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iceunhie · 5 months ago

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— out of this world (and into another) : genshin impact

premise: you could've sworn the transmigration curse didn't have an effect on you... so what exactly are you doing here?! (alternatively, you tumble straight into your favorite video game; and you're kinda fucked)

...or, a genshin manhwa otome game inspired au.

act i: scaramouche, alhaitham, wriothesley.

↳ act ii: lyney, neuvilette, kazuha, kaeya. (next)

warnings. fem!reader but can be imagined as genderless if u'd like hehe, a shit ton of manhwa tropes in one, this is a hot mess aka not proofread all that much, half clunky half decent writing

a/n: as promised via the poll heh,, while i do plan to make this an actual au, im not that sure ^^; just the tip of the iceberg here tho!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | AU MASTERLIST (coming soon)

YOU — unsuspecting civilian turnt transmigrator

you've always been too attached to fictional characters for your own good.

yes, even the ones that are remarkably irredeemable (the power of a backstory is very formidable) and complex (complexity is a virtue!)

villains have always been destined to die, be cursed, or destined to curse others. it was heartbreaking, really. you've wished for a chance to rewrite their fates for them to find even a sliver of happiness, even when the fate of their plot says otherwise.

which is why when you find yourself awake into the game of your dreams, “Teyvat's Seven Stars”, like any lover of cliche novel and manhwa tropes, this is the time you think that maybe life wasn't so shitty on you.

....there's only one tiny, teensy, itty bitty problem here, actually.

you're not the protagonist. you're not even one of the protagonist's faithful friends and underlings that light protagonist's road to conquering the world and its men (and as of the 4.0 update, it's women); no, you're none of those.

you're a no name extra, and not to mention, a character involved with the game's main villain characters who are coincidentally the love interests of the game's black route!

[ unlock transmigration package: ultimate transmigrator's route ( ????? MODE ) ]

[ no ] [ yes ]

( 国崩 ) SCARAMOUCHE — the tyrant

“as of today, you will be engaged to crown prince kunikuzushi, who is her grace the shogun's rightful heir to the throne.”

when given approval to stare at your so-called soon to be husband, you expect the worst, mostly. the multitudes of character dialogue you've played through detailing his rather discourteous personality (which basically meant he was a huge asshole) don't exactly paint a pretty picture.

however...

who was this tender hearted looking scaramouche that ‘obliterated armies in the blink of an eye?’ the t in tyrant stands for tyrannical, not timid!

eyes like lighting framed by the longest eyelashes you've ever seen and an unfairly pretty face, comparable to a fair lotus. after fawning over his otherworldly countenance, a sinking realization of dread pools in your stomach.

oh, you are so screwed.

essentially tied to the indigo-haired ticking time bomb of a future tyrant due to the strong standing of your family for a period of until the main story starts, you're destined to never get crown prince scaramouche's affection, being his fiancée who scaramouche is arranged to for political means only.

not to mention, you're in an even more deadly position; of all the characters you switched souls with, it's the one that essentially dies by their own fiancé's hand because they were horrible to him! what atrocious luck!

frantic, you wrack up about three ways to survive.

plan a) win over the shogun's favor by being an appropriate partner unlike the original flavor of this body, who resorted to bullying the innocent prince and unknowingly digging their own grave or b) be a guiding friend to scaramouche as he learns the ways of the world and c) make sure you don't end up giving the protagonist a bad ending via his twisted personality.

weighing all these options, you decide to do all three in hopes to cement a life instead of a deathflag. prevention is better than the cure (aka: the protagonist) after all!

(you may also just want to spend time with your favorite character. having a time limit and a sign that says ‘i'll die in the future!’ should at least warrant you extra time to show some affection to scaramouche, at least.)

so, you do what anyone in your position would do: give affection! lots of it.

admittedly, it wasn't all flowers and rainbows. scaramouche—ahem, kunikuzushi—was very shy and reserved indeed, with his mother ei even worse off! (besides, who trains and studies all day and has to stop crying every time they were injured?! that was just too much!)

it was rather hard at first, the frigid atmosphere of the usually silent Tenshukaku Palace almost impossible to permeate. but with your amazing charm (read: deathflag radar) and social skills, you manage to let the members of the Royal family open up to you.

speaking words of praise in ei's cooking (a very difficult feat to accomplish), spending afternoons with your fiancé and teaching him ‘how to be a shoujo worthy male lead, name-version’ (very confusing to explain), and the cherry on top, driving away that vile teacher of his—the Doctor—once word got out that he'd been taking advantage of scaramouche as a political puppet king in the future. trauma enabler destroyed! look at your immeasurable powers!

(“you're not a failure.” clasping kunikuzushi's hands in yours as he reels back from you. damn that doctor.

his tears shot a wave of heartache through you. you can't bear to see your favorite in such suffering. “whatever happens in the future, i won't abandon you.

no matter what, i'll always be on your side, okay?”

kunikuzushi looks at you with something in his eyes—something like adoration. “do you promise that?”

“yeah.” you say without hesitation, the glow of the sunlight hitting your face so dazzlingly that kunikuzushi's eyes widen that his mouth hangs agape in awe. “i promise, kuni.”)

to your greatest delight, your efforts worked in your favor.

ei now spends time with her son, and though it's almost always just a tad bit awkward, you and the guuji yae miko get the two to strike up conversation, and overtime, kunikuzushi becomes more open to you.

(“[name], what kind of man is your type?”

“huh? well...” you think for a while. this was a great opportunity to say it, right? that life changing protagonist quote!

“to me, the only person i'll ever like the most is you, kunikuzushi.”

“do you really, really mean that?” and oh, he looks so cute—flustered and red from your words. worth it.

“yup! now, i made some shimi chazuke, try some—”)

(admittedly, lots of favoritism is involved.)

—and while you reap the fruits of your hard work, you spend warm, sunlit afternoons with ei at tea, even learning about other nations from scaramouche's aunt nahida and even befriended a few of his future affiliates—childe (though for some reason, kunikuzushi always pulls you away from him whenever he spots the two of you together), signora (she tolerates you, you think) and etcetera.

(“then, if i do well, can you kiss me on the cheek, [name]?”

you agree, much to his delight. scaramouche avoids the gaze of a certain pink haired fox eyeing him questionably. unbeknownst to you, he glares at the woman's scrutiny.)

unprecedented things unrelated to the plot happen too; like how your family, which basically only saw you as a political bargaining chip and an unwanted child they could get rid of easily—no longer sent you any demeaning letters demanding money once scaramouche found out....

(“they've been leeching off of you for how long?” so scary... is this was kunikuzushi is like when he's worried?)

(“...kunikuzushi, how long will you keep up that weak-hearted facade of yours? if they find out how.... dishonest you are....”

“i don't need the reminders of a foxy old hag that doesn't know her place. this is fine as it is.”)

(you don't need to know.)

but, you're nothing compared to the inevitable flow of the plot. inazuma is wracked with war, and it just so happened that you'd been unceremoniously kidnapped by a certain resistance leader's trusted general, used as a hostage bargain for approximately the majority of your life. in the worst moments in your dreary cell, there's only one thought in your mind.

....kunikuzushi's face, devastated when he tries to reach for you, before slipping away from him like sand— face morphing into an unbridled state of rage that's too natural, too familiar. when did he learn to make a face like that?

(they say the kingdom was wracked with thunderstorms all night that day.)

afterwards, fate doesn't make it kind for you.

years go by in the blink of an eye, with your capture fervently forgotten in the midst of the growing animosity of the two conflicting forces.

although you did hear that yae sent out a search party for you while at the resistance's base, the shogun's forces never reached you.

eventually, you got released secretly by sympathy of kokomi, the leader of the resistance, who felt pity for you getting caught in the crossfire. letting you go under the condition that you'd likely never meet any of the precious characters you've gotten to know and change was a heavy price to pay, but you didn't have any choice.

indeed, no matter how much you tried to divert the plot, your duty as an extra has ended, and you were even lucky to even be alive. you could only hope that your fiancé—ex-fiancé—took note of your lessons well, bidding farewell to inazuma as you hop on the boat to mondsdat.

by now, you at least hoped that scaramouche and the protagonist met, his true chance at happiness starting now that you were basically dead.

(even if your heart felt like breaking into a million pieces.)

....is what you thought would happen, but why is it that after three years from your supposed capture, inazuma was still at war?

“that crazy prince... he's still working to find his former fiancée... and he's razing almost every village apart looking for them!”

“—didn't the shogunate say that whoever finds her would receive almost 3 million mora?”

“the entire lot of them are lunatics, i tell you. all because of a missing person, too!”

what's more, why was it still going because of you?!

( 艾尔海森 ) AL-HAITHAM: the information guild master

to be fair, normal people don't really run into one of their favorite characters often after transmigrating.

but to be fair, again, you certainly didn't think you'd actually be in your favorite video game franchise caged in bed with essentially one of its main love interests.

eyes wide and unceremoniously looking—definitely not ogling— at the toned body that's currently enveloping you in its arms, the soft tuft of ashy gray hair caressing the crook of your neck, murmuring incoherent mumbles of—is that another language?

???????

you blink, looking down at the bare body currently embracing you. oh. oh.

you're an extra.

you're just an extra, but why are you in bed, currently being served breakfast by the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on, with a pretty view of the rainforests' canopy?

“you should lie down. if i recall, sufficient sleep is required in order for the human body to perform its basic bodily functions. although our partnership is temporary, to let you fall to harm is a situation i'd like to avoid as much as possible.”

“....what?”

“...?”

the guild master, al-haitham, is a character in Teyvat's Seven Stars that is heavily debated on whether he's technically a villain or not. in the game, he's the right hand of sumeru's leader, nahida, working as the overseer of the AKASHA, a guild that gathers information to the nation's leader. he's a pretty shady character—always working behind the scenes and very unfalteringly blunt—and a ‘villain’ for crown prince scaramouche's route, helping the protagonist escape his clutches.

he's often the subject of comedic ire, his banters with a certain broke architect always the highlight of any bonafide al-haitham fan.

“we're expected to work together by lord kusanali's decree in the duration of investigating the hivemind project the lord suspects the baron siraj is partaking in.”

right, that one scene in the game where al-haitham needed to go undercover to infiltrate a coup de etat staged by one of the factions against nahida... right... what.

you were that extra! the one that fell in love with him and pined for his affection!

(“well, i get that part, but does sleeping together really have to play a part in this...?”

al-haitham gives you a mere quirk of the lip, tilting his head. “we do have to play the part of a married couple in dire straights, do we not? this cover is more efficient.

...besides, i don't have anything to complain about. you're certainly better company than kaveh.” )

in truth, al-haitham wasn't bad company. far from it. aside from the internal giggling and fangirling (you) and the incredible stack of books (alhaitham) that you have to see more than the grey haired man on a daily basis, the two of you work out a rapport that stems from memories of the body you transmigrated in.

he's nice to be around, surprisingly considerate when he wants to be—he tells you about the books he always reads....

(who even reads ‘20 Tongues Language Memorization Guidebook: A Basic Overview of Vocabulary and Terms’ for enjoyment?

the content makes your head run in circles because of how complicated it is; but who wouldn't like to listen to an extremely attractive man overexplain to you with a calm and pretty voice?)

...is generous enough to provide meals and cook dinners that have you crying tears of gratitude because you know how awful yours compares (it was either too bland or too seasoned; al-haitham is surprisingly picky when he wants to be)

(you assigned al-haitham the title of “absolute s-tier husband material”— his capabilities are out of this world!)

by chance, you once gave al-haitham a little tidbit of information that proved to be valuable later in the investigation—courtesy of your avid game knowledge—when you two had been lost to the psychological illusion magic cast by siraj when you two finally broke in his estate.

(“whatever happens, if siraj messes with your mind, just make sure to think of me instead of anything else.” al-haitham lets his hand find yours.

“you once asked me if i trusted you, [name].”

“....” you're treated to one of al-haitham's rare smiles, one that warms you up from within. “i do. so don't let yourself get hurt.”)

however, your temporary partner had faltered for once, flinching when siraj took the form of his old grandmother who'd passed to exploit al-haitham's mind, hesitating and frozen in place while siraj inched ever closer to finding out his weakness.

and you couldn't stand it, the character you cared for—the al-haitham that always had a plan, always knew how to stay calm, had looked so unsure and hopeless.

(“wake up, al-haitham!”

with you cradling his face, al-haitham stares back at the only constant in the memories of his grief, eyes meeting yours. “you don't have to do it all alone. i'm right here, aren't i? believe in me.”)

your (fake) husband snaps back to reality, finally allowing enough time to apprehend siraj and put a stop to his malicious project.

(“thank you.” al-haitham tells you solemnly. it hits you that this may be the last time you may ever see him. “i'm grateful that you brought me back to y— to my senses.”

there's a sincerity in your voice that rings from your heart. “anytime, al-haitham.”)

you thought that was the end of it.

defeating siraj meant you two no longer had to associate with each other, but somehow, to your great surprise, al-haitham doesn't stick to the plot at all. you were sure you didn't interfere with the game, though?

for some reason, al-haitham doesn't erase himself from your life, unlike the original route's flow.

in fact, he's become... easy to run into, a constant in your otherwise mundane life. he takes you out to lambad's tavern for an occasional drink, says he's lending you his headphones when you find yourself overwhelmed by the city (you were never good with noises) and even helps you out as you vent your problems to him.

(the day after, said problem conveniently disappears. how strange....)

and most of all, allowing you to enter his personal space... leaving kaveh's jaw dropping when he accuses al-haitham of having a lover.

“you're always going who knows where with them! what else is there to figure out?”

“...we are merely friends.”

“a friend that you let into your personal library? do they know that you still keep the ‘fake’ ring in a box inside the closet?” kaveh laughs. “nice try, al-haitham.”

(after all, kaveh could never unsee the way al-haitham's eyes softened at the feeling of the head on his shoulder lean onto him, with you no doubt asleep. he even took his headphones off! kaveh has never seen him actually take them off in order to keep the person who's sleeping on his shoulder as undisturbed as possible.

in fact, kaveh doesn't think he's ever seen al-haitham be this touchy or considerate with anyone this much before.

.....and most importantly, kaveh would never forget the way al-haitham, a man who found no merit in politeness and preferred bluntness, a man who preferred solitude rather than company—deliberately getting close to someone—pressing a fleeting kiss on the crown of your head.

kaveh blinks. it seems even the throes of love can reach even the most unconquerable of peaks....)

