Equals - Yae Miko X Kitsune!Male!Reader
Equals - Yae Miko x Kitsune!Male!Reader
A/N: Something experimental today. It's an idea I've been sitting on for quite a while now. If you want to, I'll make more. Enjoy. CW: Mentions of abuse and dubious consent, discrimination, societal misoginy (kitsune culture and stuff), objectification, sexism and the aftermath of life under these. For context - a female fox is called a 'vixen', and a male is called a 'dog'.
The era of Kitsune is long gone.
Taking a stroll through modern Inazuma, one would never believe that there were once as many youkai as there were humans living on the islands. Tengu, Oni, Bake-Danuki and among them, the ascended foxes - Kitsune. As their demonic fellows, they too had an island to call their own, one that has now been swallowed by the sea for centuries. There, Kitsune created a nation of their own, their hearth, their home. Alongside with houses and streets, they quickly formed a culture that would echo for millennia, right until the fall.
Many elements of it leaked to the general heritage of Inazuma - the festive masks are one such example, followed by the entirety of ritual practice carried out within the shrines scattered across the land. After all, it's the very reason why a kitsune traditionally stands at the helm of the Grand Narukami Shrine. The same is the case of fox warriors - never has history witnessed a dog lead units of his kin or other peoples to war, at least not one that isn't an exceptional, legendary character of some kind. The reason for this state of things is not easy to find as few cultural sources remain, but scholars did not give up on their research. They sought the input of Yae Miko, one of the only Kitsune remaining in Inazuma, who gave them a simple answer - males are very rare. Satisfied, they placed her answer in the books, and the discussion was closed.
But Yae Miko, as is customary for the current Guuji, kept the truth for herself. In truth, she decided to conceal it because it's an aspect of her kind that she is anything but proud of, even if she never took part in it. What was ordinary for foxes in their nation's prime would be unacceptable even for humanity of that age.
There happen to be two ways a Kitsune is created. Primarily, it's through the union of two ascended foxes - a kit conceived this way is immortal and sapient from the beginning, gaining the ability to transform in just a few years of life. Even with a single birth usually resulting in three to six newborn foxes, dogs are rare, with one being born in every fourth or fifth litter on average. The second way of creation doesn't favor them either - so far, there have only been a handful of wild dogs that lived long enough to become ascendants, further reducing the introduction of males into the population. Luckily, evolution had it that those rare men welcomed into the world were incredibly resilient to illnesses and injuries, even by Kitsune standards, letting them live and spread their genes for generations to come. With the proper approach, the Kitsune weren't in any way threatened with extinction.
As is commonly observed by historians, culture reflects the nature of a species, and such is the case for Kitsune. Over the years, the female-dominated society came to a simple conclusion: males are rare and must be protected. This prime example of a logical takeaway soon led to another, less egalitarian idea - something human researchers would refer to as infirmatus sexus, observing such inequalities in some cultures of their own. Kitsune believed that males must be protected, yes, but thought of them as inferior in intelligence and overall wit, as they rarely ascended from the wild. The vixen majority had no issue with this idea and the society turned matriarchal, increasingly more restrictive towards the men. But it was justified, in their eyes - they were required to prolong the species, right? As time went by, so did the objectification of the male sex progress ever further.
Before the fall, society was based around large family units - lines ruled over by the oldest vixen, referred to as the matriarch. Beneath her were others - first, her own daughters, followed by those of her predecessor, then their offspring and finally, at the lowest rung, the foxes that just stood up from four paws. Dogs were not subject to this hierarchy, as they were dispensed with as objects with a clear owner - usually the matriarch. She had the right to mate with him, and when a change of power came, so too did the patriarch - usually switched for a younger male from another family, the further, the better. Similarly, male kits stayed with their father (raised, of course, under the careful scrutiny of the vixens) until they were of breeding age to be pawned off to another lineage for political favor, land, rights or simply cold, hard currency.
Dogs that were too old to produce offspring or simply infertile were disposed of, in ways more or less kind, depending on who happened to own them. The majority got to stay as authorities for the youth and priests, and those with no luck were sold to slavers or human poachers.
