after hours of restless slumber.
and everything around you was unlike the specks of sun you were greeted with when you'd awoken from that dream.
dark and heavy.
your fingertips, your head, your injuries, the dip of the bed just now, his breathless haste; as if he waited for this moment, for you to slowly awaken, to return to consciousness.
an overbearing sense of desperation: his manic trance, the tusled locks of black and white hair, the faint shiver in his breathing.
and it's not as if you needed to second-guess the man now seated on the bed, he's so easily recognizable with his toughened form and muscles churning beneath his ashy jacket.
no, no, you want to close your eyes, pretend you're still asleep.
— but you can't, it's too late now that he noticed.
"... mornin', angel. you alright?"
he asks, silent and unsure, the question drifting off his tongue so gently, so hesitatingly as if he couldn't believe witnessing you breathing in front of him. warm yet burning with need for answers. and for a second, for a measly, quintessential span of time, you might've thought his raspy words were an aftermath of some tears.
he sounded so...
broken.
like a man torn from the inside out. the last you've seen of him, he'd already sported eyebags— but not too sunken, too tired like the current one you're staring at. like a washed out ember amidst winter, everything about him felt vulnerable...
it just makes you want to die on the inside— that- that you feel a semblance of care for someone who's hurt you far more than loved you.
the gentleness in his question, the hesitant stumble of his hands that came to bury itself into your tangled hair. the warmth that emits from his raggedy fingers hovering over the scalp of your head; it just made you feel fuzzy yet awful. the image of a brother and a stranger in front of you just blurs into a singular mess.
your vision spins, his hands are still awkwardly patting your head, as if urging you to speak, yet no reply escaped from your parched throat, from your dry, cracked lips. you fear whatever words might come next will just be a product of your impulsiveness— like the last time you met, like- like how you always fucked everything up, and you just did so the other night, and you're afraid of everything that might come after—
"i tried fixin' my apartment up just before you woke up... got us some takeout for dinner, too. it's your favorite..."
a hesitant smile, teethering on near gentleness that seemed impossible for a cruel man like him. jason looked almost like the brother you once knew as he coughs to himself, a poor attempt to wash away the awkward tension between you two. you're still silent between it all, not a single word mustered from your gaping mouth.
no.
your breath hitches—
your cold hands drive away his fingers entangled with your hair, shaky breaths make up the silent space between you two. he's not- not going to go about this way, would he? how could he?
no, this was not a moment to pretend. he saw you cry out there, under the moonlit night when the world was out for your life— you begged him, implied you'd rather die than let your savior be him.
you're hurt, everything still isn't fine between you two. not a single thread of softness will make up for the broken remnants of love he left you with. he can't act like the last time you met was a warm memory; not when it was filled with icy words and barely disguised contempt.
for a moment, you swore you could see a flash of heartbreak filling his stare. for a moment, you want to take your actions back like last time and become the younger you, but it's just for a moment.
these feelings don't last for a lifeline, not anymore.
"look, angel. i'm- you're not fine, still. it's the doctor's orders that you you need to eat, especially since you just got discharged and got all drunk on an empty stomach."
since when did he care?
ignoring him, your eyes dart elsewhere, ears purposely blocking out the meaning of his words, senses entangled with anything but his vulnerable stare. you look at the rickety fan barely blowing air on your messy hair, buzzing on top of dusty ceilings and shadowing dimly lit walls, at the spare armory scattered actoss the room - he could kill you with them, could end you with just a snap of his fingers - at the spider webs housing the corners of the apartment boxing you in with a man you dread meeting, let alone facing in a space you're far too unfamiliar with.
trapped and vulnerable; like a doe locked in place in a vast forest, surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves, ready to devour the closest thing in sight.
there may only be one you're dealing with now, but they're out there. dick and the others are out there with intentions to face you too.
and you don't know which part of you triggered this sudden desperation, this sudden link between you and your estranged siblings, but you hate it.
you hate this unfamiliar care. you hate the concern laced in every sentiment of jason's. it's unlike them, it's not them in your eyes.
and you hate how this resentment is overpowered by the shadowed by something more sinister, the one thing that dictated the course of your life—
one word: fear.
it wraps around your throat tighter than the bandages adorning your body. traps you in its clawing grip and molds itself in the form of your family.
fear of how to deal with their foreign worry, their questions lingering in the air with patience in its virtue rather than disdain. jason's unmasked face, thumbs softly massaging your unfeeling, cold fingers.
where you show a hitch of a breath, the widening of eyes, and the slightest of shivers. a hint of vulnerability, the softest of hiccups, the deep intakes of air—
instead of being met with a scoff, an offensive remark about your weakness, or a flick of worry immediately wearing away as dismissiveness takes place.
you're met with unfamiliar worry, the heavier dip of the bed, the splaying of bedsheets as jason's body moves closer to yours, the quick succession of movement as he takes off his jacket to loom over your- your shivering form.
just a little more, then your teary eyes meet its gaze on his crumpled jacket with its stench of cigarettes clinging in the air. your tired eyes shakily gaze at the layers of gauze wrapping your ever-bleeding body, and feel the ache nesting in its abode.
panic, unyielding; so much fear which rattles your bones and turns your muscles into useless jelly; which worries the perpetrator of these complicated emotions—
jason.
how do you pretend you're fine? how can you act so carelessly vulnerable in the domain of unknown territory; in a room, alone, but not quite?
it takes you back to when you were at your apartment, takes you back to when you try your damned best to ignore the sensation of panic and bile rising up your throat when you saw dick's messages. all in the span of less than a week.
your life is so fucked.
yet you choose to be inactive in facing these struggles, you choose not to run, or fight, but to ignore.
it's the only common symptom you share with your... your family.
just like now: anywhere but him.
you can't expend anymore hope—
"why, angel?"
confused, pleading, perhaps struck with grief. so unlike the man who scoffed at your lack of reply months ago. maybe he'd truly change, or maybe he felt pity at watching you nearly die before he could redeem himself.
it was his voice that cuts through the tension in the air. this time, he sounds like he's begging. for a second, your tired eyes run to him: him and his stupid worry. the nonchalant buzz in his words were no more, replaced by... betrayal.
for a second, you're reminded of your last meeting. the contrast of the cold past and now this burning sensation within your chest. then suddenly, everything hurts just a little more.
suddenly, you're back at the start. just the little kid looking for answers in a world too big for them. just the little kid who wanted to be good enough for their newfound family.
"for-for wh— what?"
god, even now the past still haunts you, the present crueler too. you and your stupid stuttering, your exposed and vulnerable aching heart that yearns for answers. why is jason hurt over seeing you hurt? why does he... care?
it's just so incomprehensible for you.
his worry is just too foreign.
under the pressure of his boiling gaze, which renders you useless and pinned in damp bedsheets, you simply feel bile rise up your throat. feel anything but comfort when both your eyes met. your teeth nibbles on your sore lips, and you find jason's wince, his almost tense fingers about to stop you from drawing out blood.
"you know what i mean." you don't. or rather, you don't want to know what he means. "why were you..."
'why am i out of the manor, right? in an unknown place in the middle of the night, drunk and alone? almost killed by my own stupidity? why? you know why, jason?'
you bite your lips, its raw, peeling skin opens up old scars anyways, and it bleeds like your raging heart.
'—it's because of you and all the others.'
you don't want to explain how they're the reason for all your burdens. how his sudden presence in that fucking alleyway caused more distress than nearly dying. why you're out in public wasting away at your life, avoiding anything that you can associate with them because, just because you're always hurting.
you don't want to be reminded of the past anymore. you never expected to be in one of your sibling's damn apartment, being interrogated, almost scolded for your impulsive decisions and forced to listen to his sickly bitter worries over your health as if he actually cared for you.
sweat ran down your bobbed throat. your tongue, your lips and your skin felt damp yet dry. cold and crisp air was a commodity, everything felt blazing hot under jason's expectant stare.
an uncomfortable heat, almost burning you, turning your bones to ashes and organs to dust.
"just—" his presence almost felt ghastly, fingers hovering over your downturned chin to softly tilt it up. your eyes felt blurry, and the world felt so... just so cruel when his other hands made its way to wipe away your damp cheeks.
were you... crying?
"just answer me, please."
jason todd, no, the red hood doesn't beg. he doesn't plead. the infamous crime lord doesn't gently swipe your sweaty hair to the side so it doesn't disrupt your already blurry vision. he hurts others, cuts their skin and veins, shoots their bones, rips their limbs one by one, tortures them until all they could beg for is the sweet release of death—
but he doesn't just care for somebody easily, right? he shouldn't burden himself with your own personal issues. he never has done so, only coming to you for casual talk.
what changed?
"i—" you gulp, but the lump in your throat remains everlasting. do you tell him of your worries? do you even trust him? can you even trust him?
"i don't know..."
'i don't know, jason... i'd rather not let you know anymore than you should have.'
"i-it's fine... don't worry about it." you added to your pile of excusing, shrinking in on yourself when his eyes squint at your words.
small. you feel like an ant taking in everything that felt particularly enormous against you. jason's body blocking out the city's skyline and the moon's watchful glow made everything dimmer, made it feel like your only choice was to go through him.
it doesn't help that it feels like every word you mutter, every breath you take, feels like a daunting action devoured by the inner workings of his mind.
why should you worry? jason never— he never truly cared this much.
whether you lie or not wouldn't change the outcome. just a little slip up and he'll leave you alone once more. just a few more minutes and he'll eventually give up, right?
so why are you nervous? why are your fingers picking at the skin of your palms? why do the tears just keep leaking like a faulty pipe? why is he— why can't he just stop staring at you—?
"you're lying."
"h—huh?"
"you're lying and it's obvious, angel."
he reiterates, this time, the tremor in his voice reaches the depths of the ocean. and just like an ocean, you feel yourself drowning in the pressure of his answers. you feel the heaviness of his words, feel it pinning you in place and locking your joints, until all you could hear are his paced breathing and the subtle agitation in his voice.
