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deebris · 21 days

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The Misteryous Visitor 6

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Being alone with Damian after so many years didn't lead to the ideal conversation you two should have had, but every little word seemed to have helped you two get closer at least a little bit. However, the chaotic turbulence of the night returned when your mother decided to leave.

Warnings: Family discussion; mention of kidnapping; maternal possessiveness;

Word count: 4k

Note: I wanted to post this and part 7 together, because they are the last two, but it didn't turn out as planned. I hope you like it.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Damian walked to the end of the hallway and turned right, heading toward the living room. His only goal at the moment was to find you and try to prepare you for the catastrophic revelation he knew would come at some point. He was already tired of seeing you so unaware of everything; you weren’t an idiot and didn’t deserve to be treated like one.

But it seemed he didn’t have to try too hard because as soon as he turned the corner and walked a few meters, he abruptly stopped upon seeing that you hadn’t disappeared. In fact, you were there, sitting on the floor next to an old portrait of Martha, your grandmother, curled up as if just waiting for someone to come and get you. Someone who wasn’t your brother, apparently.

“There you are.” He took a few steps back and made no effort to crouch to your level; instead, he stood staring at you with a reproachful look that made you pull your legs even tighter to your chest. “Get up, quickly. The floor is for rats.”

He was trying to ignore the tension, but you were giving him the silent treatment, which made him uncomfortable, though he would never admit it to himself. You had done this to him many times before, but it was always over silly reasons, so he never minded.

You also could never hold a grudge for long, and when you were younger, within an hour, you would have forgotten any disagreement between the two of you and would then come to annoy him again. But now you were older, it wasn’t a tantrum anymore, and the reason was much more complex than any other. You weren’t ignoring him because you were simply irritated, and he feared it was different now.

Damian couldn’t ignore the irritation he felt seeing how ashamed of yourself you seemed since he first saw you. He hated that trait of your personality, always very aware of everything and everyone around you, though it was contradictory to your incredible ability to do unthinkable nonsense.

From where you both were, he still had a view of the bedroom door. The boy couldn’t help but glance over there, curious about what kind of discussion your parents were having. At the same time, he was contemplating various ways to say something or maybe try to fix the awkwardness between you two now, but your guilty voice caught him off guard:

“I didn’t mean to cause harm.” You sounded hoarse, and you two stared at each other, and unlike his sharp eyes, yours were wavering. He gave you a hard expression, but not because of the aversion you thought he had for you, but out of confusion.

It was a pity that Damian’s feelings weren’t easy to read, so you thought he was angry because that night you found out Bruce was someone very important to your brother now. “I didn’t mean to hurt Mr. Wayne. I really don’t know what I did to make him like this. I’m sorry.”

So you thought you had done something wrong to make your father that way, Damian concluded. He hadn’t reflected on how you might feel that way, and fighting against his own callous nature, he made an effort to relax his posture and crouched down in front of you. Damian didn’t dare sit the same way you were, balancing on his toes and leaning his torso forward.

“It wasn’t anything you did.” You’re not sure, but you risk saying this was the first time you heard your brother so soft in your entire life. Damian had always been very loud and was almost always yelling or offending someone, but now, combined with the gravity his voice had gained with puberty, it was tender.

He was going to say something else, but suddenly a strange noise sounded. It was muffled, but it seemed like something had fallen, and you both could feel the ground vibrate. It came from the bedroom, which made you become alert. You started to get up, worried, but your brother’s firm hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“It must have been nothing. Don’t worry about them.” The tenderness had been replaced by harshness, but it wasn’t directed at you.

Sliding your back against the wall again, you rested your chin on your knees while admiring your own shoes, and just like always, you couldn’t maintain your silent treatment with Damian for long:

“I think I bothered Mr. Wayne by coming here. Mom will be mad at me for this later, I know she will.” You were obviously nervous, seeking refuge in Damian as you always did when you had to face her. Your mother didn’t have a good relationship with Batman, and now having to deal with you for disturbing his evening would make her furious. The little relief you felt earlier had vanished, suspecting she had only been affectionate before not to show Bruce.

“Mom is mad all the time.” He tried to calm you down. It would be unbelievable for someone who knows Talia only through her assassin image to hear such a thing. She was a cold and calculating woman, but you both knew when she was upset. She didn’t express it in a conventional way, and Damian had already gotten used to it. Your mother’s mood didn’t concern him much, but it was still scary for you.

“You were mad…” Your statement made him sigh because it was true. A few minutes ago, he had reacted that way, but there was context he couldn’t immediately explain to you. “Maybe I can apologize to him? If he forgives me, I promise I won’t do it again, and then mom-”

“Y/n.” Your brother cut off your frantic speech sharply; you were almost hyperventilating. “No one is mad at you.” He said it as a statement, leaving no room for you to contest him.

“He was calm.” you started to ramble, picking at the fabric of your clothes with your nail. “He read something he took out of his pocket and started feeling sick, I was trying to help…”

Damian frowned. He had seen Dick give a small piece of paper to his father downstairs. That idiot wouldn’t have been stupid enough to write on it that you were his daughter, right? What a wonderful way to tell something like that.

“Idiot.” Your brother muttered aloud without meaning to, feeling immense anger at the thought that Dick had done that. And only after he blurted out the word did he realize you were still beside him, listening. “Not you.” He tried to explain hastily, still with a furious expression on his face.

It was strange for him to talk to you that way. He had called you an idiot many times during childhood, and you used to call each other much worse things, as siblings do. But your relationship now was delicate, like a strand of cotton candy, since that intimacy you once had was lost.

“By the way, Bruce is just stressed about Strange.” Damian analyzed your reaction at the mention of the name. To you, Strange was just another enemy of Batman, never suspecting that the man who appeared at your house years ago could somehow be him.

The League of Assassins had many enemies scattered across the globe; at that time, you thought it was just another one of them. You also never asked or wanted to talk about it, which was unusual for how chatty you could be sometimes. For you, Hugo Strange and the person who kidnapped you back then had no connection.

“There must have been something about our investigation there. I’m sure it was Dick who gave him that card. You didn’t do anything.” He said.

Your heart returned to its normal rhythm, but it grew heavy again as you understood the facts. Damian was blaming Dick for that thing Bruce was holding onto, but it was you who had given it to him in the first place. Bruce became distressed when you mentioned the gift and quickly pulled it out of his pocket. That must have been the object Strange gave you.

“Dami.” He heard the nickname leave your lips, and a flicker of hope hit him. There was still a certain closeness between you there. “I was the one who brought the card here; it’s not Dick’s fault. Strange gave it to me to give to Mr. Wayne.”

Damian abruptly stood up, returning to an upright posture. “Strange did what?” Neither Tim, Dick, nor Jason had mentioned this. They said they were telling the whole story, but none of them mentioned any kind of message. Was that why Tim had been acting so strange when he arrived? He remembers seeing him throw a box in the trash and getting all nervous when Damian got irritated and asked what it was. “Was it a small gift box, by any chance?”

“Yes, the same size as the card.” You made a square with your thumbs and index fingers, trying to show the shape of the object. “Just like this. But Mr. Wayne didn’t let me read it; I acted badly by trying to see what was in there too. I shouldn’t have been nosy.”

So Bruce didn’t let you know on purpose? Maybe he just didn’t want you to find out this way. He should have told you. Damian was about to open his lips to take the initiative, but the sound of someone approaching stopped him.

Alfred paused for a moment, finding it odd to see the two of you here. He had returned to make sure you were okay once more and then leave you alone until later in the day. “Master Damian,” He said the boy’s name as a form of acknowledgment, “I thought you were asleep.” The butler added, addressing both of you.

“Alfred!” You got up and walked over to him, who rested a hand on your head expectantly. He saw the way you looked hesitantly at your brother, seeking some kind of approval before returning your attention to him once more. “Something bad happened to Mr. Wayne; he wasn’t well.”

Alfred's eyes widened, looking at Damian for an explanation or just confirmation that it was true. He was obviously tense and speechless for a moment but quickly composed himself.

“What happened, dear?” He asked, and once again you sought your brother’s approval, who took the initiative to explain in your place.

“He…” Damian began, trying to find a way to say it. “Bruce discovered something about Strange.” He said with a suspicious tone and the butler quickly understood the underlying implications.

“Where is he?” Alfred asked, worried.

Damian wasn’t planning to answer, knowing Alfred’s aversion to Talia, but you jumped in: “He and my Mom are talking.”

The butler was obviously displeased and furrowed his brow. He had planned to tell Bruce privately about his supposed daughter, but apparently, things had moved ahead of him. But Alfred knew Bruce well and understood that despite his instability, he would handle things as rationally as possible. Or at least he hoped so.

It was unsettling how a simple night so suddenly turned into yet another Wayne family drama.

“Well,” he sighed, “It seems it’s too early for breakfast, but also too late to go back to sleep.” He gave your hair a gentle tousle with the hand that still rested there, and you appreciated it. Indeed, the sky was already beginning to lighten. “How about some tea to start the day, miss? Or maybe coffee?”

“That’s fine.” You said, accepting that he would guide you through the mansion once more, but stopped when you realized your brother wasn’t making an effort to follow. “Damian, aren’t you coming?”

Your hopeful tone made him huff and approach to follow you. “Let’s go then.” He joined you, heading downstairs.

Damian was deeply irritated by how easily you let your emotions come and go. To him, it was inconceivable that you weren’t resentful, even hating him, as he had presumed you would be just moments ago. The way you let your emotions dissipate so easily bothered him, and he couldn’t understand how you could forgive so simply.

This behavior had always been the target of Damian’s criticism, as he didn’t have the same ease with forgiveness. What ate him up inside, however, was the certainty that even if you found out everything he and Talia had done, you would still be able to forgive them.

Damian suspected that this readiness to forgive came from a lack of options. Throughout your life, you had only him and your mother, and breaking away from either of them would be devastating. Perhaps that was Talia’s greatest fear; even if she tried to convince herself that she kept you hidden for your own good, away from the League and Batman, Damian knew that deep down, she wanted to ensure a safe harbor, someone who would always be emotionally supportive.

Although you might appear to be an very naive girl, your morals were unwavering. And incredibly, Talia managed to keep you loyal to her. Both of them knew that you secretly hated criminals and dreamed of a perfect justice that would never exist, at least not in Gotham City.

Damian knew that his mother’s real fear was that you would find someone else beyond her, people with whom you could connect, not out of obligation or lack of other options, but because you genuinely wanted to. This emotional dependency, nurtured by Talia, made you more spoiled than Damian, who in turn always confronted Talia with stubbornness and resistance.

“Do you like any fruit?” Pennyworth asked you, who were with your arms crossed on the counter, while your brother sat at the end of the table, just keeping watch over your figure.

“All of them.” You replied, and Alfred laughed contentedly. It was nice to hear something like that, especially as he opened the kitchen cupboard and saw the colorful cereals inside, all from Tim’s never-ending stash of treats.

“Master Damian?” The butler asked the boy.

“No, thank you.” He declined with a grimace.

You watched with curiosity as Alfred grabbed a bunch of colorful fruits and began cutting them. There was some kind of dough resting in a container nearby, which you noticed when he moved a cloth to check, and it smelled so good. It was comforting to see him there in the kitchen, even doing something as simple as cutting fruits.

Talia was a very busy woman, and cooking definitely didn’t suit her elegant demeanor. Housework was not part of her routine, so you often ended up eating at expensive restaurants. That’s why every move Alfred made captured your attention, and he noticed.

“Do you want to help me, miss?” He asked, intrigued.

“Can I?” You asked back, already moving to stand next to him with excitement. The butler nodded and instructed you to wash your hands in the sink on the other side of the kitchen.

You were distractedly scrubbing soap on your hands and far enough not to hear Damian whisper: “Bruce isn’t going to let Mom take her home.”

Alfred looked up, not at all surprised by the news. “Does your sister know, Master Damian?” He kept his voice at the same low tone as the boy’s.

“No, Pennyworth. That’s why I’m telling you.” Damian checked to see if you were still far, seeing you drying your hands and hurrying: “When they both come out of that room and Mom leaves, she’s going to make a fuss.”

“What should I do?” You came back, interrupting their conversation and asking for instructions.

Alfred set you the task of removing the stems from the strawberries until a noise from upstairs alerted all three of you. It sounded like glass, and it didn’t take long to hear Talia’s voice calling for the butler, who moved to go to her.

“I’m leaving,” Talia said with a firmness that disguised well the inner turmoil she was facing behind her attitude.

You were stunned, and a rising panic took hold of you. Alfred hadn’t noticed you had followed him until you heard: “I’m going to get my shoes and coat.” You declared. Your mind was spinning with the idea that your mother was angry with you, seeing how she was acting.

Talia turned slightly to you, but the look she gave was impassive. “You’re not coming,” she said. The coldness in her voice wasn’t unfamiliar but struck deep in your chest. “You’re going to stay here with your brother.”

“But…” You tried to process what was happening, needing to look at Damian next to you for a moment until reality hit you back. “Why?” You asked with a trembling breath, already approaching her and grabbing your mother’s hand in desperation.

“For heaven’s sake, Y/n. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She rolled her eyes and looked at you with impatience. “You and Damian will get to spend time together again.”

“But what about you, Mom? Why can’t we all be together?” You clung to her hand even tighter, trying to keep her there forever, but all you received in return was the look she gave when you upset her.

“I’ll send your things with someone. Be obedient.” She said, but her real desire was for you to be rebellious, especially towards Bruce. Your mother crouched to your height and pinched your cheeks with her hands while whispering so the other two wouldn’t hear: “But remember, you’re mine daughter, understand? Your mother will always be here for you. I’ll get in touch.” She gave you a strong kiss, leaving a perfect lipstick mark, and grabbed the coat that was already in Alfred’s hands with haste.

“I want to go with you!” Talia felt your arms around her waist and sighed.

“You're old enough to be acting like this, Y/n. Let go.” She tried to wriggle free on her own, but your grip was so strong that her fingers barely moved. “Y/n, enough!” She shouted genuinely furious, and you jumped back in fear. The sight made her wilt, but she still suppressed it and opened the door.

You were in shock, never imagining that your actions could have led to this. It was as if she hated you for it, and you felt a pressure on your forehead, unsure if it was from the anger you felt at how your mother treated you or from the desperation.

“Don’t go after her,” Damian ordered, knowing you would do it anyway, which is why he held you in place.

You couldn’t accept it. The idea of being left behind, the feeling of being rejected by the only family you knew, was overwhelming. “Mom!” You shouted, struggling to free yourself from Damian’s grip in fury, the sadness totaly replaced by a burning rage. “Don’t leave! I’m sorry for disobeying! I didn’t mean to do anything wrong!” you screamed. “Why are you like this with me?!” You shouted louder, not caring about making a scene.

Talia’s feet were already buried in the snow, trying to hide the pain she felt, but your muffled voice didn’t help. The sound of the door closing was like a final blow, and her heart sank even further. She didn’t care whether Bruce was right or not; she hated him like hell now.

You were sobbing and gasping, the pain of rejection still present in your chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disobey. I didn’t want you to leave…” You murmured lower, feeling your throat ache.

As she took more steps towards her own car, her thoughts raced. She knew that sooner or later you would need to know the truth, and deep down, she wished the news had come from her.

She tried to keep her mind clear during the brief walk to the car, passing by a snow-covered tree where ravens had gathered to rest. She was so distracted for a few seconds that when she felt an arm pull her back, she instinctively threw the stranger away, who hit the trunk and caused the birds to start flying erratically while cawing discordantly.

“What the hell is this!” She shouted furiously, shocking the boy who immediately began to apologize while getting up, feeling pain.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?!” She was outraged by his assumption. As if she would be scared by a kid like him. “And which of Bruce’s little pests are you?”

“My name is Tim.” The boy assumed a serious tone now, abandoning the polite courtesy he had before.

“And are you going to stand there like an idiot, or are you going to tell me what you want?”

Despite her hurry, Tim stared at her and looked back, checking if there was anyone outside the mansion and taking a few seconds to do so. Talia’s arrogant look didn’t intimidate him, and he spoke firmly:

“A few years ago, in that alley…” The phrase made her eyes widen, but she still took a deep breath to compose herself. “It was you.”

Talia never thought she would have the opportunity to face that boy again after that day. When Strange fled, she followed him and caught up with him. She remembers how she grabbed the man by the collar when she didn’t see you there. After wringing the truth out of that pathetic man, Talia had to let him go as she rushed desperately to where you were, but not before leaving a beaten face as a gift. But that night, that boy... Tim, had heard your call for help.

“So, you were the Robin.” She let out a curious laugh, looking Tim up and down. “And so what if it was me?”

“You tricked me. Pretended to be a helpless person.” He frowned while narrowing his eyes at her. “I remember the little girl I saved; it was her.” Tim turned his face towards the mansion again, as if to point at you.

“You just had the luck of arriving before me. And what did you expect me to do? Tell you who I was?” She took her gloves out of her pocket and began putting them on. “Do you think you could have caught me, kid?” She laughed sarcastically this time, belittling him.

“You could have told me the truth. You had the opportunity to tell Bruce about Hugo Strange all this time. We could have protected her.” Tim’s eyes moved around, trying to process. “After I left there, Bruce and I continued on patrol and found him passed out. If we had known who he really was, he might be in jail now.”

“Spare me your laments, kid. She’s going to stay here, isn’t she? So what else do you want?” Talia said, and Tim wasn’t surprised by the information. He had already assessed the scene while waiting to approach her outside. He had jumped through the bedroom window, having not been able to sleep after recognizing your face.