( 莱欧斯利 ) WRIOTHESLEY — the monster duke of the north

“—i need you to gather information on duke wriothesley. serve him undercover as one of the prisoners of the fortress.”

the duke of meropide—a man swamped with terrible rumors. they say he was exiled from the nation due to murdering his entire family. they say he possessed a face worthy of the title of a beast— grotesque, littered in scars. they say that any who end up in his estate, the iron prison of the north, meropide, never saw the light of day again.

(“only criminals of the worst kind are fated to be sentenced there. nobody returns, so we've stopped questioning it...” )

so to say you're not fearing for your life that bad right now is a massive understatement.

“now, mind telling me how you were able to sneak into the most impenetrable prison in all the land, miss prisoner?”

how did it end up like this?

so you wake up and find yourself in jail. lovely.

seriously, of all the places you can transmigrate into, why did it have to be fontaine?! Teyvat's Seven Stars chapter 4's main starting point, the nation of justice is littered with dark themes and high difficulty capture targets.

.... such is the case with the man in front of you. unlike what the rumors of him say, duke wriothesley paints a rugged yet dashing picture of a nobleman, even if he was —if you recall— one of the hardest capture targets to conquer in the game.

a villain character who you played once during one game route, acting as the driving force during one of the love events of one of the protagonist's other love interest, lyney. duke wriothesley almost assassinates lyney's younger brother, freminent, leading lyney to rally up a certain group to bring the nobleman down.... a typical side character villain, who's existence was added as late as 3 patches away from lyney's.

(even inazuma would be better than this! at least the tyrant route could be avoided, and let's not mention the easy sumeru route as well...)

“well, miss prisoner, cat got your tongue?”

in summary: fortunately for you, the body you transmigrated is in the position to spy on the current affairs of the fortress of meropide, with courtesy and with permission of one of Fontaine's leaders, neuvillette. unfortunately for you, it seems our dear monsieur wasn't able to inform wriothesley beforehand, leading to the current situation.

aka, you're pressed dangerously close to wriothesley's chest, with a knife at his throat and his hands pinning you against the wall, noses almost touching. you're not sure if this is even the kind of tension that two people who are trying to kill each other are supposed to have...

(“i'm an ally!” you sputter out. wriothesley raises an eyebrow at you. “monsieur neuvillette sent me.”

“how am i supposed to trust you after i saw you slinking around here, knife at my throat?” he replies, eyes narrowing. “i know that i'm labelled as a beast, but i don't really know what came over that pretty little head of yours when trying to sneak into my chambers.”

what does he take you for?! “...are you accusing me of something indecent?!”

“just saying — i've met lots of prisoners with your excuse, my lady.”

“i'm prepared to use this knife, you know.”

“hah.” wriothesley grins. “how aggressive. more aggressive than most. do you want me that bad?”

“stop twisting my words!”)

in any case, you hate wriothesley. you know he's one of the characters in Teyvat's Seven Stars and is a villain for one of the easy love interest routes in the game, but his personality is... a real piece of work.

you'd rather the protective and kind kazuha, or even the charming and elusive lyney! why did it have to be him?

not only did he not believe you, he even told you to prove your authenticity! you're just glad that his assistant sigewinne had been there to vouch for you — you're not sure if you'd even be on your two feet right now if she didn't.

so now you're stuck constantly on your feet, running to and fro — helping the dark-haired man record new prisoners, establishing trading routes to the main city of Fontaine, and treating other prisoners of the fortress with sigewinne.

your biggest surprise by far, though, is just how... different the duke is from the rumors. his scars were merely battle scars of honor (to which sigewinne rolls her eyes, “your grace, please stop trying to look cool”) he got from various succession fights, not scars to show how he was cursed to turn into a beast. he has a love for tea, but always seems to have a cup of your favorite blend with him when you feel tired after a long day of working (laboring) for him and the estate.

(“your daily report of new convicts, your grace.”

“-this is the tea you like, your grace. i've prepared it in advance.”

“you're very adamant on proving yourself. aren't you sick of such tasks by now, miss prisoner?”

“no.” wriothesley's expression screams 'why not?' on it. “ it's because of my own misjudgement of you.”

“...elaborate.”

“i may have had unnecessary prejudices on your conduct thus far. but you're... not like what the rumors paint you out to be.” you say sincerely. “you're more amazing and incredible than anyone else. i truly do admire you.”

wriothesley's expression; you couldn't decipher it. “i see.”)

he's battered, but caring. sigewinne makes you watch (in horror) as she doodles cartoonish looking characters on his face when he's asleep — wriothesley never fusses, only an exasperated sigh to his assistant. he's harsh with his tasks and duties, but is the first to rush you into sigewinne's infirmary to tend to you after you pass out from overwork.

(“don't worry, [name]. the duke may not look it, but he's very gentle!” sigewinne giggles. humoring the little girl who was the first to show you actual decency in this place, you try to nod. sigewinne doesn't seem convinced.

“i'm serious! after all, compared to other people who've snuck into the fortress, you're the first he's treated this way.” she says cheerily.

“what does that mean?” you can't help but scoff at that. “so he just works someone to the bone from the get go?” you shudder. damn production zone...

sigewinne blinks. “ oh no, not like that. it's just that he's never been so lenient before. in fact, when you fainted, he even gave me the order to prioritize treating you over anything else.”)

well, this wasn't exactly what you thought you would be doing when you transmigrated into your favorite game, but you suppose you can take it.

besides, you'd miss a certain duke otherwise. life truly is full of strange twists....

a/n: thank you for making it this far! if anyone asks why wriothesley's was short, listen, this was completely impulsive and i was out of inspiration LOL, but i do hope you enjoy! look forward to new parts though hehe :3

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

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toast-on-dandelioms · 5 months ago

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🕷️Just Another Neglected Story 🕷️

[previous] - Part 4.2 - [next]

I will add here the rest of the tag list, sorry for having to divide it into two

Clark immediately grabbed the door and punched it right in the middle of it, making a hole to which he used to grab the door off its hinges and throw it away, not caring about anything but Spider's wellbeing.

He was the first one to enter the room, looking around to see if Joker was still there so he could kill the bastard who dared to hurt his child.

Bruce was the second to enter and immediately walked around to find the vigilante, stopping to stare in silence at the cold body of Joker stuck on the wall.

He checked for a pulse, not too worried about the clown but needed to see if he was worth saving, letting out a small sigh when he felt no pulse.

He sighed once again, mostly out of anger since he wanted to be the one to kill the man who dared to hurt his child (Spider), before starting to worry that if Spider knew that they killed a man, he didn't know how they would react to the news.

He quickly looked away and went back to search for the teen, now even more worried about their wellbeing, especially when Clark told him that he could hear their heartbeat but it was incredibly slow, which meant that he couldn't find them immediately.

As he looked around the room, he kept on getting angrier as he saw drops of blood from fighting and some weapons and bullets that Joker probably used on Spider since they were all covered in blood.

As he searched around he heard Superman call for him and quickly ran up to him, finding a gravely injured Spider with their mask ripped off and full of bruises on their face and body.

Their body was also covered in bruises and wounds made from Joker, their ragged breath accentuating the severity of their injuries.

He gently called them using their vigilante name since no one knew their real name, sighing in relief when Spider opened their eyes to look at him and hissed at him, not recognising him or Clark because of their injuries and how scared they were.

They calmed down after Clark gently called out to them and got in their line of vision then started talking with a broken voice as their eyes filled with tears, the words having to be repeated because of how much Spider sobbed and gasped from the pain of their injuries.

"h-he kept laughing and hitting me after a weird gas poured in the room, I d-didn't want to hurt him but I punched him out of desperation, h-he's been so silent and I-I don't know if he's even alive, I'm so sorry".

He set a hand on their head after taking off the rest of their mask to help them see better and just told them, with a soft voice that even Clark was a bit taken aback, "you did good kid, I'm sorry you had to fight alone" as he knew what Joker was capable of and was glad Spider survived and was able to fight back.

He instructed Superman to pick them up and fly back to the Manor, using his own cape to cover Spider's body to protect them from the harsh winds while Clark was flying, letting Conner follow him so he could call Tim and get Alfred to prepare the medbay.

He then turned to Jason and Stephanie with an unnerving calm face and a smile that the two took a step back in fear of what he was planning since Batman was never calm, especially if someone he cares about gets hurt. And he was smiling, which meant it was bad news and to not try to stop him.

He quickly walked towards the three heroes in front of him and put a hand on both Stephanie and Jason's shoulder and said in a weirdly cheerful voice "who wants to help Batman burn down the place and all the people who dared to hurt Spider?".

Not that Bruce was asking for their help, he just wanted it to be done faster so he could go home to Spider. In a normal case he would make it slow for whoever tried to hurt his child but this time he couldn't stop to enjoy the pain of the leader that was still in the room.

He gave both of his kids a set of bombs to put all around the bunker, telling them to not care about anyone and just place the bombs around while he took care of the leader.

He grabbed the makeshift throne from the pedestal it was put on and dragged it in the center of the room, not even caring about the noise the chair was making.

He then grabbed the passed out cultist and threw him on the throne, using some handcuffs to hold him there so he wouldn't escape if things got bloody.

Not that he wouldn't mind if things got bloody, he needed to relieve some stress after what happened to Spider and fortunately for him, that cultist was there and he needed to ask some questions.

He stared at the still passed out cultist and grabbed some smelling salts from his utility belt before snapping them under the cultist nose, a smirk appearing on his face when the cultist woke up and was scared when he saw him.

He wanted him to be scared, god just seeing how scared he was while trying to free himself from the cuffs on both arms and legs was incredibly satisfying, especially to what he wanted to do to him.

He roughly grabbed the cultist’s face to make him look directly at him, wanting all of his attention to ask his questions and slowly leaned down to look him right in the eyes.

“Now I am gonna ask you a few questions, if you tell me the truth I will let you walk out of this room alive but if you lie..”

He didn't finish the sentence and let the fear and the realization of what he meant wash over the cultist face, enjoying every second of it and he wanted him to be scared.

He let go of his face after a bit, a small smirk on his face when he saw the imprints of his fingers by how hard he squeezed his face.

“Why was Joker here? That clown never worked with cultists before”

He stayed silent as he watched the man hang his head low, starting to get even more angry when he didn't immediately answer.

He took a small step back in shock when he suddenly heard a laugh, very similar to the laugh Joker always had whenever he fought that clown.

His face was in shock when the cultist raised his head and showed the same maniac smile the clown always had, making him think that the ghost of Joker possessed the man, especially since the man just kept on laughing.

“Batman, the world's greatest detective, can't figure out something so simple! The trap wasn't for you, or even one of your many sidekicks!”

The man kept on laughing before suddenly stopping, his smile still on his face as he stared at Batman right in the eyes.

“It was for your little metahuman that started to clean the streets, everything here was for that annoying vigilante and leaving a message for you”

He laughed again when he saw the shock in Batman’s face, not even minding the handcuffs on both arms and legs as he moved them while laughing like a maniac.

“Everyone noticed your obsession for them, how all of your sidekicks kept on following them and getting rejected or thrown off a roof. You're not so secretive Batman and we just used them to send you a message”

Bruce just stared at the cultist laughing before grabbing a gun that Jason gave him and just shot the cultist in the face, using all the bullets inside the magazine. (The thing that holds bullets inside the gun if you don't know)

He stopped when the gun didn't shoot anymore and walked out the room, his eyes filled with fury at the thought that other rogues and villains in Gotham wanted to hurt Spider.

As he walked around the bunker to get to the exit, he killed anyone who tried to attack him or was in his way, not even caring about his no-kill rule or how the blood kept splattering on his suit.

He finally got out of the bunker, noticing both Jason and Stephanie near Conner’s ship and just gave them a nod before getting in his own jet, waiting until the bunker exploded before taking off.

He put the coordinates to the batcave and flew as fast as his jet could, wanting to get to the Batcave as fast as he could, his mind going over so many scenarios of Spider dying because of him whenever Alfred or anyone else in the cave didn't answer his calls that he was starting to get a panic attack at the thought of Spider dying because he was too late to save them.

When he finally arrived at the cave he basically jumped out the jet as it was landing and ran to the medbay, taking off his mask in the meantime as he didn't need it and having it on was like a reminder of the hatred that Spider has for that symbol.

As he ran, he ignored both of the Kryptonians still in the cave, not caring about their presence as he was more focused on making sure Spider was ok.

He arrived just in time because he saw Alfred walk out the medbay while taking off the surgical gloves and robes covered in blood and was throwing them away in a nearby bin.

He quickly walked up to the old man and started to ask a barrage of questions, ranging to what's the situation with Spider to how were they holding up and if they were alive and didn't have anything that would make them unable to move or do certain tasks.

He stopped talking when Alfred raised a hand to signal silence and listened as he explained:

"Their condition is stable - for now. Their wounds were.. severe to put it bluntly, Master Bruce. They sustained a multitude of near-fatal injuries from Joker. Fixing 2 broken bones in both arms, a fractured rib and stitching 3 stab wounds that, luckily, didn't pierce any of their organs is no small feat, consider it a miracle they are even alive."

He paused for a brief moment, almost as if to re-evaluate in his head.

"If my assessment is correct, they should be up and running in 5 days thanks to their increased healing rate, 8, maybe 9 if they were to refuse any medication."

Bruce nodded and turned to Dick and Duke who were near the room where Spider was resting at the moment.

He started to talk with Duke and Dick about the situation, sighing in relief when both Clark and Conner left because Tim managed to convince them that if they stayed it wouldn't really help since Spider was still unconscious and they could come visit after Spider wakes up.

When both Jason and Stephanie arrived he started to explain, to who didn't know, the situation with Spider before getting interrupted by Dick yelling out.

“I call dibs to share my room with them!”

His chest heaved in a quick rhythm as he finished his sentence, the words still just teetering on the tip of his tongue from how rushed his speech was, a big smirk on his face as everyone else glared at him.

Bruce sighed when he saw his kids were ready to fight to share a room with Spider, even though he also wanted to share his own room to make sure Spider was ok if they stayed next to him the whole time they were recovering.

Unfortunately he needed to be the voice of reason at the moment and said.

“Spider won’t be sharing a room with anyone, they’re weak right now and waking up with one of us in a new place will overwhelm them too much. They’ll get their own room.”

He smiled when everyone grumbled but nodded, glad that no one was gonna contest him on this decision.

