hi my name is karme!! (yes my user is a caramelldansen ref) i love platonic fics in general so i decided to make this blog to contribute!! :))
i’m an amateur writer so apologies if my writing is pretty rough at first 😔 CRITICISM IS WELCOME AND APPRECIATED!! (just pls be nice about it or i’ll cry 😢)
i’m a minor (6teen); feel free to block me if that makes you uncomfortable
asks are always open!! :33 i have school and am a pretty slow writer so please be patient for your request to be processed (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)
(i don’t do reqs anymore im srry😔 but i do take suggestions! i find that i work better when i don’t feel obligated to finish something…maybe i will in the future once i get better who snows)
reader will always be gender-neutral
i’m not writing for any fandoms atm (i’m not confident enough) and sometimes my works may be leaning towards more “normal” platonic than platonic yandere
ik i'm not posting a lot (please dont crucify me), so if youre in the market for some platonic x reader content, show some love to these amazing authors!!
NOTES: platonic yan for the fandom section will be marked with a * , and a ☆ marks blogs without a masterlist. :D most, if not all, are gn! reader and are more familial oriented :)) also if you have more authors drop them in the comments im greedy as fuckkkkkk...🤤
PLATONIC YAN OC'S
** @acosmicbee - classic platonic yan blog...what can i say...🚬
personal favs: child of war, spirited away inspired ocs
** @pineconepie - another classic 🚬 his works are more overtly catered towards an agere audience, so if youre looking for that, this is the blog for you! :)
** @meathunt - goldmine🥹 i have no other words
☆ ** @chr0nic5lly0nlin3 - peak comfort fics...he also has some fandom
** @arrowthrewme - he also has soft romantic yan ocs if you're into that :D
☆ ** @kittrambles - you're gonna be like a kid in a candy store in here
☆** @s0c0ld0utside - the writing will speak for itself
PLATONIC FANDOM
@teklarn - all of their platonic works are in the dc masterlist, all of them being incredibly written :) they also have longform romantic fics
personal favs: (CW: SH)
☆ ** @foundfamyanderes - platonic dc GOLDMINEEE srsly... also check their ao3, lainevermore out, not too sure but i think there are some exclusives on there! they also have some ocs :D
@cherry-amores-blog - dc and marvel content! i love love LOVE their hurt/comfort fics
@itheunknown - gutwrenching platonic batfam fic, currently unfinished but its so worth checking out!! theyre so underrated imo 🥹 keep in mind the reader is going thru it
** @jade-zzz - great batfam writer!! they mostly do romantic but they do have a good few platonic fics :3 i esp enjoyed the platonic jason one!
** @kenyummy - batfam with spiderman reader you cant go wrong with that
** @cloudy-strawberry - ugh im just in love with their omegaverse batfam fic and you will too
@3ternalradiance - if youre more into you being older than the batboys!! unfortunately for my girls and nonbinary hoes that series is more m!reader focused, BUTT they do have another gn! series where youre damian's twin
** @a0s1ller - platonic yan omegaverse jjk mm yes..... 🤤
@dccomicsimagines - they have many platonic batfam fics!! serious goldmine for both platonic and romantic fics with a variety of characters!!
personal fav: what's lost is found
** @maliciouscottonball - a whole buffet of fics 🤤 a strictly platonic blog w/ platonic cod, transformers, batfam, and pokemon!!
** @ametrictonofaudacity - finished batfam fic! i love rereading it like a mad man
** @lunaris-literature - dmc, batfam, twst...PLATONIC OMEGAVERSE... you'll love this blog trust
@fairestwriting - more romance focused twst blog, platonic hcs they have are so cute
@aquz - unfortunately theyre not active anymore but they have a bunch of platonic twst fics :)
☆** @honey-minded-hivemind - i’m wasn’t really interested in x-men til i found their blog which made me really get into the franchise ❤️🩹 they also have wings of fire content if you’re into that :D
Can you write Dark Enchantress cookie as a mom that wants her child to join her in reshaping earthbread, but daughter/son reader wants her to turn back towards the light so they can be a family again ? I imagine this like Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker trying to turn the other to their side.
☆ Hand in Unlovable Hand — Dark Enchantress Cookie & Child!Reader ☆
Genre: Familial, Angst || They/them pronouns for reader || Warning for DEC being a toxic/manipulative parent
A/N: As with most of my child!reader content I leaned on the reader being younger here so it's more like trying them trying to reason with DEC
──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────
"Come, my child. See what Earthbread has become" Dark Enchantress Cookie called to you. Her voice wasn't anywhere near as gentle and caring as it used to be, and you almost cringed when hearing it. You walked with nervous steps, coming up to her side. She gave you a smile, but you didn't see any of that familiar compassion that she once had. Her hand was chilled when it touched your back, guiding you closer to her side. You looked over the railing she stood at, observing the scenery. Dead trees with twisted branches stretching towards a deep red sky, cracked and dry ground, with not a single Cookie to be seen outside the ones within the base for The Cookies of Darkness
"I see, mama" You said softly. Dark Enchantress patted your head "Good, good. This world will be plunged into darkness soon, and the cycle will end". You gave a small, uncomfortable hum. "What's the matter, dearest?" Dark Enchantress asked you. Even her attempts at sounding soothing chilled you to your core. You tried to prepare yourself, looking up at that unfamiliar purple dough. "Does it... have to be dark, mama?" You slowly asked "We can help Cookies in other ways! Then maybe you can be nice again?" You asked hesitantly. Her patient look turned to one of sour disappointment, causing you to shrink back
"I do this for the good of Cookiekind, my child" Dark Enchantress said cooly "The Witches have fed us lies since the day we were baked. Only chaos can break the cycle they've stuck us in". "But-" You began feebly "They're just getting hurt. The Cookies we meet don't seem happy at all". "They don't understand that this is for them, too" Dark Enchantress continued "I won't let any Cookie stand in the way of Freedom"
Freedom. White Lily Cookie was meant to protect it, meant to help keep other Cookies safe so they could be free to live as they pleased. Your new mother was nothing like that. She sought freedom through destruction, and you'd already seen far too many Cookies run in fear to be convinced that this was a noble cause. Your silence didn't go unnoticed
"You will understand with time" Dark Enchantress said "We have to destroy what The Witches have built to create a land that is truly free for us all. They'll thank us when they can live in a society without fear". Your mind was too naive to understand such a complicated idea, and in all honesty you didn't know what The Witches did wrong to begin with. Your mom refused to tell you, and this version of her never let you ask. You'd kept yourself out of trouble by agreeing to her every word, but...
"They're still scared" You said "Of you". "They should be" Dark Enchantress responded, a bit firmly "If they won't obey me, then they're in the way". "That doesn't sound free" You pointed out in a mumble. The spellcaster's patience wore too thin, and she interrupted you with a sharp "Enough! I am your mother, I know what's best for you! And as a scholar of Cookiekind, I know what's best for them. You're too young to do anything but what I tell you. Am I clear?"