Tim remained silent. It seemed that Talia had a very concrete idea about everything, and it made no sense to try to circle her with assumptions about how things could have been. He couldn’t help but feel foolish, realizing that you had been so close to him at some point, and he couldn’t do anything for Bruce since he didn’t know.

“Listen.” Talia’s surprisingly soft voice caught him off guard. “Thank you for helping, even though I didn’t exactly need it.” Despite trying to be understanding, she couldn’t help but emphasize. “She means everything to me, you understand? Put some sense into your father, or I’ll find a way to take her back, and I promise you’ll never see her again.”

Tim swallowed hard at the mention of Bruce but snorted indifferently soon after. “He’s not as bad as he seems.”

“I noticed.” She murmured with irony and turned to walk away, with Tim not interrupting her this time. The boy watched her go to the car, but suddenly she stopped at the gate. She ran her fingers over the electronic lock, and suddenly some loose wires became visible. Tim found it strange, and Talia looked at him with a smile, which even from a distance, he could see.

“I think you’re going to need someone to fix this.” She shouted for him to hear, and for a moment, Tim thought if she had done it, but only now did he wonder how you had gotten past the front gate. It seems that your innocent face hid some skills. “Don’t pamper her, and tell your father and Pennyworth not to let her eat too much sugar.” She let the wires go while grumbling, slamming the car door, and driving away.

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@m4chine-girl @kellyyn02 @urminebutidontwantyou

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runawayolives · 8 months

Note

So for baby daddy Nate: when they are older and married reader can't handle anymore and they both fight she ask for divorce but the kid hear it.? Hope you write about this.

This isn't canon, I think.

This belongs to Baby Daddy.

"I think we should get a divorce."

"What?"

"I said that I think we should get a divorce."

"I heard you the first time."

The Jacobs' household was soaked in silence, the two young adults in the kitchen after setting their kid to bed. Nate was sitting on the armchair near the kitchen island, while she was cleaning the remaining of dinner. He stood up, walking towards his wife, invading her personal space.

"Can I know where this is coming from?" The faucet had been dripping for a bit, probably because it knew breaking the silence was its new task.

"I don't think we need to be married." Her hand was gripping a damp towel, hyper-focusing in a little circle of coffee from that morning. "We aren't a married couple, we're just two adults living in a house and raising a child."

"Who's fault is that?"

"Don't blame me." The circle was finally gone. "You were the one who married a woman who never wanted you." Their eyes met for the fist time since they put their child to bed.

"Don't say that shit."

"Mommy? Daddy? I'm thirsty." Both young adults turned around to look at the small figure standing by the hallway. The way they were gripping the doorway and their half hidden body proved that the child had been there for longer.

"Mommy will get you some." Quickly she turned around to fill a plastic cup with water. "Here hon. Do you need help going back to bed?"

"I want daddy to do it." Those big brown eyes were too hard to deny, making Nate walk forward.

"Come on, Jojo, I'll read you another story." He lifted his child to his hip, somehow still dwarfing the child, as if they hadn't grown since they were still a baby.

"Goodnight mommy."

"Goodnight, baby."

The staircase was full of picture frames of the young family, at the park, the zoo, on christmas. Endless memories that his stupid wife wanted to throw away because she was a quitter and a coward.

"What were you and mommy talking about?"

"Nothing you have to worry about."

"You were mad. Is mommy in trouble? Should she sit on the step?" Jojo was the most terrifying child Nate had ever met. The big eyes, the big cheeks and their calm nature made them look like a small victorian child that had seen too much. Jojo had a normal childhood, two parents that loved them, friends, and two set of grandparents that spoiled the kid a bit too much. Normal, very normal child.

Nate thought all the weird things that came out of Jojo were her fault. She burdened their child, he knew it. Jojo played like any other kid, Jojo had the same taste buds as any other kid. But Jojo asked uncomfortable questions and would stare at you for a bit too long, as if the five year-old was trying to figure you out.

She spent too much time raising the child, got bored because she's a stupid selfish bitch and decided to treat Jojo like an adult. Too many books, too many paintings and too many museums.

Jojo loved their mom, and Nate was envious. Not because Jojo didn't love Nate, but because looking at them proved what relationships between mother and child could be. Martha hadn't been present, she was home, and she picked him up from school, but his dad was the one in charge of raising him.

Seeing Jojo and Y/N somehow was the Universe or whatever entity rubbing it his face. You had the potential for having this, but you didn't.

The white walls of his kid's room were covered in little scribbles on the wall, something they hadn't bothered in correcting as long as it was only in these walls. The dinosaur lamp was still on, spreading the room in the light green light. Some story books were laying on the ground, and some books. Original versions of classics such as Little Women and To kill a mockingbird laid besides The very humgry caterpillar and The Giving tree.

During the walk up and the small back rubs Nate was giving Jojo, the five-year old had fallen asleep, long eyelashes tickling their cheeks. The toddler was set on the brand new ocean life bed sheets, their latest obsession, and immediately started hugging the handmade-crochet whale they had made with their mom's help.

After setting the kid to sleep and kissing their small forehead, Nate went downstairs. His wife was were he left her, this time with a mug between her hands.

"If you think I'll give you a divorce and let you separate me from my son, you're way stupider than I thought."

#runawayolives #x reader #euphoria #nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #baby daddy #jacob elordi #x you #dad!nate jacobs #euphoria hbo #Jacob elordi x you #jacob elordi imagine #jacob elordi x reader #baby daddy universe #baby daddy ask #nate jacobs oneshot #Nate jacobs imagine

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arctickat2400 · 3 months

Text

Tornado Troubles ∞ Clark Kent

Clark Kent x F!Reader

Word Count: 1799

Disclaimer: This is not how I would react to a tornado. Actually I don’t know, since I’ve never been in direct contact with one. But in my head, I’m pretty sure I’d react differently. But this is just what I came up with and how the story played out. Hope you enjoy it!

A/N: This was a spontaneous story. Before I had written this, I hadn’t even planned to. I’ve had the idea in my notes, and another idea had popped into my head to go with it, so I was like, okay, let’s write. So I apologize if it’s not my best work. (Sorry for the dumb title too lol)

* * *

His heart began racing the second he heard the all too familiar siren. You and Clark had come to Kansas to visit Martha, which had started out well. It was always nice to see her. She was like a mother to you. Well, technically she was your mother - your mother-in-law, for that matter. But even before Clark, you’d known Martha and she had instantly become part of your family, followed by Clark (but that’s a story for another day).

Martha was at work and there was a crime in the minute town of Smallville that had pulled Clark away from you that afternoon. You were left to your own devices and you’d decided to work on your art and listen to some music to take your mind off the fact that Clark was out dealing with some sort of danger. Yes, of course you know he’s more than capable of taking care of himself and that he’s Superman and deals with this stuff all the time, but that still doesn’t make the heaviness in your chest any less heavy when he’s not by your side.

Since no one was around, you had your music blasting to drown out your anxieties. You’d been half way through one of your drawings when you could have sworn you heard something apart from your music. However, your mind tended to play tricks on you, and even then, the music was too loud to even be sure. So you ignored it and continued with your work.

Clark, having been flying home with a smile on his lips at the thought of seeing his love again, began to panic as he stopped mid air after having caught sight of the rotation of air and debris in the distance, passing by just outside of Smallville, right by his mother’s work, thankfully not having hit.

Usually he wouldn’t be worried about tornadoes after having experienced several during his years in Kansas. But the tornado was, in fact, spinning straight toward the Kent Family Farm, straight toward his precious baby girl who has never experienced a tornado and who has always feared that the day would come where she would have to experience such devastation. What worried him more was that he was not with her, that she was all alone, and the tornado was coming in fast.

Clark didn’t waste another second as he sped through the air towards his baby who, if she hasn’t heard it yet, will soon start to panic. He finally caught sight of his house and, using his x-ray vision to see inside, saw you sitting peacefully at the table only to be startled when you finally heard the sirens. Clark spotted the fear in your eyes instantly as you stepped up to the window, turned down the radio, and froze at the sight of the tornado.

You didn’t know what to do. You’d never been in this situation. You never thought you’d have to experience something like this since you live in the city. Your eyes were locked on the column of air spiraling towards you, your body frozen in place.

“Y/N!” It wasn’t until you’d heard Clark’s booming voice that you finally snapped out of it. You watched as Clark made his way to you, tears stinging your eyes.

“It’ll be okay, baby. Let’s go,” Clark assured you, taking your hand in his, his warmth providing the smallest bit of comfort in this terrifying moment. The phone rang as you hurried through the halls. Clark figured it was Martha calling to see if everything was alright, but there was no time. He had to get you to safety.

Clark led you out of the house and towards the storm cellar, the wind whipping your hair around, blinding your view of where you were going. Luckily, you had Clark to lead you, but halfway there, you made the mistake of looking back, only to be met with the colossal tornado looming over you. You froze once again as Clark went to open the doors to the storm cellar, but even when he’d called out to you, you found yourself unable to move despite the swirling column coming closer and closer.

Clark was quick to get to you, picking up your terrified body, holding you to his chest, your eyes locked on the tornado above as he rushed you underground, the doors slamming behind you. He sat on the old couch that was kept there for this exact situation, holding your trembling body on his lap. You clung onto him as he pulled his cape out from behind him and wrapped it around you before wrapping his own arms around you for extra protection, holding you close and rocking you soothingly in his arms.

The sudden thunderous sounds of the tornado shredding through the surface above made you jump, tears streaming down your cheeks, causing Clark to hold you that much tighter.

“Shh, it’s okay, my love. Everything will be alright. You’re safe with me,” Clark comforted you, his fingers brushing through your hair as an act to calm you. You hid your face beneath his cape, against his chest, your mind telling you that you’d be safer there.

It had felt like hours but was only minutes before Clark had told you it was finally safe to go outside. If it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have trusted their judgment. But Clark’s enhanced abilities provided you with the utmost comfort that always allowed you to feel as safe as ever (since he was able to sense what was and wasn’t going on outside).

Slowly, you lifted your head from Clark’s chest, coming out from your red silk hiding spot as Clark’s protective hold on you just barely loosened. He looked down at your red, flushed features to gauge your reaction as you looked at your surroundings.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? It’s over now. We’re okay,” Clark vowed softly as he lifted his hand to your cheek to brush away the tears, tucking your hair behind your ears. You looked up, meeting his eyes, and he gave you a sweet, reassuring smile. You nodded hesitantly in acknowledgment as Clark placed a loving kiss to your forehead.

Unwrapping his cape from around you, Clark kept you in his arms as you clung to him, standing and making his way up and out of the cellar. You whimpered as you watched the tornado continue its path away from the farm, away to destroy whatever else it could find. Then, you felt the hitch in Clark’s throat, causing you to pull away slightly to see the damage behind you - the Kent's home was destroyed.

It was Clark’s turn to freeze in place. You dropped from his arms and turned to face the only home that Clark had ever known as a gasp escaped from your throat. Of course, he still has his apartment with you in Metropolis to go back to, but it’s his childhood home. And Martha, what about her? She’s going to be devastated. You turned back toward Clark, his body motionless, his face expressionless as he stared up at his house, or what was left of it.

“Clark, I’m so sorry,” You didn’t know what to say. What could someone possibly say to make this better? You pulled him back into your arms, making it your turn to comfort him. His arms wrapped around your waist, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. Clark finally came to his senses, though, the senses he’d been accustomed to since he became Superman, the need to make sure everyone else is okay.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, darling. Just the thought of you having to go through that alone made me come home that much faster to get to you. I don��t know what I would have done if something had happened to you, my sweet girl,” Clark professed. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. His house was gone and he was worried about you?

You pulled back to look him in the eyes, placing your hands on either side of his face, his hands on either side of your waist. “But, Clark, your home, it’s…” But you couldn’t finish when you both turned at the sound of a horn, the horn of the Kent’s truck. Martha was driving down the road towards the farm. But Clark wasn’t done with your conversation yet.

He guided his hand to hold yours against his cheek, gaining your attention back, your eyes locking with his as he rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand. “You’re my home, baby. This is just a house,” He gestured to his childhood house. “But you, my darling, I couldn’t live if something had happened to you. But you’re okay. We’re all okay, and that’s all that matters to me,” Clark declared, his eyes showing the immense love and adoration he felt for you. A smile lifted your lips as your forehead met with his, finally letting out the breath you’d been holding, knowing now that everything was going to be okay.

“Are you guys okay?” Martha’s worried voice rang out after the sound of the truck door slammed closed. You both turned to her, Clark offering an encouraging smile to her.

“We’re okay, Ma,” Clark spoke first.

“Martha, I’m so sorry about your house,” You replied. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what Martha could be feeling after seeing the devastation that was her home. You met her in the middle and pulled her into a hug. It was the most motherly hug you’ve felt in a very long time. Clark had come up behind you, placing a comforting hand on your waist. Martha had noticed and pulled him into a hug of their own.

“Oh, my boy,” Martha smiled, thankful that her son was okay, tears threatening to spill at the thought of almost losing the only family she had left. Unusual because Martha was not one to get emotional. She’s such a strong, independent woman, someone you looked up to.

“It’s okay, Ma. You know it’ll take more than a tornado to take me down,” Clark joked in an attempt to make his mother feel better.

“Yes, but not this one here,” Martha smiled pointedly at you, placing her hand gently against your cheek as you hold it there with a smile, her other hand holding onto Clark. “I’m just glad you both are okay,” She added.

“I’d never let anything happen to my girl,” Clark smiled at you, taking your hand and pulling you into his arms. That was what you loved about the Kent Family - it didn’t matter if they didn’t have much in the matter of the material things. As long as they had each other, they would be okay.

#fluff #angst #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #clark kent x reader #clark kent #superman #clark kent imagines #superman imagines #Henry Cavill imagines

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sirenjose · 1 month

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Characters' Wishing Stars

(Updated to include every character's wish, then added more thoughts about more of the other wishes. Thoughts on Norton's/Fool's Gold's and Jose's are at the end)

Part 1 - Wishing Stars

Survivors

Lucky: I wish for good fortune for everyone! May the lucky star bless all!

Emily: May all be endowed with wellness and joy. May sickness be but a distant shadow in this world.

Freddy: I've made some mistakes, Martha, but I've never regretted loving you.

Kreacher: Set adrift toward the yonder, and let everyone know: Kreacher's ambitions shall be made manifest! Mark my words!

Emma: Father, Mother, are you well? Do you, too, gaze up at the stars this evening?

Servais: I wish to one day stand on the grandest stage of magic! That day will surely come.

Kurt: To live in this beautiful world is a blessing, and in the future, I hope to pursue adventures in higher, farther, and grander realms!

Naib: Will this lantern reach the rivers of my homeland? If so, I wish for it to tell her I'm doing well.

Martha: May each soul find sanctuary, never to lose oneself, never to drift astray.

Tracy: Changing the world might be too lofty an ideal, but I at least want to invent things that bring happiness to more people!

William: Someday, I will be acknowledged! Victory is the domain of the brave-those who defy adversity!

Helena: The night sky must be beautiful, just as it is in my imagination. If possible, I'd like to see this wonderful world with my own eyes someday.

Fiona: Mother, do you see? I've taken another step closer to the truth of this world.

Vera: Vera, I wish you well. It was all worth it.

Kevin: They say the departed become stars.. Even now, I still remain shamefully illuminated by your light.

Margaretha: In the not-too-distant future, there will surely be a stage as brilliant as this starry sky meant solely for me. This is my wish.

Eli: Stars, rivers, flowers. This is a beautiful dream I never anticipated, so please let this dream last a little longer.

Aesop: May this lantern find tranquil shores, as may I.

Norton: I want to live a better life.

Patricia: May fate judge all wrongdoing.

Murro: Well-being to all! I hope someone, somewhere, will remember Murro.

Mike: I wish to bring joy to more people and help everyone forget their troubles!

Jose: May all my loved ones embark on their own journeys, and may lighthouses guide them to safe harbors.

Demi: Brother, are you well? Are you admiring this starry sky too?

Victor: To whoever sees my letter and lantern, know that Victor wishes you eternal happiness.

Andrew: Though I cannot gaze directly upon the sun, this eve, I've beheld the most resplendent darkness. I am grateful for this night and for those who accompany me.

Luca: Those who march toward science and truth will not regret it. One day, I will prove everything.

Melly: What a beautiful night. I hope all those little lives be cherished, as they rest beneath the grass and leaves.

Edgar: The shifting starry sky hides endless beauty and mystery, and we mortals, mere chroniclers of this splendor, stand and gaze, as do I.

Ganji: I wish the people of my hometown healthy and prosperous. At least, tonight, I'm looking at the same sky as you.

Annie: May every child grow in peace and happiness. May every little toy cradle your grandest dreams.

Emil: I often forget the past, but from now on, every day shall brim with bliss. I wish that everyone could remember only happiness.

Ada: I wish for Emil's good health. May we all cherish the present and the love of others.

Orpheus: Fate pens the finest tales, so I hope everyone's story holds fewer regrets, twists, and at least, more favorable conclusions.

Memory: The stars are exceptionally beautiful tonight! I also wish to be a kind, loving person who brings happiness to everyone.

Weeping Clown: One day, when the audience watches Joker, they, too, will wear a genuine, satisfied smile.

Professor: I don't have any wishes, save for this lantern to journey far, far away.

Qi: May old companions fare well.

Frederick: The night always brings to mind fragments of the past and chaotic whispers, yet from such whispers, countless great inspirations arise.

Alice: Alice, follow the path you believe to be true, for earnest living begets serendipity.

Charles: Stars, please tell me - should I hold on a little longer?

Lily: I shall alter all through sheer endeavor, Simon.