But the moment of happiness didn't last long since after not even 2 minutes Damian raised his hand and yelled out.

“I wish to call dibs to be the first one to meet Spider when they wake in a room in the mansion”

After Damian yelled that out, everyone started to fight to be the second person to be with Spider when they wake up and to also choose which room Spider was gonna be the next to.

Alfred stayed silent for a bit as he listened intently, forced to hear his son discuss about Spider staying in the Manor when they already live there.

He tried to stay calm as he listened, keep his composure and remain civil. But hearing both Bruce and the others call Spider by their vigilante name and not their real name, even after seeing their face, made his blood boil - he knew that he couldn't wait anymore.

The things Spider had been subjected to and the injuries they suffered as a result, and how the Bats had reacted upon seeing their face- not understanding they were their sibling and child made him so unfathomably frustrated and enraged at the people he'd raised and cared for. Bruce was still discussing with Damian allowing Spider to sleep in the room next to his so he could show them all of his animals as Alfred silently walked over to him.

He decided to stop waiting for his kids to finally realize that Spider was, in fact, [Y/N].

His attempts thus far had proved unsuccessful, even after all the small things he put around the house for them to notice. He knew they were a lost cause if they didn't get the hint after all he did so he just walked up to Bruce who was busy trying to convince Damian to not let Titus or anyone else of his pets inside Spider’s room.

He waited patiently for Bruce to stop talking, since it is impolite to interrupt someone while they're talking, and called out his name.

"Master Bruce."

Which got him a simple hand wave, signaling that he was busy. The dismissive action made him annoyed that he wouldn't listen, but he tried once more.

"Mast-”

But he was interrupted by Bruce's sharp hand wave and a scoff yet again, the man obviously frustrated by Damian and Jason, since the two were now arguing about who Spider was going to be placed next to in terms of rooms.

He was fed up of being ignored and interrupted by everyone around him, raising his hands before clapping them together with an angry look on his face that garnered the attention of the entire room, the normally alive and bubbling room screeching to a halt in a wonderful blend of terror and surprise since Alfred was almost never mad. His glare danced around the room, shooting at each individual face before settling on Bruce's similarly surprised expression.

Then he began his exasperated speech in an eerily calm voice.

"Honestly, Master Bruce, I can't believe I raised you to be like this. I gave you all enough many chances to make it right, let you take your time figuring it out, but it seems like you cannot even put enough thought into noticing the blatant hints and information I have given you, I could have written it in bold red ink on my forehead and you would still turn a blind eye. I am so far beyond disappointed in all of you that there is no word in the English dialect that could possibly encapsulate just how much you have let me down."

He raised a hand to stop Dick and Damian from talking and trying to defend themselves, or shifting the blame onto someone else in the group.

"I have been patient and understanding with all of you and your behavior towards [Y/N], but after what happened today with Joker, I cannot sit idly by and continue to allow myself to pretend as if your disgraceful behavior is acceptable. You have run my tolerance and composure thin, so much so I cannot even fathom being quite so lenient anymore."

He stopped once again to level his glare at Bruce before shifting it briefly to Damian, knowing what the kid did to [Y/N] when they first arrived at the Manor.

"Spider's secret identity is [Y/N] Lawrence, also known as [Y/N] Wayne to me, and who is your child Master Bruce. Your child got bit by a mutated spider while working in a science lab, of which they had informed me, but your blatant ignorance is not even the worst part."

As he walked up to Bruce and put a finger on his chest, his footsteps seemed so loud and deafening that some of the individuals in the room had to refrain from covering their ears. Alfred prodded Bruce's chest accusingly as if he was trying to physically reach his heart, despite his doubts that the man could even feel it.

"The worst part is that you all ignored that poor child who lost their mother and came to us seeking help. They needed a family and stability after their supposed 'loved ones' shut the door in their face, and yet they couldn't even find that here. Your child could have lost their life today, they could have been taken to hospital only for us to be told they are unable to be saved, you could have been called to the morgue to confirm the body is theirs. And yet I don't think you would have been able to name their corpse."

He paused for a brief second to regain his composure ever so slightly, turning his attention to the others in the room.

"They learned gymnastics for you, Master Dick. Just so that you two could have something in common to talk about. However, you always ditched them for Master Tim or Master Damian whenever they begged you to do something with them."

He glanced at Jason and the others who were standing there, wanting to make sure his kids knew how bad they messed up. He also ignored how destroyed Dick and Bruce looked when they realized and remembered what they said and did to [Y/N].

"They spent days in the library reading your favorite books Master Jason and even learned about guns and the maintenance for one whenever you visited to be close to you. They were the one who left candies out for you and always made a new pot of coffee for you whenever you drank it all master Tim.”

He then glared at Damian, knowing what the young boy did to the poor vigilante, now resting in the med bay.

"After losing their mother, they were ecstatic about the idea of having a younger brother but you, Master Damian, thought they wanted to steal your place as Robin when they didn't even know your identity. But did you even stop to consider how horrifically you were treating a child that you were supposed to be protecting?"

Alfred paused his talking to lean down and look Damian in the eyes, making sure the boy's gaze wouldn't drift away.

"No you didn't. You instead abused that child and made them so frightened and anxious about living near you that I had to move them to the other side of the Manor and serve them food in their room so they wouldn't starve to death. Despite your treatment of them, you didn't seem to care about the consequences of your actions, did you Master Damian?"

He leaned back and stared at everyone, an exhausted yet somewhat pleased little smile appearing on his face when he saw the horrified moment-of-realization expressions on display as the weight of their treatment of [Y/N] came crashing down on their shoulders.

His gaze turned to Stephanie, Duke and Cassandra who were in the back of the group. Stephanie's voice was hoarse and trembling as her uneven sobbing filled the air, the realization as to why Spider always ignored and looked so annoyed when seeing her hitting her like a freight train.

He stayed silent as he watched everyone realize what they’ve done before Duke, who was a bit busy trying to calm down Stephanie who was still crying, asked out loud.

“Wait, then where is Spi- I mean, [Y/N]’s room?”

To which Alfred sighed but led everyone, except Stephanie and Cassandra, who stayed behind to help Stephanie calm down and also make sure Spider would be ok in the medbay.

As they all walked they noticed the way the corridor that led to [Y/N]’s room was very dark, like all the lightbulbs were taken off every chandelier to hide something.

When they finally arrived the first thing that was noticed was the door almost completely covered in stickers and little kids drawing, along with an empty plate on a small table next to the door.

Alfred stopped in front of the door before looking at everyone behind him, annoyed at their obvious hesitation at entering [Y/N]’s room but eventually grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, finally opening the room.

The room is small.

As soon as they set foot inside, only two of them because not all of them fit, the feeling given by the room is almost claustrophobic.

Being small by nature, the bed and objects make the room even more restricted, almost unbreathable. The mess does not fail to compensate for the effect; it is full of sheets of paper, fabric, and metal constructions everywhere.

It is very admirable that [Y/N] managed to make gold out of every corner of the room, making it livable despite their spider "work". All the constructions and planning have even come to be hung from the ceiling.

Duke stayed a little to the side, but still took into account all the details of the room; like all the posters that cover the room. An almost spontaneous smile appeared on his face as soon as he realized that they are all about him as Signal, the thought of [Y/N] being a fan of his work made him happy and also proud of himself.

As everyone looked around, Dick raised his arm to grab the only sheet of paper that was hanging only on one side, being held by a web that basically crumbled when Dick tugged the paper off of it. But no matter how much he tries to decipher what is written, he really doesn't understand anything even though he knows many languages, dead and still used thanks to Bruce’s training.

Each paper everyone grabbed had a different topic written on it before being thrown around the room and attached to the wall or ceiling via webs. Some of those papers had methods to make the costume more comfortable to move, others tested various ways to make using the web shooters in a way that they could still work if they were underwater or electrocuted, while others depicted different versions of the costume, to make it easier for a child to see it and not scare them if they ever had to see it.

One of the main things that the two men that managed to be inside the room noticed is that they basically didn't know exactly what they're looking at. It's definitely one of the few times they set foot in [Y/N's] room, and the realization that they've neglected them so badly into allowing them to pull off a whole "hero" act without ever being aware of it hits them in the face like a violent slap.

As they looked around they all saw various photos in addition to the posters and papers pinned to the wall; in these photos there are various experiences where [Y/N] was depicted, but nothing is familiar to all of them, increasing their guilt. There were photos of them at a science fair, two or three at various dance recitals, but they noticed that the arrangement of the photos seemed purposely placed; every photo where [Y/N] was depicted, their smile seemed to become duller, forced as they grew older. Their eyes began to lose more and more of that spark of joy, becoming emptier, sadder.

Dick ran his eyes over all the trophies on the shelves, the badges from every competition he never attended. He doesn't remember them; hell, he never even saw them bring any or badge home. For all the times [Y/N] has attended something, he has never been there. He should have thought twice before excluding them so much from his life. But there's no point in crying over spilled milk.

Above all the badges and trophies there are only two photos; certainly spacing each other by 2-3 years. In the first photo, when [Y/N] was younger, they seemed genuinely happy to hold the trophy, smiling as if they wanted to dare the sun to shine like they did. But the second photo was completely different, it's almost agony for Dick to look at that fake smile imprinted on their face, like all their excitement and joy were sucked out of them but they still needed to smile.

When Dick finally walked out the room to make way for Jason, his face was full of regret and guilt but the man ignored him to walk inside [Y/N]’s room.

He ignored the papers all around the room and stayed a few seconds to look at the photos before looking at the small bookshelf he noticed in the corner.

He slowly picked up one of the books sitting on the shelf and looked at the title, a bit surprised that it was Pride and Prejudice since every time he ever talks about it to someone, they never say that they liked it and just had to read it for school.

But he saw that the book was incredibly used and full of small sticky notes all inside it. Whenever he opened a page following a sticky note sticking out the book he always found one of the passages filled with sticky notes or notes written on the page with a pencil, making him smile at the thought of [Y/N] loving the book so much that they wrote what they thought on the pages.

As he flipped through the pages of all the books, he kept on noticing that on his favorite paragraphs there were small notes, like small instructions on how to add those paragraphs in a conversation with him, his heart breaking at the thought of [Y/N] working so hard to just incorporate something he liked so he could like them.

He could feel the excitement in all the notes by the way they wrote them, like you couldn't wait to see him and talk to him about it. But he knew that you two never talked much, hell he can't even remember one single conversation he had with [Y/N], making him feel even worse than before.

As Jason kept on reading all the books in the small bookshelf, Tim got to work on their laptop that he managed to find after searching all around the room.

As he opened the case that had [Y/N]’s laptop inside, he could see some old stickers that depicted him during his time as Red Robin, along with some cute cat stickers that covered almost the entirety of the laptop's outside. The sight made him smile, endeared by the thought of [Y/N] still liking him enough that they actually had some of his stickers on their laptop.

After opening it up, he powered it on and copied the password off of the little scribble next to the keypad. Going through the stuff inside the laptop, he noticed a folder full of photos of all of the bats, in either an embarrassing situation or funny moments when they were inside a dumpster after [Y/N] threw them inside of one. The thought made him laugh, especially whenever he found small notes written on that photo like what their crime was as to why they ended up in a dumpster. Though Duke, Cassandra and Bruce were missing from all the photos, as if they never existed to begin with.

As he kept going through [Y/N]’s laptop, he turned to place the heavy item onto the table since it was starting to get hot from being powered on. As he pushed some items out the way to make room, he accidentally pushed the laptop case off the desk, watching as a small usb bounced out and fell onto the floor, sparking Tim's curiosity. What could possibly be inside of that usb?

He grabbed it and plugged it in, initially waiting patiently for it to load. His irritation grew as he watched the loading animation loop over and over and over again, almost teasingly. He made a mental note to buy [Y/N] a better laptop. Perhaps even a whole pc setup so they could play together.

When the laptop finally gave him access to the contents of the usb, he found a multitude of videos that dated back years before [Y/N] arrived at the Manor.

He quickly went back to the newer video in the usb and clicked on it, curious as to what these videos had captured.

Tim curiously clicked the play button on the small screen, watching as it started playing. The scene displayed that of a small child, no older than five or six, who he quickly recognised as [Y/N]. They seemed to be in a living room of sorts, though he was just assuming that based on the blurry sofa and coffee table in the background.

He stared in surprise at the screen as they put the phone on something, probably a shelf or table, to keep it still. Tim laughed a little whenever it kept sliding over, the child's tiny yet menacing voice threatening to throw the phone as they stomped closer to it to prop it back up. This happened several times before they got the right angle. When they finally managed to get the phone to cooperate, he watched as they took a few excited steps backwards, tripping once or twice, before they smiled brightly at the camera.

"So! I just got my first role in a BIG dance recital!! I'm gonna be the uh- uhm I think it's the swan in, uh.. Swan Lake? I think that was what it's called, but anyways I don't care! I'll be a pretty swan!"

The child twirled around in sheer joy, showing off the sparkly white ballerina outfit, the pretty pearls shimmering in the little sunlight that poured in through a nearby window and the delicate lace shifting with the movement of the dress. The excited spinning halted as [Y/N] jumped a bit upon hearing a voice called their name. As he listened to the gentle lull of the voice, Tim realized it belonged to a woman, though it was unfamiliar to him.

He laughed when the small child ran to grab the phone, noticing that they didn't stop the recording. Instead, they just ran to the kitchen where he could see a woman standing over the counter cutting some vegetables with her back to the camera, dressed in some simple pajamas that were decorated with stars. She was shorter than average, with long brown hair that lay on her shoulder.

The young dancing prodigy shakily pointed the phone towards the woman, before asking loudly, "So, Miss Mom, are you excited about [Y/N]'s first dance recital?" Their enthusiasm radiated from their voice, bleeding into their movement as the camera just barely captured the woman's face turning and laughing softly at the young child's determined expression. Now that he had a good look at her face, Tim presumed this woman was [Y/N]'s mother based on their similar facial features.

"So serious! Though, this isn't your first dance recital my little star, you have done many before now." She exclaimed, her shoulders shaking as she smiled brightly at her child.

"Mooooom! This is my first REAL dance recital because I have a big role now!"

As the woman playfully shook her head with a stifled chuckle, smiling down at them, she turned her head to her right, encouraging [Y/N] to follow her line of sight.

"Boris! Tell her!!"