"wh—"
"why? why were you out alone, huh? what were you doing all alone at night? alfred wasn't even with you— you're drunk out of your mind, you're not even old enough to drink, angel. you weren't with- with anybody by the time i reached you— so why... just why?" this time, he demands. even if his questions were mere whispers against the blaring sounds of traffic from below; it still reaches out and buries itself into your skin, tickles the inside of your ears and nips at delicate skin.
until all you could focus on were his questions.
why?
'isn't it obvious, brother? or do you still see me as a little child?'
"when's my birthday, jason?"
it doesn't take much to know when you've turned the course of the tides to side with you. it doesn't take much to watch jason stumble between befuddled thoughts until he crosses a hurdle he couldn't jump through.
'it shouldn't be a surprise to you, jay. i thought you truly changed.'
nobody... nobody except alfred knew when you were born. not even your closest brother, no. you almost genuinely convinced yourself he cared, but the delusion quickly breaks when you find him wide-eyed as the thoughts churn in his head.
"what...?"
if he truly cared, then he should've known, right?
"—you... i'll answer you if you answer me back. when's my birthday?"
you call him out in that sickly, sweet nickname. it was what that past you called him. it's the same verse you chirp over and over again just to gain a traction of his attention when you feel his eyes drift over the book he's read rather than on you. the name you oh-so carefully drawl out so that he doesn't drift to sleep just so you'll be given temporary respite from the loneliness, so he could rest his fingers on your scalp and promptly hug you from the side.
it feels so foreign on your tongue now, after all, you haven't spoken to him in months.
the last note you left each other with was pure bitterness.
it feels even more strange that you realized how you know all their birthdays, but they never knew yours.
never knew it passed by so quickly under their radar. how you're free from the shackles of their ownership over your name. he doesn't... doesn't even know you're not a wayne now, no?
"do you even know how old i am now?"
"it's... you know, shit—!" he mutters under his breath. it's like he just realized how much he doesn't... couldn't even remember a crucial detail of you when it's you who knows all his favorite books, his favorite author, how his comfort snacks are different for every feeling he feels; hell, even his preferred places to smoke.
yet he doesn't even remember your birthday? couldn't even recall a single moment where you blew out a candle? in all the moments he visited, spending nights with you under the moonlight or through the shine of the library's chandelier; he never even thought of giving you a present, let alone wonder why how within those years of knowing you— jason couldn't even remember the most important occasion of your life?
he bites his lips, and this time, it's him who buries the tips of his fingers on the hastily crumpled bedsheets.
if he calls himself your brother, who thinks he has the right to worry over you, then is a brother someone who couldn't remember your birthday?
now that his eyes aren't on you, you're spared a moment to take him in through the hastening of your heart and the neverending rivulets of tears escaping your blurry gaze.
'ignore the pain, (name). you shouldn't be hurt anymore. you shouldn't feel surprised that he doesn't even know when you were fucking born."
but you can't bear the thought of him stumbling through his words, formulating excuses he knows you know you could easily reject. it just makes everything hurt even more, makes the endless ache in your heart thrum at the implications that this person— his worries were nothing when he has nothing, no care in the past to bare to you now.
"i'm eighteen now, jay..." his eyes quickly flit up to stare at you, mouth agape at the newfound information. what's the use in being shocked now? when all your other birthdays were dismissed and breezed by like a normal day for them— for your family?
and yet you know the answers to your very own questions.
eighteen is a quintessential part of someone's life.
it marks the path of adolescence, the descent to maturity as you learn to grow, to make your own decisions. some children move out of their parent's home to build a nest of their own, they find jobs, maybe even a partner to make or break a life with. people in america who turn 18 are still restricted from drinking, but most still choose to break some laws, fuck up with their decision, get shit-faced and party off with some fraternities and friends who'll turn their backs on you; and then regret it all later.
they build their lives, they go through ups and downs, and slowly bring themself back up again. there's no more gentle approaches, no more excuses for a developing mind. they go through so much in just a year.
and the most important of it all, is that most graduate.
and they weren't there for you, nobody was, save for alfred.
bruce wasn't there when you graduated, so it's no surprise that jason, or even the others, wouldn't come.
jason's still a dead man in the public's eyes, after all.
and even if he wasn't, what would've guaranteed that he'll still come to watch you walk up that stage? what would've changed, when the weight of your graduation and the future to come was thwarted by their worries over damian's? it was always him they— bruce prioritized, when he'd first enter the manor, all eyes were on the brazen boy.
when you first entered the manor, it was a rainy, desolate day. bruce was busy, of course he was, why wouldn't he be when he drowns himself in paperwork to distract the horrid reminders that his second son had passed?
and you don't know what hurts even more, the heartbreak in his stare, or the thumps in your heart that felt like footsteps stepping on the beating organ until all its blood is drained?
"shit, angel. i never knew... i'm— you're eighteen now and i didn't even know? fuck, how could i have forgotten it—"
"just, please save your excuses, jason..."
it's like he couldn't even believe you were old enough now, mature enough to comprehend how his excuses don't mean shit if his lack of knowledge towards your birthday ran on for years.
your sniffles weren't as silent as your words, it hurts, everything felt like fire. the world wants you to burn as your body felt like betrayal, your vulnerabilities stripped bare in front of him.
"i... appreciate your concern, but," it hurts to lie under your breath, hurts to hesitate, let alone voice out what you truly feel. it hurts to wonder why you're unsure if what he felt for you was worry, or just mere guilt over the situation you're both in.
the lines between all your emotions were blurred, you don't even wait to see his expressions anymore. you fear you'll revert back to the younger you, who considers the others before yourself, even when you've disillusioned yourself countless of times that you've changed.
you did, didn't you?
"you don't— you have no excuse to patronize my health when... when i know my limits and..."
"—i have to go, jason..."
barely a whisper. your words were barely a whisper, like the haste of thunder striking through metal rods though without sound, without thought, without hesitation; before your hands suddenly push all your weight to straighten your slumped form. your legs, which felt like blazing jelly, made an attempt to stand despite the burning sensation. you don't offer jason a second to register what you were doing, don't even let him see how your stomach bent enough to nearly reopen wounds—
god, fuck—!
it hurts, it fucking hurts so much.
your heart, your head, your entire body.
one second, you stumble, the gravity of your body fighting against the blistering, aching pain which shoots through your veins. all in one second, seering in your abdomen, like fingers digging deep into your injuries, twisting and churning until all you could feel is pain so absolutely revolting, so mercilessly cripping in your lower abdomen, that it seizes you useless, so utterly unable to capture your balance in the midst of standing, that your legs quickly give out on you.
then another second passes like a beat, all too quickly, yet all too slow for you as the world spins in your darkening vision, all the blood from your head rushing to where the holes lay in haste. your heart thumps like a drum in a warfield, like boots splattering on wed mud, sporadic, in near panic.
another second, the third, and just as you're about to stumble down, the pain so much that your eyes shoot out salty, ignorant tears. just as your body is close to thumping, writhing on the floor, jason catches you in his arms, grip so tight it almost felt like he'd refuse to let go. like how it was back in that shitty alleyway, like how it was, you felt trapped, trapped and forced to feel his sweating muscles churning mechanically, taut and tense through his thin sweatshirt.
close enough to feel that same, raggedy panic — the hitch of a breath, the loud thrumming in your chest, adrenaline shooting into your senses, your mind registers jason as a token of danger— emerging as your elbows make way to hit him square in ribs, only for his quicker, stronger palms instinctively stop you, his larger body locking you up in place, stabilizing you as you feel like you're hovering, suspended in thin, nearly charged air.
he's— he's carrying you, left hand respectfully gripping below your thighs, the other palm resting on your backside. it still hurts, everything does, nothing about you screams okay, only the slight subsidizing of pain as your brother, no, jason carefully puts you back down to sit on the bed, like you're weightless and made of feathers and— and vulnerable with how much gentleness he placates on instinctively hushing you, like a brother would to their injured sibling after a rough hour of playing in a sandbox of a playground.
the tears still won't stop.
through your quivering hiccups, high-pitched whines escaping the back of your throat at every subtle movement, at the thoughts that drown you the more time passes by— it hurts, it hurts so much you'd rather die, you'd rather be anywhere than here. does he know that, does he know the pain of looking at him, feeling him so close like never before is why you're so desparate to leave? does he know your heart beats erratically because you can never forget the moment you last met—?
— you don't even see, let alone feel the anger brewing off his chest, at the sudden, venomous words which escape his mouth next, like chains rattling, acidic bile brewing in a hot cauldron, nearly combusting at the seams.
you don't know that you pain him, don't know that you're his weakness.
and it especially hurts him when you refuse to look him eye-to-eye, refuse to see the tears rooting at the edge of his eyelids, at his teeth grazing his teeth until blood draws out in a steady flow, the opposite of the panic resurfacing into his body as he watches your dazed, breathless form trying to recover from what happened.
wordless. he despises that. how it's like your body repels him, head dodging his lips that hint at kissing your forehead. how you hesitatingly allow him to massage and help straighten the taut muscles of your bent legs— how you remain silent all throughout like you didn't just- just fucking attempt to stand, almost killing yourself despite his warnings.
he despises your not-so subtle avoidance that he just couldn't control it, couldn't control the burning rage brewing inside his heart that he just— just screams at you before he could compose himself.
"— fuck angel, FUCK! just what the fuck were you thinking?!"
jason wasn't always known for anger, he wasn't always the spiteful man everyone makes him out to be. he was sweet towards you because he knew you were innocent in the midst of batman's schemes, so it's no joke, no fucking joke how much he scares you off right now.
it scares you watching him fight others off, scared you when he shot those bullets at the man pinning you down, but you had a semblance of reassurance that it was never directed at you.
until now.
and now that you remain the spectacle of his anger, the sight of his widened, blown out eyes, his furrowed brows and clenched fists — you're so afraid, so fucking afraid he'll end up hurting you like damian, yet conscious of his actions. he looks like a painted demon before you, with clenched teeth and frazzled hair, and you feel like a dear caught in headlights — you feel another surge of tears, another wave of nausea drowning out his voice as your throat closes in on itself.