"Yes ma'am" You said softly, refusing to look at her. She sighed, turning her back to you "I will not let you make me the villain in this. Go to your room, and don't come out until I retrieve you". You stepped quickly, only being able to breathe calmly when you were out of the room. That wicked mage was nothing like your mom! White Lily never raised her voice at you, or made you feel so... scared. You quickly entered your room and closed the door once you reached it. At least in here you were safe
You dragged yourself to your bed, tears dampening the corners of your eyes. You casted a hope out into the world, for whatever being could possibly receive it— that someday, somehow, your real mom could return to you. That something would make this horribly bitter version of her go away, and bring back the gentle mother you remembered. But for the moment, you resigned yourself to where you sat, staring at the wall ahead. There was no telling what plans she had in store for you
hey ik i’ve been dead & this will be clogging up the tags but i need to air tis out ifykyk
no one needs some random bum to publicly rank their work, esp in fandom when they’re writing all of this for free and personal enjoyment. making a whole tier list of authors/fics is doing WAY too much and so immature. 😭 if you don’t like a fic, keep it to yourself idk…get a diary while you’re at it too instead of having an online tantrum…and if you like one, maybe instead of putting them on a pedestal whilst degrading other writers you should, idk.… REBLOG and show your appreciation towards their craft instead of posting a dumbass tier ranking… 🌝🌝🌝 fucking crazy right… 🌝🌝🌝
if you think that a niche doesn’t have content you like, START CREATING!! (whatever if you think you’re not a “good writer” it doesn’t really fucking matter. there will be people who like what you post. this is not writing boot camp ✌🏼) it’s so much more productive than making some bs tier list that will just discourage people from posting their work (maybe even work that you deem is s tier material). idk why this is such a big problem specifically with the platonic DC niche, just follow the usual fanfic protocol “don’t like don’t read.” cuz being hateful doesn’t really encourage creativity…
i adoreee platonic omegaverse (and idc if its boring or something) i just love the concept of protective alpha Satoru Gojo and his first year student reader that still reeks of a pup scent.
Satoru already wants to protect the youth, to keep them safe from the harsh reality of jujutsu world, so i can imagine he feels extremely protective over all of his students, practically seeing them as his pups in a way.
And i can imagine him being extremely overprotective over one of his students, reader, because of their scent that is way much stronger than others, but instead of it being the second gender it’s still just the pup scent, maybe they are a late bloomer for example.
So i can totally see him being hesitant with sending reader onto their missions, and when he does finally send them he definitely either stalks them or rigs the missions beforehand to make it more safer. Don’t get him wrong, he does want them to be strong, but his instincts just scream to wrap the reader in a soft blanket and never let go.
He definitely invades the reader’s personal space, acting like they’re a helpless pup rather than an actual teenager who defeats curses on a daily basis. He would probably also cry if the reader saw him as a parental figure or even has something of his in their nest.
He tries to deny the plain favoritism, but it’s clear to everyone including the reader that he is indeed playing favorites, and they are currently winning.
I love the thought of a self aware twst au where the characters are aware that they are in a game. But with a twist.
you downloaded the game a few months ago, hearing most of you’re friends gush about it you decided to give it a try not expecting to get addicted to it as well. But not like those die heart fans. No you just enjoy how you can relax and play a chapter once a day not having to worry about any real life problems.
And in some way you relate to the characters on the screen, you feel their pain likes it’s you’re own. You understand them on a more personal level.
But things start to get weird, the character dialogue getting more personal especially when you choose to main one of the characters in a study session or in a battle.
It’s not creepy, but the characters seem concerned? That’s a way you would put it and what’s even stranger is they are using you’re real name not the one you chose to name yourself as the first time you download the game. But how would they know your real name? It’s not possible.
Maybe you’re just reading it wrong, yeah that has to be it you’re probably just paranoid is all.
That’s what you convince yourself of at least but it’s hard to deny when the characters keep getting bolder, more invasive.
Dialogue that isn’t supposed to happen does happen, daily check ins that seem way to personal. (They just need to make sure their baby is taking care of themself)
So you stopped opening the app, hoping that it was just some type of glitch and it would go away eventually.
But that doesn’t happen, no that just makes them even more restless, even more encouraged to bring you to their world.
They just want to take care of their baby! That’s all!
So one night while you’re about to fall asleep. Theirs a buzzing sound coming from your phone and then light.
You wake up with a groan, head pounding in pain as you sit up. But when you go to reach for your head you’re met with horns?
Your eyes shoot open looking around the rather small but prestigious room color coated with various types of purple.
Then you look towards the mirror placed in the corner of your room.
TWS: Mention of gallows, non-descriptive injuries to Y/N, head trauma to Y/N, Y/N does almost die but is fine, mention of gallows, Y/N is going through it really, a weird lizard
“Do I get paid for this, or is it just you blindly expecting me to lead you across the land to show you the lanterns with full trust that I don’t have ulterior motives?” You groaned, staring up at the ceiling.
God, she’d swung that pan hard at your head. You could still hear your ears ringing and doubted you’d be able to lie on your left side for a considerable time. As if being, likely, concussed wasn’t enough, she’d also had to tie you to a chair. For reasons.
“Do anything to me, and you’ll never see that crown you had with you again.” She sing songed, pan in hand as she spun it around. Forget hoping the girl locked in the tower for, seemingly, a while would be naive and scared of you. If anything, you were unnerved by her, leaning away as far as you could when she leaned closer.
Her words did make you pause, though, anxiously biting at your lip as you considered your options. Option 1: Waste a couple of days to take her into the city where you were a wanted criminal and then back again, and hope you didn’t get caught, but have what you needed to raise you and the others out of the slums for good.
Or option 2: fail. Go back to all those hungry people and admit that you couldn’t bring food back for once. That you couldn’t fulfil your promise to keep them afloat.
You didn’t want to fail, but was it worth your head?
She scowled when it apparently took you too long to answer her, growling as she slammed the pan down against the back of the chair right next to your head. It made you jump and blurt out a panicked, “fine! Okay, I’ll take you there and back!”
“With no ulterior motives?” She drawled, making sure you watched as she slowly removed the pan from beside your head to run a finger along it. You just nodded, really not wanting to get hit again.
“No ulterior motives. I take you to see the lanterns and back.” You agreed, squirming when you felt your binds tighten, and eww, that was hair. Her hair, you were realizing. She’d tied you up in hair. Maybe this was the worst day you’d ever had. And your ears were still ringing.
The first problem came almost immediately. Her hair. After she’d untied you, you’d been left to stare in horror at the absolutely giant amount of hair she had. If you didn’t want to get noticed, which going into the city by the guards you did not, you’d need to do something about it.