The camera panned over to a much bigger man hunched over a cooking pot, and as he turned his head to look at the woman with a knowing smile, Tim noticed a deep gash along his cheek. No, not a gash, a scar perhaps? This baffled Tim since he knew of the existence of [Y/N]'s mother, but had no recollection of a father in their life.

"You guyssss, I'm a freaking swan! Do you know how cool swans are?!"

Tim chuckled softly when he heard little [Y/N] say their version of a bad word, watching with a fond smile as the woman gasped dramatically with a shocked expression while the man turned his head away as if trying to hide his laughter.

"Little star! Where did you hear such a bad word?”

To this, little [Y/N] paused for a good few seconds before their tiny hand appeared in the frame and gestured to the man, throwing him under the bus in order to avoid punishment.

"Boris said it earlier when the TV wouldn't work."

Tim watched with a curious smile as the woman turned her hardened glare to the man, who gave her a nervous look. "Look it was an accident Amelie, I didn't realize [Y/N] was in the room-" The man had a slight accent, possibly Russian.

Before he could finish his sentence, the video got cut off, leaving Tim in a thoughtful silence. So [Y/N]'s mother was called Amelie? How interesting. Still, who exactly was that man?

He quickly went to the web browser on the laptop and searched for [Y/N]’s mother, which wasn't hard since the first thing that popped up were articles of her death and photos of the incident.

As he searched more articles about her, he noticed a few things: [Y/N] was never mentioned in any of the articles that talked about Amelie during her modeling career or about her having any types of relationships.

While he searched, he did find a few photos of Amelie with Boris, easily recognisable thanks to face scars, but as he could see by the many photos taken by paparazzi and fans, Boris was always by the side looking like a bodyguard.

Another quick research, about the man this time, and he found out that Boris was with Amelie when she was driving and died on his way to the hospital.

Tim quickly finished searching and turned off the laptop before grabbing it along the usb to watch more videos about [Y/N], especially since he saw a small folder full of other videos that mostly depicted [Y/N] as a teen, so he wanted to see them in his room and make copies of all the videos to show the others.

When Tim finally walked out the room along with Duke, Damian finally walked inside the small room, grimacing at the sight of the mess that [Y/N] lives in.

He promptly ignored Jason, who was still reading the books and had tears in his eyes, to focus on more important things, like searching through [Y/N]’s desk drawers and in the closet.

In the desk drawers he didn't find much, just a few folders containing useless information and school books that Damian ignored, angry that he couldn't find anything in the folders.

But when he searched the closet, grimacing at the poor quality of the clothes [Y/N] dared to wear that he even made a mental note to buy decent clothing for them when they woke up, he saw a few boxes at the back.

When he opened the first one he saw a small box full of vials, all labeled with ‘web fluid’, while next to the small box were a few web shooters, at least that's what the label on all of them said.

He grabbed them all and noticed a folder at the bottom of the box, which contained informations on how to create the web shooters thanks to the grappling hook parts and what to improve in the next model, so Damian assumed those web shooters in the box were old version that [Y/N] didn't use anymore.

He was impressed at how neat the information in the folder was, all in order and even highlighted when something was important or not, plus small notes added with pencil or post its.

When he finished reading the information, he put everything back in the box and set it aside to grab another box that was in the back of the closet, finding almost three, maybe four, albums of photos.

He slowly grabbed one, making sure to not damage anything in the album as he slowly looked through the pages, admiring the photos of a small [Y/N] along with their mother or an unknown man.

The other two albums contained photos of a woman, he assumed it was [Y/N]’s mother during modeling gigs and from clippings taken on magazines, alongside photos of her with a man, again the same man he kept seeing with [Y/N].

He closed the album in frustration and put it back in the box before grabbing the last box in the closet, wanting to see what this had so he could either use it to bond with [Y/N] or to understand why they hate him.

He understood that [Y/N] hated him, especially after Alfred pointed it out and made everyone see who Spider really was, but he also didn't understand why they hated him the most.

Yes, he did hurt them pretty badly that they had to find a safe place in this small room but he didn't understand the hate. He did the same with Drake but he didn't hate him.

As he opened the last box, which he immediately noted was full of dust which meant that [Y/N] didn't really open it much and just kept in the back of the closet to collect dust, he only saw a notebook.

He slowly picked it up, patting it down a few times to get rid of the dust before opening it to the first page, which read ‘Diary of [Y/N]’.

He closed it and debated if he should really open it or not before finally opening it, needing to know why they hated him and maybe the diary contained some information about it.

He started to read the first entries before skipping pages until he came to an entry where his name was mentioned.

20-03-XXXX

Dear Diary

Hi, sorry for not writing to you for a few months but many things happened that you wouldn't believe! Well you don't really believe in anything, you’re an object.

I moved out of my old house and went to live with my father, and yes I know it's weird since mom never mentioned him but I had to move in with him.

You might be wondering why, well mom and Boris died. The policeman who took me to my father explained everything, they both died in a car crash, he even let me grab everything I needed. I managed to grab all the albums I made with mom and Boris and mom’s favorite jewelry but not much.

I think auntie is gonna grab her clothes and other objects, I hope she won't sell them.

Well no more sadness! My father is Bruce Wayne! The billionaire man who made so many things possible in Gotham!

I am unsure if he knew that I existed, he looked so surprised when the policeman, I think his name was Gordon, explained what happened to mom and why I should stay with him.

But I got a big ass room! It's even bigger than my old one! Oh I have to ask Alfred, my father's butler and yes, he really has a butler, if I can buy some night stars to put on the ceiling and some new clothes.

I also have a younger brother! His name is Damian Wayne-Al Ghul! His surname sounds so cool compared to Lawrence!

Plus he’s arabic! Alfred told me he was raised in a ‘traditional manner’ but I don't know what that means, maybe that means that he’s a prince?

Oh my god, I have a prince as a brother! That would be so cool! I hope I can be friends with him and the others! I am so excited!

I do miss mom and Boris but I can't stay sad forever, the consultant in school said so. Plus I adore everyone! They're so cool and fashionable! I want to be like Dick or Tim when I grow up!

Oh yea I also have some many older brothers! Their names are: Richard but he prefers Dick, I don't understand why, Jason, Tim who is very cool like a Duke by how classy he is and Duke!

I also have two older sisters, Stephanie and Cadsandra, even though they're not ‘really’ part of the family like Alfred said but I consider them my sisters! They look so cool and Cassandra is so cool, like an assassin or a ninja!

Damian slowly closed the notebook, using a finger to not lose the page and just thought about what he just read.

He knew [Y/N] came to the Manor when they were 12, maybe 11, so the entry was maybe a few months after their mom died in an accident with a man, possibly the man he kept seeing in the photos, named Boris.

But what he read shocked him. They considered him cool and just wanted a friend. They didn't even know about the family's business and just thought everything was cool.

He quickly shook his head and reopened the notebook to read more, needing to know more about what they thought of him and when it changed.

15-04-XXXX

Dear Diary

You know Damian, the younger brother I told you about almost 5 months ago? About how he's so cool and everything and how I want to be friends with him?

Well he's not so cool anymore, he keeps hurting me and calling me names, saying things like “you won't replace me, I will be the ultimate Robin”.

I think I spent more time with Alfred stitching up cuts made by him than everyone else in this Manor. I hate Damian so much!

Why would I even want to be Robin?! I don't even know who Robin is now since they keep changing hair colors! Why would I be a Robin?! Batman is too scary!

I just wanted a younger brother, is that so bad to ask for? I understand that I came into their life without much notice but it's not my fault I came here!

It's that drunk driver's fault! He’s the one who killed my mom and Boris! I don't even want to be here! I would prefer to be with my mom, watching her get ready to do a photoshoot while Boris tells me stories about his time in the secret agencies he was in.

I hate this Manor, I hate Dick and his excuses for not hanging out with me, Bruce for telling me that I am just someone he’s forced to take care of and not his child and especially Damian!

I miss mom, I want to hug her one more time and dance with her.

Why did she go to the supermarket? She could've gone another day! It's all my fault, I should've never let her go with Boris, if I did she would still be here with me.

Damian stopped reading after that because the writing was almost illegible and in a few parts the ink was smeared because of small droplets of water, most likely tears.

He felt horrible, even more now that he read about himself in [Y/N]’s eyes and how quickly their feelings for him changed.

Even now, as he read past passages about himself, he could see how much they adored him even after he hurt them and it felt like knives were being stabbed on his body.

As he read, he started to feel something wet trailing down his face and when he went to touch his cheek, he didn't saw blood on his fingers like he thought

He quickly got up and put the diary on the bed before running out of the room, too distraught to stay there as the words written by [Y/N] about him kept circling around his head, taunting him and telling him that it was all his fault.

He’s the reason why [Y/N] hates everyone in the Manor, he’s the reason why they refused to be a part of the Batfam when they were Spider. He caused this. He made them move into a closet just because he was scared of losing the Robin mantle.

He ruined everything because of his selfish behavior towards a stupid mantle that you didn't even know belonged to him, and he knew it.

He collapsed in front of the medbay after finally getting back in the batcave, a bit glad when he saw that Stephanie and Cassandra weren't there to see him crying, and sobbed in front of the room, knowing that he didn't deserve to even enter the room after what he had done to [Y/N].

When Bruce saw Damian run out he tried to follow him but stopped, knowing the boy probably needed to be alone and would refuse his attention if he tried to help.

He nodded when Jason walked out the room and stood in front of the door, wanting to enter but still felt like he didn't deserve to even enter one of the only safe spaces that [Y/N] had in the Manor.

Bruce kept staring at the room, his thoughts running wild when he saw how small the room was compared to his or even Tim’s room.

“Alfred, what was this room before [Y/N] moved in it?”

The tiny space looked more fit for a young child, with walls that seemed to curve inwards the longer you stood in there, of which you could only stand if you were under 6ft.

Posters, pictures and multiple sheets of paper decorated any free space on the aged walls, the rest of the area covered by a wardrobe and a shelf that used to hold a few books that Jason took to his room.

A large bed sat pressed against the corner of the room, creating a small area of safety with the various pillows and blankets piled up on top of the thin mattress. Clothing was scattered all across the room, alongside all the documents and papers that were scattered around the room, though mostly on and underneath the bed, having likely been kicked under there by [Y/N] after they tripped on it.

The whole room emanated with coziness yet was so small that anyone would feel claustrophobic even just looking in the room.

And yet [Y/N] had called this room their home, settling in each night to the tiny bed after kicking their clothing somewhere random in the room and slowly slipping into the realm of sleep as they smiled fondly at the figures on their shelf.

"This used to be a storage room."

Alfred interrupted, capturing Bruce's attention and pulling him out of his trance-like state. "We used to put random items like cleaning products and laundry supplies in here, I remember there used to be a cabinet for the detergent over there." He said gently, smiling a little as he gestured to where the small bed now sat. "[Y/N] was delighted when they found this room, practically begging me to stay in here. They told me it seemed cozy, though I will admit I did find it a little odd they wanted such a small room." He told him, chuckling a little towards the end of his sentence.

"The way their little face lit up in excitement once we got the bed in here, watching them run around the room playing with their figures and hanging up posters. The room was small, sure, but it was more than enough for them.”

Bruce stayed silent after Alfred said that and looked around the room before noticing a small book next to the bed.

He slowly picked it up and sat on the bed, opening it to the first page and immediately reading ‘Diary of [Y/N]’ on it. He closed it and wondered if he should read it, mentally debating on whether or not he was allowed.

He decided on reading it when he remembered that he didn't know anything, absolutely nothing about his kid and what happened to them and how they were before they got bit by a spider.

Bruce knew it was wrong, it was another invasion of [Y/N]’s privacy but he didn't care. He wanted, no he needed to know about them.

20-05-XXXX (you can change the date with your birthday)

Dear Diary, this is my first entry in this book that is now called Diary.

Mom says that I have to practice writing and that I also can use it to express feelings or tell stories that I don't want to tell anyone in this book, so I shall be doing that.

As of today, my birthday, I am now 7 years old and I have celebrated another birthday with no father, just my mom and Boris.

If you are wondering, even though you can't since you are an object, I do not know who my father is and Boris is not my dad.

He told me that when I once called him dad, which made me sad since why do I have to hold this title for a person that has never showed up in my life when Boris is always there for me when I am either sad or feel like I can't do anything?

This is not fair. I will mom who my dad is and pretend to know why he doesn't want me. I don't even know why he doesn't want me! And I’m 7!

Well, I’ll tell you when I come back!

Ok so, mom told me that my father is someone that can't be traced so he’s either a ghost or dead. Which is the same thing.

Well I don't care, I’ll just tell Boris that he's my dad, even if he doesn't marry mom since she refuses to have other relationships and because Boris told me that he's attracted to other men and not women.

I don't envy him, boys suck. Especially my ghost dad! He abandoned mom!

As Bruce finished reading the first passage, he realized that their mother, Amelie, didn't try to paint him as someone evil just because he wasn't there.

He was also amazed at how serious the first entry was, it was almost a work document but he didn't think too much about it.

He felt horrible because he remembered all the time he talked bad about Amelie and how she couldn't just do one thing and keep [Y/N] away, not even caring if [Y/N] was in the room or around.

He knew Amelie, she was one of the models who never tried to flirt with him and spent most of her time talking with her bodyguard, acting like he didn't exist.

He also remembered that, after that night with her, she never called him until a week or two later to inform him that she was pregnant and how she just wanted child support if he didn't want to be in the child’s life.

He was incredibly surprised when she called him and even more surprised when she sent him a very well made child support agreement where she just wanted a decent amount of money every month and she will never bother him, she’ll just add him to the birth certificate if something happened to her.

He quickly shook his head to get rid of the thoughts about Amelie and skipped a few entries in the Diary before stopping at one where his name was mentioned in the first line.

31-09-XXXX

Bruce Wayne is my father.

I now know who my father is.. and yet I don't feel anything.

At first I wondered- why am I not happy? My father is a billionaire and a very famous man in Gotham, shouldn't I be excited and happy to have such a new lavish lifestyle with a loving, caring father?

Then I thought about it and came to a conclusion..

I don't like Bruce Wayne.

My mother and Boris died in a car crash. They were gone and I believed I had just become an orphaned child with no parents or guardians to care for me.

And then the police told me I had a father - Bruce Wayne. That man looked at me like I was some grotesque animal when the nice policeman told him about what happened and who I was.

I don't like Bruce.

He looks scary and totally different from what I saw on the TV whenever he was in a program with one of his many children.