You were born into one such lineage on the fringes of the nation. You still recall the drawings of your infant self - an adorable pup with a pristine but messy white coat, two little ears pointing out, greedily taking in the sounds of the world. Allegedly, you had four sisters, though you never seem to recall their names. The first memories of young Y/N were primarily centered around your father - a towering, muscular fox with a gleam of wit in his eyes and grey eating away at his own fur. Despite his young age and fitting appearance, you always saw him as wise and ancient - maybe because of the hair, darkened by stress and exhaustion. He was cynical at times, but loving nonetheless. One of the fondest memories you had was when he would lift a panel from the floor and let you run free in the forest outside. There were rules of course - don't let anyone see you and come back before the first rays of sun. You enjoyed your time of unsupervised play, chasing squirrels and exploring the woods, always coming back through the same crawl space before it dawned. Your father would wash all the dirt off and send you to sleep with a warm hug, asking you to keep quiet about your adventure. Of course, you nodded along, but being a kid created the inevitability of a slip up. After you mentioned it to your female playmate once, you were taken away from that house and never saw it again.
You don't know what became of your father. You didn't even get to know his name.
The new house was larger, and so were the girls inside. While you didn't like playing with vixens at home - there was always an adult watching and you would get relentlessly berated for injuring yourself even in the slightest - you at least had somebody to have fun with. There, you had nothing. Lady Matsui, your owner and wife-to-be, simply had you locked in a room with books and toys to get yourself busy in the few free moments you had. You hated it there, but any mention of it would get one of the toys you had taken away. Any sign of disobedience to your caretakers, especially during exercise or classes, would get you punished. Matsui didn't seem to have patience for you, and was constantly complaining; she wanted a husband with red fur, not white fur. You were simply a temporary solution, and by the end, you would have all her deepest fantasies memorised. You were never part of them - as she said, you shouldn't get too attached. You were to be replaced shortly, after all. At least the food was alright.
Years went by and it was clear that Matsui would have to begrudgingly accept you as her permanent husband. She didn't take it lightly at first, but after a time of angry outbursts and drinking, she had a sudden change of heart. “If I'm to own you”, she said, “I should at least train you properly”. And trained you were, both physically and in mind. Your free time was reduced to null and your days became dedicated to working out and studying. Sometimes the two were mixed - you had to recite the rules while doing push-ups. Good boys always sleep at night. Good boys thank their mistress for food. Good boys always listen. Good boys never question what they are told. Then, you were served unsalted, nutritious foods. Raw vegetables, slightly cooked meat, plain rice and raw fish made up your diet - all natural, as your Lady wanted. All tasteless. Any fussing, talking back, crying, making mistakes or disobeying would quickly put you in the punishment room. She would slap a bamboo cane on your hands and butt until you were red, sore and bleeding, she would make you kneel on small rocks or sit up the wall for hours, sometimes she would whip you. “Military discipline”. All the while she constantly announced her displeasure with your existence.
No matter how muscular you were made to be, it was never enough. So your diet was changed, shrinking endlessly to meet her impossible standards. No matter if you were tall, it was always too short for Matsui. So you were made to hold on to a bar with rocks tied to your ankles to stretch you out. Your knees still hurt sometimes, the skeletal deformations made permanent by this regular exercise. No matter how much stamina you had, you always ended mating too early. So you were trained, day and night, forced to perform through pain, distress and exhaustion. Sometimes Matsui had balls or parties held at her estate, and you were the main entertainment. You would dance, sing and play any instruments they wanted, but your wife and her friends were never there for your artistic skills in the first place. Your cries, moans and screams were much finer. Now that you think about it, her friends were likely never allowed to mistreat the dogs of their houses, so they took out their frustrations and carried out their wildest fantasies on you - without consequences. They were smaller, they were lighter, they were physically weaker than you, and yet you couldn't defend yourself. It would only make things worse - far worse if you did. You felt filthy. You felt humiliated. Afterwards you cleaned yourself frantically, but the feeling of their hands on you never faded.
You ended up rubbing so hard that your body bled.
You became a reclusive, quiet fox. Saying anything more than what was expected of you usually ended up badly, so you decided it's better to just stay silent. Taking your punishments and abuse with silent resignation was the only way of survival - without entertaining whimpers and pleading, Matsui and her vixens quickly grew bored of you. Instead of releasing your pain in front of them, you resorted to crying silently in your room, screaming without making a sound in the moonlight. You did all the things every male did - trained, ate, rested, had sex, attended events as a decoration and primarily - mated. Unlike your father, you never had the chance to raise pups. The female kits were always under the care of the vixens, and you didn't have the luck to sire any sons - for which you were always berated and beaten by your owner, even when she was pregnant. To her, she said, you were useless. Worthless. Even as a breeder. Still, despite not being able to hold your children in your arms, you did your best to learn of them. Some of your caretakers were kind enough to let you know their number and names. You diligently noted these details on a piece of paper, writing the names you would give your daughters if you could. Naomi. Ai. Juri. Kana. These and many more were the only connection you had to your little ones.
