Imagine your yandere boyfriend who happens to be a YouTuber, filming you your own personal videos while you’re away.
He’ll set up all of his filming equipment and look all pretty for you because nothing is too much when it’s for his darling away on a business trip. He’ll make sure the lighting is perfect, his hair is fixed, and the background looks nice because even if nobody else will ever see this footage, you deserve the effort.
And of course, he’ll tell you he loves you. He’ll talk about how much he misses you, how strange the house feels without you there, and how he can’t wait until you’re back. But he’ll never list the videos publicly. Never upload them. Never let anyone else see them. They’re yours, that’s the whole point.
His channel might have millions of viewers, but these little videos? These are just for his darling.
Sometimes he’ll record himself making breakfast, pretending you’re sitting across from him like you usually do, or he’ll film little updates about his day because he knows you like hearing all the small details. He’ll even start making gaming videos just for you, playing the games you enjoy and joking that he needs to keep you entertained while you’re away.
And if he notices you missing his voice?
Well… that’s when he starts making ASMR videos.
Nothing too complicated. Just him speaking softly, telling you about his day, reading something you like, or rambling about whatever comes to mind. He’ll laugh and say it’s silly, but secretly he loves the idea that you can press play whenever you miss him and hear him right there.
Because he knows his voice comforts you.
He keeps them unlisted in a playlist named ♡ Darling ♡, carefully dated so you can watch them in order.
When you finally come home, he practically tackles you into a hug before remembering something.
“Wait!”
He disappears into the other room, returning with a little handwritten card. You open it gently only to find a QR code of the special spicy little videos he saved for you to watch in the room next to his.
“I… um…”
He smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I made one every day while you were gone… So if you ever felt lonely… You could pretend I was right there talking to you.”
And if you tell him you watched every single one… He’ll spend the next business trip making twice as many. ♡
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Hi, could you write for Prince Valarr Targaryen where his wife is Aerion’s sister and is pregnant. Valarr is protective of her because he knows she doesn't have a good relationship with her brother, as she is one of the few people who goes against him or isn't afraid to stand up to him.
One day when she argues with Aerion, he pushes her, causing her to go into labor, she almost dies giving birth to her and Valarr’s son, he stays with her while she gives birth and refuses to leave her side till she gets better, and after that, he makes sure that Aerion understands that he can’t touch her.
Pd: I love your writing and I apologize if there's something bad written, English is not my first language
Burning Hearts of Dragons
Valarr Targaryen x wife!reader
warning: targcest, fluff, kissing, hurt/comfort, childbirth (blood), aerion is his own warning, no use of Y/n
Summary: Even the worst prince had another side, a sister who, even though she was his spitting image, had none of his destructive character. The princess became Valarr's wife, a marriage of love and contentment. Will the love between Valarr and his beloved withstand the ordeal of childbirth and bring new life into the world?
Word count: 2395
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
House Targaryen, even without their dragons, which they had lost in the fiery, bloody family feud, was once again strong, at least as far as the heirs and allied houses were concerned.
King Daeron and his wife Myriah had produced four sons, heirs who themselves fathered children over the years with women from other great houses.
Children who grew up to be princes and princesses and proudly displayed the dragon symbol, a dragon that was beautiful and graceful but also dangerous and deadly.
These characteristics are reflected in Maekar's second-eldest son Aerion and eldest daughter, who were only a few moons and suns apart in age.
They could have formed the heads of the dragon symbol, but instead they brought out the best and worst in the creature.
Aerion was full of arrogance, condescending towards everything that was not his own house and obsessed with pride, while his sister was kind, approachable, friendly, a princess who protected her subjects from her brother.
Until the moment when the princess was presented with her own knight, her own dragon, her cousin Valarr, the son of the crown prince, her father's brother.
Both were old enough to look for a marriage partner, and perhaps it was fate, perhaps it was the glances they always exchanged.
Or the fact that Valarr gave her every one of his tournament victories, that the princess's poems revolved only around her cousin.
The grace of the gods was that Aerion was too unrestrained to endanger his own sister, a marriage that ended in a catastrophic fire rather than an heir.
Whatever it was, the gods had seen them, the king had seen the fiery love, and in the blossoming spring months, House Targaryen announced the wedding.