'stop, jason, please stop. you're scaring me.'
but you couldn't say the words out loud, couldn't even compose your body from quivering, fingers clenching the bedsheets in sudden instinct so hard it crumples on itself; as if it could help ground you, as if it could control the next, hurtful and loud words surging from his mouth.
as if it could cease time just so you wouldn't bear witness to his scary, monstrous rage.
"can't you see what you just did?! don't you know how— how fucking stupid and dangerous that was of you to just stand when you're still obviously HURT!? if you wanted to, you should've told me first instead of just suddenly pushing me away. what's wrong with you, huh?! what possessed you to just— JUST STAND UP AND LEAVE?!"
it's like he couldn't believe you. couldn't even make reasons why you did what you've just done. not even a tinge of comedic effect, not even any comfort laced in any word. not the jason you knew and loved, but a stranger whom you learned to call a friend, a brother that never was.
that's all he ever is, a stranger. all of them, living under the same roof as you.
and he was the same stranger who nearly fought you if not for you leaving that kitchen.
— it was the same old scoff he gave you all those months ago after talking, the same old squinted eyes and generous rage. yet this time it's enhanced with something else, something more personal, something way scarier than just being a spectator.
you always wanted to revolve around his life, but never this way.
it hurts, doesn't he know that?
doesn't he know how much his words just hurt you more than the dull ache in your abdomen? can't he see it too? how you're backing away to the corner of the bed until your back hits the headboard, despite all the pain spreading throughout your body?
if- if he cares so much about you, shouldn't he have known that— that you're sensitive to everything he just said?
bile rises up from your empty stomach, and the tears that keep surging out your eyes refuse to stop; yet it's your words run faster than your thoughts. then suddenly, all too suddenly, everything just snaps.
suddenly, your consideration for him doesn't matter anymore.
not when you never mattered to him, right?
and it feels like a part of you broke tonight.
"... what's up with you, angel?! answer me! first you're drunk off your mind when i find you out in the alleyway, bleedin' to near death, and when i try to help you before it's too late, you come begging me to not take you to the manor. did somethin' happen, huh?! why in the name of lord are you rebelling all of a sudden?! why are you fucking—"
"BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT MY DAMN SIBLING ANYMORE, JASON!"
it just won't stop. the pain and the tears and all the words spilling from you won't stop and everything- shit, everything is spinning but you can't stop now.
it hurts. saying those eight words hurt, but it's the truth.
and the truth fucking hurts. what right should he have worrying over you? what right does he have to criticize your life now when he's only been there for you when he needs it?
"IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS ANYMORE JASON! STOP— STOP PRETENDING LIKE YOU CARE—!"
fists clench at the bedsheets bring itself up to tangle upon your matted hair, and you pull and tug and rip off the strands, biting your lips to quell the anger, the pain shooting across your scalp, your fingers stinging with every snap of the strands. shivering and trapped, and useless in fighting back; why are you like this? why does he keep watching?
you close your eyes. for what? so that all you could hear are your ragged breaths, the only thing you can hear every time you'd have reoccurring nightmares? so that you could return to that lonely child, to the lonely teenager you once were?
the lonely, scared child you still are?
'since when have you ever cared, jason? since when? since when has anybody ever cared?'
your voice trembles at the ends, you can't afford to look at him, burying yourself deeper into the mattress as if that alone can melt you until you were nothing, just so you wouldn't have to deal with this neverending heartbreak.
"stop... just please—" you bite your lips, but it does nothing to quell the overwhelming panic, the spiralling thoughts, the blazing emotions. your knees are pressed against your chest, fingers now scratching at your heated face.
until it bleeds, until it all bleeds.
you open your eyes, an array of tears come bursting off your sore eyelids, your cheeks feel considerably swollen, yet you just can't stop fucking crying. it worsens even more when your wobbly vision turn to look up at him, at his unbelievable stare, at his widened, ocean blue orbs, dull and almost unforgiving.
'this isn't the jason i knew.'
"just why, (name)? why?" hearing your name roll off his tongue, instead of your usual nickname hurts, hearing it with such rage, contempt, like he's directing his hatred at you for something you couldn't control— god, it hurts.
"what do you mean by all this? i'm- i'm still your damn brother—" he says, as if it's a matter of fact, as if nothing between you changed the last day you saw him, as if he didn't know the reason. if he was your brother, then why does he sound so diffident, then?
why does his voice tremble? why does his care taste foreign against your tongue? why does he stand there, as if hesitant to even approach you?
"and because i am your brother... i have every right to care for you now—"
"i was never important then... so why do i matter now?"
"— what?"
"why do i matter so much now than before? how come i never deserved your care before?"
"angel, please. what the hell are you talking about—"
"JUST FUCKING ANSWER MY QUESTION, GODDAMNIT!"
all that you were, all that you ever are, was just a distraction for jason to bide his time with, weren't you? all he knew about you was that you acted as his entertainment, a quiet little kid who listens more than they ever learned to speak, who purposely read all the archived books in the manor's library, waiting every month for their favorite brother to visit. even if it was just for minutes, even if he'd leave you right after, escaping your boring rambles, because of course he'd prefer the fucking batcave over your silent, expectant, always yearning eyes.
all you ever wanted, all you ever did, was just be.
do what you thought they wanted you to be, not what you wanted yourself to be. baking because you knew they loved to raid the fridge for snacks after missions, drawing because your mother always praised your messy sketches, even if it was nothing compared to damian's now, dancing, ballet, gymnastics— going as far as trying to learn how to fight, giving up halfway through because you'll never progress with just how much you're juggling other extracurricular activities.
all that, just to be what you wanted to be for them.
even if it was never enough, even if your rare a plus', the occasional gold medals, the praise and acknowledgement from your teachers, even alfred's suggestion for bruce to just, please, take his time of the day to talk to you— all those achievements shine dully compared to your other siblings.
and you've long since accepted that it was all that you ever were. just a mere tool, ever-so-useful, yet ever-so-forgotten by all the other convenient ones.
all that you are, all that you ever were. but all that you ever wished for, was to be his child, their sibling.
but that was never possible, you've accepted that. you branched off, left and never came to look back because you knew you'll just be trudging another path of pain.
...
so why, why does he care so much now?
why, for the first time in your entire life, does it pain you more than it comforts you that he finally called himself your brother?
why, just now, does he say it to your face, when he never once did so all those years ago?
why does he pretend to be so shocked in front of you, wide-eyed and frozen, relinquished in guilt? why does he stand there, breathing, trying to compose himself as if your words ever held any weight on his chest? why can't he just understand, why can't he just let you go as easily now?
why do you still cry after all these years?
why do you still pretend that none of these... these issues mattered anymore in your heart?
why do your fingers still forcefully pierce into the mattress, grounding yourself to reality? why can't you rip your eyes away from jason?
why does his care break your heart more than it does fixing it?
you've always wanted this, didn't you? you've always wanted to be finally acknowledged, yet it still hurts. your throat still closes in on itself, like fingers clawing and constricting your airways, your breathing like jet missiles vaporizing mid air.
and yet all the pain, all the yearning and destesting for a love so passionate were still overpowered by the senseless need for answers.
'jason, why do you still try?'
"angel, calm down you're—"
on the verge of a panic attack? hands suddenly beating at your chest, tears neverending still streaking your sore cheeks and bitten, bloodied lips?
his hands reach out to grab yours, yet you slap his palms away, ignore the stinging sensation that came after; and back away to a corner. like a reckless animal, like the same young child hiding behind closet doors, biting back tears yet desperately failing.
you're both at your breaking points, you both refuse to back down this stupid game of cat and mouse.
"just calm down, please—!"
"NO, I WON'T— you don't fucking understand it, jason!
— i don't need your help, or anyone else's anymore! you have never been there for me! never been there for all the times i suffered because of your death! so don't even try to make a difference now!"
before he could even refute, before he could shout and cause another wave of panic, before he could break you even further—
"... so why do you care now?"
you couldn't even face him, too afraid to see his reactions churning. he shakily breaths, fog encapsulates the air around his parched lips. and you're reminded that it's almost winter, that your heater in your apartment is broken, that you'll be freezing underneath your thin blankets, eating off cold meals— that it's another one of those months where you're reminded of the privilege you've both lost and gained after leaving the manor.
you've lost your last connection to jason, so you thought, yet he's here in front of you now. he's here, and rather than wanting him to be here, you'd wish it was a dream instead.
you wished he never cared, for his next words stabbed you more than it did made you feel cared.
"i care, (name). because you were drunk when i got you, you were impulsively provoking the same guys who nearly killed you. because what? it's easier to escape that way?. i care because you've done something stupid, you nearly died because of your recklessness! my younger sibling did something stupid and it's my responsibility to worry over you, worry over your overdramatics! you're still fucking eighteen and you're already wasting away your life—!"
"that's why i fucking care for you, because you're my burden alone and nothing changes that!"
what...?
overdramatic? impulsive and reckless? is he serious? is that all you ever were to him? he cares because he thinks you're still that stupid, innocent child chasing after him? is that what you are? is that all you ever amounted to him after all the times you spent sleepless nights reading the books he recommended you? all the hours burning your fingers just to perfect his favorite lunch?
just that?
just a burden?
and he just stands there, so cruelly imposing, hands crossed like he's right and you're not. tears equally streak his ragged face, dripping all the way down his sharp jaws and wobbly chin. but his brows are furrowed, eyes still squinted at your body, weaker than his.
like all he feels is rage towards you, like everything's your fault.
while you're just sitting in his bed, limp and utterly unable to stand without his guidance.
and you hate this, hate being reminded that just like last time, you used to depend on him alone.