“Can’t you just… cut it?” You asked, to which she shot you a very dirty look.
“Of course not, you idiot! Just put it up for me or something!” She demanded, raising her pan threateningly when you hesitated. You were really starting to hate her, and you made sure to sneak a few tugs into your attempt to put her hair up. Eventually, you settled on a very layered and thick braid that somehow kept her hair off the ground.
The next problem was also an issue. “Rapunzel? Your name’s Rapunzel?! Like the cabbage?!”
“Is there a problem with my name?” She hissed, glaring back at you. She was tightening her grip on the frying pan, and maybe you should de-escalate.
“I’m not going to walk around going, ‘hi! This is my friend Cabbage!’” Nope, you weren’t backing down. You crossed your arms. “Find something else for me to call you.”
It took her a moment, but eventually she murmured, “Rosalynd.”
Oh, great, like the missing princess. Like the name, the king and queen had made it illegal for anyone to name their kids after the princess went missing. Then again, you’d already committed treason and grand theft by stealing the missing princess’s crown, so what was a little more treason?
“Oh, fine! Come on, Cabbage!” You scoffed, pulling her towards the tiny window. “Uh… I assume we climb down.”
“Mhm, you go ahead, and I’ll follow you down. I need to grab something.” She said. You just rolled your eyes, carefully identifying your path down as you carefully began finding your way down the tower.
Your arms and legs were burning by the time you reached the ground. You were also gross and sweaty and happily dropped the remaining feet onto the grass when you were close enough, panting. Not even a second later, two boots came into your line of sight.
“This is quite pathetic, don’t you think? Maybe I chose the wrong person.” She huffed, not looking the slightest bit out of breath. She also still had her frying pan, which you were really hoping would’ve been left behind for this adventure.
“How’d you get down so fast?” You asked, massaging your still-aching arms.
“Stairs.”
“There were stairs, and you let me free climb down?!” You hissed, almost on the verge of tears.
“Well, you never asked if there were stairs. And it was kind of funny watching you struggle your way down for a bit.” She smirked, nudging you with the pan. “Come on. Get up. We have work to do.”
“I hate you.” You murmured, reluctantly climbing to your feet. “I think this is my karma for taking that stupid crown.”
“What was that?” She was playing with the pan, a knowing smile on her face as she made eye contact with you.
“Nothing… Cabbage.” You muttered as you began leading the way out of the clearing where the tower was tucked away.
𑁍⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆𑁍
“You shouldn’t have come anywhere near here. I have half a mind to kick you right back out with the kind of trouble having your face around is likely to bring.” The tavern owner was large and hulking, decorated in scars and fur. But he’d never turned you away before, and you really hoped he wouldn’t now.
“Just a little information, that’s all I need. Look, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here.” You pleaded. You were sitting at the bar as he wiped down some glasses. Rosalynd was at some other table, chatting excitedly with a man who was proudly showing off his knife collection.
“Then why are you here, Y/N? And who is that? You still haven’t told me.” He huffed.
“Look, I was being chased by some stupid horse– don’t laugh! – but, yeah, a horse. There was a tower, I climbed up to get away from the horse, Blondie gave me brain damage and took my bag and refused to give it back unless I take her to see the lantern festival.” You groaned, letting your head thud onto the counter. “So here I am. Playing tour guide.”
“You could’ve just left it.” He sighed, nudging a glass of water your way.
“I’m already a wanted criminal. I’ve already committed treason. No reason to die empty-handed. Besides… the kids need the money. All of them do. If the last thing I can do is bring them home something to make the future a little easier, I’ll go to the gallows a happy person.”
“You’re just a kid yourself.” He sighed. “Fine, you want information? Your face is on every poster from here to the next kingdom over. Wanted alive, Y/N. We both know what that means.”
You winced. Wanted alive was more of a death sentence than wanted dead. It meant they needed you alive for whatever punishment of horrific proportions was to be doled out for your treason and theft.
You really hadn’t thought this through, you were realizing. Hadn’t thought anything through. Agreeing to this journey, stealing the crown. You had acted impulsively. Recklessly. You were probably going to die for it, too. Well, when they caught you. You weren’t delusional enough to think that they wouldn’t.
“Ready to go?” Rosalynd asked, suddenly popping up behind you. She looked way too pleased with herself, and you winced when you saw a brand new belt she’d acquired with two sheathed daggers.
“Where’d you get those? Wasn’t the pan dangerous enough?” She was still holding it, grinning at your discomfort.
“I’m very good at cards. People shouldn’t bet what they aren’t willing to lose, even if I do prefer my pan.” She grinned, grabbing your arm as she dragged you out of your seat. “Besides, are you going back on our deal?”
“No. But I do want to add something.” You murmured as you exited the tavern. “If, when we’re out, I get arrested, can you take the crown to the tavern? The man I was talking to, he’ll know what to do with it.”
She shrugged, plucking a green lizard off a passing tree. “Eh… fine. Not much I get in return, but whatever. Look!”
“Please put it back down. You don’t know where it’s been.” You grimaced, backing away from where she forced the lizard into your face.
“Where its been? Why, outside in nature, of course. I think I’m going to keep it.” She grinned, placing the lizard on her shoulder. It, unfortunately for you, looked quite content to stay there.
“What if it has a lizard wife and kids you’re taking it away from? Or husband and kids? Or just a family?”
“Do you have a family?” She asked the lizard. You looked on in horror when it shook its head…? Wow, you hated everything about this, and this trip was just getting worse by the second.
“Oh my god… Come on, Cabbage, let’s just keep going.” You sighed. Hopefully, your luck would soon take a turn for the better…
𑁍⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆𑁍
The festival was beautiful, you had to admit. People running around, stalls handing out food and drinks. The whole city seemed alight with hope and happiness. Maybe this year would be the year the lost princess saw the lanterns and would come home.
“It’s my birthday.” Rosalynd offhandedly mentioned as you toured the booths. “You should get me something.”
“Is it? Seems a bit on the nose, don’t you think? Not only is the name you picked so you wouldn’t go by cabbage, the name of the lost princess, but you share her birthday, too? Should I march you up to the castle and hope it’s enough to clear the numerous charges I have against me?” You huffed, already thinking of something to get her. You’d grown weirdly fond of her and her antics over your day of traveling; you may as well.
She got quiet at that, eventually drifting off to join some kids who were happily coloring the square with colorful chalk. You got her some flowers as well as a lantern to send up at nightfall. She looked at peace as she drew with the chalk, happy.
You looked around the square, pausing when your eyes caught a mural. It was one of the lost princess, an altar to her safe return. And then you paused, eyes narrowing as you glanced between the picture and Rosalynd. They had the same hazel eyes, the same golden hair, the same one-sided dimple on the left cheek, and the same array of freckles.