Matthias: Will the moonlight shine on me… on Matthias?

Florian: The bright yet warmthless stars evoke memories of childhood Christmases.

Evelyn: Are you still searching for your destination.

Hunters

Leo: Lisa, may you grow up healthy and safe.

Joker: Come on! I wish for everyone to share in the madness and mirth with me!

Jack: Should I wish for clarity, or pray to forever bask in this enchanting night…

Bane: May no creature suffer harm. May the heart of humanity awaken to conscience.

Violetta: Oh, beautiful stars… I wish everyone well! I hope… I hope everyone can be loved.

Michiko: Love is bittersweet, and time ticks on without a care. Gazing at the moon always brings to mind those no longer with us.

Hastur: (There is no writing on the wishing star, but it shows signs of having been soaked in water.)

Wu Chang: May you be well, may the years be kind, and may lovers remain together in love.

Joseph: Does moonlight hold the power to turn back time? If such a thing were true, I'd wish to return to the time when you were still here.

Burke: It's too late for me to start making any wishes. But if everyone else is safe and happy, this old soul can rest easy.

Yidhra: (The wishing star is blank, but a fierce night wind blows upon beholding it.)

Robbie: I want a songbird that can fly to where my parents are and sing to them.

Luchino: Rather than making wishes, I believe humanity ought to strive for advancement through diligence.

Mary: The illusion of opulence has been shattered. Given another beginning, I'd choose to be the master of my destiny.

Bonbon: It's been a pleasure knowing you! Bonbon!

Ann: I'm lucky to have found a purpose in life. I hope everyone's kindness and faith will not be in vain.

Antonio: My violin bow, please play the most exquisite, unbound melodies.

Galatea: Stars above, please grant me more inspiration and opportunities to create beautiful works.

Percy: (The wishing star is unmarked, save for traces of motor oil, resembling a moon perhaps?)

Polun: We want money! Wealth! Fame! Of course, we want our dear father and mother too!

Grace: I wish for no one to be lonely. I wish that you could all be happy. As for me, I can't think of any wishes.

Philippe: If my sister and I could gaze at this starry sky together, my wish would be fulfilled.

Nightmare: Congratulations, you've glimpsed the writings of the "Nightmare" in this wondrous dream!

Keigan: I wish for this world to have more justice and rationality. That should be enough.

Alva: May more forsake the folly of human nature and choose to approach the truth.

Ithaqua: Mother, if possible, I wish to at least dream of those moments in the woods and snow at night.

Sangria: Burn once more, for I still seek to prove my worth.

Fool's Gold: I've already dug my way out of fate's mine. Haven't I?

Ivy: (The paper is scribbled with 2 little girls holding a wishing star lantern together.)

Part 2 - Thoughts

In general, all of them are pretty good and I definitely think helps paint a better picture of each character, who they are deep down, and what their priority/goal is.

Quite a few few of them though are fairly sad, including (to me) Freddy, Naib, Helena, Kevin, Murro, Ganji, Charles, Violetta, Joseph, Burke, Robbie, Philip, Ithaqua, Fool's Gold, and Ivy. I have to say, the ones that made me feel the worst were Kevin and Burke (especially the latter. Can you not make me feel like I wanna cry?).

Freddy's I quite like as I think it tells a lot about him. He admits he's not perfect, he admits even things he did weren't right, but for good or ill he still loves Martha Remington. To me, it's that admission of his mistakes I like the most.

Naib and Ganji both simply wishing to be home, with their families, but because they can't they just wish that their loved ones are happy and sufficiently taken care of. Despite how they may be depicted in their games, they both have a lot of sorrow in their heart and have been through quite the ordeals, all while being far from home and any chance to return is slim or difficult to acquire. Everything they do matters little compared to their longing to return home and move past all this.

Helena's wish I to see the world one day, for obvious reasons, is quite sad considering how she lost her eyesight when she was young. As a result, she can only imagine and dream of seeing the sky. The fact there's little chance she'll regain her sight somehow (unless something happens in the future) is what makes this line hurt the most.

Murro's wish is only for someone to remember him, which honestly is quite the implication of how he feels about himself and how he thinks others' feel about him. He's been through so much, losing his parents, then his ill treatment and abuse while he was kept by Bernard, to the point he simply wanted to get away from people and just be with his partner. It's that feeling he's given up hope, and the idea that this is all he thinks he's capable of hoping for... It's like he already thinks he has no future and nothing much to look forward to.

Wishes of people like Charles, Robbie, Joseph, Philip, Ithaqua, and Ivy are focused on the loss of those close to them, some of which are consumed by the guilt at their role in that loss or inability to prevent their death. Joseph especially has devoted the rest of his life to attempting to revive Claude, and has been incapable of ever having a single moment where he isn't thinking about his twin. It makes me think about what Michiko said regarding the bittersweetness of love, and how time marches on whether or not those we love are left behind. The important question being whether a person is capable of moving forward or will be stuck looking back, which is the whole theme with Orpheus.

Violetta's wish hurts me due to me reading into her line and feeling like she's referring to herself. And the idea that she's wishing there was someone out there who will love her, as her being abandoned by her parents, taken by Max who treated her like an object to attract attention to his freak show and earn him money, but once she no longer did, he disposed of her, leaving Violetta feeling unwanted. Despite what she's been through, she is still a kind and positive person, but even she has moments where she can't help but let slip hints about her true feelings.

Kevin of course has been and still is a very sad boy. He, like Joseph, has his thoughts forever stuck on the loved ones he lost. He is incapable of moving past Angelina's death, further compounded by his guilt regarding Angelina's father and the tribe. He is trapped by his guilt. It's the fact that Kevin refuses to forgive himself, blaming himself for everything that has happened, is why Kevin's wish hurts me so much.

Burke... I don't even know what to say. This was the 1 that I think hurt the most for a bunch of reasons that I don't quite know how to put to words. Netease, please stop trying to make me cry.

As for other wishes that caught my attention:

Mike's simple wish to bring joy to people and help them forget their troubles was curious, as I think it really helps give a better idea about him, considering he's someone I sometimes find tricky to figure out. His deductions depict him as pretty mischievious, especially with things like using rocks or nitrogen in his tricks. But then we get to the tragedy, and all we don't really get any more ... good descriptions from Mike himself as to how he is internally. Except for hints based on how he went to the morgue to confirm who was dead and who was missing. And then with his suspicion of (and disgust for) Margaretha, as well as Joker. His last deduction and backstory really emphasize that his singular goal is essentially revenge. Yet we learn in through the letters that he was unable to do so even when he's given the chance. This is why I at least personally appreciate this little detail about his interest in people's happiness and desire to fix all their problems. It helps put everything else in better perspective.

Vera's was mainly due to how she says it was "all worth it". This seems to confirm how she feels about her actions, despite the sorrow she describes in her 1st letter due to her own actions, and despite the reality of what she did. She continues to reason with herself that, despite the cost, it all worked out in the end. It could show just how broken she's become due to how she grew up due to her father and everyone looking down on her and treating her the way they did. It could show just how hard her heart has become as a result. But it's also possible to read this line as trying to convince herself to not regret. To not dwell on what she's done. To try to tell herself that it's ok, it's ok, it's ok. If this is true, whether or not she actually fully believes this attempt to reason with herself is a separate question.

Margaretha's further confirms the type of person she's in and the life she's interested in. She's still interested in luxury, she's still a bit vain, just like her personality info in-game states. However, what I was focused on was how she talks about having a stage "solely for me". This to me reads as she wants to be able to move forward and survive on her own without having to rely on others, like she did previously with Sergei, or how she's "exploiting" Joker. Which I think is a good development on her part, as I think it shows growth. It's something that may take time, but she's expressing determination to achieve this goal.

Martha was primarily of interest to me as, similar to Violetta, I read it as she was essentially referring to herself. It's a lament over the fact she has no place she sees as "home", and she doesn't even know who she is anymore. She's taken on too many identities, and gone through so much that she isn't sure who is the real her or if even if she does remember if it'll actually feel right to her anymore. She's lost and doesn't know how to find her way back on to the path. Her wish is a warning to others the way I see it, which is imporant considering what we learn happened with her in her game.

Sangria's I find curious as I never really thought about her like that, the idea that she wants to "prove [her] worth". It can make sense considering her backstory and deductions emphasize how badly she was treated by her father and the fact she was viewed as "less than a toy", as well as make sense based on whatever happened between her and the lady to cause Sangria to later ask to "get back on stage". I feel like this wish could potentially help understand some of what happens with her in her game...

Then there's Nightmare. Which to me feels... the strangest and almost out of place of any of the wishes. I'm still not quite sure about the real meaning behind it yet but it does make me think...

On that same tangent, I'll go to Orpheus next. Similarly, his line is quite interesting and will take me some time to really digest. The fact he speaks of wanting to reduce other people's regrets and give them "more favorable conclusions" to me is strange. Some of the stories he writes don't exactly feel like he's trying to give the people it's based on better "conclusions", nor does it feel like he's doing that with the participants of each of his games. Though looking at a different place, what he seems to be doing to Kevin in his 4th letter does feel like he's trying to manipulate Kevin's memories to make him think Angelina isn't dead. The entire truth of the goal of Orpheus' experiments and actions is still something I don't think we fully grasp yet. It's possible more is happening to the participants than we know (especially with how of them, or at least their bodies, are missing, and I still wonder about Yidhra's and Joseph's involvements, considering the Dreamlands or Joseph's photo world could potentially present Orpheus an opportunity to maybe give individuals a happier story if they are trapped there, especially with the memory drugs, but I'm still unsure about so much...).

Norton's wish is such a great but simple enough summary for his character. He's not asking to be rich. He's not asking for gold despite that's what he searched for in Golden Cave. He's not asking for anything in particular. All Norton cares about is having a "better" life. Something more than being trapped in poverty, with a job that could kill him at any time, and especially over time the longer he has it. He wants to not have to worry about starving all the time, or worry if he'll have a place to shelter for the night, or worry about cruel coworkers or employers, any other necessities he needs. We've seen that he isn't asking for anything fancy. He eats simple bread, and spends what little spare money he has on books and knowledge. He just wants enough so he'll never have to worry about going back to that life again.

Which is interesting when considering Fool's Gold's wish: "I've already dug my way out of fate's mine. Haven't I?". This to me sounds like he's trying to convince himself. He's desperately hoping he's finally escaped the mine, which he describes as "fate's" mine. This referencing his "fate" as a miner due to his father also being a miner. The fact he describes it as how he "dug my way out" is a way of showing how he's done everything himself. He was the one who's fought tooth and nail to get out of his situation, who's spent all his blood, sweat, and tears to originally just work hard enough to earn what he can, and then when that didnt work find another way, and when he was trapped in Golden Cave, how he literally dug his way out (which shows how badly he wants to live). "Fate" being a "mine" also has the symbolism of Norton originally seeing his fate as somethin dark, made by someone else who forced him into it, a place with little room to move full of many dangers, surrounded by many people who either treated him badly or only cared for themselves, and the only path forward led further and further down. This was why Norton wants to escape his fate, and why he's been so desperate to do anything he can if it means a way out. He wants a brighter fate, one not trapped underground, but a fate out in the open world where the sky is the limit. Unfortunately though, as we can see from the ending of Fool's Gold's wish, Norton isn't entirely convinced he's completely escaped his fate. Which is curious and I wish I could see the reasoning behind his thoughts. Is it because he's afraid he'll be caught for what he did? Is it because he's afraid he'll have to go back to the mine if he is unable to find any other way of making a living? Is it because of whatever happened while he was trapped in the mind that he's continuously referenced but never explained, that's lead to him being so deathly afraid of the place? Or does it have something to do with his current situation with Orpheus and whatever the order was in his 2nd letter? Considering this is the 2nd time we've seen Norton trying to convince himself but failing to do so completely by the end (the 1st time being in Norton's 2nd letter where he tries to convince himself to go through with the assassination order), I wonder if it's possible these 2 things could be related. Maybe he feels like or is starting to feel like his current situation is not any better than it was before when he was still a miner, or when he was trapped in Golden Cave. Which is curious as that seems to reinforce how we can't be completely sure what Norton will do in the final game, or what the full truth of his relationship with Orpheus, Alice, and the others is. It's also interesting this line comes from Fool's Gold, who also appeared in Norton's backstory trailer, before he causes Golden Cave to collapse. He's holding his head, and seemingly fighting with himself over whether he should do it or not. Hunter Norton seems to be a way of showing Norton's internal dilemma, his war with himself, with how Hunter Norton is likely symbolized in Norton's 2nd letter, and now again here when Norton's trying to convince himself that he's escaped his fate. But unlike the 1st time in the mine when Hunter Norton managed to win out and cause the mine collapse, these other 2 times haven't ended with a certain winner, which could show how Norton's changed or how he may not be willing to do the same thing again. But maybe I'm thinking too hard.

As for Jose, I wish I could understand him better. Despite how his father treated him, despite how he only cared about fame and fortune, despite how he was only ever concerned about looking good for the Queen and everyone he deemed important, Jose still wishes his "loved ones" to stay safe essentially. Who that would be besides his family I'm not sure. We never learn about his mother, and there's really no one else that could be outside of maybe some people he was friends with, though he specifically says "loved ones". We don't know if he was friendly with those on his crew, though we know at least some were of the same type of person as Jose's father based on Jose's deduction 7, while others died either when Jose's father vanished or during deduction 4. We now know he's tied in some way to Sam Bourbon but not the specifics of that relationship (how friendly were they?). Therefore, it's most likely he's referring to his father here. I wish I knew more about Jose's feelings and relationship with his father, considering deduction 7 and 8, as well as other bits don't exactly make Joaquin out to be a good person or see his son as anything but an object. But it's possible it was because Jose's father was the only family he ever had, and he simply wished he could've stopped him from doing what Jose didn't agree with and/or helped change him for the better.

#idv #identity v #prospector #norton campbell #idv norton #identity v norton #idv prospector #identity v prospector #jose baden #first officer #idv first officer #identity v first officer #idv jose #identity v jose #sirenjose analyses and theories

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hongjoongscafe · 9 months

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Bloody Love...

Chapter: VII-Betrayal-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king.jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 3.6k+

♠︎Warning: murder, creepy, blow job, suffocation.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist.

Questions. They were running in Coronis's head. Was it her fate? Or was it the people who made her life harder every day? The spiralling cycle of life was getting into her head. She felt a cyclone inside her nerves. The thunder in her chest.

They say that after a bad thing, something good happens. However, in her life, there was no word called good ever written even with mistakes, just never. Something in her life was twisted more than what she had realized. She had underestimated everything to the point where thinking for even a breath was heavier than a mountain.

Monsoon arrived. The days looked gloomier and nights looked creepier. Every gust of wind sent tremors down her spine. It felt like those winds were the whisperers who whispered tragedy winding its way to her footsteps.

The roads were muddy and reeked of old blood. The trees were hunched over, looking like ghouls that fed on dead bodies. Everything was covered with a stiff horror of the unspoken stories that were buried deep down in this realm of dead and gone.

All of this horror was doubled when the men who came to see Coronis for tying the knot started to get slaughtered day by day. They were not being hung on the pole but rather left rotting in the meadows and not as intense as the punishments were.

Nori has been acting weirdly. Especially after she visited her home. It was a couple of days later when she caught Edwin at her shack.

Coronis was walking back to her shack as the rain was pouring. It was getting stronger as she took each step. Her black straight gown was wet and the skirt was covered in mud halfway. Her pretty belly shoes were squeaking and were unrecognizable. Her kohl was running down her cheeks and her hair was sticking to her face. She tried her best to not let the stuff in her hands get dirty as she struggled to walk through the puddles.

As she reached back to her shack, she saw Nori standing outside, about to leave with a tarpaulin sheet above her head to at least keep her head covered from the unforgiving showers.

As Nori's eyes fell on Coronis, her expression changed and looked panicked. Coronis wanted to stop her and talk to her, however, the girl quickly bid goodbyes to her mother and stumbled away as quickly as she could.

Later that day when Coronis was sitting by the fireplace with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands with her mother who was knitting a sweater for Coronis, the girl asked her mother, “What was Nori doing here?”

Martha looked up with a tiny smile. “She said she was in the market and stopped by. We drank tea and talked a bit and then she left. I asked her to wait longer and meet you but she said she had things to take care of and then left.”

She nodded slowly and took a sip out of her warm drink. “What did you talk about?”

Martha stopped knitting, placed the material in the basket and faced Coronis. She took a second to formulate her words. “Honestly, Coro, she was not alright in my opinion. I have never seen her like the way she was acting today. She was… jittery and uncomfortable if I'm not wrong. But she was polite as ever. Greeted me with warmth and held a decent conversation. Though she kept looking at the door as if waiting for someone,” She said. “And we talked about things and she asked about you!”

Coronis's mind was boggling. “What did she say?”

“She asked about the people in our shack the other day,” she informed.

“And then what did you say?” she pressed further.

“I told her about us wanting to marry you somewhere better. She asked about Edwin and the other boys as well. She seemed to be quite interested in the chat. She wanted to know every single detail and joked about how she could keep one for herself as well. But I don't know, Coronis… I don't feel like she was fine. I think someday, you should go meet her. I don't see her with you as often either. Maybe she just needs a friend to talk to. And I am nowhere near that friend,” Martha shook her head as she thought other things to herself but did not voice them. “Anyway, Edwin will visit tomorrow. So, look prettier.”

She had seen Nori around. All the time she looked guilty of something. She would look but never make a move to talk to Coronis and when Coronis would try, she would run away as soon as possible. The situation between them was too intense.