"how dare you, jason? we... i've always been so good to you... i've always done what you always wanted, i—"
this time your heart aches differently. it's not the subtle panic stinging your beating organ, not even regret shrouding your thoughts. but a painful, stabbing pain; slow and cold. your nose is clogged, your teeth rigidly grinding, the ball of your joints feel like they're pressing deeply on each other— everything just hurts.
his words feel like a knife slowly twisting inside your guts. not even the salty, warm tears feel worth crying out anymore.
it's just silent understanding, a painful acceptance.
of your pain and all those wasted summers and lonely winters.
your hands grip the headboard as you shift your weight to the uninjured side of your abdomen. you glare at him when he almost hurriedly attempts to help you, but through silent puffs of effort under your breath, you're already standing, right hand gripping nothing on the wall as you lean on it.
it still hurts, god, the burning sensation won't boil down at all.
— but you want to face him, head-to-head. you want him to face his burden. if he wants to understand you, if you want to understand him— there's no use hiding behind a semblance of comfort.
because more than anything, you just wanted a family. you just wanted to be part of their family.
yet now you've come to realize that maybe you were just a burden all along.
"it's- it's so unfair..."
your voice cracks at the seams, but there's no use composing yourself anymore. no use in trying to look decent in his eyes when all you ever were was a problem to him, to everyone else, right?
"out of all the times i nearly got killed, jason... you decided to save me by the time i accepted my death...?"
maybe your mother would've sided with jason, only for the part that she wanted you safe and sound rather than dead. but she's dead now, you wanted to be dead because it meant you'll finally have her at your side.
and it feels so cruel to be stripped away from that honor, that merciful gift of life, from the very same brother whose death caused you more turmoil than anything.
"—this isn't the first fucking time this happened to me, jason, and it wouldn't be the last."
your voice was barely a whisper, barely a recognizable tremor, but it speaks volumes of your desperation, of what could've been if he didn't intervene. of what wouldn't change despite it all.
you'll still be dead afterall. this is gotham where you're living. and you're not a priority to the vigilantes, not anybody important to the family.
even if his expression shifted to shock, even if you find an ounce of softness throughout the exterior of his fragile agitation; is it not true?
he takes a step forward, but your hands shoot out to put distance between you two. even if it pains you to see the confused heartbreak in his eyes at your refusal, you don't want him any closer, you fear you'll submit to his whims if you do.
you can taste blood in your tongue, but you swallow it all like you're swallowing all the bitterness you feel, you drown this ache in your heart, replace it with temporary assurances that this will all end, that jason's stubborn attempts of placating you is just another attempt to draw you closer, only to push you away in the end.
... and yet he's still trying even after what felt like minutes, maybe hours, stretching between you two.
jason still keeps trying, while you're close to giving up.
"why are you like this, angel? what happened between you and bruce? did he hurt you—"
"nothing happened—" you're lying, but not quite so. you're lying but it's not a lie when you mean nothing, literally nothing, happened between you and your father. that's the worse of it all, you and bruce never had a moment together, never had any memories to cherish nor times where he comforted you through the trauma of it all.
that painful reminder just makes past emotions stir within you.
of those cold nights, the barren hallways and alfred's countless excuses for bruce's absences.
"i have my personal reasons, jason." you seethe through your teeth. it hurts to admit your feelings to him, hurts that your drying tears are still overlayed by a resurgence of new ones. "it involves you guys... you and the others; but it's nothing now. it doesn't matter now and you know it..."
"... no i don't, angel. and no, it's not nothing. because if it was, then what's all of this for? what do you want from him, from me? that caused you to act this way...? to act so selfishly, trying to rebel like us when you've always been a good kid, huh? god, (name), if you just wanted his attention, to be his favorite—"
"— then there's so much better ways, angel. than being like this... being someone that isn't you."
he truly never knew you well at all, huh?
considering everything that happened tonight, you thought he did, but fuck...
hearing all those assumptions come straight from him just destroys you inside out.
"jason... please listen to me."
cutting him off, it's both an act done to just stop him from rambling any further, stops you from just— just irrationally ripping your ears apart so you wouldn't have to hear it anymore; hear all those disillusioned excuses, those painful words ripping you apart at the seams.
he looks at you, at your weak hold against the edge of the bedframe, at the hushed, shivering breathing, at your downcast, almost resigned eyes. you don't reciprocate his worried gaze, you just... don't.
"i don't want to be his favorite... i never wanted to be— fuck!"
"why do you assume all this, jason?" you faintly glared at him, but that flicker of the fight blew off, and you returned, looking at your feet, speaking through your beating heart, your irrational thoughts of shutting down, if not for the faint stench of smoke grounding you, if just by a fraction.
"i never wanted to be an athlete like dick, or as academically talented like you, or some crazed detective like tim, or as skilled as an assassin like damian! i don't even have the determination steph has or barbara's perseverance to continue fighting alongside all of you! i can't even reach cassandra's level of fighting, and i certainly don't have powers like duke!"
there it is again: the envy, the spite, and the undertone of yearning in your words. maybe jason was right, maybe you're still the young, good kid afterall. but good kids still do bad things, good kids can still feel and fuck, you feel a plethora of negativity mentioning all their positive traits, while you have none.
you have nothing, not even a small merit to offer.
"— all of you guys are so fucking talented, and here i am, so pathetic for thinking i can reach the same level as you all when i can't!"
the medals are useless compared to damian's success in topping the entire gotham university. the certificates for placing indancing competition were none the more important than cassandra's ballet recitals. your research projects that you've spent nights crying on, was it all that relevant when tim always one-ups you within just a day of data-gathering?
so what makes you special, what makes jason think you'd even try to be bruce's favorite in the first place, when you're absolutely useless?
"—so i just can't, jason! how could i have the damn audacity to desire being bruce's priority when each and every one of you are beyond my level?!"
untouched breakfast, thrown away lunch, cold dinners. thrashed out backpack, unsharpened pencils, inkless pens, wornout diaries, bandaged arms and sleepless nights. your life was a cycle of constant wanting, of constant attempts to earn your place. even if there were moments some of them looked at you in pity, it was never enough to warrant their comforting words or even just a pat in the back.
the last time dick has ever looked at you was the first time you met.
and in those moments where you wish you were as forgettable to damian as you were to others, he'll remember to always remind you of your place.
maybe you were like them, in ways where you're always trying but never enough. in ways where their attention on you was never enough too. you need something from them, they needed something else from you too.
"angel..." you don't have to look up to know the air has changed. that wretched nicnkame plastered itself back into his mouth. this time, he said it softer, like he's come to a realization, like it was enough to draw you out of the caverns of isolation you've kept yourself in.
but before he could speak again, before you'd get lost in those memories of the past—
"i never wanted to be bruce's favorite, jason..."
"i just..."
your eyes soften, as tears begin to spring from your eyes, red and swollen, and you let them. you look down at your unclenched hands through blurry vision, and find indents of crescents present on raw, battered skin— and it's enough to make you remember your childhood, enough to deepen the heavy weight of conflict drowning your heart.
when you look up to jason again, you bite your quivering lips, just to silence the ugly wail brewing from your chest. he looks at you, as equally befuddled, as heartbroken.
"... i just wanted to be his child." the sentence comes out your lips, so silent, so broken and lightly pitched. it speaks volumes of wanting, of yearning, of years begging for even a sliver of love offered on your way. it felt like it was the younger you speaking to him, begging him to fucking understand how it was never about just wanting attention—
it was about wanting to just have a family. people who should've loved you, saw you through the veil of your reputation, yet chose to love you still.
because they're family, they're your family. and all that mattered to you was family.
how hard was it to understand that sentiment?
"i just want to be loved because i'm his child, not a charity case, or because he's doing this for my mother..."
you remembered those nosy paparazzi's stalking you even in elementary. they ask you how it's like being adopted by the bruce wayne, how it's like living a life most orphaned children dreamt of living; how lucky you must be, having a mother who's come to share a bed with him, that your life must be so full of luxury because bruce took pity on you and your poor, whore of a mother, right?
they didn't know it was alfred, the estate's butler, who'd suggested adopting you. and with a flick of bruce's wrist, a slight furrow of his brows and a dismissed thought of you, you were brought in the manor.
it was never bruce who considered you, maybe the paparazzi and journalists slowly came to realize that after discovering your father is nowhere to be seen beside your side. maybe that's why they slowly dissipated away from you year by year, leaving you as lonely as ever.
'and now,' you thought, 'bruce still doesn't care for me at all.'
that hurts.
"i just want to be selfish for once... i want to see him the same way he looks at you back then, every damn time he stares at your grave, while i watch by the fucking windows, wishing it was me he looked at."
despite never meeting jason from back when he was robin, you mourned for him too, you prayed for his soul the same way you prayed for your mother's. it helped you disillusion yourself to believe you mattered, sitting beside his grave by the gardens despite the rain pouring downcast and staining your clothes. it helped you think you were becoming closer to bruce.
"i wanted him to look at me jason! think of me as someone as important as you, even just a semblance of it...!"
you tried so hard to imitate them all. dick's athleticism, cass' elegance, tim and barbara's elite-level knowledge on the digital world, duke's cunningness when it comes to puzzles, damian's strategies and steph's awe-inspiring rebellion paired with sarcasm. you try to emulate it all, waking up early every day, schedule packed with activities in each corner of the manor just so you'd have a chance of finding bruce in the same room as you; but it just never was enough.
"god, i don't even want him to see me as a priority, i don't want him to see me and think that i'm the best damn thing in the world. i know i'm not, jay. i'm not perfect, not even half as good. but i just want him to stare and think, 'this is my child,' without any second thoughts, without any regards for my dirty fucking past."
there was one moment in your life where you almost despised your mother. almost. you blamed her for birthing you, for having you as her child, for bestowing you this curse of being unloved, as only being acknowledged as the woman who stole from others: a bitch, a prostitute who got pregnant too early, a lady with a sullen reputation bleeding into the present of her child.
you nearly hated her, you wish you never did. she was your only light, the memories of her was what kept you alive, and you dim that light off, purposely try to blow off the shining embers that gleam for you just because you wanted the love and attention from a family that was never yours.
and you nearly worked yourself to death because of it.