“I swear to protect you forever with sword and shield for all time, my dearest” Valarr had said to her, the dark dress of their house matching the gold threads like fire on the clothing.
The golden brooch, two dragons flying around each other, symbolising their union. Valarr's hand was gentle as he took hers, his blue eyes full of devotion as he gave her the kiss of union.
“My heart and kindness belong only to you, my dragon” she replied, running her fingers through his dark hair. Touching the white strand in it, she heard him smile as the newlyweds turned to the crowd cheering them.
On this spring day, the dragon's fire seemed full of love as the young couple danced, songs were played and riches were distributed - for a moment, it seemed as if no grey existed.
A grey that stayed away from the celebration, as she had banished Aerion, her own brother, after his rude comment about her husband's appearance and the beating of a servant for a mistake.
The fiery violet eyes of two Targaryens met that evening when Aerion came closer to her than ever before. However, his threat was forbidden when their mutual father Maekar gave him a warning look and the prince left the hall cursing.
At the celebration, there was only laughter, happiness and love...a love that reached into the royal couple's bedchamber.
A love that was not just duty, it was the love that Valarr and she had in their grasp when she felt his hand on her side.
Her prince held her in his arms, safely cuddled together, knowing that they had each other, that their hearts belonged to each other.
~~~~~~~~~~
So much more arises from love.
From nights of togetherness, after suns and moons, the signs of life appeared as the princess's hurried footsteps echoed through the castle.
Her maids tried to follow her, but the old maester thought it was all happening too fast and they had long since lost him in the corridors until she opened the wooden door to the courtyard.
The wide square was bustling with activity, servants and stable boys busy with their tasks, stables full of horses, fabrics and goods being transported.
In the middle, on the training ground, she saw the dark hair and blue eyes of her husband, who was training her brother. “Valarr! My prince, I must see you immediately” she called as she crossed the courtyard, and the clanging of steel abruptly ended as her husband turned to her.
She saw the concern in his bright eyes as the sword fell heavily to the ground and his hands immediately held hers. “What is it, my dear? Has something happened?” he asked, full of concern.
No matter how much love there was between them, the bloom of youth was always vulnerable, and with a crown on his head as heir to the throne, anything could happen.
Reassuring him, she shook her head slightly, took his hand instead and placed it on her still flat stomach. Valarr followed her gaze and a breathless laugh followed as he took her in his arms.
“You’re with child? Our child?” he asked, and she let herself fall back into his arms, his kiss gentle and intimate as she confirmed it. “Yes, the maester just confirmed it, it will be a winter's baby” she explained and saw his smile grow even wider, the season in which they had shared their first kiss.
The season in which they had spent time together for the first time, the cool snow full of beauty as they rode out, shared a blanket and listened to each other in front of the fireplace in the evening.
A joy shared by the entire court, her family full of joy and relief, and her grandfather pulling her into a warm embrace when he heard about his first great-grandchild.
Everyone seemed to be happy – everyone except Aerion.
In the coming suns and moons, Valarr had a room specially furnished for them, and she and the other women of her house embroidered matching dresses and small emlen.
Valarr and she could hear a heartbeat earlier than expected, so everything seemed to be fine with the unborn child.
Her husband was always by her side, soon helping her with the stairs, dismounting from horses, and even at night it was he who handed her a cup of warm water and gently massaged oils onto her increasingly prominent belly.
“No matter what it will be, it is the best of us, your love and kindness and my ability... but what about my appearance?” Valarr openly told her of his concerns as she sat on the edge of the bed, her nightgown already on, while her beloved knelt before her.
His ear had been gently resting on her belly to hear any potential kicks and noises, which he shared with her, a little ritual they had started to do to bond.
Looking down at him, her hands slid over his dark hair, knowing what he meant, knowing that he didn't look like her, knowing that there were always rumours about him and his father.
She saw nothing but an outstanding fighter, full of ambition, with kindness and love for his soon-to-be family. “What does hair and eye colour matter, my dearest? Our child will be perfect and loved by us” she replied.
She stroked his dark hair, took his face gently in her hands and pulled him into a kiss. Let them all whisper, they were both loved and not feared. Love was stronger than hate...or her brother's madness.