It was the only good thing you left behind when you got the chance to flee.
Internal rivalry between daughters, sisters and mothers was commonplace, so much so that it sometimes evolved into internal wars - you made use of one. Matsui made quite the negative reputation for herself, not just by mistreating you, but by cheating other families. They were out for blood, and although they wanted to steal you away for themselves, Matsui’s heirs decided that you deserved a chance. Once the fighting broke out, they took you away, threw you on a small boat you had no idea how to pilot and kicked you out to sea.
It was hardly pleasant at the moment, but you would always thank them for taking pity on you after you landed in Inazuma. In the human nation of thunder, everything felt foreign. It was a bigger island, with long stretches of empty fields between sparse human settlements. These smaller, mortal creatures were quite the nuisance to you - although you saw a few traders in your life, you never got to take a closer look. But, instinctually, you know that stumbling into the view of a human guard was a mistake. You ran away and tried to hide amongst the jagged cliffs near the island's largest mountains, but you had unknowingly walked right into the hands of another, pink haired vixen.
Your arrival in Inazuma was noticed instantly. After all, humans haven't seen a fox other than Yae Miko for a few centuries now. When she initially heard the news, she couldn't believe it - definitely, it was just another poorly-observed monster, or a mere trick of the light. But she still wanted to confirm that rumor, and the moment she saw a white pair of ears amongst the usual crowds of Inazuma City, she had a single thought - to catch you. Snatch you right up in a net, for whatever silly, selfish reason, if only to touch you and ensure you were real. It wasn't a surprise for her that you panicked and hid as quickly as you showed up - you had reasons to believe your freedom would be unwelcome. Finding you was barely a challenge for her nose, and with the help of a few shrine maidens, you were captured and brought back to her residence.
What an incredible sight, you were. Definitely one for very, very sore eyes - Miko has long since abandoned the hopes of finding a partner of her own species and having a litter, which definitely contributed to her cynicism and general exhaustion with life. But here you were, real and in the flesh. An actual dog. A handsome, muscular dog. Soon enough, however, Miko's initial excitement dwindled and the factual gravity of things reached her senses. In front of her, curled on the floor, was a dirty, underfed, terrified creature. For somebody that, in the post-cataclysm circumstances of human society she was born into, would shake every room he would enter, you were frightful and quiet. You needed proper care, so Miko announced you would be staying with her until further notice. She then rolled up her sleeves and got to work.
There was no doubt that you could understand her, and speak by extension, but you were significantly suspicious of her. Surely, she would want to chain you down again, you thought. She might even be worse than Matsui for all you know. Each meal she offered could contain one of these strange powders they made you eat when you were misbehaving, putting you to sleep and letting her do Archons-know-what to you. So you pushed the bowl away, and her alongside it. You had to stay strong.
—
She takes the handle into her hands and, as gently as she can, pushes it down. The room before her is bathed in darkness, but her eyes pierce through it without issue. The matches she left on the table are untouched.
What a surprise, she muses.
From the moment her foot stepped over the threshold, there has been a pair of eyes boring into her frame. Miko casts a discreet glance towards the bedside corner. The resting spot itself was stripped of everything besides the mattress, now placed into a cozy nest of blankets and pillows in the safest spot in the room, the point furthest away from the door. From there your E/C surveyed Miko's every move. A part of her couldn't hold a smile. The unfortunate circumstances aside, it was quite adorable.
“Good evening.” Miko says, picking up a candle from the shelf. She puts the plate of food she brought on the table and lights it, illuminating the space with a warm, flickering light. Placing the candle close to herself, she looks directly your way.
There is no response. Your eyes continue staring at her, unblinking.
No luck just yet. But I clearly have his attention, at the very least.
A sigh escapes her lips. Miko takes the plate and steps a bit closer to you. “You clearly don't trust me. I can assure you I mean you no harm, and that I won't do anything against your wish, but I bet you want to see for yourself. And while that is alright, I doubt you will get to, the way things are going now.” She crouches down, placing it on the wooden floor. “You must have been through a lot, but please, you need to eat. I don't know what you enjoy the most, so I feel like this is the right place to start.”