"jason, i just wanted to... to go through the normal things a father does with his child. i wanted him to love me, even just for the tiniest bit. is that hard enough to fulfill? am i just too high maintenance for him that he can't— can't even deal with me after you died? tell me, jason—
"—am i just the burden of an aftermath?!"
a small of you nearly excused bruce's neglect for his mourning of jason. but that mourning extended even after his resurrection. and slowly, the more the members of the family piled up, you figured it all out.
it was you that's unlovable.
and no matter what, you could never truly accept that fact.
not even as you cry out your woes to jason, not even as your voice cracks and breaks at every syllable, at every spilled word tinged with bitterness, with pain so deep it cuts through your already bleeding heart.
"i just- just wanted to be part of the family. i just wanted to eat takeout with you that day- wanted to forget you fought bruce— forget everythin' just to bond with you 'cause you never gave me enough time in your already busy day. so why can't i? why can't i have the things everyone else had? is it too entitled of me to say that i just wanted your love? am i too demanding if i just wanted a family?!"
your fingers' grip on the edge of the headboard nearly slipped, your sniffles were unbearably loud, a reflection of the thrumming beats of your heart nearly escaping out your chest in the form of shrieking sobs.
he finally speaks, unsure. he still stands in his place, but you're crying too much to even care.
"no, no of course not. it's not... you're not..."
"i'm not what, jason? not your sibling, not bruce's child? 'cause that's what i've felt like this entire fucking decade! and now that i've left everything behind, you all suddenly want to pretend like i was never unnoticed back then? that all my damn efforts to be good enough was finally acknowledged just now—?"
"why can't you just answer me, jay? why does nobody want to give me answers?"
"... why can't anybody just love me?"
it felt like heartbreak on both your sides. like a thread snapping, jason was as quick to retort—
"we do love you, angel. i do...! i love you so fucking much that i can't handle seeing you in pain. so please let me take care of you, just... just let me handle all of this, please."
— but you can't believe him, not anymore. it hurts falling for his lies, for his words and false reassurances. he can't even promise you takeout back then, what more does his 'i love you's' do you now?
"no, no you can't care for me, jason. not anymore... you're not my brother anymore, you guys aren't family to me anymore..."
is it betrayal in his eyes, or something far deeper? is it unadulterated anger at what you'd said? why can't he just accept your words? why can't he just accept there's nothing in between you anymore other than those past memories long gone?
"... yes, yes we're family. i care for you. just let me show you i do, angel—"
"... we're not even siblings, we're not. we're just strangers to each other.—"
you whisper softly through your damp lashes, throat sore after all the screaming. it doesn't calm down the momentary adrenaline rushing through your body, though. it doesn't, all these reassurances are just a temporary distraction.
"that's not true, angel. don't even... don't even think of saying that—"
"take me back, please. just please take me back to where you last found me. i'll find a way—"
you want to go home, you want to sleep your way through this pain. but jason proves himself to be stubborn, just like his father. and you are, too; anymore of those similarities, anymore and you'll bash your head to the walls just so you could forget.
"no, angel..." he retorts just as quickly, suddenly imposing, suddenly back to square one where it's all him, all his words that matter with no regard for yours. "who the hell says i'm letting you go back there?! that's suicide!"
but you don't matter, don't you? so that automatically means he shouldn't pretend like your life matters, too.
"... i don't care, just please! jason, i'm begging you...! just do this one single favor for me. i can't..."
'i can't go back to the manor...'
just saying it in your thoughts alone makes you sick with nausea. because that means returning to yearning, returning to those sick nights filled with broken diary entries and dick's huff of dismissal, damian's weapons pointed at you, tim's click of the tongue and just... that inflicted, neverending pain.
"you're hurt, angel, you won't survive out in the dark like that. i'm sure as hell not taking you back there. we're going back to the manor—"
"NO! i don't want to be there! that's not where i live, not anymore, no take me back home...!
anywhere... anywhere but there. anywhere but that wretched cage.
"please, jay!"
you call him by his nickname, nearly yanking yourself to his side if it weren't for your legs keeping
"if you don't want me to... then let me go and i'll call a taxi or something—! whatever...! just not—"
"—not there..."
"and if i bring you back to that apartment, what now? you're gonna commit the same old mistakes, you're going to hurt yourself!? you're gonna get yourself killed, break another limb, use more than just crutches to support yourself and get yourself hurt all over again?!"
"NO! i won't, jay... i won't bother you anymore. just not there and... not with them—"
"... not with you, please."
it was a mistake on your part, to audibly whisper out those last words. and yet it was unfixable, you can't take back words once they're said, jason can't take back all the cruel statements he made your way that day, and yet it's him who's offended, who tears up, who heaves and nearly shrieks at you, uncaring for the neighbors living below.
"why are you trying so hard to push us away?! push me away right after you.. you opened up?!"
"because we're not family anymore, goddamnit—!"
"why are you so goddamn stubborn?! care for me, care for me like you care for all those strangers getting mugged in the street! not as my brother—!"
"i am your brother!"
it hurts, your chest hurts, your throat, your wobbly arms and your unfeeling legs. yet what hurts the most is that you just can't accept it, accept all the words he throws your ways. can't accept how you've both changed and it...
it just hurts...
"and i care for you, more than you can ever fucking imagine, so don't... don't fucking push me away! not especially right after i almost lost you!"
"god..." suddenly, he resigns through a sigh.
why, just why, is he calming down now?
"i'm such a fucking dick to you, aren't i? i know i don't deserve you. nobody deserves you and your forgiveness, angel. you've always been so good to me- to us...
"i'm so fucking sorry. for everything. for leaving you behind after that day, even being an asshole to you after. for ignoring you all those years, for breaking every damn promise i made like you were nothing, for realizing all of this just right after you nearly died, in my arms."
his voice breaks at the last words, as if the reminder of what transpired last night permanently left a broken fixture in his memories. as if thinking about it is enough to destroy any bite in his argument.
"you don't— you don't deserve any that—"
"i'm— i'm so sorry, angel."
that was all you wanted to hear, all you wanted to be said throughout the layers of defensive, reckless statements he threw your way.
heavy were the unspoken words that hung in the air. heavy were the unbidden promises he forged himself to ensure but ultimately failed to do so, that were all meant to repair his relationship with you. heavy were the tears that streaked both your cheeks, the unsung arguments, the fists that curl, fingers that bite at indented skin until it bleeds.
"— I should've noticed sooner, i should've known you felt that way."
"i know, jay. i know," your mind, your mouth, they both betray the words your heart wished to speak, but you lock that beating organ out before it forces you to mutter something else. you feel too faint, from the tiredness coursing through your body as an aftershock of your injury, the throbbing of the holes in your body, and the intensity of your emotions.
'i know you know that, and i wished you did something about it when you knew you had the power to change all this—'
'all that were are, all that we were.'
you wanted to tell him, but the sentiment tastes bitter on the expanse of your tongue, as if confessing it would scorch you and your aching brain even further. you just couldn't anymore, you couldn't break both your hearts.
heavy were the emotions uncurling beneath both you and jason's chest, boiling and spilling, until the only words you both could mutter were the ones that scald your aching hearts.
"jason, i'm- i'm still hurt."
"i know, angel. let me take care of it, of you. just let me do this, just once."
he takes a careful stride towards you, a knot forms in your brows and in your stomach. it curls inside your body when his both his hands grip your forearms, gently, like you're made of glass, to push you to softly sit on his mattress.
made carefully, cleaned neatly for you.
you never thought you were worthy enough to have a bed made for you.
— you don't even allow alfred to clean your own room because you don't think you deserve it.
silence ensues, only the squeak of his shoes sliding against the floor, his panting breaths, your unstable intakes of air, and the hinge of his bed were heard, drowning out the swears of the citizens from below his apartment complex and the thumping of car horns.
it's just the two of you, in this room. you and jason, just like the moments spent under the roof of the manor.
you don't fight against him, don't push him away like you did so earlier, in favor of relinquishing your control, your pain, to his squinting, wandering blue eyes that trap your body, at his calloused fingers running across the expanse of the lumps in your arms.
and in that moment, under the sheer glow of his apartment's flickering lights, under the watchful gaze of the restless city nights, of the lamp posts gleaming in the streets; you both looked a little more like each other for every passing second, every passing moment after you'd scream your woes, after he'd retort and retaliate with his excuses, his reasonings.
you had his vengeful glare, staring daggers at him as he took in your wrapped wounds. he had your silence, desperate and aching pleas. you stuttered like him when he chases after words tangling in his parched mouth. he bites his lips like you when he couldn't find the right words, bounding his hands to his delicate strands of hair to pull in agitation, just like you always do.
and both of you were- were good...
a good soldier and a good child, lost in the weave of dreams, expectations and broken, unfulfilled promises.
it reminds you of how he was the only brother you truly had a bond with, of how truly close you were to him, shared moments of brief laughter with, a respite, a paradise without the need to chase after his presence, all done in such short moments, moments that could never be enough to quench your aching thirst for love and familial attention.
he finally speaks after taking his seat beside you, muscled arms wrapping around your shoulders. he broke the intangible silence, with knotted brows and sorry, pleading eyes that look at yours. it made you feel trapped, in his arms and in his mindful apologies, it reminded you of the manor.
"i could've been better for you, angel. i should've known, i'm so fuckin' sorry, i—"
"i know, jay. i know, please..."
please stop. no more, you don't want to hear anymore,. you don't want to dream, to fantasize what could've been.