A madness of the dragon that seemed to roar at the beginning of winter.
The maesters had told the princess that it would only be a matter of weeks, perhaps even days, depending on the baby's mood.
This news caused Valarr excitement and nervousness.
Not only were there extra guards everywhere, but also maids and helpers, all prepared for the arrival.
“The mother’s well-being comes before everything else” Valarr’s instruction had been clear and unambiguous, an instruction that even his father and uncle had followed…except Aerion.
Whether the princess wanted to go to her husband that day or to the library is lost in the stories, but what was clear was that she heard screams from her chamber.
“What’s going on here?” she cried out and threw open the door to find her private room ravaged as if a storm had raged through it.
Her weeping maid came towards her and she took her protectively behind her, “My princess, your brother,” the younger woman blurted out hastily.
In the midst of the chaos, dressed in bright red, stood her brother, “Get my husband and the guards” she ordered the younger woman, who immediately ran off, leaving the siblings alone.
But she could see that there was more than just anger in his eyes, more than usual, as she slowly approached him.
She placed her hand on his shoulder, “What has made you so angry, brother?” she asked, calmly, without intimidation.
Knowing that when he painfully grasped her hand, behind him lay a boy from childhood who was angry about the disappearance of the dragons, about his own situation as the second-born.
“You, sister! You and your husband, the child. I am the dragon!” Aerion raged, his light hair flying chaotically from his hasty movements, paper flying around as he kicked it and books landed in the fire.
Her own aversion now steeped in disgust, she tore her hand away. “You are a prince, brother, not a dragon. You would do well to look in the mirror instead of letting your pride guide you” she replied, looking down at him.
The bright velvety red shirt wasn't even properly buttoned, his hair was messy, and she could see the stains of wildfire on the fabric.
Words that her brother did not want to hear, not accepting the truth when he tried to grab her again, but she recoiled. “If it weren’t for our cousin, the crown and you would have been mine!” her brother shouted, and the metres between them flew by.
His own madness would consume him as she gathered her strength and pushed Aerion away, full of loathing and disgust.
The prince's crown already adorned one head; anything else would be foolish dreaming.
If he were different, perhaps she would have been born into another dream, but Aerion was a dragon who would burn himself in his own fire.
A stunned laugh escaped her lips as she looked at him stumbling backwards, “That's just the way it is! You are not Valarr, not my husband, you lack a heart, yours is full of scorched love” she said to him.
Giving him one last pitying look before turning away and hoping that the guards and their father would soon be here.
No sooner had the princess taken her first steps back into the corridor than Aerion pushed her forward, so hard and full of rage that she couldn't hold herself up and her scream echoed through the castle.
A scream of terror that turned to pain the moment it hit the floor as she clutched her stomach and felt the wetness between her thighs, wetness that, when she lifted her dress, she saw to her horror was blood.
“Ae-Aerion, help me...help me up” she said, her breath barely sufficient as she looked at him, her heart beating too fast as she saw the hatred in his eyes when her brother turned away from her without a word and left her alone in the hallway.
The minutes until Valarr and the guards found her seemed endless, the blood continuing to stain her body and clothes, the pain she recognised as she realised that the fall had triggered the birth process.
Valarr's calming yet panicked voice as he carried her as best he could into the Maester's room, clothes cut away, maids doing their best to care for the princess.
Her cry for her husband Valarr prompted him to take her hand.
“I know, darling, I won’t leave you, I’m with you” he reassured her, wiping her tear-stained cheeks and looking to the maester for help, who instructed her to push.
A process that made her existence even more unbearable, the nightgown bloody, the once white bed gradually turning redder in the minutes that followed.
“I-I can’t! Valarr, it hurts!” she screamed, clawing at his hand as her body tensed, barely able to do anything.
Her husband was told about the commotion in the chaos and was about to run off when she held him back.
“I-I need you, Valarr, please,” she pleaded as another wave of pain washed over her. A glance at the Maestar and the metal forceps in his hands told the prince that something was very wrong.
Valarr kissed her on the temple, the wet cloth trying to cool her down. “I’ll stay with you no matter what happens, but you have to be strong” he whispered to her as she clung to him.