Again, you remain still. Up close, Miko can see the blank expression on your face, dirty with mud, sweat and dried blood. Miko rolls her eyes, but manages to silence the groan of frustration before it forms. By no stretch of the imagination was she the best person to take you in, but if not her, then who?
Do you want to be difficult? Fine then. Two can play at that game.
“Alright then. Suit yourself - if you don't feel like helping yourself to this positively scrumptious meal, I will.” Miko takes the single pair of chopsticks she brought in her hands and lifts a piece of sushi from the plate up to her mouth. She hums ostensibly, enjoying the taste of cold-smoked salmon.
Something moves in the darkness. Your ears are fully up and pointed her way, like radar dishes picking up every crunch and smack of her lips. The plump, snow white rice and the bright orange salmon exude a tempting smell, reminding you of just how hungry you are. If she eats it without problem, then you should be fine too…
You slowly creep forward, the blankets and pillows around you silently falling as you stretch your aching arms and legs. Miko pretends not to notice you, but in reality her ears tell her exactly what's going on. She observes as your hand emerges into the light, your eyes never leaving her figure. Her sharp eyes instantly notice how chewed your fingers are, with no white nail to see. You snatch the piece of food and sniff it. After making sure it's alright, you bite into it. The delightful taste of well-seasoned rice and real, fresh fish lights up your senses.
You reach for another. And another. And another. Before long, Miko is pushed back in your priority list and you sit in front of her, wolfing down the food straight off the plate in her hands. The vixen smiles.
Finally, you're eating. It might not be much, but it's a start. You are just like a stray cat, aren't you? Scared, neglected and mistreated. Afraid of every shadow.
She delights in watching your ears tremble under the speed of your eating.
Such a cute creature. Who would ever want to hurt you? Certainly not me. Miko tilts her head. I wonder if I can…
“Thank you for the meal.”
Your sudden words make her pause. She never once doubted you could speak, but at the same time she didn't expect you to open up at something as simple as food. It was important nonetheless - if you spoke once, it would be just a matter of time before you speak again. And then she could learn everything about you. Who you are, what you like, and most importantly, who hurt you.
“Do not mention it, little one.” She slowly stretches out her hand towards you. “May I?”
You stop eating for a second before bringing your nose closer to her hand. It smells like salmon. You return your attention to the delicious sushi on the plate.
With a hum of satisfaction, she places her hand between your ears. They fold to the sides, making way for her. Miko rubs her hand over your grimy, brownish fur. It was white once, for sure, but now that colour is just barely showing in places. No worries - she would wash you and make sure your coat will return to its undoubtedly splendid layer.
“I'm here. It will be alright.”
There's a long road ahead of us. But you won't have to walk it alone, dear.
Thanks for reading!
More Posts from Mitsukii-07 and Others
hi!
saw you're looking for request!!! maybe jackie taylor x f reader? pre-established relationship!
readers part of the teammmm. she's pretty much on jackies side the entire time everytime the girls start to be mean or disrespectful and all to jackie. when jackie goes outside after the fight, r goes to follow but jackie ask to be alone for a bit. she reluctantly agrees, but goes in and out of sleep the entire night, taking a few seconds each time to look at jackie. at one point she sees jackie in the snow and races to get her. jackies pretty much almost dead but r gets to her in time!
the other girls hear the commotion as she brings jackie in. everyone's in the living room, no one slept in the attic (for drama purposes I suppose lmao). r takes jackie to the fireplace and basically tells the other girls to screw off:p
hope this one is good! and thank u!!!
— looking out for you | jackie taylor
| w.c : 915 / request status : open ! |
Jackie stood outside, her breath a cloud of mist in the dark, the remnants of her argument with Shauna still echoing in her ears.
“I’m sure everyone back home is so fucking sad to be losing their perfect little princess, but they’ll never know how tragic, and boring, and insecure you really are. Or how high school was the best your life was ever gonna get.”
Is that really how Shauna felt? Is that how she’s been feeling the entire time they’ve been friends? After all those years?
You had been watching her from the window as everyone else slept, your heart aching for her.
You knew what it was like to feel like an outsider, to be cast aside, but for Jackie, it was something different. She had been there before, at the top of the social hierarchy, but after the crash, everything changed. She felt alone. She knew she wasn’t any good out in the wilderness, that she wasn’t much help, but it still hurt to see her teammates, her friends, pushing her aside.
When the argument erupted, you had stood up to Shauna in Jackie’s defense—you were always by her side. When the others turned their backs on her, you didn't.