— because that meant drowning yourself in the past, that meant running back to chasing after empty promises.
and yet...
the more you think, the more the possibilities unfold in your thoughts.
a bitter part of you wished it was him who had welcomed you into your home, into the manor. you wished it was him, not alfred, dick or bruce you'd chase after, wished he was alive when your fleeting dreams were too. the child in you wished his assurances were what graced you in such an early time. just so that, maybe, just maybe, your throat wouldn't close in on itself every time you're reminded of your solitary past, a past lost and without a cause because of his passing.
running after dick, acting as his invisible silhouette, hearing the empty yes's on your invitation for him to come visit your room. tugging on bruce's sleeves whilst his eyes flit elsewhere. knuckles rupturing on the door of tim's room, only to be greeted with a silent hm, and a plea for you to come the next time. hands shakily holding a heavy tray of arabic food you learnt to cook for your younger brother, just for the same bowl to scald and prick stickily against your reddening skin
— you wouldn't have to do all that, if you had at least one ally, an ally who had to be dead when you were alone. someone as perfectly imperfect as you.
he's not like dick, the sun doesn't shine for him, the world doesn't give him grace— if it did, he wouldn't have died. he felt more charcoal than diamond, jagged and rough on the edges. yet charcoal was easier to obtain than diamonds, like the bright blue's of dick staring at you - such a precious, yet rare instance - or brazen emeralds like damian that could only look at you like you're mere pyrite; his attention was easier to obtain, because he knew you outside of your ghostly reputation. saw you as something else. jason was the only presence you were able to share your laughter with in the face of his brief visits.
as you look at him now, as he looks at you too, through his panting and the neverending tears streaking his cheeks. you look at each other in painful, understanding silence. his face, shoulders, chest, legs are painted with scars, incisions on skin, the first trait your eyes lay could on, as your gaze flitters to your equally scarred figure, too.
on the cuts that run deep into your wrists and palms, on the lighter scars, the deeper pigmentation that lay awake, like a chaotic portrait, that throbs with painful reminders that unlike jason, you chose to hurt yourself to replace that pain in your cold, beating chest. but like jason, you both wear these memories painfully on your sleeves.
imperfect, sullen and easily broken, like you.
you don't know whether to cry, or to laugh. that finally, fucking finally, you could share your similarities, your flaws with someone else too.
and at this very time, you knew neither of you could win your losing battles. if you argue even further, if your heart spills anymore words you know would only cut through the tension and break into even more back and forths— jason would only retort, would call you angel as be attempts to calm you down, as if you were an still an innocent bystander to his pain, as if you never told him you wish he'd stay dead.
if you wanted to survive this wretched night without anymore heartbreaks, you'd have to be the first to back down, to step away, be the bigger person.
like how you had to choose to give up on your family, to finally let go of your expectations on them. it was the only way, it was your way of adjusting to them, as you always do.
maybe it was fortunate for jason, that you'd already easily given up.
you'd give up when he wraps you in his arms, and unceremoniously perched you up his lap like how an owner cradles his injured cat, ensuring your injuries aren't pressed against the weapons stuck in his utility belt.
for a moment, you let time with him be. you allow the course of calmness to wash over, for your tears to dry until it feels like sickeningly dry salt rubbing against skin, for the lump resting in your throat to retreat to your throbbing heart, for the blood escaping your body from your injury to slowly seep into the gauze that wraps around it.
without the adrenaline coursing through your veins, without the haste of trying to escape from his hold, you've now access to the feel of his entire body. when the panic escapes from your heart, and all you're left with is resignation, his muscled arms wrapped around your torso; you're left reeling at the scent of motor oil and gunpowder, head buried at the crook of his neck whilst your tears are drying ever so slowly, effuse into his favorite jacket.
everything about jason felt foreign, uncharacteristically huge. his body felt too strong, too heavy, like a burden deeper than just vigilante duties of ridding the crime of gotham.
you never knew just how touch-starved you were, ignoring the specks of blood littering his clothes and the familiar scent of cigarettes reminding you of the bustling streets of gotham, even though the stench of ichor overpowers it— you feel like you're home. not at the manor which smells of fresh, flowery sheets, not at your empty apartment polluted with car smoke just wafting outside your windows; but a home you've once lived in, with just your mother and you.
it was just so fucked up, how he could easily subdue the anxiety eating you away. it was so ironic, how in an apartment filled with deadly weapons: guns, knives, bombs, and journals containing contingency plans against all his enemies; it is where you felt currently the safest, as you're reminded of your past; your humdrum life with your mother.
back when everything was normal, back when all your worries were about the chances of having dinner that night, or hoping that your new clothes wouldn't tear as much so your beloved mom wouldn't have to spend wretched hours stealing just to provide you with all your wants and needs.
it never occurred within your mind, just how similarly you lived like jason. and in jason's thoughts, he realized how much you could've ended like him if he hadn't protected you this very night. if he hadn't heard the family pitch of your scream, a scream engraved deep into his memories, a haunting record that plays nightly as he's reminded that he was the reason why you had terror shocks from the shadows in the corner of your eyes.
he hated that he made you scream as a child, that he was the stuff of your nightmares, but he despised it even more when it had to be the others tormenting his little sibling.
it was enough to make his blood curdle, the sight of those filthy men touching, pinning and kicking, shoving a gun against the head of the person most important to him, puncturing holes into their body. he takes in a shaky gulp, yet he hums - pretending like he isn't truly bothered. he can't let you worry anymore - when your fingers listlessly play with the hems of his jacket.
'they're dead, jason. don't even think of doing what you have to do.'
the palm that rests on the back of your torso digs deeper at the thought of you wriggling in pain, not enough to hurt, but enough to tell you that whatever jason is thinking right now isn't good, your ears taking notice hearing the hastening thrum of his heart, even when his body is slumped against yours, you could still feel the slight shivers trailing across his body.
yet you only bury yourself deeper into him, closed eyes dry with tears and nuzzling at warmth you knew you'll soon never be able to feel again, from a brother who was too late to take you back. his right palm, big against your head, nearly covering the expanse of your scalp, scratches and guides you to properly lean on the blades of his shoulder. you don't see his expressions, you don't know if all the comforting he's doing, all the love he's offering you right now is authentic, or just out of mere obligation as your older brother, but you're grateful either way...
entirely grateful that you'd at least be feeling what it's like to be cuddled by one of your ex-family members, before you ultimately make a quick escape from gotham. you're so grateful that despite everything, at least now, the tiny little part of you, the innocence long gone, would rejoice at their life-long dream at finally being able to coddle with just one family member.
past you would've ranted about this in your journal, would've jumped in joy, run across the manor, and thank the world for blessing you with such a miracle. you wouldn't even care if damian shoved a nasty glare in your way.
even if temporary, even if a small, unyielding part of you wishes that you could stay like this forever; the stronger version of you, the one that learned to mature, to forgive yet never forget— it is the voice of reason amongst a sea of conflicting emotions. it tells you that you've moved on a long time ago, that whatever this is right now, will have you force to let go.
and even if younger you begged that it is unfair, that this is what they've always wanted in their life, for someone to acknowledge them as much as they've loved the family even without reciprocation; you've long since given up at hoping. your heart is weary, and tired of constantly being led to believe, only to come back broken in pieces all the damn time. you're older now, old enough to learn that, well...
everything is temporary in life. the comfort your family offered you was always temporary. jason, who succumbs to burying his head in your scalp to hum foreign tunes— he'll soon be just a burning memory, yet at least you'll be left with something positive to say about him.
after all, their love for you happens in quick successions, it wasn't all the time you were ignored, but chasing after it when it had already become mere dust before you could catch it with your clawing hands.
dick had shown you a crumb of his love, back when he first introduced you to his room. hell, even bruce was decent enough to transfer you out of school, even if it was out of mere dismissiveness and to keep a reputation, he showed he cared for a child, even if it was never enough.
and now?
'now, jason will forget about me soon enough,' you tell yourself.
just like the times you stumbled upon steph and pushed yourself to be invited to watch a movie with her, only to be rejected and given her side of popcorn as compensation and an awkward grin promising that she'll find a time in her schedule to spend with you. waiting for months for an update proved fruitless, writing praises in your journal, all about her silky blonde hair, and her lighthearted smiles don't do anything to manifest time well-spent with someone you thought would at least put in effort to be with you. she was similar to you in so many ways, how she felt dismissed by the family, and never enough for them— but the sheer difference that places you both in different lanes is the fact that she was at least loved, that she still had people care for her outside her status of spoiler. people loved stephanie brown, because she was at least unique, she was noticeable with her ironic jokes and love for purple.
you still had nothing to offer.
it's like the silent moments you were able to cherish when you could last for more than five minutes in the room with damian, his emerald eyes petting titus and alfred the cat, as you sit in the far corner watching how softly, how precious like treasured gems, he treats them. he doesn't fight you, doesn't bat at eye, but witnessing the young assassin, your little brother, become a kid, watching him paint in your memories without his scowled growl directed at you, or a knife pointed on your body; it made you feel like they do have a semblance of love, of care, only for those who deserved.
you only deserve care when you prove yourself to be capable enough.
hell, despite you knowing the least about duke, watching him play with his powers against bruce's orders was what made your bleak life a bit more interesting. having to save him from nearly dying, from fainting due to the overuse of his metahuman abilities when he was still new to being signal. being the faint silhouette he sees throughout the white light in his vision, the quivering, desperate voice who assures him he'll be alive, he'll be fine; you don't know if he remembers it, if the young boy could even recall how your eyes lit up, how your chest felt lighter when his scarred palms came to cup your shivering ones to keep you from ripping at your hair—
your point proves, chasing after them amounts to nothing. you could only be a witness, a bystander if you want to relish in their shared memories, but never part of their small community. you'll never be able to know what's it like having inside jokes with them, to share your homemade meals with them, to show old albums of your life as a child before being adopted. you just can't.
even the prospect of being married, of having them help you arrange your marriage becomes mere fantasy.
everything you ever hoped to spend with them is fantasy, an unattainable desire. you should've known from the start.
to them, to you, to everybody you lived with under the same, gothic roof of a manor rich with history still unknown to an outsider like you— you are but a mere stranger. there at the wrong place, in all the wrong times.
maybe that is what jason felt after his untimely death, that he does not belong anymore. maybe he felt like an intruder instead, just like you, with how he felt replaced by tim, how the legacy of robin lives on even after his passing. how he felt like a cheap rebound of dick after years of searching for answers, or how he never truly mattered to bruce—
— but at least he still has a place in their heart. despite only knowing him after his resurrection, you've come to love him too, and learned to let go at the same time.