It was just supposed to be a joke, your earlier comment. Instead, you found your stomach dropping as you realized you, the infamous thief, had somehow found the princess. The name made sense now, the birthday too. She must’ve remembered Rosalynd from the time before she was taken somehow, and clearly, whoever had taken her hadn’t bothered to change her birthday.
She caught your eye from across the plaza, happily waving you over to share her drawing. It was of her lizard in front of a star. The same star that was the royal emblem of the kingdom. You must’ve looked rather pale as you brushed her off, still stuck in your mind.
You could tell she valued her freedom, that she likely wouldn’t want to be dragged to the palace unless it was on her own terms. But was her life worth your own? Was betraying her to the palace even worth it if you weren’t sure they’d even bother to listen to you?
Instead, you forced the thought out of your mind, instead watching the way her eyes lit up when you offered her the flowers. She had you tuck them into her hair, smiling the whole time. It felt natural being close with her, and you decided to cherish the time you had left together.
Around sunset, you dragged her down to the docks, sitting on the very edge of the pier. She was working on a pastry, watching curiously as you pulled out a lantern.
“Here. I thought you’d enjoy sending up your own lantern after watching from a distance for so long.” You said, offering her a match. She grinned, eagerly striking it and lighting the bottom. The two of you held the lantern together, waiting for hot air to fill it.
She gasped, almost dropping it when the first lantern graced the sky, flying from the palace. Then more and more joined it from all over. Then your own lantern joined the rest in the sky, steadily floating up and up. She looked almost magical in the glow of the lanterns, or no, she was actually glowing. Her hair was glowing.
“Uh… your hair…” You muttered, dumbly pointing at it. She blinked, only to sigh.
“Sorry. I forgot it does that sometimes if I don’t discharge some of the energy. Uh, give me your hand.”
“I’m sorry, discharge what? Why do you need my hand? Is this going to hurt?” You asked, nervously offering her your hand. She just rolled her eyes, firmly gripping your hand as she began to hum.
It felt like touching a live wire, but in a good way. You were filled with warmth, and your head felt fully healed. By the time she let go, you still felt fuzzy inside, and her hair was no longer glowing. Huh, missing princess with magicky glowy hair. Okay. Totally normal.
“Uh… are you not going to ask questions or freak out or something?” She said, reaching out to gently push a lantern back up into the sky from where it’d begun drifting low.
“Nope. I’m fine. Completely fine. Your lizard is staring at me weirdly, though, and I don’t like it.” You said, inching away from where the green creature was intensely trying to make eye contact.
“He’s just a cute lizard! I don’t get what your problem is with him. He’s not going to hurt you or something.” She scoffed.
You both stayed there for a second, just enjoying everything, when you heard a sudden shout. Then there were people running, and you realized someone must’ve reported you. It was in a moment of instinct that you shoved Rosalynd off the dock into the water as the guards finally found you, rifles trained as they shouted for you to get on the ground.
Your last moment of clarity was being struck with the butt of a rifle and wondering if the repeated head trauma would have any lasting effects.
𑁍⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆𑁍
Rosalynd knew. She knew who she was, she knew where to find her real family, and most of all, she knew what she wanted.
It had always been her plan to leave that godforsaken tower to see the lanterns. It hadn’t always been her plan to never go back, but she wouldn’t lose sleep over it. Still, as she watched the guards drag your limp body away after you’d pushed her into the water so she’d be hidden under the dock, she knew what she had to do.
There was a dark stain of blood left on the wooden dock when she finally pulled herself back up, and it enraged her. She should be the only one allowed to hit you like that. She could heal what she’d done, fix her damage. Even if she broke you, she could put you back together with only a song.
The crown, the reason for all of this, felt warm against her leg from the hidden pocket in her dress she’d placed it in. It was time to put it to good use. She grit her teeth as she began storming through the kingdom, heading for the palace.
It was high time she spoke to her parents.
𑁍⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆𑁍
The guards hadn’t been gentle in their handling of you. Your mind was hazy with pain as you lay on the floor. There were people talking over you, people talking to you. Or was there? You couldn’t really tell over the ringing in your ears, the nausea, and the overall confusion.
It was getting harder to stay awake, even with someone’s hand buried in your hair, forcing your head up to look at them. Then you were being dropped back to the floor, which only made your head hurt worse. You were just so pained… so tired… maybe if you just closed your eyes, it would all go away…
𑁍⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆𑁍
Circe had never been the same after her daughter was stolen. Rune hadn’t been the same either, practically abandoning all of his duties in favor of searching for her, but she’d really changed.
When her daughter had been stolen, so had her joy. She knew she was alive somewhere, felt it in her heart. She just needed help to find home. That was why they’d started the lantern festival. At least, it was a festival to their people. To them, it was simply another hope that their princess would find her way back.
So to have some… dirty thief steal one of the only things they had left of their baby girl was simply unforgivable.
They knew who you were. Orphan, slum born, no family. Your face was plastered everywhere they could think of. They would find you, they would make you pay, they would make you regret it.
But then you’d been on the floor in front of her. Then her hand had been buried in your hair, and you were looking up at her with a swollen face and eyes that wouldn’t focus, and she remembered. She remembered holding her baby, what it felt like to be a mother.
You had been someone’s baby once, hadn’t you? No, you hadn’t, you were an orphan. She’d let you go as she recoiled in horror, only to realize she’d only made it worse when your head thudded against the floor, and you stopped moving.
“What are you doing?” Rune was at her side now as she fell onto her knees, gathering you into her lap. He’d always been good at reading her emotions, always trusted she knew what she was doing.
“They’re only a few months younger than Rosalynd would be…” She murmured, a sob breaking loose from her chest as she saw the bloody cuts along your legs and the large bruising bump on your forehead. “Oh, what have we done…?”
“Your highnesses!” A maid suddenly burst into the room. “There’s-!”
“Get out! We are not in the mood right now!” Rune said, shielding his wife as he glared at the maid.
“But, the-!” The maid stammered. And then there was a girl shoving past her, armed with a frying pan with a little lizard clinging onto her shoulder. At once, he recognized her, freezing as she shoved past him as well.
Circe was frozen, watching as a girl she knew was her daughter effortlessly cut through the room to get to you. And then she watched as your limp body was pulled from her lap and cradled in her arms.
Rune hugged her, the two of them watching in awe as she started to sing, light pouring from her hair as she stared only at you. They watched as the bruising slowly faded, the cuts healed over, and she gently stroked a hand through your hair before she turned to face them with eyes that haunted Circe’s dreams.
“Mother. Father. I believe we should talk.”
𑁍⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆𑁍
You awoke with a groan, expecting pain, only to find none. Instead, you were lying in a soft bed, carefully tucked between the covers.
“You’re quite lucky, you know.” Rosalynd was sitting at your bedside, her fingers running along the edge of her pan. “I didn’t even have to do that much convincing.”