Coronis felt guilty for doing whatever she did. Instead of running away, she could have talked and told Nori what her life had become, or better, shouldn't have tried to get into it. Her selfish motives were the reason why the poor girl was now looking like a long aching soul, running away from what she once found solace in.

She couldn't imagine what Nori was feeling. One day they both were lying in bed, kissing and hugging, and the other day, there was nothing left. The person Nori loved so dearly was not supposed to prepare for marriage and it wasn't even theirs.

It was Coronis and a third person.

How could Coronis even expect her to talk to her when she crushed the blooming flower of love under her feet?

Her teary eyes were looking for answers, silently. Waiting for Coronis to tell her story. But her mind was not ready. Nori knew they were not possible even if Coronis was not getting married because the two girls could never make it together.

Maybe another story was going to be left untold.

As Coronis was stepping closer to her shack, everything started to get quieter and quieter. The day was still young and paths were busy. No way it could be that silent the only thing she could hear was silence and the rain hitting the ground.

The closer she got, she saw people surrounding her shack. The crease between her eyebrows grew deeper as fast as her heart started to beat. She carefully squeezed her way in to see why people were standing there so quietly. Did something happen to her family? No, she pleaded silently as tears brimmed her eyes.

Her feet were met with dirty muddy water mixed with blood. She looked up and saw Draco, Onyx, and Martha standing there now looking at Coronis. A sigh of relief left her trembling lips. But it didn't stay for longer.

Because the moment her eyes fell down, in front of her shack, her heart dropped in her stomach. She couldn't see the face but the Golden curly hair was enough for her to know everything that was needed to know.

The tears in her eyes were pooling to the brim but not a single tear dared to roll down her cheeks. They were stuck there, just like Coronis, in shock. Her pupils shivered as the tremor of horror passed through her body.

The regret was seeping into her soul making her her own villain. Her heart refused to believe otherwise. The selfish mistake was now weighing her down as she fell to her knees. Her breath got stuck in her chest as she saw the lifeless body lying down there with deep slashes out in the open for everyone to see it like a drama.

The blood was still dripping out into the muddy water as the rain mercilessly poured onto his abused body. His skin from where the clothes were torn apart was pale and blue, drained of any blood in his veins.

Coronis crawled towards him. Holding his shoulders, she turned him around and that's when a piercing scream was heard in the crowd. Coronis had no conscience for her actions. She had no idea that the loud, heart-wrenching screams were leaving her mouth.

Her head was empty of any sane thought. The only thing that mattered at the moment was for Edwin to open his pretty gazy eyes and look into her dark orbs and tell her in his own words that it is going to be alright and that he is going to be alright. They will be alright. She wanted him to tell her that all the little dreams they dreamt would come true under the same roof where they were going to begin their new life.

“Why?!” she screamed again. “Why? What did he do?!” she kept repeating. “Please give me back my Edwin! I'll do anything for him. Please give him his life back!” she begged. She cried and cried.

She didn't care about the mud or the rain soaking her. The only thing she kept hearing was her inner voice asking her how much she could be thoughtless and selfish.

How many more dying souls did she need to see before knowing that her single action could lead to some genuine man’s life? Her previous proposals were murdered but they were not morally sane men at all. They deserved worse than what they got.

However, Edwin was a man of words and class. He was a gentleman every woman desired in their life. The way he talked was out of this world. His poetic essence was never enough and the bubble of safe emotion was his walking definition. No one was like him.

Edwin was the shade of the tree on the hottest summer afternoon. His voice was a mellow music in the midst of spring. His eyes were a warm blanket on the coldest winter night. His smile was the twinge of spice in the autumn evening. He was perfect as is. His way of living life was simple and eventful. He craved to make a difference in the world with his kindness. He found the luxuries in the smallest things and cherished them till he could remember them.

He was once a man full of life and now a lifeless Angel. Some evil spirit took his golden wings away and left him dead in the footsteps of his future.

Nobody said a thing. They stayed and listened. Nobody tried to console the hurting being on the ground holding her soon-to-be husband tightly as she held him and cried on his slashed chest.

Coronis looked up as she felt a burning glare piercing her skull. There stood Nori. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were red. No emotions of love, grief, shock, or any feelings were on her face. She stood there numb and blank looking at Coronis, thinking Lord knows what. She had an almost grim face and her skirt had red splotchy patches as if it was blood. Again, who knows what she has been up to?

Coronis was about to say something to her but stopped when she saw Nori slowly backing out. She took steps backwards and slowly turned around all while looking deep into Coronis's eyes. It felt like hours before she got lost in the crowd.

That was the moment when she knew she messed up.

She was left on the ground, bawling her eyes out, with a man with whom she saw herself smiling and laughing through thick and thin. With the man made out of jewels, his heart now felt like a cold diamond.

And there she realized… she lost…

The rivers of tears stopped and whimpers quietened down. Her face depressed down in misery as the reality of her fate washed over her.

It was she who created these fates of chaos, Coronis was. Her actions became the numbness of one and the death of another.

She looked down at the man and slowly laid her head on his cold, still heart as the acceptance shook her body, trying to not accept but her brain knew better than that.

Love, lust, hate, infatuation… feelings. These are trouble to get into. It felt like all of these emotions burned Coronis like a fire in the forest or perhaps killed her like an overdose of drugs.

Her body trembled like an addict wanting that dose of drug. As if she was possessed by a demon. The catch was that she was indeed an addict and was possessed by a demon of her own. Of the people she killed without knowing.

She was indeed lost…

…

The hands of the maids trembled as if they saw a ghost. Their heads lowered painfully to the point their chins were stuck on their chests as they slowly removed every single piece of clothing from His Highness's body.

The scent of roses and vanilla fogged around them as the water in a gigantic floor bathtub filled with water and milk. The petals of the black rose looked pretty on the milky water.

The last piece of his clothes was gone. There he stood. All naked in his glory. His broad shoulders, tight muscles, hard chest, perfectly carved abs, his biceps looked ripped, and his thick thighs highlighted every hard part.

Along with that, his long, fat cock stood proudly, hard and filled with pride. His thick vein on the underside throbbed harder than a racing heart. His veins were thick and poking out, and his pretty mushroom head looked angry and red in need of it to be touched and abused.

However, his jaw was clenching and a frown was settled between his eyebrows and on the chin. And his brain was going back to the picture of Coronis standing in her shack.

“Jimin-ah,” his hoarse voice echoed in the bath.

Jimin’s eyes met with the back of his Lord. “Yes, my lord?”

“My little birdy was a bad girl,” His Highness shook his head and stepped in front of a kneeling woman. “She was not wearing the necklace I gave her. I asked her to always wear it. How could she not listen to me?” He fisted that woman’s hair and shoved his hard cock down her throat with a hum.

The boy looked at the scene and hesitated before saying something. “Perhaps it was hidden under her dress,” he stuttered.

A scoff left the lord’s mouth. “Hidden under her dress, you say?” He bobbed the head of the woman as if she was a toy. Well, for him she was indeed just a filthy toy. “I could see her fucking breast crease through her black gown and you say ‘Perhaps it was hidden under her dress’” he snapped.

The anger boiled inside his chest. And he let it out on the poor woman who had no choice but to take his cock, trying not to gag at the taste of alcohol that lingered in his precum. He had started to drink more alcohol than before. His sweet taste now turned bitter. Her nails dug into her thighs to keep her going. She felt lightheaded.

Jimin gulped and cleared his throat, “My apologies, my lord… I didn't see her Highness. I was merely guarding you just how you prefer.”

Hearing this, a side smile stretched on The Lord's lips. “No wonder why you are my favourite, Jimin-ah,” he rasped. “You always keep things in your mind and act like a loyal bitch,” he sighed, “if I had an eye for a man, I would fuck your holes and fill them up. But alas! It's not for this life.” He grunted as he fucked her mouth harder and faster. The woman could not breathe properly but she did not say a word knowing well enough what he could do if she did not do what he wanted. She just kept on digging her nails into her thighs. Her eyes started to roll back and black spots blurred her vision. The rest of the women kept their heads hung low. “It's about time I punish her.”

With that, he came down her throat with a grunt and pushed her back. She lay down there unconscious, cum staining her mouth. No one dared to treat the woman but scurried into the bath as he stepped into it.

His Highness rested his back against the warm dark marble and spread his arms. His body relaxed and his muscles loosened. He sighed as the hands of his maids started to clean him. “Do me a favour, Jimin-ah. Call the ministers and the headguards in the court. Tell them I called an emergency court.”

He cracked his neck and relaxed, feeling the hands washing him. And thinking about how he only wanted one pair of hands on him sooner.

“Wait for me, little birdy. Wait for the punishment that is going to come your way…”

…

“Coronis, my love,” Martha called her daughter as she looked outside from her window with a black face but a thousand emotions in those dull eyes.

It had been days since Edwin passed away. Coronis stopped speaking and rarely came out of her slot. She wouldn't eat more than two bites of rice. Her cheeks hollowed out and became paler.

Her long black locks were tangled just like her fate. Her inner turmoil disrupted her sanity. There was none to begin with… one of the things that came with living in this realm— no sanity.

“Can you go out, honey? We are short on some stuff. Can you get it for me?” Martha just wanted her daughter back. She thought maybe if she went outside, she would feel different and at least come out of her slot.

Coronis slowly turned her face towards her mother and looked at her old wrinkly face. Her mother's eyes had a subtle shiver in them. It wouldn't be wise to let her go outside at this age and the muddy roads might make her fall.

She nodded slowly and stood up, brushing her hair a bit back. “What do you want?” she asked.

Martha sighed and let her know the necessities.

Heading out, Coronis walked straight to the shop. Her body swung with each step. Everything was rotten around her. The people, the animals, the village, the houses, herself… everything. Everything was rotten just how she felt inside.

She wondered if she would ever be free from this rotten fate. A scoff bubbled in her throat. She cursed inside and thought how impossible it sounded. Free. Never, that would never happen. It almost sounded humorlessly funny.

From the corner of her eye, she saw someone familiar. She looked to her side and saw Nori going somewhere. “Nori!”

Nori looked and froze for a moment and tried to walk away but Coronis was quick to catch up with her and pull her by her arm. “Nori, please talk to me.”

The girl scrunched up her nose, “what do you want from me, Coronis?”

Coronis flinched at how she spat her name. “Please, just one talk,” the dark-haired girl begged.

Nori sighed and got tugged by Coronis towards a narrow alleyway, away from the people. There she looked at Coronis and how terrible she had become. Her eyes lost hope and were dead.

“Nori, I should have told you everything before,” Coronis whispered.

Nori felt like her blood was boiling. “Tell what? That you were fucking another man while fucking me too?! Is that what you should have told me before?! Are you fucking dumb, Coronis? I loved you and you do this to me,” she raised her voice. She showed no remorse for Coronis's loss or her soundness. However, the feelings washed over her. Her eyes burned with feelings and love she hid behind them. “Why would you do me like this? Hm? How could you fuck around like this, hurting people?” she lowered her voice.

“It is not like that, Nori. I would never do this to you,” she whispered.

“But you did,” Nori said in a barely audible voice and held Coronis's arms. “You broke my heart like it was worth nothing. You- you could have just told me that you liked someone else and I would have been out of your hair,” she sniffed.

Coronis shook her head, “my hands are tied, Nori. I- I’m just a puppet. You see these?” she opened her pale hands and showed her, “These have nothing in them. These lines are handled by someone else and it's not even God.”

“You could have said something,” Nori held her tightly. “I could have loved you a little less.”

“I could have…” Coronis nodded and let her tears fall.

“But you chose to hurt me more…” Nori sadly smiled.

Before Coronis could say something. The clops of the royal horses echoed and slowly came close to the alleyway and stopped at the end.

Coronis’s breath hitched seeing those dark, sharp, and calculating eyes that pierced her soul while staring into her eyes.

The King got down from his horse and slowly stepped forward. Nori looked between the two, not knowing what was going on. But she didn't dare to open her mouth and kept her head lower.

The King stood right in front of Coronis. With the back of his hand, he wiped off the tears and ran his thumb lightly over her lower lip and pulled it down. His hand moved down to her neck and felt around… but nothing.

His sharp eyes snapped back into hers. Under his mask, a deadly smirk formed. “You broke the order, my little birdy,” his voice was deeper and viscous. “You must get punished now.”

Coronis shook her head furiously as she felt shivers of horror travelling her body head to toe. “No,” she whispered. Her body was covered in sweat in no time as she felt her heart picking up pace. It was the feeling that ran over her that this was the end. This was the end of the hope.

“No, my love. You must know what it costs for your actions. For your betrayal.”

…..

Sanaa’s note:

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae;

@darkuni63 @mageprincess7 @whipwhoops @ackercute @ane102 @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @unhingedgf @jungkooks21 @namjoonscrabjuice @yluv-damara-13 @jksgirlhere @lavenderymoons @passionandsuga @posionapple24 @blueberry711 @shawtylilsalty @gukiebaby @vantelover07 @douknowbts @andioppsworld @xicanacorpse @ttanniett @koohrs

Have a nice day/night💓

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a-victorian-girl · 5 months

Text

May Prompts 2024

from @calaisreno

***

Prompt 2: Box

Today Sherlock was particularly nervous. Not that it was much different from those days when the case is an 8 or a 9 and requires a lot of energy from him to solve it. This time... it wasn't about a case.

Mrs. Hudson could hear from her flat the long, hurried steps traveling from the bedroom to the living room, from the living room to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the... bathroom? Who knew.

"Oh my God, that boy...!" she thought out loud, while she put the electric kettle on to make him some tea, because she thought that it might calm him down a bit. But when she turned around to grab the cup and the tea box, she nearly had a heart attack when she suddenly saw the tall figure of Sherlock standing in her kitchen doorway, paler than usual. His beautiful blue eyes showed what she interpreted as panic.

"I can't do this, Mrs. Hudders," he stammered.

As the poor woman caught her breath with her hand on her chest to calm her old heart, she noticed that the great detective's right hand was holding a box. It was very small, red, and very elegant.

"Is that...?" Martha asked, pointing to the little box, and in a moment of lucidity, she opened her eyes completely.

"Oh! Oooh, Sherlock...!" she exclaimed, bringing her hands to her face given her sudden surprise. "Come dear, sit down, I was making you a cup of tea before the possible heart attack you nearly gave me by appearing suddenly... and tell me, when do you plan to propose?" she teased playfully, pouring hot water into the cup.

The gleam of happiness in the older lady's eyes was so evident that it even drew a slight smile to the detective. He always considered Martha as his second mother, she's been his confidante since they met, and her trust is unbreakable.

"Today. John said he'd take Rosie to Molly's and we'd meet at the restaurant. And I... I don't know. I thought today was a good occasion after a year of being together and... I mean... I'm really not good at th-," he babbled, until he was interrupted by the sound of the cup being abruptly placed on the table. He lifted his eyes and their gazes met. Was she angry? How to tell, he was never good at reading others' reactions.

"Look, Sherlock", Martha said, very seriously. "I may not be your mother, but I am your friend. From the day John set foot on this property, I knew that eventually you two would end up together. You're meant for each other, for God's sake! And you still doubt it? You two have been through so much... so much. And I think by now, Sherlock, there shouldn't be any doubt plaguing your brain. So: you drink this tea, you get ready and you go to that restaurant. I won't allow you access to my property without seeing that ring on John's finger, do you hear me, young man?"

Sherlock gaped, frozen. Was that a scolding? Nevermind, she was right. He nodded, smiled at her, drank his tea, and climbed the stairs back to his flat.

...

Now Martha could hear those same steps but more confident, more harmonious... like a beautiful melody.

#mayprompts2024 #bbc sherlock #shherlock holmes #mrs hudson #rookie writer #just writing for fun #sherlock fanfic #ficlet

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dronebiscuitbat · 2 months

Text

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 62)

How had she been talked into this?

After her little breakdown N had suggested she get out of the house. And had suggested a ‘mother's group’ he'd found a flyer for outside the WDF office. In his words “maybe being around people who have gone through what you're going through would help?”

That wasn't taking into account that their pregnancies didn't involve making the body inside them, but at the same time he'd been so genuine when he'd suggested it, and had given her the biggest puppy eyes…

She was weak okay?

So here she was, in a room that looked a lot like the inside of a preschool, with small toys and safety foam covering the floor and crawling up the wall, pillows were scattered everywhere, of all shape, size and color. There were no chairs… so she sat on the floor joining three other people.

Their kids were here too, as was Tera who was on her lap, glancing around at every person and child in the room, looking like she still needed to get used to the room and the people before she drew any attention to herself.

Uzi felt out of place… all these mothers looked like they all knew each other, and she in her dark clothing and small stature stuck out like a sore thumb. It was like school all over again.

“Sorry I'm late, Kiara didn't want to calm down this morning…” A woman she recognized came though the door carrying a white- eyelighted toddler with platinum blonde hair who didn't exactly look the happiest.

“It happens Delilah, no worries, we aren't taking attendance.” A pink eyed woman in a lacey, tan dress smiled as her green eyed toddler in a green onesie waddled around her, his steps uneven but clearly just learning how to amble around.

“Though if we were, we'd add someone new.” All the attention suddenly turned to Uzi and Tera, Uzi squirmed uncomfortably, feeling like she was being judged while Tera buried herself into her hoodie at all the eyes.

“Uh… hi?” She spat out awkwardly giving the room a wary smile as she pet down Tera's back to calm her down.

This was a stupid idea, I don't like people. How did he drag me into this!

“Oh! I know you, you helped Zoey in the store a few weeks ago.” Delilah beamed, going over to sit next to her, Kiara fussed in her arms, causing her mother to sigh.