You saw past her facade. You understood the girl beneath the perfect smile. Jackie was struggling, and no one else was willing to help her through it. But you were.
So when she left the cabin, you knew you had to follow. But Jackie, stubborn as ever, refused and said, "Look—I appreciate you coming out here, but I really need some time alone."
It was clear from her voice that she needed space. And despite every instinct telling you to chase after her, to hold her, you nodded, swallowing your concern. "Okay. I'll be inside if you need me."
You couldn't sleep longer than thirty minutes at a time after that. The tension in your chest was too much. You tossed and turned in your makeshift bed on the floor, staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind outside. Every time you shut your eyes, a fragment of Jackie's face lingered—her hurt, her frustration, her vulnerability. It was impossible to escape.
After hours of restlessness, you gave up and went back to the window, your eyes scanning for Jackie. And there, in the distance, you saw her. Asleep in the … snow?
Holy shit, it snowed. It snowed and Jackie was still outside.
Without thinking, you bolted out the door. The cold air was harsh against your skin, but you didn’t care.
You had to get Jackie inside. Fast.
By the time you got to her, she was barely conscious. Her face was pale, lips tinged blue, and her body was stiff with the cold. Her breathing was shallow, each exhale looking like a struggle. Panic surged through you as you knelt beside her, your hands trembling as you gently shook her.
"Jackie, Jackie, hey!" You pleaded, trying to wake her. Her eyes flickered open, and for a moment, she looked confused. Dazed.
You heard her murmur something, but couldn’t make it out. You gathered her up in your arms, lifting her carefully, her body limp against yours.
The other girls were gathered in the living room, having woke up when they heard you rush outside, their murmurs dying down as you burst through the door, panting and carrying Jackie. They all turned to look at you, but you didn't give them a chance to speak.
"Get out of the way," you snapped, urgency in your voice. "She's freezing, and I don't have time for any of you right now."
Shauna opened her mouth to say something, but you shot her a glare that stopped her cold. She knew you were serious.
You took Jackie over to the fireplace, gently setting her down on the floor. You grabbed a couple blankets, wrapping them around her. The fire crackled, the heat slowly starting to seep into her frozen body.
Jackie's breathing was still shallow, but at least now it was steady. You sat by her side, holding her against you.
"She's going to be fine," you muttered more to yourself than anyone else, trying to reassure yourself as much as you were Jackie.
Shauna stepped closer and crouched down, trying to take a look at Jackie.
“Jackie? I’m really sorry about—”
“Oh, shut up, Shauna! Don’t act like you care now. If she was out there any longer, she would’ve been dead, and it would’ve been your fault! All of you need to seriously just fuck off and give her some space.”
The room went silent and everyone took in your words. Shauna was stunned, but didn’t need to be told twice. She backed away and gestured for the others to follow her.
Wherever they went didn’t concern you, all that mattered to you now was that you and Jackie were finally alone.
You turned back to Jackie, brushing a lock of hair from her face, your heart aching at the vulnerability that was so apparent.
"You're safe now... I'm not leaving you."
The warmth from the fire began to bring some color back to her cheeks, and her gaze flickered up to your eyes, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles.
"Thanks," she whispered, her voice raspy but full of gratitude.
You squeezed her hand gently. "You don't have to thank me. I'm always going to be here for you, whether you want me to be or not."
———————
A/N : my first time writing for yellowjackets ! i hope i did ur request justice , anon 😓 ! also , sorry if the double spacing bothers anyone, i mainly just do it when i’m writing so i can read easier while proofreading! if i don’t do it , my brain mixes the words together and i lose track of where i’m at :’|
it was cool nothing fire nothing broke
Your male reader gave me ideas. 👀👀👀
Sooo how about a soul painter make reader. Soul painter are like people who can see one’s soul and their painting is creation itself. They give their paintings life, a soul. You can hear what they draw, if they drew the forest, you can hear birdsongs and such.
So why a male? Because I feel it would hit harder. Captain America reader? Well the batfam disliked him cause he was weak right? So I thought soul painter reader would be disliked because he was unmanly. And him painting doesn’t help. (This was before Damian. They never held affection for reader so they won’t be loved like Damian)
Well maybe this reader seemed out their affection as a child but as they grew older (14 or something) they decide money is more important and start stealing a little every day. (Who would notice $100 disappear every day from a billionaires house?)