you hope jason understands why you're so unwilling for him to help return you to the manor. you hope he doesn't question why you chose to live in your apartment, you hope that if he does find out the reason, he'll shut up about it.
you wish that jason understands, even as you felt well-rested enough on his muscled shoulders, head slowly, eyes blinking away the drowsiness washing over you, rising even if the arms that hover over your scalp invites you to sleep instead.
you're stronger now, not physically, but you willed yourself to force your eyes to stare back at him. his lidded, dull blue oned unlike dick's, and it doesn't look like the ocean eyes you find yourself drowning in staring at bruce's whenever you watch him across the television during his interviews. it was a blue similar to the sea at night, tranquil shores that caresses the soles of your feet standing on sand. there was no shine in them, it was a symbolic retelling of his death, gazing into them, at the depths of emotions swimming in those orbs alone, you feel a sense of ease when they soften, when they give way for you to stare for as long as you want.
although you were sitting atop his lap, looking down at him, his gaze made you feel little. like you were a child all over again. both of his hands are now resting on your waist to stabilize you. you couldn't reason the sudden protectiveness, the unwillingness to let you go, but your mouth opens before you could think, yet jason beats you to it, spilling words you thought he was incapable of admitting — breaking the peaceful silence once more with the significant tremor, the apologies laced in his words— with all the years he spent looking at you in contempt before he resigned to casual, yet fleeting conversations with you back at the manor.
"you know, angel...? i'm so sorry for everything. i really mean it... for all the times i was blind to you wishing you could've spent time with me. and i was so stupid, rejecting you, hurtin' you all those years thinking bruce was out there favoring you when it's the opposite... I didn't know he didn't even care for you. i know you won't be able to forgive me, or them, i know it took me long enough to forgive bruce too. but it's different now, 'kay? i'll be different, angel. i'll protect you from now on, in your, what? your little apartment, right? i don't mind scouting the entire area for you even if it means you're on the other side of the city. all for you, i promise."
"all for you."
he speaks in a careful manner, choosing his words and flinching - the scar on his lip stretches, it reminds you of the one on your neck - when he feels it doesn't rightfully get the message across. you can feel it, feel how every sentence is wired with regret, heavy promises, and an unspoken desperation to keep you close to him, as if- as if he actually cares for you—
you blink, vision blurry as you catch sight of a stray tear running down your damp chest. your nose clogs once more, tongue licking at your chapped lips. jason, he- he takes your fingers before it ventures to tangle upon your hair, he hushes the tight wail escaping your throat as he cradles your body, other palm nuzzling into your sensitive scalp.
are you crying again? at what he'd said?
why are you so broken, that the prospect of somebody once full of disinterest towards you, now cares for you?
and for what is he doing this for, though? all for you? he apologized, exactly like dick, with the same foreboding assurance. is it to repair, to mend a broken relationship that was never there?
"y-you don't have to anymore, jay— i just- just wanted to—"
'i just want to make peace with you before i'll be gone from your life, before you could even fulfill your promises. you don't have to be chained with someone like me for the rest of your life anymore.'
thankfully, he hums at you, interrupting your growing stutters, at the thought that noisily seeps into your head. you hiccuped in reply, drowning out the shivers jolting across your body. if not for his hands still digging at your waist, you swore the dizziness of it all could've made you stumble across the floor.
but, you can't just stay silent about this. about all the shit that happened in your life. not when he's promising you something so burdening, not when he thinks he has a chance of making it up to you.
no, you can't just let them push at you anymore.
you whisper through your inconsolable stutters, eyes drifting down to your lap, at your hands that scratch at raw scars, "i don't blame you, jason. it never really came across to me to hate you for, you know- it's not- you're not the only reason that he neglected me—"
"shh, i know, angel. i know. but that doesn't change shit 'bout how he— we treated you, does it not?"
you shake your head, downcast gaze refusing to look at his troubled one. if you do, you might just surrender to the softness, to the child-like whispers at the back of your mind saying you wanted this.
"w-well you can't change anything about it now... and i hated you still back then, for different reasons. i hope, i hope that you know that, too..." your voice cracks at the seams, "i- i'm still hurt from everything, jason—" he shushes you again, fingers brushing away at your stray hairs sticking to your damp cheeks. his palms were huge as it cups your face, emitting a comforting warmth against the jagged surface, a heat that makes you slowly, but unsurely melt.
— you never had this brotherly love in your whole life before, never felt comforted in the hands of who was once your tormentor.
"i know you're hurt. i know you're in so much pain because of us— of me, so let me take care of it from now on, 'kay...?"
he whispers, hushed voice a gentle tremor lulling you to near sleep. but you can't just return to this uncharacteristic softness, not now. your eyes, almost squinting shut, snap open to look back at him hesitatingly.
"no, you don't have to do this, jason... i told you," you hesitate, gulping. "we're not– we're not siblings anymore. you don't have to do all this for me... you're not obligated to, unlike last time."
you can feel it, his shoulders squaring in on itself, the subtle tension returning in his muscles, as if his arms were ready to trap you in his gentle hold, restricting you for further escaping.
"... nonsense, angel. take that back— i am doing this all for you."
his voice was always tinged with gruffness, rarely any softness in the way his words were said with finality. sometimes mocking, sometimes spiteful. for a crime lord, it was imperative to always be the supreme voice, a voice of reason.
... but this time, it seems, there's a childish softness, a despondency, laced in his reply. like him, though, your resolve to leave his apartment was as solid as his promise to keep you to stay.
"no, jason, you're doing this all for your guilt... not- not out of pure hearted intentions, aren't you...? just to prove that you're right and- and you're better than the entire family. and then you'll forget about me afterwards—"
you crack at the seams.
"this will be just like all the other times..."
you ignore how his fingers dig deeper into the plush softness of your waist, how it feels like he's staring right past you, mind drifting to another plane of existence at what you'd said.
yet you continue.
"— so please, leave me alone after this...?
after all, what's the point in considering their emotions anymore, when they've never done so for yours?
a silence you couldn't swallow, strangling at the chords in your throat. it feels like a bucket of cold water had washed over the once comfortable silence he'd bask in.
"... please, jay?" your heartbeat spikes at calling him by his once beloved nickname. the one you used to lovingly mutter under your breath, shyly taking his attention from back when you were a child, a subconscious manipulative tactic.
you always called him out with that title, a wide-eyed plea, with what felt like butterflies spinning in your tongue inviting him to linger for just a few minutes with you, just so he could spare some time reading a paragraph of your favorite classic book—
— it was a nickname that fell astray, turned into a flickering memory, after your relationship with him slowly strained. after every month, little by little, you saw him less. until you were a teenager, until he felt his business were with your other siblings instead, his priority on his and their vigilante lives— like the unbidden promises he kept from you, the nickname fell short, turned stranger in your eyes like the man you're seated atop on.
your lips feel dry, your sweat clings to your dampened shirt, and jason.
god, jason's hands enclose itself on your waist, heavy head dropping to your shoulders. you can smell it, his conditioner and a heady scent of cigarettes. his hair tickles the underside of your chin, you don't know whether to laugh or to cry when he takes his space in the corner of your neck, inhaling and exhaling deeply— the heat of his breath hits your skin, it feels too warm, a stark contrast to the shivers overtaking your body.
he heaves in a breath, you can't see his face from below, can't make it out if he's laughing or groaning or what. you can't wrought his head out, he's stronger than you.
momentary panic ensues, you fear he might've disagreed, that he might end up locking you up but—
"huh..." his gruff voice returns, a deeper tremor laced with confusing you'd expect a frigid reply, a desperate plea, maybe even a familiar anger bursting right out of him
"with you calling me that," he whispers on the crook of your neck, head burying far deeper as if- as if he wants his skin to fuse with yours. the depth in his words felt utterly abysmal when he referred to his nickname.
a little more, and you swear you might feel his teeth grazing your flesh. at that, goosebumps start to trail your entire body, your teeth aches with unbidden agitation.
you can't, you can't fall into hopeless respite.
he continues with his little monologue. you're too breathless, shallow air fills your lungs at every word he punches your way, clinging, burrowing deep into your mind, with every touch pinning you in place—
"how could i argue against you now, angel...? not when you sound like the little kid i met back then."
a scoff, laced with amusement, erupted from him. you can feel the vibrations on his adam's apple, you witness the thoughts churning in his mind, the subtle reminiscing in the silence that clings onto both your memories.
a sense of nostalgia washes over you —at the night you both meet, of the gentle giant sneaking past gothic windows and his reaction to being caught, at your excitement to make a new companion— but bitter resentment claws its way faster into your thoughts.
how could he pretend like everything's fine? how could he act like he didn't break your heart when you first saw him?
"but still, i'm serious about the change, for you, just you. anythin' you want, angel, anything—"
a small part of you hates him still, despises the entire family for what they did; what they caused.
how could he have the audacity to think he has a chance at your life? to assume he deserves one? right after- after destroying all your hopes?
he's right, though,. he remembers those memories from when you were a kid. a kid, but not anymore. you're not the little child who looks up to him, to dick, to bruce— who kisses at the soles of their feet, who acts as their shadow chasing after them.
'how dare you, jason...'
you don't know what overcame you, what monstrous being possessed your soul to spitefully reply all of a sudden. maybe it was bitter anger, the past resentment, an urge— a subtle defiance that wishes to torment them like how they did you.
maybe it was the broken remnants of your child that just wants assurance, or the mature teenager in you that wants to move on, to have a new lease on life.
but, either way. it's the words that need to be said that matters, and not the reaction, the unneeded outcomes from the same people who hurt you.
you had to grow past everything, had to take the first steps if you truly wish to let go, rather than run away from the past with no final message.
they say indifference is the opposite of love, not hate. and if you want your tormentors to feel what they've done to you, to know what it's like to be met with spiritless replies, empty promises and hallways, broken hearts and cold dinners— you had to beat them with oppressive silence; a loveless nothingness.