The princess’s blood-curdling screams echoed through the castle as blood seeped through the mattress and her screams faded away.
The young woman's body sank into the pillows as the shrill cry of a baby could be heard...but all she heard was Valarr's worried calls to her as her eyes closed.
Her strength faded as the princess lost consciousness in her husband's arms, their little son, a prince whose blue eyes had a violet sheen. Light hair could be glimpsed on his head, with a dark streak, as Valarr held his son and remained at his wife's side.
Maesters and maids did their best to help the princess, but it was only when her husband placed the baby on her body that the woman seemed to regain her strength.
The connection between them, the fire of a family, as her eyes opened again and she looked into her son's little face.
“Thank the gods” she heard Valarr murmur as he gently cuddled her, the parents' hands holding the baby, who seemed as exhausted as his mother but relieved.
The kingdom had another prince, the king's first great-grandson, and while mother and son rested, it was said that Prince Aerion was being cared for by the Maestar after an accident while training with his cousin.
A mishap, a slipped sword and a painful stab, which made it clear that he would never touch his sister again.
For she was under the protection of her dragon Valarr, who would protect his little family with everything he had.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
masterlist
info: Hi anon! Thank you very much for the great request. I really like the idea, the whole dragon drama was nice to write, I hope you like it too :)
Summary: reader is friends with mob and twix at one point also being friends with Avery and Derlord. Anyways this was supposed to be on AO3
Mob had just finished adding a special area for you to live in, you were currently laying on your new bed waiting for Mob and Twixxel to come back home from mining with Verity. You were expecting them to come home with some diamonds, iron and some coal for the furnace. The front door swung open, you heard Verity and Mob arguing while Twix tried to settle them both.
“Verity! For the last time no! On god bro your pmo so bad!” Mob was pulling at his hood as Verity rolled beside him looking mad and irritated.
“All I was asking was if you knew her personally!” Verity was clearly trying to keep his chipper personality but it was slowly slipping from his control.
“Guys…please stfu…” Twix groaned hanging his sword and pickaxe up on the rack, Mob did the same while arguing with Verity who was nudging at his foot. You got up and walked down the stairs.
“You guys are back? It felt like forever you all were gone. Did you get anything good?” You asked pulling your hoodie over your head and adjusting it to fit properly. Heads snapped towards you when you spoke.
“No! We didn’t get anything good! Verity wouldn’t tell us where the diamonds were! We got stupid copper for you though” Mob rolled his eyes giving Verity a small kick causing him to roll at the bottom of the stairs in front of you. Your hands reached out to pick up the yellow sphere and hold him against your chest.
Your head tilted as you spoke. “Oh? Why did something happen?” You asked walking down towards them. Verity randomly became warm and maybe even a little anxious? He shivered a bit as Mob was about to speak but Twix cut him off.
“Yeah actually. These two idiots wouldn’t stop fighting.” Twix hit Mob over the head to shut him up. You looked down at Verity before up at Mob.
“What could you guys possibly be fighting over?” You sighed but it wasn’t like an annoyed sigh more of an “this again?” Sigh from a disappointed parent. It’s not like the two fought often just little things here and there after you came into the picture then they fought like every second week. Twix was about to speak up again when Mob shoved him to shut up which he did giving Mob a deep glare. You just sighed once again.
“Okay so first, thank you for the copper and second, both of you get lost and let me cook dinner with Twix.” You passed Verity to Mob who had a firm grip on Verity as some way to show that he was upset or like pissed off. Mob walked outside with Verity to the backyard garden to pick some vegetables so you and Twix could cook dinner.
Twix looked at you before crossing his arms. “I hope you know they were arguing over you again.” He took out all of the edible stuff he had in his bag onto the kitchen counters and started chopping them up with a kitchen knife. You stood beside him taking the chopped up vegetables and washing them off with cold water.
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I’m sorry for not posting much mama Kura has been working on ao3 and I’ve been losing motivation but I’m gonna make a comeback
HYBRID TIGER!YUJI AND SUKUNA TIGER BROTHERS FIGHTING OVER THERE SLEEPY OWNER
Cooley note: PART 2
Sukuna kicked Yuji again, trying to shove the other big cat off the bed as he cuddled up closer to you if that was even possible. He was practically in your skin.