“Convincing?” Your voice was shaky as you looked around. “Where are we? What's going on?”
“Shhh. Lie back down. I had to bring you back from the brink, so you’re hardly in a state to do anything, much less get up.” She said, a firm hand resting on your shoulder as she refused to let you sit up.
“Convincing?” You repeated, even as you slowly began fading back into slumber. “Who?”
“My parents. Well, biological parents. To keep you.” She hummed, nudging her lizard onto the bedside table. “As long as you stay here and behave, they’ve agreed to help the people in the slums get better housing, jobs, and food. Aren’t the lives of all those people worth more than your own? You already decided that once.”
You had, hadn’t you. You’d stolen a crown. A crown that now rested on top of her head, looking like it was always meant to be. So you made the easy choice, you picked the option you knew.
You chose to lock the golden bars of your gilded cage yourself.
what if reader from ur love bus high series and yan family are the same? i’m curious as to how they would interact and how the fam will react to reader having a relationship xD since most of the hs yans want to be on reader’s family’s good side but the fam are hostile to basically anyone interacting with reader
great work btw, i love how soft the yans are! i love how wholesome (well as much as possible…) they are since this genre is more nsfw leaning, it’s nice to see variety. :3
Thank you for the request and compliment, dear anon! so glad to hear that people like my writing! I myself do love the idea of those two series's being connected
"What if the Family Album yanderes met the Love Bus High yanderes?"
WARNING: Masc!reader, usage of "little brother", cuss word (1)
General/All:
- They would be suspicious of the yanderes, some more than others.
- They would be polite but distant. Fake smiles, side eyes, mocking comments disguised as compliments.
- That would change only when the family finds out that the yanderes are just as obsessed with you as they are (in different ways, but no matter)
- After that they would become friendlier. Not treating the yanderes like family just yet, but willing to hear them out
- It would take time, effort and attention to get the family to see the yanderes as family, which the yanderes must achieve if they wish to marry you
Specific (before good graces):
-- Papa/Augustin - The friendliest of the family members. He's a softie and always wants to keep you happy so he'd be the most willing to hear them out. Still distant, but at least he's not glaring at the yanderes! His favourite is Stephen (He sees himself in the boy)
-- Mama/Tammy - The one who gathers all of the information about the yanderes. Second friendliest, her smiles towards the yanderes might as well be knives laced with poison. Gathers every piece of dirt she can. Her favourite is Ruka (She likes how polite and calm they are)
-- Wynn - The most hostile one. He's already barely home when you're in high school and now when he has come back, he finds you with a gaggle of admirers (not that he's surprised; you're his wonderful little brother after all, and you deserve it, but it doesn't make him any less angry). Openly mocks and tries to scare off the yanderes. His (reluctant) favourite is Ruka (The most normal-seeming of them all)
-- Meave - Not as openly hostile as Wynn, she likes to make them uncomfortable. Seeing as she would be in college at this point, she wouldn't be as present but still shows up to check up on you. Her favourite is Mùchén.
-- Ebony & Bowen - They know the yanderes the best out of the family so they at least know they won't try to hurt you. Still doesn't trust them. Their favourite is Ruka
The yanderes:
-- Stephen - He's normally gets on great with people's families, so he wasn't extremely nervous. That quickly changed. Called you after coming home to ask if your family hated him, crying the whole time
-- Mùchén - he cried before and after the meeting. Before because he was just so nervous about meeting your family and because you were that serious about him that you wanted him to meet your family! Afterwards, however, he was fully convinced he had fucked it all up. He was never going to be able to marry you! He was DOOOMED!!!! (he put on his favourite music playlist and buried himself into your hoodie for comfort.)
-- Marylin - She was perfect for them. Perfect smile, perfect hair, perfect personality. No flaws in sight!...So why didn't they like her!?? Very confused and hurt but is trying to hide it. She couldn't just break like that, not while your love was on the line! She just had to try harder.
-- Ruka - While they do care about your parents' approval, it isn't the most important thing to them. As long as you liked them, they could deal with an angry family-in-law. They would still try to get on their good side, don't worry!
(Had to split this into two parts sorry!)
❥︎ ︎Summary: You miss your curfew, and your dad, Remy LeBeau, is a nervous wreck. You finally call, slurring your words and apologizing, telling him you went to a party, but something happened, and you needed him to come get you.
❥︎Author notes: If you like this work and would want to see more, my requests are open.
Remy LeBeau wasn't used to this kind of silence.
He was a thief. After all, he knew how to live in the quiet when it served him. But this? This was a silence that was all wrong. The house had been still since 10:30, the time you were supposed to be home. It was 11:42 now, and the quiet was thick and heavy, pressing down on him.
He’d already paced the living room so many times the carpet was probably worn down in a new line. He’d gone to the kitchen, heated up the jambalaya he’d made for your dinner, then put it back in the fridge, untouched, when the plate went cold. He’d tried to distract himself, flicking through channels on the TV, but the screen was just a blur of colors. He couldn’t focus.
His phone was clutched in his hand, a constant source of buzzing anxiety. He’d started with a stern message: You breakin' curfew, ma belle. Dis is not like you. You gonna be in big trouble. But as the minutes ticked by, the messages had changed. The anger had drained away, replaced by a simple, raw fear. Chère, please answer. I’m gettin’ worried. Just tell me you okay. Where you at? The last one was the shortest, a simple prayer typed out in his mind: Please. Just say somethin’.
He stepped out onto the balcony, lighting a cigarette. He took one long drag, the cherry glowing in the dark, before he swore in French and tossed it over the railing. He didn't want to jump to conclusions. You were a good kid, his chère fille. So shy you'd blush just from a teacher calling your name. He knew you weren't the type to sneak out or get into trouble. That's what scared him most. You were a fragile thing, a quiet girl who smiled too politely when strangers got too close. Remy had lived too long and seen too much to ignore what the world could do to a girl like you. He was reaching for his coat when the phone buzzed, your name flashing on the screen.
He didn’t even say hello. "Where you at, chère?"
There was a pause, a shaky breath. Then your voice, wobbly and small. "Papa? I-I'm so sorry. I know I'm late. I just... I went to a party and..." Your voice broke, and you started to ramble, slurring your words in a jumble of apologies. "I didn't mean to go, I swear. I just... I wanted to go with my friends and they said it was okay... I'm so sorry, Papa. I didn't know what else to do."
Remy's heart hammered against his ribs. The world around him went still, all of his focus on your broken voice. "I need you to pick me up," you whispered.
"I’m already on m’way, petite," he said, his voice a low thrum of steel. "Tell Papa where you at. The party, where you at now?"
"I left the party. I’m by the pharmacy on Carter street. I didn't know what else to do. Someone... someone made me feel uncomfortable."