He keeps saying things under his breath, like how my mom had one job and failed at it or how annoying I was because he didn't want me here since I was the reminder of my mom.

I want to hit him.

It's not her fault.

How dare he say things about mom! She wasn't perfect, I know that, but nobody is! Just because she didn't know how to cook meat and always had Boris cook anything that was fish or meat doesn't make his hatred for her okay! She was horrible at making drawings with me but she tried to, she put in effort to sit with me and draw anyway!

Why does he hate her so much?!

Why does he hate me?!

I don't even want to be here!

I want my mom back!

I want Boris back!

I miss my house, I miss my room!

I hate this.

I hate everything.

I hate him.

I hate Bruce Wayne.

Bruce stopped reading after that and just stared at the opened closet, trying to wrap his head around what he read.

He couldn't believe he did that. No he could believe that he said something like that, he was going through a rough patch with both kids, business and his vigilante job that when [Y/N] suddenly entered his life he didn't do anything to help them adjust or comfort them.

He also remembered how Amelie was a nice woman when he woke up in her bed, that explained what happened thoroughly for him, how they were both drunk and thankfully Boris took them to her house, and even gave him her business card after she took his so she could contact him if she was ended up pregnant because she knew she wasn't on a safe day and he didn't use a condom.

He actually admired how gentle she was and how, when she contacted him about her being pregnant and how she wondered if he wanted to be in his child’s life, accepted his refusal and the offer of child support, not even caring about how much money he was gonna give her every month.

So he felt even more horrible and a downright scumbag when he realized that he insulted one of the many women he respected in front of her child and how he never apologized or tried to make amends.

Not even the realization about his actions would excuse them, especially because he said those words to a child, a traumatized child who just lost everything and had to be thrown into a house where no one wanted them.

He slowly flipped through the pages, stopping when he found one of the last entries, which were dated almost 2, maybe 3 years ago.

08-07-XXXX

Dear Diary

As stated before, I moved into Wayne Manor and now I am a Wayne. I refuse to take his surname though, I will never give up my mother's last name.

This will probably be one of my last entries since I will switch to video diaries, mostly to just watch myself and actually explain while talking.

I have been in this hell that I have to call house for almost 3 years and I hate it. I know that I say it many times but it's true.

I hate Dick and how he acts like he's the golden child, so righteous and kind to Tim and Damian but when I ask to do anything with him, he just tells me that he's busy.

Even though I know that those are excuses so he wouldn't have to hang out with me.

I hate Jason and how he complains that Bruce doesn't love him, but I know that he does. That man loves Jason even if he kills people as Red Hood but doesn't do anything about it.

I hate Tim. I don't know much about him but I hate him so much because he's so perfect, already a CEO and so good at everything that even if I manage to do something good, I will always be compared to him by Bruce.

I hate Stephanie, Cassandra and Duke. They never hang out with me, telling me that they're busy when I see them play around together or with others.

What did I even do to them?!

I hate Damian and how he feels superior just because he's an Al Ghul and Robin. I hate it. He has everything, Bruce’s and everyone else's love and attention and yet, he still tormented me and scarred me just because I existed.

I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT BRUCE WAS BATMAN WHEN I FIRST CAME TO THE MANOR.

I hate Bruce Wayne. I hate his perfect TV smile and persona, I hate how he acts like he loves all of his children and yet he has never spent any time with me ever since I came to his Manor years ago.

I hate how he told Dick about how annoying my voice was after I visited to ask him to sign something for school. How he described my voice as nails on a chalkboard for his ears and how he wished he never had to hear it again.

But if he wants to, then I shall never talk again. Maybe this will make him happy.

Bruce slowly looked up when he finished reading that entry, the diary slowly slipping out of his hands and falling onto the floor with a soft thud.

He couldn't believe that he said something so horrible about a kid, someone he should be protecting, and made them, made his own child, hate their own voice.

He slowly put his hands on his head and just cried silently, the realization that he was the reason as to why [Y/N] hated the Manor and their own blood, because he was a horrible father to a traumatized child that just wanted a family after losing their own so early.

The manor was quiet, eerily so. Usually it was bursting with life, sound practically reverberated off the walls. But today it was almost silent. Amidst this silence, a child finally wakes up from their slumber in a room in the Manor.

You slowly opened your eyes, hissing when the blinding lights coming from the window immediately hit your face like a rocket, making you try to move your arm to cover your face.

You slowly looked down to your arm when you noticed the difficulty at moving it and found it in a cast that almost enveloped all your right arm.

You looked at the other arm and sighed in relief when you saw that it was just bandaged up and not in a cast.

You did notice that you had an IV in your hand, making you sit up despite the pain you felt all over your body and managed to pull it out with the casted arm.

After you pulled out the IV, you noticed that you were in a far bigger room compared to the small one you had before. You looked at the shelves and noticed that your worn out books were replaced with new ones while the photos and posters were in the same places but with more space.

As you looked around, you could see that the furniture was the same, confirmed by the scratches on the closet, which was the closest to you, that you accidentally did while trying the first prototype of the web shooter in the room which resulted in you throwing the flaming machinery at the closet before destroying it as you tried to put out the fire before Alfred noticed.

You laughed a little at the memory of your panicking before almost doubling over in a fit of cough, your throat burning when you finally calmed down.

You slowly moved the blankets off of you after you calmed down enough to think rationally, understanding that you weren't in your room anymore but still in the Manor thanks to the walls and the colors in the room, which were totally different from the ones you had in your own room.

You ignored how both of your legs were bandaged up and slowly got off the bed, using the IV stand to keep yourself standing as you wobbled to the desk, noticing almost all the papers you had around your room were now in neat piles, making you extremely angry since you immediately knew that Bruce and his kids entered your room, probably because of Alfred interference.

You pulled away from the desk, still holding onto the IV stand and coughed a little, noticing that the shirt you were wearing was starting to get blood on it.

You slowly raised the shirt and noticed that the bandages on your chest and sides were full of blood, but you ignored it and went for the door, needing to get out of here since you knew that if you were in a different room it meant that they all knew you were Spider.

When you finally made it to the door, your vision was already starting to get blurry from all the blood you were losing. You finally opened it but fainted before you even managed to take a step out, the last thing you saw was the silhouette of a man running up to you, his face blurry and his voice muffled.

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rin-may-1103 · 3 months ago

Text

Biggest Regret. (Part Two)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Bruce had finally found a peaceful moment to sit down and go through his work emails; there were no sibling homicide fights, prank wars, and thankfully no vigilante-related headaches.

Just a peaceful afternoon; normal polluted Gotham skies, the usual city ruckus of honking horns and shouting, and the constant footsteps back and forth past his closed office door.

taking a sip from his old mug, Bruce opened his laptop. Quickly typing in his password for the hour, he made his way to his email. surprisingly, less than 90 emails were waiting for him. Usually, he had hundreds to go through.

hmmm. Another check for this being a suspiciously good day then, it just made him more anxious for when the other shoe would fall.

peaceful for Gotham, for him, never meant anything good. It always happened right before a tragic event or large-scale Arkham breakout. he could hope for it to just be a peaceful day, but he knew wishful thinking was useless.

taking another sip, Bruce started scrolling through his emails, reading the subject lines to sort through which ones were more important. After a few minutes of reading, Bruce stopped and reread the second to last email's title, his eyebrows furrowing:

A Video From Your Son.

Now, Bruce was truly confused; Why would one of his kids email him? let alone through his public work email? They've been told multiple times to email him through the bat-email if it contains anything important or time-sensitive. Heck, they've been told to just text him it if it was important, he always answers a text faster than an email.

His Bruce Wayne email was notoriously ignored for multiple days; mostly for his cover story, but also because he spends most of his time doing Batman stuff. (Reading Wayne Enterprises emails usually wasn't something at the top of his list, the kids know this.)

so, then why would one of them email him?

hmm. maybe? maybe one of the boys set up a long-term prank or something. They know how long it takes for him to read his emails, so maybe they sent it knowing it would take a while, which means they had plenty of time to set something up.

yes, that's it. it makes total sense.

Clicking on the email, he was greeted with a boy (who looked a lot like Damian, but who most certainly wasn't) sitting gravely on a wooden box in some dark warehouse.

sitting up straight, Bruce set his mug down and studied the paused video. the boy looked so much like Damian that Bruce almost wanted to believe he was a clone. but his bright stern blue eyes and and apparent freckles pushed the idea away.

Yes, clones can have imperfections, especially when made in a rush, but never something as drastic as the wrong eye color or a genetic quality the one being cloned didn't have. Unless, the one making the clone had no idea what they were doing, but Bruce doubted Talia would have allowed someone to take Damian's DNA before he was given to Bruce.

and the boy on screen had scars, lots of scars, meaning if he was a clone then he was made before Bruce even knew of Damian.

hmm.

there were no clues provided in the kid's surroundings; the warehouse was surprisingly empty of anything important or telling. the kid had even chosen a spot where Bruce couldn't tell if it was day or night, or if the lights were on. which took away the usual ways of figuring out where the boy was.

No sky meant he couldn't calculate the general area based on season and celestial bodies. And because he couldn't tell if the light was from industrial lighting or daylight, he couldn't cross out warehouses with electricity. The kid was smart. smarter than the average citizen at least.

he was also wearing discreet clothing; which meant Bruce couldn't trace him through that either.

leaning forward so he could rest his elbows on his knees, Bruce pressed play and gave the video his full attention.

The boy on screen sat in silence for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts. his hands rested in his lap, his poster rather relaxed as he sat on his wooden crate.

"This is video eight." the boy spoke, his voice rough with sleepless nights and yelling. Did he yell at people often? or had he gotten into a fight previously? there were seven other videos, but this was the first one Bruce saw. he'd have to go back and see if he had somehow missed them.

"don't worry, you didn't miss anything." the boy chuckled humorously, running one of his hands through his hair. Bruce noted that it shook, the kid was probably nervous, or hungry. the kid looked too skinny to be healthy...

"no, this is just the eighth time I've had to record this." the boy continued, dropping his hand back into his lap as he slumped forward, his black hair falling into his face.

"this video," he continued, not glancing up, "is for Bruce Wayne's eyes only."

there were still no visual tells on where the boy was, not even audio cues for Bruce to study. frowning, Bruce rested his head on his hands, taking in everything the boy said.

"Hi Dad," Bruce sucked in a breath, tensing up as the kid finally glanced back at the camera.

"I'm Danny. you likely don't know I exist, and if you're receiving this; I'm already dead." he chuckled like the thought of his death was laughable. "well, more dead than I already was." he snorted, shaking his head in a way that reminded Bruce of Damian when he was exasperated or disappointed.

"Maybe it's cruel of me to send you a message post-mortem," Danny, the kid's name is Danny, looked away. He rubbed his neck awkwardly as he continued, "But you deserve the truth, and telling you earlier would've put you in danger."

Danny let out a breath as he pulled his legs up onto the crate, "this email is set to automatically send if I haven't opened my laptop for three days. I sometimes set it longer if I'm expecting trouble or going to be away for a while, but I've most likely been away from home for a bit over three days if you're receiving this."

Danny looked so tired as he looked back at the camera, the dark bags under his eyes worse than even Tim's after a week-long investigation.

"I don't know who killed me. Obviously, I'm recording this in advance... I have my suspicions though. it was most likely either the GIW or my adoptive parents, the Fentons." Danny reached beside him and held up a two pictures, "This is Maddie and Jack Fenton, and this," another picture, "is some GIW agents."

Danny snorted as he glanced at the GIW agents, their startled faces slightly blurry as Danny stood in front of them and took a selfie. bruce wasn't sure if he was amused or not that the kid took a selfie with his potential murderers but then again, Bruce could see all of his children doing it too. (Bruce could also see himself doing it.)

"i half-died at 14," Danny suddenly added, tossing the pictures to the side. "became the local ghost superhero..."

he stared off to the side for a moment, "but they never realized I was trying to help and kept talking about tearing ghost me apart molecule by molecule." Danny glanced back at the camera before his eyes widened, "my parents! I mean, my parents and the GIW wanted to tear me apart, not the town! though they probably wouldn't have disagreed with it if asked..."

"anyway," Danny shook his head, "my money's on that being what happened..." Danny looked down at his hands like he was seeing them for the first time, "there will be nothing left of me to bury..."

"Sorry about that!" he suddenly added, a bright smile on his face. Bruce could tell it was strained, forced in hopes of not upsetting him.

"you'd probably have to cremate me if there was, it'd be a waste of wood to get me a coffin... though I'd really prefer if I wasn't set on fire," Danny chuckled, trying to hide a full-body shiver.

He sat in silence for a moment before Danny continued, "The rest of the story is this: I was raised in an assassin cult, eventually escaping at the age of nine. they sent me on a mission and I just had to take the opportunity. I successfully faked my death."

Danny sat up now, fully focusing on the camera, "My biggest regret is that I escaped alone. And that's the reason I'm reaching out to you."

Danny let his feet fall off the edge as he grabbed something from next to him, keeping it out of view for now. "you're a civilian," Danny stated like it was a fact he knew to be true.

Bruce clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself still so he could focus on what Danny was telling him. he wished he could reach through the screen and hold the boy, whether he was his son or not, he obviously was talking about the league which meant Talia hadn't told him.

Talia hadn't told him, and if he was anything like Damian, then he would have no reason to believe otherwise.

"If you know too much about the League of Assassins you'll be in danger, but I need you to save my twin Damian." Danny's words were like a final nail in the coffin, the final straw to keeping his heart from breaking again.

it was true, it had to be. How would Danny have this information otherwise?

"he's likely still there after all these years. he never wanted to escape; he took pride in being the heir to the league. he's probably going to be stabby: he's an assassin after all, but it's not his fault. Ra's, our grandfather, indoctrinated him a lot more successfully than he did me. Damian was more susceptible to it... it's not his fault." Danny repeated, clenching the object he had grabbed.

"Please," Danny pleaded, "save him. I'm begging you. My biggest regret is leaving Damian in the league. You have a chance to save him. Please, please take it."

Danny bit his lip and glanced down at his lap, "I w-," he quickly glanced around before shaking his head, "I long for a time when it would have been safe for me to get to know you. You seem like a cool dad, from what I've seen of you on the news with your oldest kids."

he looked up with a water smile, "I bet you're like that with the youngest you hide from the public too. I still don't know how you managed that, it's been six years." Danny chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"This is my, um, my old league sigil." Danny held up the object he had been holding, revealing a golden disk with thick rope connected to it. it had the demon head's symbol on it.