“Back off, brat. They’re mine,” he growled, sharp fangs poking out like spears as he tried to scare off Yuji. It never worked; it only made Yuji pout like a little cub.
“[Name]! Kuna’s pushing me off the bed again! Tell him to stop!” Yuji pouted, his soft, puffy tail brushing against your nose. You let out a tiny yawn, trying to shift away from both of them.
“Sukuna, be nice to Yuji. Yuji, don’t fuss,” was all you managed before drifting off to sleep.
Just as you began to relax, they started tugging at you again.
“You’re supposed to share, you know!” Yuji growled something very unlike him, but Sukuna always brought out that side of him without even trying.
“The eldest gets first choice. Or did you forget that in the womb, brat?” Sukuna’s tail waved wildly, flicking against the bed and nearly whipping you in the face. His clawed hands wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his side, while Yuji’s softer hands tugged gently to bring you back to his.
“You’re being rude! I’ll tell Master!” Yuji argued.
“You think they can save your hide? Admit that you’re just a weakling,” Sukuna shot back.
Now the two brothers were going head-to-head while you suffocated under their orange and black fur and heavy bodies. All you wanted was a nap after work, but no this was what you got.
They pulled at you again, and you felt like you were being torn in two.
“Enough! Both of you out!”
Your two little tigers slunk out of the room, tails drooping.
“This is all your fault! If you knew how to share, this wouldn’t have happened!” Yuji hissed.
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Synopsis: He didn't understand your language, but somehow, you always found a way to speak directly to his heart.
Genre: Romantic, fluff, yearning in a different language.
Warning(s) ⚠️: None .
A/N: Phrases in italics are words spoken in a language other than English.
Being in a serious relationship for Jobe was far off on his radar, if not completely off it, so you could imagine everyone's surprise when not only did Jobe become a full-time boyfriend, but also the boyfriend of an extremely beautiful foreigner.
It was true; there were so many things about you that opposed Jobe's nature. Your culture was loud, beautiful, rich, and very intriguing, which, in return, shaped you into the woman you are today. And even though you had different views, different tastes, and an entirely different language from his, all these differences were the things that made Jobe feel like you were his home, his safe place.
And Jobe, well... Jobe was quiet and an introvert by nature, but that did not halt his curiosity about you and your culture and how it impacted you to become the wonderful woman you are today. And one of the many curiosities he found himself lost in... was your language.
Your mother tongue did something to him every time you uttered it - confidently when you were working or studying, playfully when talking to your friends, warmly when you were talking over the phone to a family member he knew you missed, and mostly... passionately when you talked or sang to him in it.
Even though he did not understand a single word, he could almost swear that he knew what you were talking about... from the look in your eyes, to your soft voice, to your lips.
It was maddening. He was head over heels, and there was no stopping it now.
Right now, he was sitting on your bed, upper body resting on his right elbow, with no shirt on, sock-clad feet planted on your soft carpet, long fingers scrolling through his phone as you sat down on the floor in front of your floor-length mirror.
You were heading out to have lunch with your girlfriends and, for some unknown reason to Jobe, you were very comfortable doing your makeup near the mirror on the floor. He didn't mind one bit.
It was a hell of a view. He felt as if he was looking into a piece of you without any pretense.
You were sitting, legs bent to the side on the floor, covered by a silk skirt that lay elegantly around you, with a slit that showed a good amount of skin, and a tank top hugging your curves perfectly.
Your playlist was playing on the phone beside you on the floor. The songs were mostly English; however, your mood entirely changed when this one song began to play.
It was in your native language.
Jobe's eyes slowly traced your figure, your upper body unconsciously moving slowly to the beat, before his gaze landed on your face, watching every word you uttered and every reaction you made to the song as if performing to an audience.
Him.
He was your audience, and would gladly always be, he thought.
He could tell that it was a love song. It had to be. The way your eyebrows frowed slightly as you sang the opening quietly, then your facial expression softened as your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks before your eyes found his through the mirror, mouthing the words shyly as if, if he ever understood the meaning, you'd die of embarrassment.
Not because the lyrics were filthy, but because they were full of love and passion.
The way you caught yourself immersed in the song made you smile shyly before looking down. With your upper body still moving to the beat that now took off, you focused back on applying your lip gloss.