“Y-yeah, that was me…”

She may have forgotten how to interact pleasently with people she didn't know.

“It’s Uzi… by the way.” She turned her attention to the other people looking at her, feeling her voice get small as they didn't stop, she gulped, feeling nauseous.

“Doorman? I never expected to see you here.” A woman with both a toddler and a pillbaby said, she had ginger hair and was in a elaborate looking blue sundress, and sunglasses perched in her hair. The toddler had red eyelights, the pillbaby blue, their mother shared in her pillbabies color, and her voice was just as cold.

“Me neither, her uh… dad convinced me to show up today.”

Oh robo-god, why was she so awkward?

“Martha! That was rude. Everyone is welcome here.” The pink eyed woman huffed and turned her attention back to Uzi, smiling as she watched her toddler out of the corner of her eye.

“I'm Ginger, this is Toby.” She pointed at her son, the green eyed toddler, who had just fallen over after sneezing, thankfully, he just giggled in response.

“You already met Delilah and Kiara.” Delilah smiled at her again, Kiara was too busy fussing to do much of anything else.

And then there's Clover, and her daughter Bonnie.” A green eyelighted woman gave her a small wave, she was wearing a floral dress and a sunhat, for some reason, her vidor displayed simulated freckles. In her ams was a pillbaby with orange eyelights, though right now she was in sleep mode.

“Martha's two are Cain and Axel, Cain's red, Axel’s blue.” Martha rolled her eyes, but nodded at her, Cain flashed her a mischivous smile, being clearly the oldest toddler here, he was walking with no problem and was looking around curiosily.

“This is Tera, she's not a fan of large groups of people, give her a little time to warm up.” She gestured to her daughter clinging to her like she was a lifeline.

“Oh that's quite alright! I've heard about you and your husband, he's a disassembly drone, right?” Ginger asked, clearly trying to be friendly, Uzi however squeaked as her visor filled with violet at the word husband.

“Uh- we're not…” She stammered, curse her dad for spreading around the rumor that they were married, they were dating. Not married.

“Yeah… he is, his name's N.”

And apparently… she was going to fuel that rumor herself now… great.

“He's a total sweetheart.” Delilah hummed, making Uzi turn to her both confused and feeling slightly threatened.

“Sorry, didn't mean it like that. From what I saw, he was so good with Tera, and he was holding your hand the entire time you were in the store. It was cute.” She clarified, making Uzi blush even more at being called out for their PDA, it wasn't her fault N insisted on holding her hand!

“I wouldn’t expect that out of a killing machine.” Martha butted in, making Uzi immediately glare at her.

“He's not a killing machine.” Uzi growled, and the mother rolled her eyes again but raised her hands up in defense.

“Martha. Please” Clover pleaded, her voice much softer then anyone else's, but it was quiet enough in the room that she wasn't drowned out.

Tera shuffled in her grip, and Uzi looked down at her, she'd had her time to adjust and was now ready to crawl around the room to say hello.

“What do you need Jellybean?” Uzi asked, and Tera smiled while pointing out into the room and vibrating slightly.

“You can go say hello, do you want me to go with you?”

Tera squinted her eyes and stuck out her tongue before shaking her head, so Uzi sat her down in front of her. “Alright, if you think you can go around to everyone by yourself, go ahead.”

Tera immediately went forward to Ginger, crawling along the floor until she was sitting in front of her, Toby was also staring at her, but it looked like Tera was ignoring him for now.

“Hi!” Tera chirped, sitting a lot like a dog waiting for head pats. Ginger laughed and leaned down to her.

“Hello little one. Aren't you a brave one?” Tera beamed and nodded her head before she turned her attention to Toby, who was crawling closer.

“Hewwo!” He belted, possibly slightly too close to Tera because she winced and growled softly at him, Ginger pushed him back slightly. “Toby, volume.”

“Sowwy Mama…” But Toby still turned his attention to Tera, who was still looking at him.

She put a palm out and covered his visor while she squinted, almost as if she was telling him off. Toby didn't really react to it, only laughed at the contact to his visor.

“Tera, we don't touch people without their permission.” Uzi scolded lightly, making Tera look up at her before slowly moving her hand away, she looked at the ground as an apology.

“It's okay, you're still learning, say hi to everyone else.” Tera nodded and moved on to Clover, who waved at her enthusiastically.

“Oooh, am I next? Hi baby!” Clover beamed, and Tera beamed back, crawling quickly over to Clover before yelping; “Hi!” The movement and the noise disrupted Bonnie however, and the pillbaby began to fuss, rolling in her mother's arms.

“Oh, sorry Bon-Bon, mommy got excited…” Tera cocked her head at the pillbaby, getting Clovers attention by pointing at herself, then to the pillbaby.

“Her name is Bonnie, here, you can touch her, just be careful.” Tera hoisted herself onto the woman's knee and looked at the pillbaby, who looked back with squinted eyelights.

Tera very slowly reached out to graze a finger over the soft silicone of the pillbaby, causing the girl to giggle and roll slightly, Tera beamed, before saying in a much lower volume. “Bon!”

“Oh! She said her name!” Clover looked ecstatic, Uzi was filled with pride. “Yeah, she's always picked up names pretty fast, though I think more complicated one's trip her up.”

“How old is she?” Ginger asked, catching Toby with one hand as he fell and not even looking at him. Apparently that happened a lot.

“About 9 months. we put her in a toddler body early, she had so much pent up energy.” As she spoke Tera went other to Martha, who raised an eyebrow at her, Cain waited impatiently while sitting, his knee shaking.

She looked back at Uzi, who smiled and gave and encouraging gesture, so Tera went up to Martha's knee.

“Hi.” Tera seemed noticeably less confident here, looking between Martha and Cain, and holding herself slightly awkwardly, Martha sighed and ruffled Tera's hair.

“I'm not gonna bite squirt.”

Tera smiled, and nodded, before quickly moving on to Delilah, who smiled.

“Hello, you remember us right?” Tera immediately crawled up to sit on Delilah's knee, looking up at her and then down at Kiara, who was now staring at the purple eyelighted toddler.

“Kia! Hi!”

“Ra!” Kiara yelped, squirming to try and sit upright but struggling to do so, Delilah looked amused, and a little sad.

“This one still hasn't gotten used to her toddler body, she's about one and a half…” Tera giggled as Kiara tried to hold her arms out only to clumsily almost slap Tera instead.

“They all develop at different speeds Delilah, don't worry.” Ginger smiled, and Tera, after a moment of trying to get Kiara to laugh, (which she succeeded by flashing an ‘X’ across her screen.) Moved back into Uzi's lap, now a bit tired.

“For nine months, she's sharp.” Clover complemented, and Uzi felt more pride well up in her, she kneaded her hand in her daughters hair and let out a smug laugh.

“Well… we try to talk to her like an adult, she understands a lot more then you would think, that might have something to do with it.”

“So is she half… what did you say? ‘disassembly drone’?” Delilah asked, leaning slightly in her direction likely as a way to make her feel more comfortable.

“No. She's adopted, we got her around four to three weeks.” Tera snuggled up into her lap, purring as she decided it was time to take a well deserved nap.

“You could've fooled me! She looks just like you!” Ginger replied, and Uzi just smiled, relaxing into this group she found herself in.

“We just got lucky.”

“Or it was destiny!” Clover piped up, smiling at her, which made Martha roll her eyes.

“You think everything is destiny.”

“Everything is destiny! Everything happens for a reason Martha.”

“Ugh…”

Okay, yeah, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all…

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation n #nuzi #biscuitbites #oil is thicker then blood #tera doorman #Uzi joins a mothers group at the urging (begging) of N #she hates it... then doesn't mind it #was it an excuse to recap?#kinda #but enjoy a bunch of cute baby drones

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theblue6ook · 7 months

Text

The Young Years PT 3

Summary: This is a prequel to "Shit Interview" in the "Out of My League" series. Read about Bruce and Y/N in their troubled teens. What about their past makes them work so well together? You'll find out. (Hint: they've both been through major struggles.)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Death and blood. Also, Bruce is all the drama. [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]

Caught [B(19) Y/N(17)]

First, it was selling illegal car parts. Then, it was modifying cars illegally. Then, it was racing. Y/N didn't have to worry about money anymore, but she still kept appearances up at Dorthie’s Flowers with Carrie; she didn’t want to look suspicious. The house was paid off, the utilities were paid, and she started saving money for her brothers' school funds. She was set, and even better, she was a winner.

Ronnie taught her how to properly drive at 13. The lot for the mechanic shop was pretty big, and honestly, there were barely any cops in this part of town. The only rule was don’t go past the narrows. Once she hit 14, she was starting to get good. After modifying cars, she’d head out and watch the races, watch the different moves people made with their cars, recreate them on cars they were working on, and if they got fucked up, she’d fix them before anyone knew.

By 15, she was in races. By 16, she was coming in second. By 17, she was dominating. The money she had saved was insane, but there was one problem. The races were moving out of the narrows, and the cops were cracking down, particularly Don Colley and his partner Jim Gordon. All she had to do was keep her head down. She should have stopped. She had money saved, but the rush was so addicting, and the money was so rewarding. In her eyes, as long as no one knew who she was, what was the damage?

Getting caught. Getting caught was the damage.

The last race she was in was over by Gotham Harbor. She was in first, per usual, when the police swarmed. She was on her way out, swearing and huffing, when one of the drivers, trying to make a break for it, spun out and crashed. She didn’t even think. She stopped the car and ran out to help, but it was too late. It was a horrid scene. The airbags didn’t go off, and his car had smashed him into the steering wheel. His chest was caved in, and there was so much blood everywhere. It smelled like gasoline and death. There was no mistaking it, the driver that passed was David Colley, the Comminsioner’s son, and oh did he blame Y/N. She was caught on the scene and the only one he had to blame. Boy, did he fight hard when she went to court, lucky for her, Jim Gordan saw right through it, and so did the judge…

“You were a part of the Martha Wayne Foundation?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“You say you were doing this to provide a good home for your brothers after your mother left? Help your father pay the bills?”

“Yes, your honor.” Y/N felt the sweat on her temple, and her heart was beating so quickly. She felt fucked. She felt like she ruined her life, but the judge only hummed and thought quietly. There was a pregnant pause before he spoke, and the entire courtroom was on the edge of their seats.

“Despite having the wrong motivation, I think you have a good head on your shoulders. You’re young,” he continued, “I don’t want you to throw your life away in jail. So, here’s what I’m going to do. Not only will you return the money won to the court, but you will also complete six months of community service. Pay two fines, each $1000. One for the drag racing conviction and the other for the illegal gambling. Is that clear?”

It didn’t go over well with Don Colley. He ended up stepping down from the position of commissioner as Jim Gordon stepped up…it didn’t go well with her father either.

“What are you doing with your life?!” he covered his face with his hands. “You know what, it might have been easier if you were in jail and not wasting my money, my time-”

“Your money?!” Y/N interrupted. “Who’s been running your business? Who’s been providing? You haven’t even stepped out of the house in years!”

“Will you shut up! Do you not understand you are ruining your life-”

“Oh, so now you want to be a parent?” Y/N was up in arms. After years of picking up after him, providing, and putting food on the table, this is what she gets?

"You know what, go fuck yourself. You don't want me as your parent? You can get the FUCK out of my house!"

“The house I paid for? The house I clean and cook in and drag your ass into when it’s snowing. That house!?” she shouted until her throat hurt. Maybe she shouldn't have, she knew she fucked up, but she was so tired. So tired of taking care of other people. Every sentence she punctuated with a step closer to him until she was up in his face.

"You're unstable. You're not good for me. You’re not good for the boys. You need to leave," he looked into her eyes.

"I may be unstable, but you've always been a shit father." That seemed to be the last straw.

“GET OUT!” he grabbed her by the hair and shoved her out the screen door. He had never in her 17 years ever put his hands on her. He had always been silently grateful. Silently watching as she keeps the house running. He had never shoved her the way he did now.

“What the fuck-” she said, stumbling down to the ground.

“You don’t live here anymore. Tell Carrie to pick up your things.” He went to step inside but paused, looking over his shoulder. "You can't live here until you get your act together, and I can't live with you until I get my act together."

Her father stepped inside. She heard her brothers through the door asking what was happening and where she was. Y/N sat out on the concrete steps and said nothing. Was there anything to say? Slowly, she stood and made her way down the block.

Bruce wasn’t sure what to consider his position here. Was he a prisoner? Would they let him leave when the time came? At least they were training him. They’ve been training him for the past two years.

It wasn’t hard for him to leave Gotham. When he was fifteen, he received his diploma. He had skipped enough grades to get it and had enough credits through online courses. That was the deal with Alfred. You can go and travel, but you’re going to be officially educated. He traveled with Alfred for some time. Moving to different places, training with different people, learning different languages. Then, things went sideways. He was recognized. He was robbed. He could defend himself at this point, but not from twenty people. That’s ridiculous. In the end, he ended up in a Bhutanese Prison. This is where he met Ras Al Ghul. A strange man who had broken him out of prison and asked him what his plans were. Bruce didn’t really have a choice, so he told him. Now he was here, but honestly, where was he? He had no clue.

He had learned so much. He would continue to learn so much. He would solve his parents' murder, and he would solve Gotham. That was the plan. If he can survive here, he can survive anywhere.

He looked up at the ceiling of his bunk. He was bunked with many other soldiers and assassins; he wasn’t sure who they were. He had thought about Alfred. What he might be doing? What he did do after Bruce had been taken? The door to his bunk had opened, and there was the strange man who had found him.

“It is time,” he said. Bruce stood and followed him out to the training grounds. He sparred with different soldiers, at some points, several at a time. Another trainee was sparring as well. Eventually, they were tasked with sparring with each other. Bruce moved flawlessly, and his master smiled. He fought easily and used his opponent's faults against him until he had him on the ground.

“That’s good,” he grinned. “Now kill him.”

Bruce’s blood went cold. He looked over at the man, startled. “I can’t - I can’t kill him. He did nothing wrong. We were just training.”

“Training is to prepare you for real-life situations. You may have to kill someone, so it’s best to do it now. Kill him.”

Bruce held his breath, and his sword rose to strike. Training. That’s what it was. If I want to clean up Gotham, there has to be sacrifice. I have to do this-

You really think this is what your father would have wanted? You going to prison for the rest of your life? To kill someone?

The sword came down hard and swiftly, puncturing the ground. His master turned toward him, angry. He grabbed Bruce by the shoulder, shoving him to the ground as he dug his own sword into the struggling trainee on the ground. “Is this what you’re so afraid of? Death. These are the necessary sacrifices we must make for the good of the world.”

Red stained the snow around them, and the smell of blood lingered in the air.

“Well, that’s not the way I’m going to do it,” he stood stubbornly.

“How do you expect order? How do you expect to deal with the chaos?”

“Fear.”

#bruce wayne x reader #batfam #batfamily #batmom #batman #young!bruce #bruce wayne

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cloakedsparrow · 5 months

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Bat Family 'Bruce is Tim's Biological Parent' AU Idea #3

The couple that Talia secretly adopted the baby she faked a miscarriage with at the end of Batman: Son of the Demon were Jack and Janet Drake.

None of those involved know that Tim is Bruce and Talia’s biological child.

A couple years after giving up Tim (whose adopted name she never knew), Talia encounters Bruce again and the sparks fly, same as always. She ends up pregnant again (maybe he needs to make/carry bat-condoms?) but this time, Bruce doesn’t stick around so he doesn’t know. Maybe it's because he doesn’t know; maybe Ra’s is insistent that Talia stay safe so not to lose this baby; maybe Ra’s knows she hid the previous baby from him and keeps her under watch this time; maybe Talia just doesn’t have it in her to give up another child; in any case, she keeps Damian and does her best to raise and protect him.

Tim has Talia’s hair, cheekbones, lips, eye shape, and more lithe build. He has Bruce’s skin tone. He has Martha Wayne’s ears and eye color. He has Ra's jawline and Thomas Wayne's eyebrows.

Damian has Bruce’s hair, cheekbones, jawline, brow line, and more muscular build. He has Talia’s skin tone, eye color, and eye shape. He has Thomas Wayne’s lips and eyebrows. He has Ra’s ears.

They don’t look like brothers unless you know enough about both sides of the family to see the connections. No one really does, so the connection isn’t made.

Until one day, when Damian is going through a box of photos in Tim’s room and sees a photo of a dark haired baby with a necklace he’s seen in photos before. It was his mother’s, and before that, his grandmother's. His mother said it was a family heirloom that went missing a few years before Damian was born.

Damian takes the photo to Tim to demand to know about it.

A very confused Tim answers that it’s a photo of him as an infant.

Damian demands to know about the necklace.

“Oh, that? It's pretty cool, huh? It was a parting gift from my birth mother. I still have it in a safety deposit box my mom set up for me.”

“Your birth mother?”

“Yeah, I was adopted…before Bruce adopted me. When I was born.”

“Who were your parents?!”

“You mean my birth parents? I don’t know. It was a private adoption and my parents never encouraged me to ask about it."

"And you never checked after they died?!"

"No...? Why would I? And why do you care?”

Damian refuses to answer but demands a copy of the photo. He secretly sends it to Talia.

She realizes that, somehow, against all odds, her boys have found each other. They’re with their father. They’re safe (relatively speaking) and being cared for. In a perfect world, she would have been able to keep both and raise them alongside her beloved, but in the world she lives in, this is better than she ever dared hope for.

Heaven help Ra’s the next time he makes a move against any of her children (she has totally mentally adopted Jason and Dick & Cass are technically her step-children, so…the whole family is basically under her protection now, even if they don’t realize it yet).