"jay," you call out to him, interrupting his shameless rambles.
"please promise me..." at the sudden shift in your voice, your soft tone, he wretches himself away from you, albeit slowly; looking you straight in the eyes.
there was naught a sudden flicker of absolute firmness in your eyes, but a quiet resolve that demanded finality, a silent plea opposite to the screaming that ensued just an hour ago.
'be the bigger person, (name).'
'because you are not a wayne anymore—
you are your mother's child.'
and she's kind, but assertive. gracious, but cunning. you see an imagery of bruce in your reflection, your passions in dick, your trauma in jason— so many similarities, so many stark contrasts.
but ultimately, you came from her.
you can sense it, the intangible shift in the air, the curious, yet hesitant flicker in his eyes.
you lick your lips, the tinge of blood grounds you in spite of the hastening of your heartbeats.
"look, okay... promise me this—"
a deep inhale, a quivering exhale. and for once, you control the tears brimming in your eyelids.
he nods, urging you to continue.
the knot on your chest only tightens, strangling you until it feels no words could escape your mouth. yet they're mere paranoia, you can't afford fear no more.
"i... i want you to forget about me after this. promise me, jason, to treat this night like all the other nights you pretended i didn't exist. that you love your family but not me, because i am not family. treat me like you despised me because i was your terrible replacement, i could never amount to you and that's all fine with me... let's leave all this behind and- and return back to our normal lives, alright...? where i'm nobody to you, and you're just a stranger to me... "
even your resolve tasted foreign on your tongue, as your eyes suddenly dart everywhere but at his breathless reactions.
"you don't— don't have to dwell on the past anymore."
'come on, (name). don't hesitate anymore. this is your future speaking for you.'
your guts twists in on itself, everything's spinning, your heart feels like it's running a mile. but you force yourself to smile at him despite the energy draining from your body, despite how you had to watch the color wash away from his face, feel how his hands dig into your skin, watch the frustated furrow of his brow—
you smile a shaky smile, grin a final grin, clasp his vulnerable, and equally conflicted face in your scarred hands, and finally let another wave of tears erupt from your eyes.
"can you do that for me, jason?"
"..."
"— alright..."
let the cinema's curtains finally close, let there be no more acts, no more formalities to happen between you two.
let this all be a fleeting memory. just like those past thirteen years and a half: let it be buried in a treasure chest you'll never visit.
his silence acts as resignation, your hands letting go of his cupped face, to carefully bring you down from his loosening hold, as you wince at the pain still throbbing in your wrapped scar; it shall symbolize a final message of goodbye.
the unspoken agreement to move, the cushion of his red helmet brushing on his hair as he puts it on, the jingles of his motor keys in the pockets of his heavy pants, the creak of the door as he opens it, slow and unsure, the stench of your blood still lingering in the air, the uncomfortable solace as he props your hands up his shoulders to lean your body weight against him before he brings a crutch to your armpit. the gruff that came after as his hands stabilized you, for you to properly walk with the newly armed crutches beside his company—
it provides at least a grounding notion for the thoughts spiraling in your mind. the drowned thumps of the wood stumbling on the carpet, the moonlight spilling out the cracks of the hallway's windows, the faint rumbling of the city streets as passing cars honk at the traffic, the ding of the elevator, the anything of everything.
but him.
focusing on anything else, it at least helps distract you from his heavy gaze, from jason's prying arms ready to capture you, trap you in his apartment, the moment you show slight faintness, any hesitant stumble in your steps, any wincing sound at the pressure in your joints; his overprotectiveness still at an all-time high despite the promise you proposed that he had to pretended to upkeep for you.
when you were finally propped on to his huge motorcycle, a few mishaps being met in your way when he handled you too tight, so daintily as if you're made of fine porcelain, as if he were afraid to let go — crutches graciously placed in the space between his seat and yours — and when you hear the engine's gas revving up, but no jason making a brief quip, a comedic joke only he could understand which you laugh at still...
... only one thing was for certain despite the millions of ideas racing in your mind from his quiet reaction.
'let him bring me home, give him space, and let him forget about all this in the end.'
let the past be a dream.
and you shall only hope that everything that comes after this, will also be just another dream.
after all, he had only agreed to let you go home - for now, just now... - but hadn't truly promised to leave you alone, not at all, never.
and maybe, just maybe, you should've never trusted his words at all.
it was all that it is, all that it was.
a mere device for tactical missions.
the intercom linked directly to the batcave was just a device used to communicate with the family in the rare instances he chose to pair up with them in case jason learned his current tactics required more than a helping hand, but rather companionship in the midst of completing tasks.
its usefulness was only for practicality.
and it was just that, a tool for the greater good, yet easily discarded after he gained what he wanted.
when you left him, crutches in hand, back turned as your body fades in on the distance, he realizes that even thought it was his pride that he knew you the longest - now even bearing your deepest, most personal issues that just makes letting you (temporarily) go hurt his heart - he had only ever used you for his entertainment, not even an apology nor a confrontation was made to confess to you of his past sins towards you.
he's such a shitty brother, isn't he?
all that it is, all it ever was.
and yet as the polluted breeze of gotham flutters through his hair, the night sky still gleaming over the horizon of long standing, abandoned buildings camouflaged amongst shitty, barely functioning apartment complexes - where he knows are one of the current places you live in - he willed himself to comb them back, especially the stubborn strands sticking near his ears. in his hands, he holds an intangible device.
the same old, rickety intercoms.
just like old times.
so he presses the tiny button used to trigger direct calls, and shoves it deep into his ears, a perfect fit as every device was crafted to each individual working for the batman. you're the only member of the family to never adopt the vigilante life, he's glad you never did, but at the same time... it was what what you apart from everybody else.
everything just reminds him of how much you're worlds apart from the family. everything just pushes him to change that current position of yours; to make you know you matter more than you ever know.
"... ah, young master jason, you're back," alfred's contemplating voice buzzes through the call. no hint of surprise was evident in his tone, but rather a welcoming quip at his current rebellion towards jason. "i suppose you might require some assistance if you're calling then, right?"
'yes,' he might've said, stalling, but it's not as simple just as money heist problems or an issue regarding the resurgence of new kryptonite deposits— no.
jason doesn't want that. he doesn't want to waste anymore time, not with making jokes or pretending like the topic at hand was just a joke. not when the matter precedes mere missions or a tendency to prank bruce, not when it's his angel who he refuses to truly let go of.
not when your life is at stake living in a completely foreign part of gotham. not when you nearly died, and if he wasn't a lick away from saving you, you'd end up like him.
but with nobody to mourn you.
"we need to talk about (name)."
and then like a thread snapping, he hears gasps from a distance, beyond the device's speaker registering. he hears hushed whispers, stephanie's feminine voice cutting through the tension, but no sarcasticness, no quips from duke, not even cass' occasional question. despite only hearing a fraction of the batcave's echoes, he feels like a witness to the tension rising, even he feels his shoulders squaring up. like a spectacle to behold, like time frozen in the hands of fate itself.
gotham wasn't always this silent, but the space between jason and your world felt like mountains apart that it just destroys any caution jason feels at the current moment; all in the name of this... this urge to feel your head resting in his shoulders once more, your arms wrapped tightly around his, safe and sound.
"tell me what happened."
it wasn't alfred's voice this time that cuts off the ever-so confusing thread, the dangerous thoughts swimming in jason's head. a deep tremor, laced with an undertone of desperation, is heard through the silent murmers of the intercoms. he couldn't see it, but he could picture the haste, the emergence of the bat to be the very
and yet all was said in a tone so different, so completely foreign to jason.
it wasn't as commanding, as opposing as what he's used to. it wasn't his voice that he uses towards criminals, it wasn't the vibrato used to interrogate criminals, let alone scold his vigilante partners.
... something completely different, yet easy to catch on.
it was batman through the call, yes, yet not quite so.
no.
it was bruce wayne asking, it was a father who hides his worry through a veil of composure. yet jason knows him, knows him enough to know that he, bruce, knows of your disappearance all too suddenly. knows that that the entire family might've finally come through their senses like he did.
"jason... did you... did something happen?" dick's voice, laced with audible shivers. jason had to do a double take at the noticeable shift in his behavior, at how... wrecked his eldest brother asked. but despite it all, it seems like he catched on as easily, at the sudden convenience, of what might implied jason's impulsive decision to call them at such a dire moment.
— that's why his next question doesn't come off as shock.
"you didn't possibly... meet them, didn't you?" it's like the athlete couldn't believe the words escaping his mouth, yet jason could feel it, the charged air, the shift of movement, as dick's mouth presses uncomfortably close to the speakers.
"tell me, did you... find them?"
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
PLEASE READ: 20,490+ words. no beta, we die like the reader's love for the family. anyways, wow, this was the hardest scene of all to write. so many dialogues compacted into one scene alone. because of all my hard work, revisions and even rewrites 😭 i demand you all to comment and interact with me because i am NOT wasting all this effort for only like a few comments. that's all i ever ask for actually <333 anyways, the jason and mc parallels are still prevalent, but i'd also like for all you guys to take note of the miscommunication trope that i did. like the reader who's so broken to the point they can't comprehent that people are capable of loving them, and jason who can't property communicate how much he cares for you, stumbling over all his words and saying all the wrong things wow. very much me and my siblings' dynamics to one another. we love doomed siblings trope!!!
yes, again, i am begging for you guys to interact with this post, and avoid on hate comments, please. i've already dealt w/ enough anons but oh well, that's unavoidable huh. happy late valentines day, btw! and please do remember to not directly steal parts of my work. now to check if you guys actually read the author's notes: what is your favorite line/quote/literally anything in this chapter? again, despite its shitty quality, i put a lot of time and effort into the creation of this. this is not just a fanfic for me, but something very personal. again, don't forget to interact and give inputs, thank you all for being so patient and waiting for this!