Seconds later, you slowly got up from the floor, your skirt sliding down smoothly to cover what was uncovered, and you kept mouthing the words passionately.
Jobe was focusing closely now that he had put his phone down.
You kept swaying to the music in front of the mirror when, all of a sudden, it slowed to a part that seemed to hold both of you in a trance.
Jobe's breath caught for a second when he found you standing in front of him.
One knee rested between his thighs while you stood on the other, soft hands resting on the back of his neck as you looked deeply into his eyes, now actually singing the verse.
And he could swear that his heart stopped for a second because something about the way you sang it while looking deeply into his eyes made him want to stay like that forever.
Whether you're far away or next to me, you're still on my mind.
The wind coming from the window moved a few stray hairs, making you look even more ethereal in his eyes as he looked up into yours while you continued the verse.
And no matter where you are, I always see you, and no matter who I am with,... my love, my heart will always belong to you.
The slow part ended, then the song picked up its pace again, sadly pulling you away from him as you danced, jumped, and twirled around.
A huge smile was stuck on his face, his heart thumping loudly.
He could never understand how he couldn't comprehend a word from what you sang, yet still feel the heat and passion of every letter uttered on your glossy lips and spoken through your soft, loving gaze.
The song was sadly over.
He desperately wanted to ask you what you were singing to him, but unfortunately for him, the girls called to let you know that they were waiting in the car.
You got off the phone and turned to him.
"Gotta go, Babe. I'll miss you for those few hours."
You pecked his lips a few times.
He was still in a trance since you sang to him, making him hum only in response.
God, was he obsessed.
He kept looking at your lips, waiting for a translation, anything. Maybe even for you to sing that same part to him again, but nothing came from your end.
So he swallowed hard and squeezed your hips gently.
"Don't be gone for too long."
He nuzzled his face into your neck, smelling your perfume before planting small kisses there, making you shiver since you felt ticklish.
"Okay."
You kissed him again before pulling away to take your bag and head towards the door.
You blew him a kiss before closing the door behind you.
Jobe exhaled loudly, rubbed his hand against his face, then fell hard onto the bed, closing his eyes as he replayed the song in his head.
Seconds later, his phone lit up with a message.
His face broke out into a wide grin accompanied by a blush.
"Far away or next to me,"
Then came another text.
"You're still on my mind,"
"And no matter where you are, I always see you,"
Then another.
"And no matter who I am with, my love, my heart will always belong to you."
"That was what I was singing. Hope you can rest now knowing what it means 😉"
Well, now that this part was translated, Jobe did not rest one bit, because if that was one part of the song, then what was the rest saying?
And that's what motivated Jobe even more to learn your language, because what do you mean his girl had been yearning for him in her language all this time, and he hadn't even understood what she was trying to say?
Reader!mother X Yandere Batfamily X neglected! Y/n daughter
Prologue : You die remembering you had been reborn and lived as the mother of the neglcted Y/n Wayne from the popular fanfic troupe of Neglected! Reader & Yandere Bat family. After painstaking cursing them in your ghost form, you end up back in time before it all happened. What joy!
<- Prologue // Next ->
Chapter 1 :
The pan sizzled as the cooking oil was poured over the surface, the shell of the egg cracked under the two hands, landing in a bowl with chopped spring onions, olives and mushrooms.
The smell of spices rose as the omelette was plated with two sausages on the side. You hummed, placing the food to look like cute characters in a book. Your daughter would love this.
“ Sweetie, food's ready!”
Tiny footsteps rang through the apartment, becoming louder and louder followed by your daughter's excited sound. You chuckled, eyeing the discarded toys in the other room, with hands over your waist.
Oh well, the kid can clean up after eating.
“ Mommy!” She said, with a huge smile that stretched her mouth far and wide. She resembled a sunshine, you thought.
“ Did you wash your hands?” You said, eyeing her. She shook her whole head. “ Yes!”
“ Alright, take a seat honey.”
Your daughter noded and began to eat.
You smiled, sitting on the other end of the small round table, seemingly lost in thought. The sound of cutlery clicked as she used a fork to pick a sausage and bit into it.