#dc #comics #bat family #AU #fic ideas I haven't the time for #fanfiction #fanfic ideas #ficlet #talia al ghul #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #tim wayne #robin #damian wayne #ra's al ghul #Batman: Son of the Demon #adoption

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

Text

Not What I Thought - Henry Fox x Male Reader

Summary: You meet Henry at Philip and Martha's wedding to find you're both as enthralled by the other as the other

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: None really, almost smut but interrupted

Notes: Henry and Alex from RWRB have taken over my life 🤣🤣🤣

Y/N’s POV

To say that I wasn’t absolutely shitting myself would be a lie as I step out of the limo with Alex, my older brother, and Nora, the vice president’s daughter. Usually, Alex and Nora would take this job but mother wanted me to start getting out into the spotlight and making a name for myself as Alex is about to start running the campaign in Texas and June has officially become a speech writer for the Whitehouse while I’ve done nothing. I’m only just eighteen and I have the whole world knowing my name which is rather daunting, but, not as daunting as this…

Buckingham Palace is fucking huge, and gold and full of fancy shit that I don’t know the name of. I’m not even sure why I said yes to this. Alex is grumbling and rolling his eyes about how snobbish and pretentious Prince Henry is while Nora is basically bouncing as she walks, full to the brim with excitement, as she drags my stumbling self behind her to line up and greet the royal family as they enter the hall. Or ballroom. I’m not sure, all these rooms are too big to distinguish them.

Prince Philip and his new wife, Martha, look to be the snobbish ones, noses upturned and voice articulate as they shake hands with every important member of governments and royal connections in this line. He looks at us three like we’re the dirt under his shoes and shakes Alex’s hand like he has the plague before skipping me entirely and greeting Nora with a little better attitude. Next is Bea, the middle child and the wild child from what I hear. She’s pleasant if somewhat reserved but she greets the three of us like we’re long lost childhood friends reuniting and it leaves a warm feeling in my chest even if I don’t actually swing that way. She’s waltzing Nora away before anyone can say anything and suddenly I’m face to face with beauty.

Prince Henry. He stands tall - taller than Alex - and regal amidst the opulent surroundings of Buckingham Palace. His blond hair impeccably styles, the locks sweeping messily back from his forehead with natural elegance. The subtle curl at the ends softens his appearance, giving him an approachable air despite his royal stature. The rich hue of his hair contrasts perfectly with his fair, porcelain complexion. His eyes, a light shade of blue that seems to hold a depth of emotions, are set beneath finely arched eyebrows. They radiate a mixture of curiosity, kindred and a hint of despair - a combination that makes it hard to look away.

His features are finely chiseled, with a strong jawline that adds a touch of masculinity to his ethereal beauty. His lips, full and oh so inviting, seem to hold a natural grace that could effortlessly break into a smile or a quick teasing grin. His tailored suit fits him like a second skin, emphasising his lean build and hinting at a strength beneath the refined exterior. The way he carries himself, with an air of confidence tempered by genuine interest in those around him, makes it easy to see why he captures the attention of all who meet him despite Alex’s stories of how entitled and narcissistic he is.

As his voice reaches my ears, it’s warm and inviting, breaking through the nervousness that has settled within me, “Good evening,” He says, his tone polite but not distant, “I don’t believe we have had the pleasure of meeting before. May I have your name?”

His hand, when he extends it for a handshake, is warm and firm, his grip confident yet not overpowering. There’s a sincerity in the ay he clasps my hand, a fleeting connection that carries a sense of genuine interest. As his blue eyes meet mine, I can’t help but feel that beneath all the rumours I’ve heard and the expectations, there’s a complexity to Prince Henry that is both intriguing and captivating.

“Y-your majest- Oh no! Your royal highness-“ Alex facepalms from beside me, watching me fumble over my words as my brain displays images of Henry pressing me up against the nearest wall and having me any way he likes, “Y-Y/N. It’s Y/N Claremont-Diaz.”

“Well,” His eyes seemed to have darkened as they sweep over me once, not in the same way Philip did, and oh fuck me. I am not going to make it through this evening if he keeps looking at me like that, especially when he leans in close, breath hot against my cheek, “I hope to see you later.”

As quickly as he appeared, Henry is gone, and Alex is at my side, steering me toward the bustling ballroom where the after party is in full swing. Amidst the crowd, Alex seems to vanish in search of alcohol, leaving me to navigate the sea of unfamiliar faces. My eyes find Nora, her laughter blending with Bea's in a way that suggests they've been friends for years. I decide to do what I do best, explore without getting seen, blend into the shadows and find a quiet spot where no-one will disturb me, except maybe Amy who is my PPO for the day. Deciding to retreat into my comfort zone,

I slip away quietly, becoming a shadow in the corners of the palace. It doesn't take long before I stumble upon a room, a hidden oasis amidst the grandeur, filled with books. Floor-to-ceiling shelves line the walls, laden with leather-bound volumes and dusty tomes. The soft glow of sconces illuminates the space, casting an inviting warmth that contrasts with the glitz and glamour outside. I step further into the room, running my fingers over the spines of the books. It’s mesmerising, the sheer collection of knowledge and stories tucked away in here. For a moment, I forget about the grand event unfolding just beyond these walls. I lose myself in the comfort of solitude and the intoxicating scent of aged pages.

Just as I’m lost in my thoughts, the door creaks open, and I spin around to face the intruder, expecting to be Amy or Alex, having found me finally. But the sight that greets me is anything but ordinary. Henry stands there, his presence no longer commanding but somehow ordinary, like another person in the streets. His blue eyes meet mine, and there’s a shared understanding that in this moment neither of us are from royalty or fame, we are just Y/N and Henry.

“You are an enigma, nothing at all how I imagined.” He tells me, quietly closing the door and making his way over to me, gesturing to the sofa. I sink straight into the plush cushions, Henry sitting on my left, one leg tucked under himself and arm flung over the back of the sofa, expression open and I have to adjust my seat imagining pushing him back and kissing him breathless.

We exchange banter, light teasing, and the kind of easy conversation that’s reserved for moments of genuine connection. Henry’s flirting is subtle, a glint in his eyes and a playful quirk to his lips. It’s a dance of words that feels both exhilarating and comfortable, as if we’ve known each other for far longer than just a few hours.

But then there’s a pause, a fleeting moment where the air between us changes. It’s as if time is holding its breath, our eyes locked, and the room is charged with a palpable tension. And then, in an instant, the atmosphere shifts again. It’s a surge, a magnetic pull that neither of us can resist and as if guided by an unseen force, we’re both leaning forwards, closing the distance between us. Our lips meet in a kiss that’s hesitant, testing the waters to see if awe are both wanting the same thing. It’s a slow exploration, a gentle press of lips that converts a shared curiosity and a mutual yearning. There’s a softness to the touch, a tentative dance that feels both intimate and tender.

The hesitation doesn’t last long. As if a dam has been breached, the atmosphere between us surges with an irresistible pull. Henry’s lips mould against mine with more urgency, his hand finding it’s way to the curve of my cheek as if he’s trying to memorise every contour and scar. I respond in kind, my fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, a silent invitation for him to come closer. And he does. The kiss deepening, a dance of desire and longing, a magnetic force that draws us closer until there’s hardly any space between us.

I feel the shift as Henry’s hand traces the line of my jaw, his touch igniting sparks along my skin. And then, suddenly, the world tilts as he pushes me back onto the sofa, not dissimilar to the way I was picturing doing it to Henry. There’s a controlled urgency in his movements as he claims over me, body hovering just out of touch and the sensation is electrifying. Our lips collide once more, a collision of passion and aching want. It's a fervent dance of tongues and shared breaths that leaves me dizzy and craving more. His hands, exploratory and confident, trace the contours of my chest and shoulders. The path they leave in their wake is seared with fire, a trail of sensations that has me arching into his touch.

As the kiss deepens, I can’t help but let my own desires take over. My hands, emboldened by need, glide down his back until they reach his waist and I pull him down to close the achingly large gap between us, drawing a whimper from me as his hips brush against mine just right.

“Jesus, you know exactly what you want, don’t you?” Henry pants, breaking the kiss to focus his gaze on my shirt with an annoyed expression. His lean fingers with the buttons on my shirt, his touch almost impatient in it’s eagerness to explore what lies beneath. He looks breathtaking, hovering above me, honey hair mused and blue eyes glazed with want and abandon.

I can’t stop myself reaching up and tangling my hand in those locks, grumbling, “You talk to much.” Before yanking him down into a bruising kiss. My hips raising up to meet his, causing a delicious friction that has me swallowing the sounds Henry makes, his hips rocking to meet mine.

“Y/N, I told you not to-oh my god.” Amy is turning around and walking back outside, closing the door with a meaningful clearing of her throat. Henry is scrambling off of me and to his feet, eyes wide as if he’s realising what we’ve done and there’s a sinking feeling in my gut. I sit up, adjusting myself, the suit pants doing not much to ease he uncomfortableness and trying to make myself a little more presentable, keeping my head bowed away from his royal highness.

“Oh no, no, no,” Henry is appearing between my legs, doing nothing to help my problem, those fantasy inducing fingers gripping my thighs higher than they should be, “Y/N Claremont-Diaz, you are a pleasure and I do hope we can see each other again. I would…” He pauses, looking up at me through hooded lashes and his right hand shifting even higher and a strangled sound escapes my throat, “I would like to see more of you.”

“Fuck.” I’m letting my head fall back, the dull pain from the couch frame helping ease my raging erection that is currently being groped by someone I never thought. I think I get whiplash when Henry pops the button on my suit pants, “Hen- fuck… Henry, Alex is looking for me…. We don’t… we don’t have-“

“There you are Y/N!” The door bursts open and Alex stops short, eyes wide and jaw almost hitting the floor before he screeches, “HENRY?!”

“Alex-“

“OF ALL PEOPLE? YOU PICK HENRY?” He’s staring bug eyed while Henry is still kneeling there, worry on his soft features.

“Get out.” I grumble at my older brother who just rolls his eyes and focuses his gaze on a very red in the face Prince.

“You hurt him, I hurt you.” Then Alex is gone with a half hearted slam of the door.

I’m gripping Henry’s chin between my thumb and forefinger, guiding his gaze to mine to see the same nervousness and intensity in them. He parts his lips when my thumb ghosts over his plump bottom one and I think I die and go to heaven right then and there.

“Where were we?’ He murmurs, guiding my hand to his hair again and yeah, I’m dead. How the fuck did I get the Prince of England to want me back in the span of four maybe five hours? I’m not gonna question it, just gonna take it as it is.

Fuck Me.

-------------

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#red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #henry fox x male reader #henry fox #henry fox mountchristen windsor #Henry fox x male reader #Henry fox x you #Henry fox x y/n #red white and royal blue x male reader #rwrb x you #rwrb x male reader #Henry fox one shot #Henry fox x preference #prince henry of wales #prince henry fox mountchristen windsor

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railingsofsorrow · 1 year

Text

Countdown

[s.reid x reader]

summary: Blood and wine were indistinguishable. You couldn't move, you couldn't breathe, the world was giving up on you (or was it the other way around?). You had to keep fighting. If there's one thing you are sure of is that they would find you. He would find you. You just didn't know how much longer you could take until then.

pairing: s.reid x f!reader

w.c: 6.7K

warnings/content: mentions of freud regarding complex mother/son relationships; tw!aggravated assault; tw!coercion caused by substance use; tw!mentions of child abuse, physical and emotional abuse; very tw!graphic violence be aware; tw!blood; tw!descriptions of injuries and scars; cursing; tw!suicide ideation; mentions of hallucinations, tw!abduction and tw!death of a relative; heavy descriptions of losing sense of time; crying; cm usual stuff; poor analysis of a profile cause I'm no aaron hotchner; in resume there's angst; mc cannot get a break. (tell me if I forgot anything plz)

A/N: oof that's a lot of trigger warnings. if you don't feel comfortable, feel free to leave, this isn't a light fic, quite the opposite. mc goes through a LOT. btw do you like wine? I do. (no pun intended) enjoy the reading!

navi

masterpost

follower celebration

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“Suffering is a terrible fire;

it either purifies

or destroys.”

[Oscar Wilde]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

According to Sigmund Freud, there’s a theory called “the Oedipus complex”. It happens when the child develops a sexual attraction to the opposite-sex parent, meaning that they wish to replace his father to possess his mother, from whom he craves affection.

Spencer’s voice rang through your head as you observed your surroundings. Your hands weren’t tied anymore but the red marks around your wrists made you feel as if the ropes were still there.

There are five stages in this condition, the fifth being the hardest to overcome, but not impossible. However, when the Oedipus complex is not resolved it could lead to an unhealthy attachment towards the opposite-sex parent in adulthood, besides the commitment issues and trouble involving same-sex rivalry.

You also recalled the Doctor detailing statistics about the topic, wildly gesticulating with his hands. But your head was fuzzy and you didn’t know whether your memories were true or if you were making them up anymore. Just as a means to bring you some type of comfort in that endless torture.

He was drugging you.

Paul Knox, the UnSub, was a white male in his mid-forties. Lived alone for most of his life, except for when he married Martha Moore; they stayed together for one year before the marriage ended. Paul worked on a construction site and was described by his coworkers as quiet, “always kept to himself”, and responsible. He always made sure his task of the day was completed before he went home.

His past wasn’t the easiest one. And it seemed as if he couldn’t get away from it. Paul spent his entire childhood being abused by both of his parents, his father, a strict man, sexually abused his wife, who would later take out her anger on her son, by wrapping a belt around his neck and squeezing it until he passed out — This was the signature behavior they found on the crime scenes.

Victimology told you and the team something as clear as day: every woman he murdered was a surrogate to his mother.

And you concluded you had pissed him off enough for him to abduct you and keep you the same way he was keeping his victims.

When you woke up, the only thing you could see was blood.

Blood whenever you stepped.

On your hands.

On your arms.

On your lips.

You could even taste the metallic liquid. And that made you terrified. Not more terrified – of course – than being locked up in a place for god-knows-how-long without a sense of reality. There was a physical fight hours before—or was it days? You couldn't know, time was different where you were. You had a slight chance of speculating if it was day or night due to the minimum crack on one of the walls. Your pinky would fit if anything.

You succeeded in breaking a plate of food he had brought at the back of his head; which barely confused the man as you attempted to sprint towards the door. Well, You did try. Right as you reached the gate, he yanked your hair back and knocked you out on a solid surface.

When you woke up, the first thought that crossed your mind was I'm dead.

You weren’t.

Thankfully, you had just passed out. Again.

Letting out a painful breath, you forced your eyes to stay open. You had to keep trying, you weren’t about to let him win that easily. Before your team found you — if they hadn’t already — you had to buy yourself some time. Once his obsession exceeds its peak, you wouldn't stand a chance.

The sound of another shard of glass clicking against the floor disturbed that deafening silence. Although, no more than actually taking a piece of glass out of your flesh.

You moaned in pain when it was finally out. Maybe being shot would hurt less because I'd blackout. But this hurts like a bitch.

Your breathing was unsteady and you were hyperventilating. There were at least five breathing exercises running through your head as you surveyed the room, looking for a way out. You had been placed in another corner. It was still the same room, but you were seeing it from another angle. This time you could walk; barely, but still. You refused to look at your feet with the trail of blood it left as you walked.

Focus. You need to find a way out.

You're a profiler. Profile him.

Forty-five.

White male.

Abandonment issues caused by his mother leaving him at the age of nine years old.

Each victim was a surrogate to his mother; he kept them for two days and then wrapped a belt around their throats to slash it postmortem. That's his M.O.

You had none of the victim characteristics. You were only unfortunate to be in the right place at the wrong time.

Emily and you were sent to investigate the supposed location the UnSub took his victims to; an old apartment downtown. However, he was onto you as soon as you entered the place. In a moment of distraction, you had been swiped with a chloroform wipe before Emily could blink.

What a cliché way to abduct someone.

On the first day, he covered your mouth with a dirty blanket but kept your hands and feet tied up tightly around a chair. You complied with everything he said, claiming you understood him and that he was so much better than his mother. Wrong move. At the mere mention of her, the guy completely lost it.

You could still feel the slap that made your head turn. No doubt his fingers were marked on your cheek.

Then, radio silence. Your brain worked wildly as you started to analyze your surroundings with undivided attention. There were two dark shelves a few meters away from you and a few boxes scattered around. The room was extremely dark, no windows, and carried a bitter smell. The floor was a blur to you, you didn't know were you were stepping.

Countless bottles on the shelves. It almost reminded you of—

Wait.

There was barely any light in the room, only through that tiny hole in the wall. You assumed it was around evening because of where the angle the shadow was reflecting upon.

1978. Read on the bottle.

This is a wine bottle.

I'm in a wine cellar.

Your happiness was short-lived as your vision blurred, causing you to stumble back slightly.

The bottle slipped from your fingers.

Your mind goes into wildfire when your feet stepped onto something sharp and, immediately, the familiar sensation of it deepening into your skin. You never realized your body was falling, the only thing you could actually grasp onto was the pain, the agony you felt. Your screams echoed through the walls, then your tears joined as a company.

Blood and wine were indistinguishable.

Your vision begins to gloss over, dark spots covering your eyes from reality. It would be only a matter of time until you drifted off again. Was it sad to say that the sensation was becoming familiar? It shouldn't be. You should be fighting for survival.

But your legs had pieces of glass sticking out and your left hand throbbed from an open wound from another piece you had pulled out.

You heaved a shaky exhale, grunting as you tried to step back from the broken bottle. Daring to take a look at your legs was the last you did before the door creaked open, a bitter smile spreading on your dry lips.