His fingers curled around the steering wheel, his knuckles white. The fire he’d been holding back blazed up, hot and dangerous in his chest. "Are you hurt, chère?" he asked, his voice low and sharp.
"No. Just scared. A little dizzy. I think there was alcohol in the drink I had."
He forced the fire back down. "You stay put. You hear me? Don’t you move from that spot. I’ll be there in five minutes."
"...okay."
"And ma belle?"
"Yeah?"
"You did the right thing."
When he pulled up, you were a small, huddled shape on the bench outside the pharmacy, arms curled tight around yourself. The moment the headlights hit you, you looked up, your body instantly uncurling and moving toward the car like a magnet pulled to its north pole.
Remy was out of the car before the engine was even off. "Come here, chère."
You practically fell into his arms, burying your face in his chest like you used to when you were a little girl. He wrapped you up tightly, one hand on your back, the other gently stroking your hair.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice muffled against his jacket. "I didn't wanna bother you with this..."
"You think I care ‘bout that when m’baby callin’ me scared?" he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don’t care what time it is, not a bit. You mine, and I come get you anytime, anyplace." He held you a moment longer, just letting you feel safe, before he gently guided you toward the car.
"You feel wobbly?" he asked. You gave a small, wobbly nod. "Alright, bébé, lean on me." He helped you into the passenger seat, buckling you in as if you were still a child. He could see how your hands were trembling, how you were clutching the sleeves of your hoodie.
Back at the apartment, he helped you inside, his hand a steady presence at your back. He sat you down on the sofa and returned a moment later with a glass of water and a plate of the now-cold jambalaya. "Eat a little somethin', chère," he said, his eyes on you as you took a small sip of water. He got you into pajamas, then tucked a blanket around you, the soft one with stars you’d carried everywhere when you were ten.
"I was scared," you whispered.
"I know, bébé," he said softly, sitting on the floor beside the couch so he could be at your level. "You safe now."
You nodded, but your fingers were still trembling around the water glass. He reached over and gently placed a hand over yours. "You ain't gotta tell me what happened tonight," he said. "Not if you don’t want to."
You looked at him, tears in your eyes, guilt on your face.
"But I am gonna ask you tomorrow," he added, his voice low but gentle. "This is somethin' we gotta talk about."
You gave a hesitant nod, then leaned your head against his chest. He pulled you close, holding you like you were made of glass. "I didn't know who else to call," you murmured.
"Girl," he said, kissing the top of your head, "I'm yo’ first call. Always. Ain't never gonna be mad 'bout that."
"Even if I had a little vodka punch and ran away from a party cryin'?"
"Especially then," he said. "And lemme tell you somethin', chère-you did everythin' right. You felt somethin' was wrong. You got out. That takes courage. That takes heart. I’m so proud of you."
You took a shaky breath, but your shoulders finally relaxed. He sat there, holding you, until your breathing evened out and you fell asleep.
Later that night, after you were finally asleep, Remy sat awake, staring at the ceiling. He was still. But his mind was not. He didn't know exactly what happened yet. But he would find out. And when he did?
Whoever made his daughter feel afraid like that?
They were gonna learn just how dangerous a quiet girl's dad could be.
Pairings: (soft platonic yandere omega Bruce Wayne x gn! reader)
Warnings: just pure fluff, tiny bit of angst, yandere themes, obsessive Bruce, posessive Bruce, nesting, mentions of scenting, platonic yandere. Let me know if I missed any more warnings!
warmth
That's what you wake up to, pure blissful warmth, the type of calm not many get to experience nor bathe in it. seeping into your very clothes, giving you a sense of comfort that is unfamiliar yet welcomed all the same. Because Gotham was never a place for warmth, with its freezing winters and blazing summers, Gotham was cruel.
Yet you sigh in contempt, reluctant to open your eyes and take in the world around you, so you decide to just rest there as your body is being consumed by the welcomed warmth coming from around you.
But you guess fate has other plans as you hear distant movement, more like rustling in the nest, and just by the strong, sweet berry-like smell, you immediately knew it was Bruce. Or well, "mama" to be more exact.
You could feel him before you even got the chance to open your eyes, his scent becoming more prominent as he encases you in a bear hug.
you cant help but sigh in comfort as you're near him. You've always been the most clingy out of the pack, so it's no wonder you would immediately relax in the presence of one of your pack members, especially Bruce.
You finally open your eyes to gaze up at him, and you cant help but notice that familiar glint in his eyes as he stares down at you. He's in one of those moods. now you defintly know youre not leaving the nest for a while, but you don't seem to mind or care as long as your next to him.
and the delights him, it really does, because all he wants is for his little pup to be safe and sound in his arms, where no one can hurt you. because he's your mama. And what kind of parent would he be if he didn't want to protect his little one? You may not physically be a little pup anymore, but some part of you still craves to be around your mama, where you rightfully belong.
And right now, with you in his arms, all he feels is at peace, and that's rare for someone who takes the role of both Batman and the Playboy billinoare brucie wayne, because he never gets a moment of peace, to let the tensions in his body go and just relax and let his mind go, no batman never gets to relax while their are criminals terrorizing the streets of gotham.
But at least with you in his arms, he can let himself go, let himself be at peace knowing that one of his pups was safe and sound in the confines of the manor, where no one would dare to touch or hurt you, not even yourself. You're the light to his darkness, and no one can take that away, can take you away. Or they will have to face the wrath of not only Bruce Wayne but Batman as well.
But what snaps him out of his internal monologue is the vibrations of your purring against him, and he cant help but melt at the sight. You're just so precious. The sound of your purring brings a sense of comfort, knowing how you trust him enough to let your guard down and embrace your more pup-like side. (even if you aren't here on your own accord)
Bruce decides to reposition himself in the nest, sinking himself into the pillows as you follow with him, curling your body around him as his arms encase around you. youd compare Bruce to a furnace from how warm he is, and you cant help but melt under his touch as he runs his battered fingers through you're locks of hair, combing through the tangles as he rubs your back in a circular motion. to bring you a sense of security and safety in his arms and his arms alone.
And you cant help but let yourself drift, not fully asleep yet not fully awake, just at peace. And that's all you needed right now, a sense of peace to calm your aching heart and mind, to ground you back to the reality you live in.
Your head will never start racing, and your heart will never stop aching but in this moment, culddled up to the one you call mama the one yoi adore so oh very much (where it becomes physically impossible to be away from him for long), you let your thoughts slow and your heart calms down to a steady beat almost in sync with his own as youre layed down on his chest.
The steady thrumming of his heartbeat is what makes you start to drift off into, it's just too hard not to resist giving into his comfort. It's like you've become a puddle of goo, not even trying to resist this feeling of pure bliss because you know you're safe, and you can't help yourself but to nuzzle into his neck as the tensions in you're body finally relax.