"A coat of arms. I'll leave it somewhere for you. hopefully, you can use it to get to Damian." Danny gently placed it back on the box. "I'm keeping it in a box in the walls of my room. You should be able to find it."

"I wish you and your family the best," Danny sniffed, looking back at the camera. "thank you for listening. From your long lost almost certainly dead by now son, Danny Fenton."

Bruce stared at the paused video for a minute, just trying to process everything he just saw. he needed confirmation, he knew it was true, it had to be, there's no way Danny could fake this. but Bruce needed to confirm. make sure he isn't seeing things.

absently, Bruce pulled out his phone and dialed his youngest's, was he still the youngest? or was Danny? number.

the tone didn't even ring longer than five seconds before his son's voice echoed into the silent office, "Father."

"Damian, did you have a twin named Danny?" Bruce asked, not cutting around the bush.

dead silence, he couldn't even hear Damian's breath.

then, "...Who told you?"

Damian's voice wasn't angry or fearful, it was sad and confused and wavered like the last leaf on a tree clinking on for dear life in a blizzard. it cemented the break in Bruce's heart as he stared at the tearful face of his son, his son who claimed to be dead already.

hanging up, Bruce quickly sent the video to Damian and waited. he needed a minute to process what just happened. Clicking play, Bruce rewatched the video, hoping to find another clue.

Damian called back a few minutes later, the sound of Danny's voice echoing in the background telling Bruce his son had watched and rewatched the video just like he had.

"Father. I do not care what state he is in, even if there is only a single molecule left. I'm going to bring him home. We must discover exactly what happened to Danny, the truth."

"I couldn't agree more, Damian," Bruce grunted, standing up. Pushing his chair in, he turned his laptop off and made his way to his office door. "I'll be home soon, gather the others. tell them all hands on deck."

"yes, Father," Robin replied, hanging up not even a second later.

Shoving his phone in his pocket and opening his office door, Batman started making his way home.

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sp0o0kylights · 11 months ago

Text

Eddie led a weird life.

This was something he welcomed, given half the things people thought were “weird” was just his fashion sense or preference for table top games.

Small potatoes to the larger things in life, really.

Of course, this was before he found out there was an evil version of Hawkins underneath him.

Now Eddie did things that would previously sent his old self into a fucking coma.

His friendship with Steve Harrington for example.

Dude saved his life and bridal-style carried him out of literal hell.

It’d have been rude not to be friendly with the guy after that, even if they weren’t both members of a very exclusive and bloody club, with trauma and secrets that really only a select few people would ever understand.

Sleeping over at Harrington’s half the week also made perfect sense, and Eddie will argue that to his very grave.

It turns out nightmares suck, and waking up screaming all the time sucks even more.

Something everyone involved in this entire escapade (and all the ones prior) knew.

Because more bodies means more eyes to look out for you, and feeling safe means you might actually sleep for an hour, they all got used to showing up at each other's houses at odd hours of the night.

Pulled one another out of nightmares and got comfortable with the fact that they slept better, together.

Steve’s house in particular is typically void of both adults and annoying freshmen, which meant it's the most comfortable place for a lot of people to crash together.

(Sometimes the annoying freshmen do show up and maybe Eddie is also a little weirdly overprotective of the whole Party now, and alright fine, he enjoys all their company, even Erica's--but who's keeping track?

He isn’t.

He’s busy arguing all this is perfectly normal.)

Sleeping in Steve’s bed is where things get a little tricky.

See, when it was more than just Robin and Eddie crashing at Casa De Harrington, they all sleep in the living room.

Steve drags out some fancy blow up mattress (an air mattress what the fuck) and changes the couches around and long story short his fucking living room is more comfortable than Eddie’s own bed has ever been.

But when it's just Eddie and Robin, they retire to Steve’s stupid huge bed, so large the damn thing takes up most of his equally massive room.

(“This isn’t weird right?” He’d asked Robin once, hanging his head over the edge of the bed while Steve did--whatever it was he was doing to his hair in the bathroom.

Robin, who was busy rifling through Steve’s drawers for a shirt to steal, stopped and looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Not unless you make it weird, Munson.” She’d told him, and well, that was all the permission he needed.

They slept together in tight groups, where it was easiest to defend each other in case of Upside Down fucking monster attack.

Case closed.)

Sleeping in Steve Harrington’s bed, without the buffer that was Robin Buckley, is where the lies started.

Because it was weird.

It was incredibly weird, and did guys even do this solo?

Eddie hadn’t. If one of Hellfire or the band stayed over, it was a strictly floor/bed/couch situation unless there were more than three of them, and that was within Eddie’s small ass trailer.

Sure they piled up if they had to, but it wasn't like it was with Steve. All tangled limbs and being right up in each others space, no pillow or blanket or anything as a buffer.

Hell, Eddie had woken up getting spooned or doing the spooning more than once, and no one said shit.

How Steve made it sound so genuinely normal was beyond him.

Not that Eddie argued about it.

Not the first time of the fifth or the twenty-fifth, and not even after Robin pointed out he was rooming with Harrington more than she was.

Because he just slept better, next to Steve.

(Steve apparently, felt the same.

Or must have given it kept happening.)

It wasn’t like Steve didn’t crash at Eddie’s trailer either--his parents had come right home upon hearing about the earthquake, and had been a bit more present after running into the joint forces of Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers in the hospital lobby.

Add in Wayne’s own Disapproving Stare (TM) and the town being up each other’s ass to try and keep it together, and suddenly Mr. and Mrs. Harrington were hanging out in Hawkins that much more.

(Steve seemed to think it was more to save face rather than because they actually gave a shit, which Eddie felt was obvious but he wasn’t gonna say it.

“They’re trying I think. They just--they’ve never encountered anything like this.” He’d said, a little frown line pinching his eyebrows together.

“Stevie, no one has faced anything like what we have. Your parents, on the other hand, are only dealing with what they think is the aftermath of an earthquake and plenty of people have seen those.”

Steve had sighed. Stared a little helplessly, like he knew he was making excuses but couldn’t help himself.

“I know, Eds. I know.”)

Them being home more meant Steve was at Eddie’s more--on grounds that Robin’s parents were fine with him hanging out but drew some kind of weird not--very--hippy line at him sleeping over.

Which was fine.

Great even, the Eddie and Steve had never slept better! Sucks to be Robin, who had to call up Nancy Wheeler if she wanted to share.

All this was, was trauma buddies being guy pals who were very comfortable with each other due to said fucking trauma.

Steve used to help Eddie take a piss for fucks sake, and according to literally everyone else involved in the Vecna related mess, this was their fourth go round with supernatural shit.

Chances of it all happening a fifth time seemed kinda high, even if the gate was supposedly closed and the psychotic meat puppet madman six feet underground.

Sharing was caring, and caring was not letting your new buddy you saved fight off monsters alone if they popped back up.

Plus he and Steve spent a huge amount of time together, almost as much time as Steve did with Robin.They were all in each other’s back pockets to the point that Eddie’s band was used to it, with Gareth even starting to make secret lover jokes about it all.

(The dick.)

They were just really good friends dealing with the shit life had dealt them. That was it, that was the whole ass story.

Eddie’s growing gay crisis aside.

So no. It wasn't all the time with Harrington that sent Eddie over the edge. Nor was it the bed sharing, rapidly dropping boundaries, or even the fact that Steve knew where Eddie kept his condoms (An accident Eddie wouldn't ever live down, holy shit.)

No, what sent him into an absolute, hair tearin' meltdown, was the day Steve woke up, rolled over, kissed Eddie right on the lips and then went to make breakfast.

No good morning, no how ya doin.

Steve just left Eddie there, clutching onto the sheets for dear life and mildly terrified he’d just hallucinated the entire encounter.

(Hell, maybe the whole thing was hallucinated.

Maybe he died in the Upside Down and this was some sort of sick version of the afterlife.

Eddie pinched himself, and when that wasn’t enough, bit his own knuckle. Both hurt, which was unfortunate, because death seemed preferable to dealing with life right then.)

Unfortunately for him, Steve did not run back into the room with a myriad of excuses, which meant Eddie had to experience the horrifying ordeal of getting out of bed, putting his clothes on and going into the trailer’s kitchen--because Steve hadn’t even had the decency to wreck Eddie’s life at his own house.

‘What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck--’

Heart galloping, Eddie put on his big boy pants--metaphorically and physically--before stepping out into the kitchen and confront his friend.

Who was cooking shirtless, without a care in the world.

It still took him a full thirty seconds to get his mouth to work.

“Hey Stevie? Do you want to tell me what that was about?”

"Hmm?” Steve replied. His eyes were hooded, hair mussed in a way Eddie knew only a few select people had ever seen it.

He looked half asleep, and proved it a second later when he reached twice for the one of the two mugs on the counter and missed entirely.

Eddie swung in, grabbing one and offering it out for Steve to pour coffee into, before swapping it out for the other mug once Steve was done.

Stayed in Steve’s space even as the former jock fussed with adding in milk and sugar and whatever else he was feeling, working up the courage to say something.

Anything.

“Uh, the--just now?” Eddie squeaked. He coughed to clear his voice, trying desperately to act normal.

Look normal.

Like he hadn't just been kissed by the guy he had absolute worst crush on.

Steve, bless him, didn’t tease him. Just shoved one of the mugs into Eddie’s hands and kept the other for himself.

Took a nice, slow sip, adam's apple bobbing and Eddie quickly averted his gaze, staring firmly into his coffee.

“What happened?” Steve asked a second later, sounding a touch more clear, and not at all like he was experiencing deep regret, or dodging the question, or even aware of what had happened.

Eddie had two seconds to realize that hell, maybe Steve really didn’t know, before his mouth once betrayed him.

“When you kissed me?” And motherfucker, for once, Eddie wished he would think before he fucking spoke.

(Wayne had always told him he'd come to regret it. He just hadn't thought it'd be like this!)

“Oh.” Steve said, very anticlimatically. “I didn’t realize I did that, sorry.”

Eddie's entire body twitched.

One long shudder, like it was rejecting the very words coming out of Steve's mouth.

“You didn’t,” He tried, voice dry and cracking. He realized his hands were shaking and promptly put his mug down before he dropped it. “You just--what, did that on instinct?”

“...Kinda, yeah.” Steve said and why the hell did he sound entirely unphased!?

Was this some kind of weird jock thing? Did the basketball team all wake up together and kiss each other on the mouth?! Did they think it was some sort of straight--guy haha joke, or fucking--Eddie didn’t even know what, because Eddie was too busy spiraling.

“Steve I’m gay.” He blurted out, mouth now firmly ahead of his brain.

He instantly wanted to take it back.

Grab the words with his hands, and cram it into his mouth.

Maybe Steve was only cool with it if he thought Eddie was straight.

Hell, maybe he fucking did it while sleep walking or something and Eddie was the one being weird about it, or he--fuck, really did imagine it and, and--!

“I know.” Steve told him, interrupting Eddie’s catastrophizing entirely.

“You know?” Eddie stared at him, feeling like the world had fallen out from underneath his feet. “How do you know!?”

He actually had a pretty good idea of how Steve knew, considering they were both friends with Robin, but while Robin was comfortably out to both of them, Eddie was not.

Had not in fact, even confirmed that he was queer to Robin herself, though he’d hinted at it plenty and shared more than one inside joke.

Didn’t think Robin had outed him or anything, but more that, well…

Steve was smarter than the kids made him sound, that’s for damn sure.

“Honestly dude? You’re not subtle.” Steve told him and at least he finally sounded serious.

Like this was a much needed conversation and not some weird tangent Eddie was on.

“The handkerchief, that triangle pin that you and Robin both have, the fact that you once jumped in my pool to get away from Dustin asking about you're dating life."

He rolled one hand in an etc. all gesture, before adding; “Also there was that time you and Robin got absolutely smashed on my dad’s whiskey and argued about who the hottest Rocky Horror actor was.”

Eddie’s mouth sprang open to defend himself, but absolutely nothing came out.

When had they even watched Rocky Horror together!?

“You kept insisting the guy who played Brad was hotter than the one who played Rocky, remember? I thought Robin was going to strangle you because she like, adores Susan Sarandon.” Steve continued, like they were having one of their playful little spats and not--not discussing Steve kissing him!

“You guys asked me to tie-break,” He added slowly, like he was trying to jog Eddie’s memory. “and I told you guys I thought both were hot.”

Which--oh.

Oh.

“Okay so you’re…?”

Not going to kill me is what Eddie intended to say, but Steve took it as another question entirely, and answered with a nod and a hum.

Which--okay.

Steve Harrington was bisexual, and also already thought he’d come out to Eddie.

He could roll with that.

That was not the problem, at all.

The problem was; “That doesn’t explain the kiss though?!”

Steve finally put his coffee down, huffing out exasperatedly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t realize I did it, man. We share a bed a lot and I guess I wasn’t--I must have--”

And now, finally, Steve was getting embarrassed. A red flush spread across his cheeks and down his neck, vivid even on his tan skin.

He ran a hand through his hair, and Eddie knew purely from the sheer amount of time they spent together that it was a self-soothing action.

“I guess I’m sorry?”

It came out less as a question and more as an accusation-- which Steve himself seemed to hear because he immediately corrected it with a far less sassy and much more sincere; “No I am--I’m sorry.”

None of which answered why Steve had kissed him.

“You didn’t think I was Nance, did you?” Eddie asked, because apparently he just couldn't stop while he was ahead.

Maybe he should have died. It'd be better for both of them, considering he was doing about as good as kicking Steve while he was down.

Steve, the guy who had saved Eddie's life and was now one of his best friends and here Eddie was, dragging this out of him like a moron.

“No.” Steve said immediately. Reflexively, almost, firm and sure. “I am very aware you’re not Nancy.”

‘Let it go Eddie. Don’t make it weird Eddie. Just laugh it off and say okay--’

“Then who did you think it was? I mean you said it was instincts and like, I'm not stupid. I know I can be confused for Nance in the low light, it's happened before but--"

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“I didn’t think. I knew it was you." Steve interrupted. "I knew I was kissing you, Eddie."

Oh god, just kill him now.

Hell he'd even take a Vecna death! With all the gross gore and the shitty villain monologue!

"This morning I was tired, and I was sleepy, and I apparently skipped the part in my head were I asked you out and we were dating.” Steve deadpanned at him.