“Shit.”

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

The BAU’s technical analyst typed fast on her computer, her eyes quickly swapping between each screen. She was checking into possible locations Paul Knox could've taken his victims, excluding where the last body was found. His M.O. changed drastically from one night to the other, which meant he was escalating. And angry, extremely angry — Garcia couldn’t imagine something else after hearing the news you had been taken.

“As if this couldn’t get any more creepy…” The blonde mumbled under her breath, eyes scanning over her newfound footage. It was a big house, colonial style colored with a pastel yellow on its walls. The picture showed the Knox’s posing for the camera; mother, son, and husband. Left to right. Something irked her in that image and that’s why she hadn’t dwelled on it when they were looking for the prime suspects’ background. His first home wasn’t relevant, he didn't take his victims there.

They had been so wrong.

Her server picked up on a distinct signal. One that shouldn't be there in such an old building.

“He films it. Everything.” Emily handled five of the eighteen tapes they found in the UnSub’s apartment. Derek shook his head as he saw many names written on each of them.

“There’re eighteen here.” You frowned, counting for the third time. “It’s supposed to be seventeen. We found seventeen bodies.”

“We haven’t found the last one yet.”

And this is how you disappeared from their radar. The eighteenth woman was not found and you were abducted from right under their noses the night after you figured he kept souvenirs from his victims. Necklaces, earrings and those awful recordings.

When Penelope succeeded in hacking into the system, a camera was functioning properly. Just one. The place was dark, but the camera provided a poor lightening and from that, her breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, my god.” The technical analyst covered her mouth in astonishment. There you were, on her computer screen. There was no doubt. She's worked with you in the same environment for nearly five years. You were friends, coworkers, partners in crime. She knew you. And that was breaking her heart.

You were thrown over the floor against a shelf, your head lolling to the side as if you were too weak to lift it. “No, no, no,” Garcia exclaimed, tears trailing down her cheeks and ruining her make-up. The floor was damp with something and she can't even imagine what it was.

“Garcia?” Hotch's voice spoke through their connected microphone. “What is it?”

She had completely forgotten she was in a connected call.

The team was in the round table room, trying to figure out your whereabouts with the help of the clues they had until now. Which were minimal. They were very behind in the UnSub's game.

Garcia's gasp made everyone quit their work, to simply stare at the machine anxiously and wait for the woman's next words.

“We have to find her. Now!” Nothing else can stand out through the line like Penelope's frantic fingers typing fast.

Derek is the first to ask for clarification, “Baby girl, give us something. What happened?”

By now, everyone was on the edge of their seats with the tension.

The line pauses, and before anyone could complain, Penelope interjects in a weak voice, “Come to my cave. You need to see this.”

Once they arrive in Penelope's office, the sight is more than they expected. Way more.

The door opened and a figure walked into the dark room. They all watched with bated breath as Paul Knox crouched down to your weak body, drawing a hand to run through your cheek.

“That son of a—”

“What is that?” Spencer cut Derek off, eyes glued to the man's pocket, something was sticking out of it. His mind works faster than any other, the likelihood of the team having a breakthrough during a case because of his inputs is huge and he's quite proud of that — even though Spencer doesn't give himself much credit.

He feels the dumbest in the room right now.

Not only did he lose you the night you were taken but he couldn't find you. The geographical profile was redone five times by him, he analyzed every detail over and over again, his brain was on fire. But he failed. He failed. How could he do that when you needed him the most? Where was his knowledge and IQ of 187 when he needed it?

Penelope turned off the screen on an impulse, earning discontent reactions from everyone else. She didn't answer them as lots of things started popping up on the other computer screen.

“Garcia.” Spencer presses, jaw clenched. He was really trying to not yell at the technical analyst to find a location fucking faster or else instead of a living agent they would find a body to bury.

No. No, that wouldn't happen. That couldn't happen.

“I'm trying!”

“Try harder!” He yelled, causing every eye to give him impressed looks. Spencer Reid doesn’t scream, he doesn’t raise his voice, he doesn’t lose his cool. But he had never seen you in a pool of your own blood in an unknown place as a hostage before. He had never been so powerless. “He's gonna do something!” He reasoned his outburst with the team. How weren't they desperately losing their minds? Was this what they were like when he had been kidnapped by Tobias Hankel? Extremely collected and calm, just like in any other case? “Are we just going to sit here and watch? This is Y/N!”

The sound of the footage suddenly burst through the cave, causing everyone to freeze up.

“Stop. No, n— what is that? Get the fuck away from me— No!”

“Oh, my god,” Emily mumbles with a hand over her mouth. They weren’t able to see the footage, but hearing your screams was just as painful.

“Reid,” Hotch warned, knowing how hard this was being on him. He shouldn't stay there, it would only make things worse, as much as it pained Aaron what was happening — he was your friend before he was your boss — the situation required him to be the levelheaded one. He couldn't jeopardize your safety because of emotions. “Go take a walk.”

“No.” was Spencer's reply. Before he could snap at anyone else and make the tension in the room increase, a hand squeezed his shoulder.

“C'mon, kid.” Derek tugged his forearm.

“I'm not going anywhere—”

“Yes, yes, you are.” Derek sends him a pointed look, pushing him out of the room “C'mon, let's take a walk. Being like this isn't gonna help us find her.”

“Look,” JJ points to the moving image, Penelope had turned it back on due to Hotch’s request. They were too close to figure out your location and they needed to grasp every detail of wherever that room was. “It’s that a… needle?” That can’t be happening. Not again. JJ flinched back as the syringe was pressed against your neck and your cries started to quieten up. She had seen that film before, it was just a continuous nightmare by now. Spencer’s limp body flashed through her mind, a terrible flashback. Now, you. It wasn’t fair. Hotch took her out of her inner turmoil to say they had found her location. Emily was already out of the room.

“Find our girl. Please, find her.” Penelope gave her a pleading look, her glasses were smeared with tears.

Jenifer didn’t need to be told twice.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Next time you woke up you saw metal bars. There was a steady dripping sound resonating around. You didn't know where it came from, your senses were compromised by your dizziness; sometimes it was distant, sometimes it was right by your side.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Always three times then a pause.

Paul had put you in a cage. That much was clear, the quadrangle shape along with the metal bars. You could barely stretch out your legs all the way due to the limited space.

Something stirred in your sight and you realized you weren't alone in the room. He's still here.

Where are your instincts? Where are the tactics you use to save someone almost every day? And why aren't you making use of them right now?

The dripping stopped.

Something creaked and your face was being touched. Feeling the familiar reaction of a panic attack approaching, you tried to regulate your breath. This was not the time. You thought. But again, have you had control over anything over these past few days?

“Don't cry. I won't hurt you.”

When you got out of the high of whatever substance he had injected into your system, you winced at the numbness in your left foot. You moved your limbs around, attempting to sit down. He had cleaned you up. You were in different clothes, too. And the blood was gone.

He touched me.

Hetouchedmehetouchedmehetouchedmehetouchedm—

Stay focused.

“13…11…9…7.” You started counting in the odd-numbered pattern you learnt calms you down. “5…3…1…13— What is—” a red light in a corner of the room glinted at you. “Are you recording me?” You exhaled harshly, squinting your eyes. No, that wasn't the dizziness. The red light was probably there the whole time, but it remained unnoticeable. A wave of drowsiness almost knocks you out again but instead, you squeeze your nails against your tight to prevent sleeping — pain was better than the unknown. You didn't know what he did when you were out of it, though you had an idea just a minute ago. “You enjoy your souvenirs, don't you? Sick bastard!”

You're losing your temper, control yourself.

I can't.

I need to get out of here. I need to GET OUT.

“Let me out.” You whispered to nothing.

What takes you to a breaking point? Being held captive by a sociopath maniac or not knowing what to do to escape it?

All of your qualifications went down the drain. Suddenly you didn't have a PhD in Biopsychology.

Survival mode originally evolved to help us handle threats and situations that activate our stress-response systems. When the alternative does not involve escape or fighting, we are wired to freeze, a state of hyperarousal.

It's always better to go ahead with the instructions, otherwise, you might touch a rough spot and their only response will be to eliminate their target.

Your friends’ voices rang through your brain as if they were supposed to help you somehow.

The walls were closing in, rationality was out of the picture.

“Let me out of here, please!”

“Stop screaming. No one will hear.”

You turned towards the door, jaw clenching. You weren't just weak, you were angry. That shouldn't be happening to you, you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time and he took advantage of that.

“They will catch you.” You spat out. “You don't have a chance once they find you, Paul.”

He nodded, crouching down in front of the cage, hands gripping the sidebars. “I'm aware of that.”

That made you freeze.

So it was an all-or-nothing situation? If your probability of getting out of that alive was slim, now it was just ridiculous.

“You need to learn a lesson.” He said, unlocking the cage and crawling in. As much as you tucked yourself in the corner, he was still able to touch you, he was still able to be desperately close. “Beautiful, beautiful, Daisy... Why'd you hurt me like that?”

Daisy.

Daisy…

“Daisy... I did everything you asked me too. Why'd you leave me with him? The bad man? Why?”

The bad man.

Daisy and Caleb Knox, those were Paul’s parents.

At the age of nine Daisy left Paul to Caleb's care and ran away. She was never found.

It's always better to go ahead with the instructions. Play into his fantasy.

“I'm— I'm sorry,” you croaked out, testing the waters.

“Are you really?”

“He made...” Taking a deep breath You felt your tongue heavy and your head spin. You would pass out any minute. How much longer would you handle without food? You can't remember the last time you ate. “... he made me— do that. I wanted to protect you. I did. But he didn't— he didn't let me,” your breath was shallow and you felt yourself floating.

Stay awake.

“Liar.” He mumbled after a while. “Liar!” You didn't expect the slap when it came. The force made you stumble back, pressing your eyes and groaning in pain. “How can you keep lying to me after all these years? You slut! I was alone! With him!”

“I understand,” you replied, shakily, licking your lips as the copper taste filled your tastebuds. “But— but you love me. Don't you?” Opening your eyes, you realized he was a little farther than you expected. His eyes stared right into your soul with a kind of regret and disgust you had never seen. “You were always a good kid, Paul... Would never hurt your mom. Because you're good. Aren't you?”

A lot of things were at stake there. your life, mostly. If you as much as stepped into his anger then you would be done for.

In a blink of an eye he was in front of you again, “I am. I-I I am, mom.” Mom. That's good. He's falling for it. You could save your vomit for later.

Then, you saw the belt. The same one he uses on the victims for the final kill.

Death wasn't a thing to be afraid of. It's simply another part of life. Or, for the believers, eternal life.

You have never been scared of death in your twenty-five years of living. Not when the situation was related to you, at least. Which was completely different if someone on your team got injured badly, let alone your boyfriend. You didn't know what it was that whenever you were in danger's ways, no fear would kick in, only the nice feeling of adrenaline running through your veins.

However, this wasn't like most cases. You knew this one would break you to the core. You would never be the same after that. If you even get the chance to say after this case. Spencer had this experience. He had been abducted and tortured by Tobias Hankel; you've seen how the trauma affected him till this day.

You wondered if Spencer thought if he would get out alive. You wondered if, at some point in that cabin in the woods, he contemplated death as an alternative. Because God knew you were considering it.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Aaron Hotchner marched forward to the backyard of the Knox Mansion as Derek Morgan went in through the backdoor. Spencer Reid and Jennifer Jereau were ordered to enter through the front door.

The two-story manor carried a sense of luxury, although the smell was of something rotten from years back.

It was clear that the inheritance Paul Knox gained from his father had vanished as it had come. The house was almost in ruins, the strong smell of mold all around the walls immediately hit the newcomers. Derek and Aaron met inside close to the living room.

“It's all clear around the kitchen, Rossi,” Derek said, looking around and studying his surroundings. He quickly covered his nose when the smell reached his nostrils. “What is that smell?!”

“I don't know,” Rossi replied, kicking a knocked-over chair. “ There's been a struggle.”

Derek nodded, pointing towards a line of blood leading to the kitchen. It ended there.

“We're running out of time.” Spencer walked in the kitchen with JJ on his trail. “This is useless. She won't be up here. The camera Garcia hacked showed a dark room and it pointed to a door. Possibly the only way in and out.”

JJ nodded in affirmation, shoulders tensing. “Maybe a basement? There's no guest house, right?”

“There's a basement outside.” Rossi clarified. “Hotch is searching there. JJ and Reid search the second floor, Morgan and Prentiss you take the attic. I'll check that ridiculously big greenhouse outside.”

“It's not a basement,” Spencer said, cursing under his breath. Everyone stared at him confusedly. “That was not a basement. It—It looks like one. It's supposed to look like one but didn't you see the bottles and the shelves in the footage? And the liquid when she—” he sucked in a breath. “That's a wine cellar.” He concluded. How couldn't he have seen it before? It was being thrown at his face.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Hotch stepped towards the wood doors, drawing out his gun to tear apart the locket.

He tried as much as he could not to make a sound as he walked down the basement doors. If the smell in the house was bad, down there was suffocating.

“Paul, Paul listen to me! I'm sorry that I left, I'm sorry!”

He halted, surveying the area carefully. It was dark, but his weapon light helped him have a grip on his surroundings. That had definitely been your voice.

“Is Carina here?”

There was a pause.

Carina Grace. One of the missing girls, probably the eighteenth victim of Paul Knox.

“You told me I wasn't alone before, is she here, too, Paul?”

That was a bold move. Hotch knew what you were doing, despite the situation you were still doing your job, but this wouldn't end well.

“You have never been alone.”

Your crying out made him approach fast as he followed the sound. That place could fool anyone by the sight of it before you entered. The wood doors made it look like a small corner, but Hotch could see it as a masked labyrinth.

He kept aiming his gun ahead, entering a room of what he supposed was a wine cellar. Slow and steady steps guided by his instincts; his eyes surveyed every corner of the room until three tall shelves came into sight— and a shadow reflected by the sunlight that entered the only small window in the room.

His eyes narrowed when he saw it move and the silhouette of a gun was pressed to its hand. Hotch swiftly hid behind a near concrete pillar just as the man shot twice in the previous direction he had been in.

Idiot. Aaron mentally cursed, eyeing the only part of the room he hadn't checked yet, behind the shelves.

He saw a glimpse of metal. The UnSub was armed.

“Found her badge and bullet proof vest up here, Hotch.” JJ's voice rang through the radio. Loud enough for only Aaron to hear, thankfully. “The perimeters are being checked but I don't think—” He could hear the strain in her voice.

“The wine cellar isn't clear, yet.” Hotch said with his tone contained, eyes glued to the UnSub's shadow. He hasn't moved. What was this asshole planning to do? “He's here. Block all exits.”

“What about her?”

“She's here, too,” Hotch replied to Reid, squinting at the moving silhouette.

“You're in the basement, aren't you?” He breathed out at the sound of Emily's voice.

“Yes.”

“I'll meet you there.”

“There's another body here and he's armed.” Be careful.

Emily spoke to someone else and then he tuned everything out.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

“Spencer!” JJ tried to pull him back but he yanked his arm out of her reach, sprinting towards the backyard. “Would you calm down? You can't barge in like this!” She hissed in frustration.

He turned back and said through gritted-teeth. “If it were Will, would you be calm?”

She blinked at him, opening and closing her mouth in shock. “I—”

“You know how I feel, you've been there, so why do you keep asking me to calm down?” Spencer spat out.

JJ silently approached him by the entrance, swallowing the guilt her whole body was drowning in. “I'm sorry. I'm just trying to make you think, alright? Spence, she needs all of us. She needs you, so we need to think straight. Our goal is to get her out.” Alive.

“Do you think we can?”

He asked softly, voice small.

She squeezed his shoulder and widened the basement opening. “Yes, we can.” She stepped in, turning to him before he could enter. “Don't step away from me. We don't split up, ever, deal?”

That was something she always said whenever they were paired up in a situation like that. And that's when Spencer noticed that what he suffered didn't just affect him, but everyone else around him.

“Okay.”

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Hotch had finally caught sight of you. He could see your frame in a corner of the wall, the sunlight didn't help him visualize anything, it was too minimal. He didn't know whether you were awake or— he couldn't see. “Paul, do you think your mother would be proud of that behavior? Killing women? Hurting them?” He needed to get closer and for that, he had to get inside his mind.

“You don't understand,” Paul said calmly. Hotch hears beneath that contained tone, he was a walking time bomb. But they were on countdown before your location was even found, the team knew who Paul was, they knew how he escalated in the last weeks, and they knew his weak spot, too.

“You're right,” Hotch said, craning his neck to the side when he saw your voice. More like a whimper. Low, discreet, but there. You were alive. And he intended on keeping that way. “I don't understand. I didn't go through what you did. I was not left in a house by someone that's supposed to care for me. I was not left to a parent that never loved me.”

Silence.

“Paul. She deserves everything you did to her. Every beating. Every truth spat out on her face. Every day locked up here. She was supposed to be a good mother back then, why is she trying now, after all.”

“She never loved me.”

Bingo.

“Is that what you think?”

There was shuffling around and then a gun was pointing directly at him, but Hotch had a shelf to cover behind. Paul was finally in his aim, vulnerable. Not yet.

“Do you think people change, Agent?” Paul asked him, cocking the gun at him mockingly. He then looked back at you, tongue moving across his lips slowly. “I don't think so. That's why I didn't kill her. Yet.”

You said something else but Hotch couldn't hear. He wasn't close enough. You weren't safe yet. Not yet.

The clock was ticking.

“For some people, death is just another way out.”

Everything happened so fast his mind didn't grasp it until it happened.