It had been three days since you woke up. A decade of your daughter's future being by the side of your ghost.
You picked up your own fork and knife.
Your mind still hadn't adjusted. Headaches were constant since you woke up. The manager was an old lady, who had granted you two days leave after you talked her over.
Since then, you'd been planning.
You've looked at the dates, checked the newspaper, searched for housing and rent online, tapped into your saving account and even kept tabs on the allusive billionaire.
Bruce Wayne.
The newspaper was cripped over the counter, seemingly abandoned, dating back to yesterday's news. He'd just adopted his new kid. Tim drake.
The child of the late Drake family that was kidnapped and murdered by joker. It had made the headline, causing more panic among the elite.
It was laughable really. Living in Gotham was a death sentence, was it really a surprise someone died? You scoffed inwardly, slicing the omelette.
Eight children living under his Guardianship,and he still couldn't give your daughter love until she'd left and moved on.
Classic of him to ruin lives. Your fork stabbed the sausage on your plate.
“ Mommy.” The child like voice rang. You blinked, looking back at your daughter who'd stopped eating.
Her eyes were wide, shoulders hunched and arms still. She asked with furrowed brows, “Is the food bad.”
“ W-Why would you think that honey?”
She pointed with her hand. “ You haven't eaten a bite yet.”
You glanced over, the food infront of you was cut and passed around. Completely different from how you'd so painstakingly decorated it and made it look decent.
“ I'm sorry sweetie.” You said, using the fork and biting into a huge chuck of omelette and sausage. You smiled, “ Mommy was a little lost in her thoughts. Let's eat together, alright?”
“ Okay !” She said, resuming her eating.
The prick remained in your chest as you watched her eat. Her eyes looked bright, the cheeks full and soft, smile not having faded. Just how much had those bastards ruined this child.
Your hand tightened into a fist.
Years, years of torment and neglect.
If it were up to you now, you'd have left Gotham by now. But like every other American state and city, the debt and house rent was crippling.
You'd just have to find some way out.
The breakfast ended with no other occurrences.
You stopped out with your daughter, dressed in her uniform ready to head to school. Her bag pack jittered as she jumped while walking.
You smiled following her.
Y/n , my daughter.
—- – —-
“ Master Dick.”
The older professional voice carried through the stiff halls of the Mansion, dark and echoing with pain. Pieces of glass and furniture remained scattered over the ground, broken with shards sharp, frisk.
The figure was over the ground, black hair covering the eyes, shoulders depressed, chest rapidly moving up and down. He sat at the centre of a pool of shards, some stabbing into his own skin.
He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again ready to say something before shutting it again.
Alfred slowly walked closer and bent down, hand patting the back with gentle strokes. The wrinkles under the eyes and the forehead fully creased. “Please son, you're bleeding. ”
Dick's teeth bit into his own lips, digging nails deep into his thigh. His voice came out hoarse, barely a mummer. “Jason was bleeding too.”
The arm over his back stopped in its movements before resuming it's action. There was nothing left to be said. Alfred gently lifted the boy from the ground and brought him to the sofa, carefully avoiding the shards.
His hands carried the first aid box, moving with decades of experience and desperation. Dick remained passive, not responding.
His eyes remained on the book sitting over the table.
Pride and prejudice.
The first copy with signature.
The one… Jason cherished.
His hand leaned in forward, stopped and returned back to his side. His blue eyes hazy as Alfred did the final bandage around his shoulder.
“W-Why…didn't he tell me,Alfred?” he shot.
“ Why did Bruce keep it away from me? Why did have to be Jason who died. ”
His blue eyes searched for something. A word, anything that could explain why his brother was six feat under and not by his side.
Alfred's neck moved up and he met the boy's eyes. The emotion in them resembled one a boy two decades ago, the ambulances voice in the background was frozen into his memories.
“ I'm sorry.” he said, pressing his palm over the boy's shoulder.
The laughter of a fifteen year old boy would never echo again. Dick knew that from the moment he stepped back on earth and felt the air to be different. More suffocating, more bloody, more pained.
A/n: After much thoughts, I decided to make this a series since you guys requested it . I'll try to update this more regularly than my long and short series. So leave me a comment or something of love for motivation! Been lacking it these days lol. 🙃