But Bruce can't help but to smirk at how fast you melted into him, you really missed you're dear mama, huh?
But who's to say Bruce doesn't enjoy this a much as you, to her, you're heartbeat so close to him, to hear that you are safe and sound in his arms where you belong, where you were always meant to be, because no one can take care of his pup but him.
And as he cradles you against his chest, all he can think about is how lucky he is right now, to feel you against him, to know this is where you are meant to be.
like a baby bird in the nest with their mama. Because to Bruce, you're his baby bird, and he's your mama, and it will always stay that way, through sickness to health, no matter how old you get, you will always be his baby bird, his pup, his.
And as Bruce starts to drift off, letting the exhaustion from the day set in, he lets his eyes close with finality as his mind starts to slowly succumb to dream land all he can think is how lucky he is right now, lucky to have you safe in his arms.
and nothing will ever change that
Authors note: finally got this finished and I'm working on some your guys requests! So it might take me a while since I'm still outlining chapter 1 and 2 of my dear pup! So I hope you enjoyed this!
One could expect anything from Jason—anything but the fact that he’d end up with a ‘Robin’ of his own.
The Scarecrow was one of the people you feared the most ever since your mother decided to move to Gotham City—a bad idea, clearly, and one she never explained to you, why she chose such a dangerous place. Every time the news showed what became of his victims, thanks to his fear gas, your fragile body would tremble against your mother’s worried embrace.
A current of panic flooded through you every time she left the house for work, especially after you saw the last incident on the news—the one that claimed several lives in the streets of the Upper East Side, where you lived with her in a cheap apartment in the red zone.
Maybe that’s why you were so sensitive to every detail in your surroundings: the creak of the floorboards, the whispers of the wind slipping through the window, the distant wail of sirens.
And then came that night, when everything changed: the cold became unbearable, and your bones seemed to crack under a shiver that not even the heater could drive away.
You opened your eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the glow of the television in front of you.
The voices coming from the news channel reached your ears as muffled echoes, sounds you didn’t really pay attention to. You had fallen asleep on the uncomfortable couch in the living room after your mother left for work when the clock struck 7 p.m.
You still felt drowsy, your body numb, your thoughts foggy and unclear. After a deep yawn and a stretch that only made the ache of sleeping in a bad position worse, your body froze.
Your stomach tickled—not like the swing-set tickle in your belly, but that unsettling sensation that spread more and more through your body.
You were so cold, and you couldn’t move, couldn’t react; slouched on the couch, your fingers turning white from clutching the frayed edges of the old fabric.
You knew that feeling well. Your mother had called it intuition—that uneasiness blooming out of nowhere in your chest, convincing you something was about to happen.
And you desperately hoped it wasn’t something bad.
But the only thought crashing through your mind was your mother’s face—the fresh memory of her earlier, grabbing her bag, turning back to smile softly at you as her lips murmured warm words of goodbye. Words you never imagined would be the last.
“I want my mom… where is she?” you thought in alarm. You stood up quickly, glancing around the living room until your eyes landed on the window. Gotham’s starless sky was lit up by a symbol—the Bat-Signal.
But that was normal, wasn’t it? Batman was out almost every night, punishing bad men. You couldn’t think of a reason why they would have to light that signal.
You prayed it wasn’t for something bad.
But everything would be fine. Because Batman and Robin were out there. Maybe.
The door rattled under insistent knocks.
You opened it with cold hands, barely reaching the doorknob. Two police officers stood there, and behind them, Commissioner Gordon lowered his gaze to meet your height. They asked for an adult, another presence in your home—one that was never there.
Sometimes you still remember that night, embodying the pain as if it were the first time. As if your emotions had memories that echoed through your body, wounding you as if you were reliving it all over again, dragging you into that dark, depressive pit that changed your world forever, that snuffed out the innocence in your eyes and made you see the world differently.
The pounding of the officers’ fists still echoed in your chest, and when they asked for an adult, all you could do was stammer your mother’s name. Gordon looked at you, and in his eyes you discovered what you never wanted to see: pity.
From then on, you lived surrounded by invisible whispers. Your mother, once your shelter, became a prisoner of her own mind. Panic attacks, screams in the middle of the night, terrors you couldn’t see but could feel every time she squeezed your hand until your fingers went numb.
Your fear was never your own. She passed it on to you, with every story she told about that man, about the monster in the burlap sack who seemed to be everywhere. You grew up convinced Jonathan Crane didn’t need to touch you to destroy you—he only needed to break the person you loved most.
And that was enough to ruin your life.
To shatter your illusion. Because Batman, nor Robin, not even Nightwing, were there to save your mother.
And that bitter resentment only grew stronger as your thoughts hardened, shaped by the forced maturity you had to carry—at only eleven years old. Because there were no sane adults left in that house, and the cracks in the walls and spreading stains of mold were the clearest sign: as the mildew grew, your mother’s mind decayed alongside it.
And though your body still trembles when you think of him, you know this: you survived.
Your mother survived, though broken. And you survived, though scarred. And that scar became a silent promise: someday you will stop being afraid. Someday you won’t be the frightened child—you’ll be the voice that stands up for those still trembling.
Because survivors don’t forget. And you are one of them.
Though no matter how strong you try to appear, you were weak, fragile, sensitive—and could probably collapse under something as simple as a strong wind.
Jason Todd knew what it felt like to be unprotected, even when there was supposed to be someone there to shield you from danger, to wrap you in their arms against all harm.
And you were just a stray dog like him, searching for the warmth you had lost at home—throwing punches with bloody, scraped knuckles as you tried to find it again.
A stray dog who found warmth in the first person who offered even the smallest piece of trust.
Him.
Jason felt his chest tighten, silent vines growing inside him until his breath grew short. It was that feeling of pain again, the echo of the past crashing into him without warning.
It was your face.
Your bruised cheeks, dust smeared as if you’d been dragged across the ground while fists rained down on you.
Maybe that was the clearest sign—your nose dripping crimson, sticky against your skin, staining your lips.
It was your eyes that haunted him the most. They didn’t shine, they were empty, hollow wells that even the lights of Gotham’s docks couldn’t bring back to life.
But there was something else there too. Rage. Something dark that made them burn. The same look he’d carried in his own eyes after crawling out of that green pit, staring at his reflection and realizing he was no longer the same.
There were a hundred different ways he could have crossed paths with you. But this one? It was cruelly ironic. Like karma clawing its way back to him, forcing him to face the echoes of his past. Both of you stood frozen, the sound of waves crashing somewhere behind, when he caught you in the act—halfway through removing the wheel from his motorcycle.
A thick metal bar dangled from your hand, gripped so tightly it looked ready to strike at the smallest twitch from him. And those eyes—those owl-like, chilling eyes—never left his, staring straight through him without a hint of fear.