Eddie gaped, mind shattered and rapidly reforming.

It was like the universe was recreating itself, only this time all the stars had aligned and his wish had come true and some Disney director had taken control of his life--

“But I get it if I’m not your type." Steve was saying, because Steve was perfect.

And Kind.

And wanted to date Eddie.

"I’m sorry if I made things uncomf-mmphhh!”

‘Mmmph’ because Eddie had flung himself at Steve, face first, the second "I asked you out and we were dating" had finished processing.

(Which was alarming fast, considering he'd been struggling all morning.)

‘D--ff--ing?”

Steve laughed in his mouth as Eddie tried to talk while kissing, pulling away slightly and holding his chest back with a hand when Eddie tried to chase him anyway.

“Yes, dating. As in, would you, Eddie Munson, like to go on a date with me, Steve Harrington?”

“Yes.” Eddie’s mouth said.

At least this time it and his brain were on the same wavelength.

“Yes I very much would.” He put some weight into his lean, making it harder for Steve to hold him back. “I think you can tell, by the way I'm trying to kiss you. Which you are not doing."

He pouted, and refused to be embarrassed about his behavior.

Steve laughed, and he might have said something like “God you changed up fast” except he had given in and let Eddie close again, and his words were now being swallowed down.

Eddie's life was weird alright, and now it was weird even by his own standards, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

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helyft · 4 months ago

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Shenbro au where, Shen Yuan wakes up inside the body of the scum villain's little brother. Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan join the Qing Jing peak togather. Shen Jiu is way more popular than SY, even if it's not really a good thing. SY doesn't really leave the peak unless he must, so not many people know that SJ has a brother, let alone one who is a fucking saint.

After fixing and healing sqq like bob the builder, (transmigrator) SY is finally sure that SQQ isn't gonna fuck up his future even if he is left to his own device. But that doesn't mean SY will leave his big bro though, nope, He is just gonna go on his own little adventures while SJ is doing what-head-disiple-usually-do. Just temporarily yeah

It takes a lot to convince SJ, but with the help of YQY and their Shizun, SY manages to leave after promising SJ that he'll come back more often than not. It's not like he is planning on leaving forever, he will be back in time for the original to begin! Just to make sure his brother doesn't dig his own grave.

it's mighty fun, seeing monsters he had only ever read about with his own eyes, observing the wild life and noting down his adventures, if he didn't have SJ waiting for him back in the sect, SY might have just settled as a rogue cultivator.

SY is curious about how people in this day and age live. When he first came to this world, he was too busy trying to not die and keep his brother from pissing people off left and right. Now that SJ has calmed down a bit (he is still a little bitch but a likeable bitch atleast.) and canon is still a few years away, it's definitely the right time to enjoy the mundane activities and savoury street food!

But you know who else also leaves the sect to hunt down monsters for indefinite amount of time?

SY totally doesn't expect to run into future Bai Zhan lord while out in the wild (Wellll, not that he knows this is LQQ. ) but he is so glad he did! Otherwise he would have been mauled alive by a poisonous-clawed bear!

The amount of times they coincidentally meet eachother is actually suspicious. But SY doesn't mind. Who would mind being saved by a heavenly beauty (even if it's a man)? Sure, this guy might not talk alot, stare at him like he has grown another head and leave instantly after killing the beast that was about to attack SY, he sure is a eye-candy!

They get close soon enough. It can't be helped since they run into eachother every other week. SY even managed to fish out his surname! Which happens to be the same as Liu Mingyan's!

Liu-gongzi is actually nicer than he looks, turns out the reason he looked at SY as if he had grown a second head isn't because he dislikes him but because he looks identical to an unsavoury person Liu-gongzi knows!

SY learned quite a bit about him, like how he is part of a sect, how he only goes back to his sect once a month to show his face to his shizun, and how he even has a little sister. Liu-gongzi's company is a delight to have! He even lets SY observe a beast before killing it.

(if there is a slight voice whispering in the back of his head about the similarities Liu-gongzi has to a certain war god, he ignores it)

They don't really stick together, SY isn't really here to fight fight and fight, he is here to learn about the behind the scenes of PIDW, and enjoy his life the fullest before canon inevitably comes. Liu-gongzi on the other hand likes to mindlessly charge into battle. SY suspects that his head is somewhat empty other than thoughts about brawling with monsters.

Spending time with Liu-gongzi is...fun. It feels like he has finally made a friend who isn't mentioned by the original story. He is a little sad inside everytime they have to go their own way but somehow, they end up meeting always so he can just think that they are meant to be together right? In a platonic way ofc.

Time passes by in a flash, and before SY realises it, Canon is already looming over.

It's about time he heads back to Cang Qiong.

(and if he catches sight of a very, very familiar man, who has become even more beautiful since the last time SY saw him, wellll, that's a sorry for another day.)

#mxtx svsss #svsss #scum villian self saving system #liushen #liu qingge #shen yuan #shen brothers #might write this #probably

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inkspiredwriting · 3 months ago

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The Diner of Destiny

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I hope it won't be long before I can post proper Five x Y/n stories again. Before the whole mess with season 4, I wanted to post a story of y/n having a girls day with Alisson, Sloane and Lila, and then five picking her up later and seeing what a mess they made. But now I'm honest, I don't want Lila and Five together in a story anymore xD I know it's stupid but I can't change it

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6, angst

Five stepped out of the shadows, his sharp eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. He had been here before, but something felt different this time. The station seemed to pulse with an energy he couldn’t quite place, pulling him toward a small, unassuming diner that he had never noticed before.

As he pushed open the door, a small bell chimed, and the dimly lit interior came into view. Its walls adorned with old photographs and clocks that tick out of sync. But what caught his attention most were the people inside.

It wasn’t just any group of people. They were him—Fives, from various timelines and realities. Each of them wore a different expression, ranging from annoyance to outright anger.

One of them, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing at Five. “You finally made it,” he said, his voice laced with bitterness.

Five frowned, his mind racing to understand what was happening. “What is this? Why are we all here?”

“You tell us,” The other Five shot back. “We’ve been waiting for you to show up and face the mess you’ve made.”

“The mess I’ve made?” Five repeated, confusion giving way to irritation. “What are you talking about?”

Another Five, one with a more disheveled appearance, chimed in, “You had one job—find y/n. She was supposed to be your anchor, the one to keep all of us stable across the Timelines. But instead, you got distracted.”

Five’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of y/n. He had never heard that name, and yet it felt like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean, ‘distracted’?”

The other Five crossed his arms, his glare intensifying. “Lila. You got involved with Lila, and that was never supposed to happen. You were supposed to fall in love with y/n in the greenhouse. She was the one meant for you, for all of us.”

Five’s breath caught in his throat. The greenhouse. He remembered it clearly—throwing strawberries, the laughter, the kisses. But it wasn’t y/n he was with. It was Lila. And suddenly, it all made sense.

The other Fives began to murmur, their voices filled with resentment. “We all felt it,” one of them said. “The moment you chose Lila over Y/n, we all felt the shift. She started to fade from our lives.”

Brisket Five added, “And without her, everything is falling apart. Our timelines are unraveling because you didn’t stick to what was meant to be.”

Five’s mind reeled. He had always prided himself on making the hard choices, on doing what needed to be done to keep the timeline intact. But now, he realized he had made a grave mistake. Y/n was supposed to be his anchor, the one constant in the chaotic sea of timelines. But by choosing Lila, he had erased her from existence, not just in his life, but in every Five’s life.

“Why isn’t she here?” Five demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “Why can’t we find her?”

The other Five’s expression softened, though the anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface. “Because you erased her, you idiot. The moment you chose Lila, you erased y/n from all of our lives. The woman who was supposed to keep us grounded, to hold us together—gone. And now, we’re all suffering for it.”

Five felt a cold sweat break out on his skin. He had made a choice that he couldn’t take back, and now it was costing him—and every version of himself—everything. The weight of his actions pressed down on him, suffocating him with guilt.

“What do I do?” he whispered, almost to himself. “How do I fix this?”

The Five opposite from him sighed, his anger giving way to something more like pity. “That’s the problem. We don’t know if it can be fixed. Y/n was our everything, the one person who could make us feel human, no matter what timeline we were in. Without her… we’re lost.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, each Five contemplating the enormity of the situation. Five’s mind raced, trying to think of a solution, a way to bring y/n back. But every thought was met with the same bleak realization: he had broken something that might never be repaired.

Finally, Brisket Five spoke again, his voice low and resigned. “You can try to find her. But the truth is, we don’t even know where to start. You’ve changed the course of all our lives, and now… now we’re all paying the price.”

Five swallowed hard, his chest tightening with the weight of his guilt. He had always been the one to take control, to find a way out of impossible situations. But this time, he wasn’t sure if there was a way out. The woman who was supposed to be his guiding light, his North Star, was gone. And it was his fault.

The diner fell into a heavy silence, the weight of what had been lost hanging in the air like a shroud. The other Fives watched him, their anger slowly turning to resignation. They knew, as well as he did, that there was no fixing this. Y/n was gone, and with her, the stability and hope they had all desperately needed.

And as he left the diner, the weight of his actions bore down on him like a heavy burden, one that he wasn’t sure he could ever shake.

#five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five imagine #number five x reader #the umbrella academy #number five #number five one shot #five hargreeves

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merakiui · 1 month ago

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terror in threes.

yandere!rollo flamme, fellow honest, & skully j. graves x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight flavoring of religion (father rollo flamme strikes again), murder, death, brief descriptions of blood/gore, age gap for reader (19) and fellow (26), physical abuse (beating), unplanned pregnancy, slut-shaming, kidnapping, coercion, obsession, delusion, stepcest, non-consensual kisses, all three characters written as 18+ note - three short horrors featuring the halloween trio in: MERCY, the terrifying tale of a vindictive priest; ON A DARK, STORMY NIGHT, the chilling caution against getting into a silver-tongued stranger's vehicle; MERRY, the shocking story of a twisted stepbrother led by a one-sided love that is not meant to be. // inspired by this brilliant artwork. thank you to the bestie @heyyy11 for discussing these thoughts with me. :D

MERCY.

Bent over the sink, you watch yourself in the mirror while your boyfriend pounds into you from behind. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your hips; your dress is bunched up in messy wrinkles and ruffles.

“Some—ooh—someone might come in,” you grunt, attempting to lift yourself onto your arms and failing miserably when he all but pushes you against the counter with a particularly rough thrust.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” he says, gazing at your blissed-out reflection. “Everyone’s gone home. Candlelight service’s over.”

“Yes, but—” you tamp down a bawdy moan— “I just worry.”

About someone catching us. About getting locked in.

“Aren’t we in God’s house? It’s supposed to be safe twenty-four seven.”

“If you say so…”

“So don’t worry.” He leans over to kiss the top of your head. You collapse against the sink. “There you go. Just relax. I gotcha.”

You shrug off your inhibitions and surrender to the pleasure. One hand slides away from your ass to reach between your thighs. You mewl like you’re in heat, arching your back the moment his fingers brush your clit. Now you feel like you’re floating, every frazzled nerve smoothed out once you feel the waves of encroaching orgasm lapping at your insides. But just before you can unravel, his hand covers your mouth.

Confused, you meet his stare in the mirror.

“Shh.” He holds a finger to his lips. “I heard someone outside.”

You roll your eyes. Either it’s his attempt to scare you or make the situation seem sexier. You think it’s the latter when he tears his eyes away from the door and resumes his thrusting. His hand falls from from your mouth, and soon your voices are mixing together, echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom.

“I’m close,” you gasp, clenching tightly. “So close. Oh, I’m—”

The door creaks open then. You almost don’t hear it until someone loudly clears their throat. Like well-oiled clockwork, you and your boyfriend turn to look at him. For a moment, you forget he’s Father Flamme. Without his black cassock and holy accompaniments, he looks like a normal person.

“Ahem.”

Immediately, you’re pulling away from your boyfriend and pushing your dress down. “F-Father Flamme, we’re so sorry!”

Stern greens flick quietly from your bare legs to your face. His arms are folded behind his back.

“Damn,” your boyfriend mutters, visibly agitated. You’d feel the same if it wasn’t for the scalding embarrassment rushing through your blood.

He regards the both of you coldly, a disapproving frown etched on his face. “Why are you apologizing on his behalf? He has a mouth of his own.”

Taken aback, you open your own mouth to apologize once again and then shut it. Your boyfriend hurries to stuff himself into his slacks and then stands protectively in front of you.

“Think you should apologize first for looking at my girlfriend,” he sneers.

Father Flamme is silent for a moment. “Of course,” he finally concedes. “I should apologize.”

“Then do it—”

“I should apologize,” he continues, sardonic, “for providing her with a love far superior than the foul, impure lust you’ve shown her.”

“You take that back!”

Your boyfriend surges forward, determined to beat a proper apology out of the priest, and you, rather helplessly, grab at his shirt. He stops rigidly in his tracks when a pistol is pulled from Father Flamme’s back and aimed directly at him. Your gasp hitches at the back of your throat. Suddenly, the world is encased in a jar of molasses. You don’t see the bullet, but you hear it go off. The bang pierces the tranquility of the bathroom, lodging itself in your ears until they’re ringing. You drop to your knees and press your palms into your ears, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear your boyfriend collapse in a heap, but you don’t see the brain matter splatter against the wall.

It’s a clean shot, but just to be perfectly precise Rollo fires once more into his chest. Right at his heart. Chancing a glance at the wall behind you, you scream when you see the blood. Some of it has even managed to get on you, staining your skin and your white dress. Instinctively, you scramble away from the body, pressing yourself into the corner.

“May God have mercy on his soul,” he murmurs, ensuring the safety lock is flicked on before placing the gun on the counter. “And may He forgive these hands that have been soiled in the name of justice.”

You wrap your arms around yourself in a self-soothing hug and stare blankly ahead.

That…just happened. He killed your boyfriend. Father Rollo Flamme killed your boyfriend.

Water rushes into the basin next. He rolls his sleeves up. You listen to him as he washes his hands of sin, scrubbing it from his skin with scentless, antibacterial soap. Your stare falls upon the gun, but the idea is promptly burned away when you meet his frigid stare in the glass. He’s watching you, his lips pursed in a thin line. Not quite a frown, but not quite a smile either.

“It baffles me that you would allow a sinner to defile you like this. You, who are so good and pure, a noble heart… Ah, but you aren’t at fault. That despicable pest has been exterminated, so there’s no need to point fingers. The blame shall die with him.”