He heard a click. Then the sound of gunfire exploded through the wine cellar.

Paul Knox was on the floor, his head had two gunshot wounds on the forehead and blood leaked through it. Eyes wide open. He didn't see it coming.

Quick and effective.

A perfect aim to kill.

He thought it would be Emily at the entrance, gun pointing right at Paul's head. He's seen her frustration at herself for losing you that day, it was a matter of time until she snapped.

But he was met with Spencer Reid barging into the wine cellar instead. A stunned JJ frozen at the entrance.

Reid's movements carried no hesitation as he dashed towards the body, snatched the keys out of his pockets and stepped back to unlock the cage you were in.

It was foolish to check if he was still alive. Two shots to the head - that was the outcome Hotch didn't want. Paul Knox was supposed to go to jail for the rest of his life. Because of the victims he terrorized, because of the days he stole from one of his own that she would never get back.

“We found Carina.” Derek told him as they watched you being pulled into the ambulance. He didn't need to be told that they only found her body. Carina Grace had been missing for a month. “Same way as the other girls.”

“Safe to say he won't be dreaming about hurting anyone else.” Rossi made the comment as a body bag was transferred out of the wine cellar.

Hotch glanced towards Reid, who had just entered the ambulance by your side.

He would lecture him later. The only thing that mattered now was that you were safe.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

When you fluttered your eyes open, you quickly shut them again. The lights were strong and forceful. Light. Was this the sunlight? Had he dumped your body somewhere? Were you finally dead and this was your spirit floating over what was left of you?

You hadn't felt that cool air in days. It almost felt like air-conditioning. A soft fabric wrinkled between your fingers and your leg… you could move it. You could feel it. There was no numbness.

“Take a deep breath. It's okay, you're safe.”

You're hallucinating. Because what you were hearing didn't make any sense. It couldn't be. Your head was searching for ways to bring your relief. That's the only reasonable answer.

Reasonable. What about this situation is reasonable?

“You're safe,” He repeated.

You forced your eyelids open, despite the bothersome whiteness. The first thing you saw was Spencer, his honey brown eyes with heavy bags of sleepless nights around them, his soft smile that threatened to spill the sadness hanging over him.

You could touch his hand.

But the calm doesn't last for long.

“You're not here.” You snatched your fingers away.

This is not real. I'm dreaming again.

Hurt flashed through his eyes. “I am.”

“That's not you.”

“That's me, sweetheart. This is real, we got you out—”

“No!”

He flinched back, watching as the heart monitor went off. A group of nurses entered the room to check the commotion; it took five people to hold you down. He never saw you like that. That's anger, that pain. He'd never seen it in your eyes. JJ had to pull him out of the room otherwise he would stay there, frozen.

You weren't seeing him.

He provoked that nervous breakdown.

“Stop. Hey, don't do this,” he could feel air entering his lungs but his chest hurt. “Spencer, this isn't—”

“Don't.” He said shortly, shaking his head. “I shouldn't have…” He stared at his hands as if they had committed a crime, trying to blink away his tears.

“This isn't your fault, Spence.”

“I should've figured it out sooner.” He said, burying his head between his hands. “I do it all the time. Why couldn't I do it now, why couldn't I find her sooner?”

Sobs racked through his body and he felt arms wrapping around him some sort of comfort. He didn't feel it. He wanted you. He wanted to make you feel better, he didn't need to be taken care of. He didn't deserve it.

“It wasn't your fault,” JJ repeated, tightening her hold on him. “We were all in this. And she's fine now. She's safe.”

“She'll never be fine again.” He mumbled through her shirt. It physically pained him to see you like this, as if your mind was playing you. The worst was that he knew what that felt like. He wished he didn't. Actually, he wished that it was him instead. He'd go through it all again just to spare you of that trauma. That haunting pain that would follow you and make you doubt everything.

He didn’t mean that he didn’t want you to be fine, of course, he wanted it. That kind of trauma, however, doesn’t just let you go, it’s like a shadow looming over you, a tall ghost.

I should've found her sooner. He couldn't stop thinking that. I should've found her sooner.

An hour passed and nobody moved from the waiting room. They were anxious and on edge waiting for an update. Penelope had drifted off on Derek's shoulder a few minutes ago, Emily had bitten all of her cuticles as much as Rossi reprimanded her on it, Hotch would leave and come back with coffee refills and JJ had left a while ago to speak to Will and her kids. As for Spencer, he was just there. Not mentally, just physically.

He needed to see you okay to function again.

“She'll need you.” He snapped around to Hotch's voice. At some point, his feet reached the end of the hall, a cup of water in his hands. He wasn't even thirsty. “She'll need you when she wakes up. More than anyone else.” His boss added.

Spencer knew what he meant by that. It wasn't just in the literal sense.

“I know.” He responded.

“Then you need to be there.”

Get a grip on yourself.

“I will.” Spencer swallowed hard, looking up at him. “I will.” He repeated, throwing the cup on the trash can and taking a deep breath. Hotch squeezed his shoulder reassuringly on his way back.

When the doctor called him back to the room, you were already awake.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

“Spencer?”

You croaked out, blinking multiple times to undo the blurred image of the long-haired genius.

“Hi,” he replied, lowering to the seat beside your bed. You oversaw his movements carefully. He looked shaken up but he mustered one of those smiles you were done for from the first day you walked in the Bureau.

“Can you tell me something?” You requested, clearing your throat. You didn’t trust your senses, but it sounded and looked like your boyfriend. Your mind couldn’t play sturdy tricks like that, could it?

Outsretching your arm long enough to reach him, you nudged his hand. He pulled the chair closer and intertwined your fingers. That was the first time you felt warmth in days.

“What about?”

“Something only you would know.”

Bring me back to reality.

He sighed, lifting your palm to his cheek. “You hate the color gray,” his eyes locked into yours as he recalled your words from a few months ago when you had revealed this to him. “It was your brother's favorite color. He wore it all the time. When he died, you could never look at anything gray because it would remind you of him.”

You stayed quiet.

“You hate when people keep telling you to wear your hair down because it looks pretty. You know it does, but you feel uncomfortable with the strands touching your neck. You love sunlight the same amount you love cloudy days – not thunderstorms, you’re scared of those. Especially lightning.” You let out a tearful chuckle to which he grinned. “You have a tattoo on the inner side of your left thigh, it's the page number and the line order of your favorite Norwegian Wood edition, your favorite book. You had a secret obsession with the theme from that animated movie…” his voice trailed off, a crease between his brows.

“You mean Let it go from Frozen?”

Spencer’s lips twisted in a pout, “Sorry if I don’t know that much about pop culture.”

“You’re hopeless at it, Spence.”

“I’m not that bad.” He rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How are you feeling?” He asked, eyes softening. You traced the tip of his nose, eyes scanning his features so you’d cement it to your brain.

“Better,” you replied. It was the truth. He nodded, brushing a strand behind your ear gently. “Thank you.”

Spencer lifted his chin to glimpse at you, disappointment draping over his gaze. “I didn’t do anything.” Disappointment at himself. The failure that he was during the case when you needed him the most. You furrowed your brows at the tear trailing down his cheek, drying it with your thumb. Reaching for his arms, you waited until he adjusted enough at the edge of your bed so you could rest your head on his chest. His heartbeat rang through your ears like a long-awaited tune.

“I know you did, Spencer. All of you did. Hey,” you tapped his chin so he could meet your eyes. “I'm here, aren't I?”

He frowned. “You almost weren't.”

“But I am,” you insisted. Your gaze darkened and you shifted on the bed causing the thin blanket to fall off one of your legs. You were all bandaged up, literally. “You know, I… I lost track of time. After the first two days I nearly went crazy. I knew you'd find me but I— I—”

“You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready.” Spencer reassured you softly. He saw the way you stared at your legs, it was the scars beneath the bandages that you were seeing. And the ones beyond your body. “I love you,” he mumbled against your hair, caressing your arms and cradling you into his hold. “We got you out. You're safe now, alright? I promise.”

You resigned with a long breath, burying your face in his shoulder. That heaviness brewing over your thoughts vanished under his touch, wrapping safety around you instead.

“I love you too, Spencer.” You said, curling into his side. Now that you knew you were safe, you could feel the exhaustion weighing down your eyelids. “Can you stay?”

He hummed, tucking his chin above your head and shifting on the bed for a better position. It wasn't the most comfortable setting and you two would probably — certainly — wake up with your backs hurting. But Spencer would do anything for you.

“I won't go anywhere, don't worry.”

That was what comfort felt like. You weren't dreaming. That was real.

The nightmare was finally over.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Isn’t it funny how day by day

nothing changes,

but when you look back,

everything is different. ”

[C.S. Lewis]

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dickheadcanons · 7 months

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Your brain is literally gynormous. Do you think Damian's and Dick's relationship is paternal? Because, as someone who has actually had to raise their sibling (do not recommend) it looks more like a guy that had too much in his plate trying to be the best caregiver he could, but not really being a parent, if that makes sense. I feel like the idea of him wanting to adopt him feels like kind of a retcon, couldn't really see it in the og run. But of course, it could be because it's not exactly the same as my experience (abusive father, incapable mother, yknow the drill). What do you think? All your posts are so good.

Also while you're at it, what do you think of Dick as a parent? Some elseworlds have played with the concept, and main continuity did something too with Olivia but T*m Tayl*r fucked that up too. I also wonder how Damian would be as a dad, but I don't think I've ever seen any stories with it.

omg anon thank you and thank you for asking!! this is literally one of my favorite topics!! i was thinking about making a post on this and now you gave me the excuse for it!!

Long story short, I don't think that “parental” is a binary thing. I mean, I know several bio-parents who are just guys with too much on their plates, trying to be the best they can, you know? And people can see parent figures in all kinds of relationships that aren’t blood or traditional moms/dads, especially with people who didn't know each other from birth. There are a million ways to be parented, and a million ways to act as a parent.

The way I think about it is, is Dick Damain's John Grayson? No, I don't think so.

But is Dick Damian's Bruce Wayne? Yes. Totally. Absolutely.

More under the cut bc I have a lot of thoughts.

I think to talk about Dick and Damian, we have to start with Dick and Bruce. So much about Dick and Damian is a reflection of the original Dynamic Duo, and I think that's very much the case with this element as well. From the start of their very long comic history, Dick and Bruce have been dancing around their relationship. We get early comics that say they're "like" father and son, we have Bruce saying he couldn't care about Dick more than if he was Bruce's son, but we also have places where they call each other their best friends, where they act more like brothers, etc etc.

When it comes to who our parents are, I think there is the responsibility, and the result. Certain people have the responsibility, the duty, to be our parents, and sometimes (because death or illness or being shitty people), they aren't able to meet those responsibilities. That never removes the responsibility; they don't stop being the parent. But they aren't able to create the result of us becoming good stable adults. That's where other people can step in, where the parental figure appears, and those are the people that we actually point to when we say "they made me the person I am today."

In fandom, we see a lot of Dick not wanting Bruce to replace his father, of him asking not to be adopted. I think this is a fine characterization that works with who Dick is, but Bruce is actually the one to say that he is not going to replace Dick's father. He says it completely unprompted, too. This is withholding the responsibility of being Dick's parent from Bruce, keeping him at a distance and reserving it as an honor for someone who can't hold it anymore, even as Bruce demands responsibility for literally everything else about Dick.

And I think that it's very telling of what Bruce's idea of a father is. The thing about having a dead parent at a young age is that the person of your parents is still tangled in the role of parent in your life; Mom is mom, not Martha, and because she's dead, the image of both Martha and "mom" is frozen. For Bruce, the relationship of father and son is frozen in the relationship of specifically his father and him. Of course Bruce is not Dick's father; Bruce himself is so different from what his conception of a father is. And as a fellow son, for Bruce, someone who just got back from 7 years abroad studying to be Batman, for whom the nearly 20 year old wound is still fresh, the idea of even wanting another father doesn't make sense, particularly for a boy that Bruce identifies with so hard that he becomes the third person ever to know who Batman is.

This looming memory is even worse when it's Dick's turn to be Batman. While Bruce looks at Dick and sees the memory of his own loss, the shadow of his own grief, Dick is looking at Damian and seeing Bruce. Dick knows very well who Damian lost; Dick is grieving what Damian lost more than Damian is. Bruce couldn't conceive of replacing a father, but Dick is struggling to imagining himself replacing Bruce at his job, much less who he was in his personal relationships.

But even if Damian isn't Dick's responsibility, Dick doesn't hesitate to care about Damian's future. "Who's going to save him if we don't?" At the start of the DickBats era, Dick isn't looking at Damian as a family member, really. He's looking at Damian as a victim, abet a very involved, very dangerous one. It's how Bruce looked at Dick too, before he had any reason to know that this kid would become something more to him. But, like Bruce, what Dick does to save Damian is bring him into the thing that is most precious to him; Batman. The mission. Saving people. A way to live in the world.

I know saying someone is the Batman to their Robin is like, a joke at this point. Something unbelievably cheesy. But you google "iconic duos" and Batman and Robin are one of the first responses. There's a reason for the joke. So imagine you are Robin, and your Batman is dead. And you have to go and find a new partner. Dick making Damian his Robin is heavy, just as heavy to me as adoption papers. Bruce made Dick his partner without any idea of what that meant. Dick, and the audience, had 70 years of expectation on what Dick and Damian could be. Dick making Damian Robin was a very specific claim, far stronger imo than just claiming him as a son would have been.

Because, to be honest (and speak to your other question), I don't think Dick thinks a lot about being a parent. I don't really think it's that important to him. Dick is a leader, a mentor, he deals with a ton of teenagers and kids through his vigilante work, he goes to Tim's sidekick parent's meetings and takes Jason skiing and more than that, he's also young. He's in his 20s. He should be at the club. I think he probably thinks he'll have kids in an abstract way, but it's not something he's looking for, consciously or unconsciously. He's not searching for connection, or to fix his mistakes or his past, the things that lead Bruce to adopting sidekicks. He'd be a great dad, and I think we see him being pretty good with his Elseworlds kids, but Dick is a very practical person, and him taking a kid in (vs finding somewhere else they can go) is not really the practical choice.

Except for one kid. There's just been one kid with legitimately no where else to go, where Dick is truly the only option, because going home meant only bad things for him. Dick made Damian part of his family in the ways that mattered to them both in that moment. With their lives, adoption doesn't really make a huge material difference on custody (if Damian wanted to leave, Dick couldn't have stopped him; Damian has access to basically unlimited money and can feed and clothe and wash himself. and possibly already has a phd.), and Dick wanted Damian to choose, anyway. If I recall correctly, Dick says he didn't think about taking Damian with him until Bruce comes back. He thought about taking Damian with him, thought that Damian might be better with Dick (his partner!!!!) than even with Bruce, his dad, the person Dick loves so much, only in the face of them being separated.

Meanwhile Damian, for all his blustering about how Dick needs to "earn" his respect, warms up to Dick startlingly quickly. For Damian, who had never known a father, who in his initial run hadn't even known his mother for more than two years, whose other male family is Ra’s al Ghul, his father is Batman. Even in Tomasi's kinder depiction of Damian's childhood, Damian only knows the Bat. And when he meets Bruce, the first thing he expresses is disappointment. Bruce the man is underwhelming and then goes and dies. So much for the mythic hero!

And then he meets Dick. Who manages to teach Damian something, who doesn't discount his skills even when he's wrong. Who proves that he is better at being Batman than Damian, and shows that he wants Damian around. And, even more importantly, who doesn't die. Dick is stable in a world constantly in flux. Damian screws up a lot in that run, and he leaves for long stretches of it, but Dick is always there when he gets back. There's no blame here, but the truth is that Dick is the one who stays.

Bruce was Damian's father, but what does that mean to someone whose never met a father at all? Bruce might have tried to connect with Damian before he died, but he doesn’t do it in a way that works. He doesn’t give Damian trust, he doesn’t encourage him in the ways Damian finds important…the first person to do that is Dick. Dick gives Damian responsibility, makes him part of the team. It could be argued that Damian didn’t deserve it, but we’re not talking about deserving. We’re talking about what worked. It sounds like as good an idea as making a tiny 8 year old acrobat a sidekick, but it undeniably worked for both Damian and Dick. Does that mean that either of these relationships were parental in the way that we think of it in the real world, in the way that a child psychologist would say is good and healthy? I have no idea. But they are the most parental in the absence of any other parents, and I think that means a lot.

Unfortunately, we don't get to actually see the dissolution of Dick and Damian's partnership. DC conveniently skips over showing us Bruce coming back and Dick becoming Nightwing again; preNew 52, Dick is still Batman with Damian even when Bruce returns, and in the New 52, he's been Batman "Before" and we don't really see the end, just a vague aftermath. But if it did take that kind of change to make them realize their relationship had a flavor of "parent and child", had the makings of something like a father and son, well, they'd just be following in the original Batman's footprints.

#asks #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #this is a fucking essay #batman meta #And I didn't even manage to talk about John #Sorry John #I think there is the more traditional caregiver side of parenthood #the part that makes sure the kids are fed and dressed and ready for school #but the magic of comics is that none of the bat characters really need that and damian in particular is not receptive to it #They kind of regress Damian to it a bit after the supersons era #but he is extremely assured while Dick is batman #he doesn't need a parent in the caregiver way he need a parent in the believes in you and gives you somewhere to call home way #it just turns out that its really hard to have someone love you and watch out for you and get super invested in your development #and not think of them in some kind of fond paternal way #also i may need to make a real post about dick and children because i dont know if i was really coherent here lol #also if there are any issues that show something i missed lmk #i have definitely not read everything

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