It was like you weren’t even breathing. Your body rigid, fists clenched tighter and tighter until your knuckles cracked. The way you stared him down was unnerving, your pupils blown wide, your gaze sharpening.
Jason knew, deep down, that if Damian or Tim ever found out he’d been frozen in place—paralyzed—by some random girl, they’d laugh until their ribs hurt.
And in his mind’s eye, he could already see Bruce’s look—the one that told him they both knew exactly what this reminded him of.
He could almost hear Dick’s laugh too, amused that even a kid could stare down the Red Hood without flinching. But then, inevitably, that laugh would fade. His features would soften, and the weight of it would sink in—the ache of realizing just how lost a child had to be to end up stealing like this.
You didn’t just see his face when he pulled off the metal mask with an irritated sigh—you stole the damn wheels off his motorcycle too.
He hated how hard it was to swallow the truth staring back at him. His reflection. Another kid broken by Gotham’s streets.
“I’m not… I’m not gonna hurt you,” he muttered, careful not to startle you further. “I promise.”
Your eyes narrowed, flickering with confusion, maybe even fear, but it was gone in an instant. They only hardened. You said nothing. You couldn’t.
Because you knew your voice would betray you. That high, childish pitch would shatter the fragile armor you’d built.
You flinched back when he took a step forward, like a startled deer, glass bottles and pipes clattering behind you as you scrambled away too quickly.
And something inside Jason cracked.
Instead of chasing that feeling, instead of holding your gaze so you could see the concern he was trying to bury, he simply fixed the wheel back onto his bike.
He revved the engine, ready to ride away and leave the chill of old wounds behind. He wanted to say something, anything—
But before the words could form, you bolted. Gone in the blink of an eye, running despite the scrapes on your legs, vanishing into the maze of shipping containers.
Leaving behind the metal bar.
Leaving behind Red Hood himself.
You knew it was his bike—his logo was painted on it clear as day. But your impulses always won. The gnawing ache in your stomach always won. Hunger always won.
How to you do the some gradient lettering on your posts? I’ve been trying to figure it out but I’m useless- please teach me your secrets!
i’m not good with stuff either so i just followed this tutorial by @/pixxiesdust / @/fairycourts! it’s actually pretty easy, just a bit time consuming 💔
I was asked by the lovely @an-idiot-in-a-trenchcoat about how I got the gradient caption to this edit, so I decided to make a mini tutoria
thinking....thinking….platonic-yan!farmer who found you injured on his land...️🙂↕️🙂↕️
CW: loss of a loved one, grief, depressive thoughts, injuries (not very explicit), possibly inaccurate depictions of farm life, rodeo cowboys and the adoption system, reader is implied to be smaller than ennis and to have hair (sorry bald people 💔)
ennis has always wanted children. after inheriting the family farm and marrying his husband, kenneth, he couldn’t wait to start their family.
during long days out working on the farm, he would daydream about how the days he’d spend with his child would go. from domestic things like waking up in the morning to them helping kenneth out with breakfast and eating a hearty dinner together after a long day, to farm work like harvesting husks of corn or dumping feed into the troughs.
when both him and his husband were free, they’d spend hours browsing through the children’s section in furniture and fashion catalogues, reading up on books about parenting, and preparing their spare bedroom for their future child together. once both of them were sure that they had all the necessary things needed to raise a child, they filled sent out the paperwork that’ll make them eligible to adopt a child.
things were looking great for them. the autumn harvest was bountiful, and with winter approaching farm duties were more relaxed, giving them more time to spend with each other. while they lounged in the living room together, they eagerly awaited that phone call that’ll make them parents. ennis was elated, his life long dream of having a family was so close to coming true!
unfortunately, this happiness did not last long.
on the eve of that winter, kenneth had gotten into a freak accident at the last rodeo show of the season that claimed his life. that day, ennis’s whole world came crashing down.
all the applications and reading through parenting books meant nothing. his dreams of starting a family are now never coming true.
the days following the accident, the farm began to deteriorate. ennis had become a hollow shell of the person he was before. he could not pull himself together enough to even get out of his bed, let alone to tend to the farm. everything reminded him of his husband, what he lost.
some days he would wake up feeling completely fine, maybe even pulling himself together enough to go outside to make sure the livestock were ok. he would walk back into the house, smiling to himself picturing kenneth making breakfast for the two of them before he headed off to work. when he was hit with reality, he broke down. curling into himself on the kitchen floor as full body sobs racked his body, spiraling even further into grief.
on one particularly cold day, he decided to get up and take a walk around the farm. he realized that being in their once shared bedroom would do him no good, since staying in there just prevented him from processing his death.
that day was the day he met you.
he had found you laying in a ditch near his farm, soaked to the bone, bleeding profusely from a large wound that looked like they had been caused by a large animal. ennis was instantly horrified, he couldn’t believe how someone would just leave a poor innocent and defenseless child like you alone in the dead of winter?! let alone unconscious and bleeding out!
he gently lifted you up into his arms, trying not to disturb your wound carrying you inside. you were ice cold to the touch and he could feel how you trembled like a leaf in winter. oh you poor little thing…
once inside, he carefully set you down on the couch, striping you of your wet clothes then gingerly bandaging up your wound. he then went into the depths of his closet to retrieve some dry clothes that would fit you and some thick blankets to warm you up.
when he walked back into the living room and saw you laying on the couch so peacefully, he couldn’t help but coo at how cute you looked.
you looked so small and so very vulnerable…who knows what could happen to you if he didn’t find you? you could’ve contracted hypothermia, became comatose, and wolves are extremely active around this area especially when night falls, he had already lost a few sheep to them oh gods, what if they found you again and-
no…he didn't even want to think about it…he’s already lost enough in the past weeks. he can’t take the possibility of his child dying.
Huh…
his child?....
ennis thought that he had lost the chance of becoming a father forever. adoption agencies would instantly reject him as a candidate because of how poor his mental state is due to being recently widowed. he could barely get out of the bed some days. there was nothing to live for anymore.
but…he has you now.
you are his salvation.
you are a chance for him to start over, to take his life back after his husband died. by raising you, he could honour his husband. although it may be unorthodox considering how you may already have a family and waking up in an unfamiliar house may be quite jarring, he won’t let you go, not after what happened to his husband.
tenderly bundling your cold body with the blankets, he softly wrapped his arms around your frame, pulling you close to his chest. he kissed your hair, rocking you back and forth as tears threatened to slip from his eyes.
his dream had finally came true and he couldn’t wait for you to wake up.
A/N: btw i did not attend for this piece to be this long i just went with the wind and this is where it lead me to..anyways i hope you guys enjoyed tis even if its obvious that i made shit up as i went...😖😖 the ending is kinda rushed because i was getting too repetitive but lmk fellas... feel free to leave asks and requests cuz i need ideas... ANYWYAS as always criticism is welcome and appreciated as long as youre nice!! :3