You sniffle, tears clouding your eyes.

“I apologize you had to see that.” He dries his hands and then, wetting a fresh towel with soap and warm water, kneels before you. “To have tainted you in that sinner’s blood… I implore your forgiveness.”

Gently, he dabs at the mess. You can’t back up any further, but you certainly try with this startling proximity, squirming uncomfortably when he drags his knuckle along your cheek.

“Why?” you whisper, utterly, indescribably haunted.

“Did you not hear me earlier?” He offers you a warm smile, but it only makes you feel cold. “I intend to love you chastely. His ‘love’ is worthless—nothing but lust disguised as pure adoration. He failed to appreciate you in life, and thus it is a failure he shall die, his ugly sin exposed for the world to behold.”

Father Flamme presses the cloth to your cheek next. Not to clean blood, but to wipe the tear streaks and the nonexistent mark of where his fingertips once lingered.

“I have saved you from that monster. It may not seem so at this moment, for you are a lost lamb blinded by devilish temptations, but you will realize later this was for the best.”

You can’t form the words. You can’t even form thoughts. It’s all static.

“Do you understand, (Name)?”

You nod, but you really don’t.

ON A DARK, STORMY NIGHT.

You pace to and fro on the side of the road, clutching your stomach every fifteen seconds. Rain pelts your sweater, soaking through that and the little backpack hanging off of your shoulder with its single strap. There isn’t much inside. You could hardly pack it when your mother was in your ear, shouting a nasty set of lines: “You whorish, two-bit cunt! What do you think you’re doing, throwing away your life like this?! Who’s going to afford that parasite? Not me! Definitely not you! Not when you ought to be in school, not hopping on some man’s dick! Where is your shame?!”

Her slipper came down upon your arm, the back of your head, your neck, unrelenting in its whacks. You scrambled about in your room like a headless chicken, shielding your face and stomach when you could. She continued to berate you in that harsh, shrill tone of hers. Whenever your vision became blurred with tears, you had to hurry to blink them away so that they wouldn’t obscure your view of the path to the front door.

On your way out of your room, you managed to snatch an old sweater. She pursued in a furious flurry and this time you were sure, should she get a firm grasp on your arm, she’d kill you.

“Out! Out of my house!” she squawked when you stumbled down the steps in a blind panic. Rain wet your face, or maybe it was the tears. “You’re no child of mine. Don’t think about coming back here.”

The door was slammed so hard it shook in its frame.

So you gathered yourself, lifted your shirt to check the rounded dome of your stomach, and then pulled the sweater on over your head.

You walked. Past houses and storefronts, crossing busy streets, peering into the windows of a bar.

You walked. Under flickering lamp posts, through chilly rain, towards the edge of your broken world.

You walked. Until civilization gave way to sprawling darkness and trees. Until the path was muddied and slick. Until you were wading through thick, tall grass.

Now you walk up and down this strip of road, far from home and freezing-cold. You’re hungry, too. It’s been hours since the last car sped past, blissfully ignorant to your flailing arms and desperate shouts: “Wait! Please stop! Wait!”

You’re beginning to think you might die out here, alone and poor, a worthless nobody.

“Fuck,” you spit, wiping the tears/rain from your eyes. “Fuck!”

You kick a clump of grass onto the road and scream at the sky.

And then headlights roll over the hill, cutting through the gloom. Headlights that are attached to a car. A car!

Hope restored, you scurry onto the slick pavement and wave your arms about. When it seems like the car isn’t going to stop, you skitter onto the dirt path.

“Wait! Please wait!” you cry out, still gesturing wildly.

To your surprise and relief, the car eases to a stop just ahead and a window lowers slowly. It squeaks noisily, and you can hear the broken parts of the mechanism rattling inside the door. Happiness surges through you, and you approach the vehicle slowly. A figure comes into view, most of his face hidden in the shadows of his hood. He looks thoroughly soaked, as does the little boy snoozing in the passenger seat. He’s hugging a shovel in his sleep, a satisfied smile on his face. Both of them are clad in grimy, oversized raincoats. You think it’s dirt when you peer closely, but you’re not certain.

The man lifts his hand in greeting and you realize he’s wearing gloves.

“Well, hello there, little miss!” He flashes his teeth at you in a sharp, close-eyed smile. “Bit late to be out and about, don’tcha think?”

“I… I’m so sorry, but I desperately need a ride.”

A pair of brilliant orange eyes open to view you. He assesses you with a subtle once-over.

“A ride, you say? Hmm…” He strokes his chin with his hand, feigning deep thought. “Awfully unsafe for a lady to be wandering around in the dark.”

He could drive off any minute and you might never get a ride. You’re not sure how much longer you can last in this rain.

“I don’t have much money on me… I just… I really need to get out of this rain.” You cup the small bump hidden beneath your sweater and then flounder for the necklace around your throat. “I can give you this! A-And everything else in my bag. It’s not a lot, but maybe you can do something with it…”

The man raises a prominent eyebrow. The window is cracked just enough so he can look out at you, but you can’t reach in if you wanted to. Not that you would. Something about the filthy appearance of this man and his charismatic aura unsettles you. But he’s the second car you’ve seen tonight. The first car to have stopped for you. You can’t let this opportunity slip through your fingers no matter how suspicious he seems.

“What’s your name, little miss?”

“It’s (Name), sir. My mother kicked me out. I don’t have anywhere to go, but if you can just get me to the nearest shelter…”

He gazes through you rather than at you, his attention pinned on your stomach. A shadow passes over his face, but it’s quickly dispelled when he smiles.

“That doesn’t sound too difficult now, does it? I couldn’t possibly leave a little lady stranded in these elements. Why, anyone who would is simply heartless!” You hear the click of a lock. “Hop in. I’ll take you there.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Not at all. Thank you for stopping me. Otherwise I might’ve just passed you up.”

“I’m so grateful. I can’t thank you enough,” you confess, choking on your joy. You pull the door open and climb into the backseat. It’s very…messy, and it smells like smoke and wet earth and overall unpleasant things. Your nose wrinkles, but you remind yourself not to judge too scathingly. After all, you don’t look very neat yourself in your shabby sweater.

“You from around here?” the man asks once you’ve buckled in.

“Yes. Well, no. Um… I’m not sure how far from home I am.” You rub at your sore arms, teeth chattering. “I’ve j-just been walking all over, sir. U-Um… If I may, what’s your name?”

He scoffs lightheartedly, almost like it isn’t important. “I’m just an honest fellow trying to get home in this nasty weather.” This honest fellow indicates the boy beside him next. “It’s a bit of a drive and my little brother can’t quite stay up for the entirety of it. Kids, am I right? They think they’re stronger than the world with all of their confidence, but no one’s stronger than the inescapable call of sleep!”

You laugh into your hand, careful not to wake the boy. “I see. You must be coming back from a road trip then?”

“Precisely so, little miss. You’ve keen intuition.”

A comforting quiet blankets the inside of the car. You watch the trees pass while he drives. Eventually, they fall away to reveal a neighborhood you’ve never seen before. The houses are in disrepair, and everything looks grey. This isn’t where the shelter is, you realize, and your horror only multiplies when he turns down another road and parks in front of a decrepit-looking apartment complex.

“Time to wake up now.” He shakes the boy, who comes to with a few sleepy blinks. He notices you and smiles, waving with a flappy sleeve.

“Sir? Mr. Fellow—was it?—what is this place?” You shrink back into the car when he opens the door for you and offers his gloved hand.

“Why, this is the shelter!” He beams proudly. “Do you not see the windows? The roof? The shape of this lovely building? Clearly it is the shelter you’ve mentioned.”

“But this is…” Not that. Not the home I’m looking for. You hold your bag close to your chest and allow the honest fellow to help you out. The rain is but a soft pitter-patter now.

His hands fall upon your shoulders, trapping you in place. “What do you think, Gidel? I’d say this is better than any old shelter. Why, this is a glorious haven! As they say, a treasure is not yet treasure until it’s polished to a shine. Every gem is rough around the edges, wouldn’t you say so?”

The boy—Gidel—nods enthusiastically. You don’t trust him or the shovel he holds behind his back.

“Thank you for the ride. It was nice to meet both of you, but I can walk the rest of the way.”

“Nonsense! A lady should never walk alone at night. It’s much too dangerous.” He holds his hand over his heart and gasps dramatically. “My chest aches at the thought of it! What horrid beasts might lurk out there… You must allow us to show you just a pinch more of our hospitality. At least until this pesky rain abates.”

He smiles at you in a way that doesn’t give you a chance to get a word in. The car is shut and locked, and he twirls the key ring on his finger as he guides you towards the dingy building. Gidel hurries along after you, nodding in time with the honest fellow’s cheery humming.

MERRY.

Christmas music floods your brain, a loud, constant thrum of whimsical bells and chimes. The headphones are pulled from your person next, and suddenly a voice invades your pleasant dreams. Over and over, calling out to you…

“Sister…” A slight nudge. “Dearest sister of mine, please wake up…” A cold finger prods at your cheek.

Groaning, you shift in your sleep. The muscles in your face twitch with every persistent poke.

“(Name)?”

Your eyes peel open slowly, searching through the lamplight to find a pale face. “Huh… Mmh… What’s going on? Oh, it’s you, Skully. What’s wrong?”

He fidgets awkwardly where he stands. He almost looks like a real younger brother when he’s so restless, but his looming height is a reminder that he’s grown up just like you. With his gangly limbs, circular frames that sit crooked on his face, and unkempt bedhead with those troublesome strands that fluff up no matter how many times he smooths them down, he looks more like a deer caught in an oncoming car’s headlights.

You sit up in bed and rub the sleep from your eyes. “It’s way too early. The sun’s not even up yet! Why’re you awake?”

“I couldn’t possibly sleep,” he confesses, the words just spilling out, and he sounds ecstatically happy. “Not when Christmas is finally here. Aren’t you excited, Sister? Don’t you wish to see what Sandy Claws has brought us?”

Aren’t we a little old to believe in him still? you almost ask, but the question sticks in your throat when you notice the crimson speckled on Skully’s sweater vest. It stands out starkly against the white of his collared undershirt. Now you’re fully awake and worried. Very worried.

“Skully—”

“Come, come!”

He tugs at your arm, pulling the limp you from your bed. You allow yourself to be dragged like a ragdoll, led from the bedroom into the hall. The lights strung around the tree shine so brightly you can see their glow against the wall from the top of the stairs. His hand, cold and clammy, slides into yours. He’s always had a habit of clinging to you, of reaching for your hand, ever since the both of you were little. At your age now, it feels…weird. But his fingers are twining around yours and it’s impossible to pull away.

You descend the stairs with him and approach the sitting room. Dread pools in your stomach. You sniff at the air and choke on the acrid stench of iron.

“What is that?!” You pull your shirt up to your nose and attempt to yank away from him. “Skully, it smells gross.”

“No, it’s okay!” he assures, taking hold of your arm. A wobbly smile pulls his chapped lips apart. There’s a giddy mania spiraling in his orange eyes, and his voice lifts in pitch. His next words are spoken in a breathless ramble. “Just trust me. It’s a good gift. A great gift, really. You’ll see.”

You don’t want to see. Not when you spy a splash of liquid red staining the floor, peeking out at you from around the corner.

“Oh! Close your eyes. It’ll be a surprise!”

“Skully, I don’t want to. I… I don’t like surprises.”

“Oh, but this is a good one! I promise.” He squeezes your arm. “Please? You’ll like it.”

You doubt that, but his expression is so full of expectation that you give in with a sigh. Your eyes fall shut and Skully squeals in excitement.

“Wonderful! Allow me to escort you.” He sidles closer, his hands at your waist. “There… Just around this corner here. Oh, careful now. Watch your step.”

Your nostrils prickle at the intense smell. The path he leads you through is deliberate. You’re about to open your eyes, but then his large hands fall over them.

“Not yet! I haven’t done the count.” He inhales a steadying breath. It rattles in his throat. “O-Okay. One. Two… Three.” His fingers part and then the veil lifts. “Merry Christmas, Sister.”

Nothing could have prepared you for what you find lying in front of you. Amidst presents wrapped in glittering foils are the brutalized corpses of your parents. They’re sprawled in a smattering of blood. In fact, blood is everywhere—flecked on the curtains, on the few ornaments hanging from the lowest boughs of the tree, on the wallpaper. You’re not sure if you can even call such slaughter a simple murder. This was a slaying. An execution. You spy the deep gash carved into your mother’s throat and your hands fly to your own neck. A ghastly shriek pierces the air, practically torn from your lungs.

Skully flinches, panic twisting his kind, youthful features. “Oh! Oh, no, no! Don’t cry.” He takes hold of your head, sandwiching it between both of his hands—hands that so cruelly cut down your mother and his father. “Please don’t cry…”

“Oh, my… My God… You… Y-You killed them!”

You peek at your stepfather out of some stupid instinct to hope for the best, and another sob bubbles up when you realize he and your mother are truly dead. Unable to look upon such a grisly scene any longer, you stagger away and turn sharply on your heel. Bile tinges your tongue, but you quickly slap a hand over your mouth and swallow it down. Skully braces you before you can fall over, wrapping his long arms around you from behind.

“For you!” he insists. “I did it for you—for us, dearest sister! They… They were going to send me away. I couldn’t allow that! If we were to be separated… It would tear my heart apart.” He clutches you tighter as if you’re a teddy bear. “I tried to explain it to them—truly, I did—but they couldn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand. So I had to do it, (Name). I couldn’t allow them to send me away. You understand, don’t you?”

Gingerly, he wipes your tears away and then leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. When that doesn’t change anything, he frowns.

Seemingly inconsolable, you continue to bawl even though your throat is dry and your head is aching and your heart is hurting. He releases his hold on you enough for you to stumble away.

Ever the adamant one, Skully tries again. He takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips. You slide down the wall and he follows you, caging you in the corner.

“Dearest sister of mine, don’t cry…”

His hand cups your cheek next, and his thumb swipes at a stray tear.

“I’m here for you. Always.”

Your shadows are splayed against wallpaper striped with blood. His looms over yours, almost swallowing it whole. In green and red lights, your reflections caught in glass ornaments, Skully seals that promise with a press of his mouth to yours.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere rollo flamme #yandere rollo flamme x reader #yandere fellow honest #yandere fellow honest x reader #yandere skully j graves #yandere skully j graves x reader #tw: stepcest #n/sfw

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