Well $100 every day would be a crazy amount in like a year or two. ($36 500 a year). They would run off with a scholarship to an art school in Paris with the money and flourish. (of course he’s the main character)
Well Damian arrives at the mansion and he likes art so they mention reader likes art and he can talk to them about it. Damian would have already spent some time w the batfam and mellowed out so tries to find reader to talk about his fav artist (reader of course lol). He doesn’t find reader and asks the batfam about it.
Panic. MUAHAHAHAHHA anyways as they try to find reader, Damian mentions his fav artist (reader) and they go- oh my god so this is where he went???
They called him soft.
Delicate. Too emotional. Too quiet. A boy who painted when he should’ve trained. A dreamer in a world of soldiers.
He was born into the Batfamily, adopted with distant nods and cold shoulders. Bruce took him in, but never really saw him—saw the paint under his fingernails and thought waste of potential. Dick was busy, Jason didn’t care, Tim thought he was weird, and the girls? Distant. Dismissive. Not cruel, but not kind either.
So he tried to earn it—their affection. Little scribbles left on their desks, small paintings he poured his soul into. They were beautiful, too. Breathtaking. Magical. You could hear the laughter in the park scenes, feel the warmth of the sun in his golden brushstrokes. He thought maybe they’d see the beauty in him.
They didn’t.
So, at fourteen, he stopped trying.
He started stealing instead.
$100 a day. Nothing too noticeable, not in a mansion where money leaked from the walls. He found a scholarship—an elite art school in Paris. And with his stolen savings and heart packed in a sketchbook, he left Gotham behind.
No goodbyes.
Years pass.
Damian Wayne arrives at the manor, blade-sharp and broken in all the ways a child assassin is. The family braces for impact—but then he picks up a paintbrush.
He loves art. Finds peace in it. And one day, over tea, Alfred mentions, “You know… you might’ve liked the boy who used to live here.”
Damian pauses. “Used to?”
“Your brother. He was an artist too.”
“…Was?”
The family stiffens.
Damian, curious and persistent as always, asks more questions. He’s been mellowed by the manor, by Alfred’s warmth and Dick’s guidance. And now he’s hunting down an artist he’s obsessed with—the anonymous painter whose work is taking the Parisian underground by storm. His name? Just one word.
Réalité.
His paintings aren’t just seen—they’re experienced. Forests where you can hear birdsong, oceans with crashing waves, lullabies captured on canvas. They don’t just evoke emotion—they are emotion. Damian wants to meet him. Wants to learn from him.
And then—he shows them the painting.
And Bruce goes still.
The Batfamily stares at the canvas, the way the golden light bleeds through the leaves, how the laughter echoes from unseen mouths. A childhood. A home. Something warm, distant, aching. Familiar.
Tim whispers, “That’s… the treehouse from the manor…”
Jason mutters, “That’s our old living room. The crack in the fireplace tile—he painted that.”
Dick’s face crumples.
Damian just blinks. “You know him?”
And Bruce finally says it.
“…That’s him.”
The one they left behind.
Meanwhile, in Paris…
He’s twenty now. Sharp jaw, quiet eyes, and a presence that hums with power. They call him a genius. A visionary. His soul paintings hang in hidden galleries, and people travel continents just to weep beneath them.
He doesn’t talk much. But he paints constantly.
And lately?
He’s been painting Gotham.
Not the skyline. Not the grime.
But memories. A treehouse in summer. A boy with black hair holding a sword. A father figure watching from the shadows. A cold manor that’s started to look a little warmer in the colors he uses.
He paints them not as they were, but as he wished they’d been.
Because maybe, just maybe, part of him still wants to be found.
And the Batfamily? Oh, they’re running. A/N: Tbh this b my typa man bc I know his fingers are goood hehehe
Jackie Taylor -- "Our Destiny" (Part 2)
Jackie Taylor x Male reader/oc
Summary: What happens when a plane crashes in the middle of the Canadian Wilderness full of teenagers? How something as traumatic as that can affect the people and and how they find comfort in each other.
Words: 7.270
PREVIOUS
Masterlist
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Your POV
I wake up disoriented, feeling the cold invade my body and a great pain going throughout my body as if I had slept on the floor. I grunt in pain, shifting in place and trying to get into a better position.
I move my hand around without opening my eyes, trying to find the blanket and cover myself again, as I feel like I'm freezing.
Not finding the blanket anywhere, I open my eyes with some difficulty due to fatigue and the bright light. So I close my eyes again and curl up into a ball to warm up. Once my body starts to warm up, I feel sleep invade my mind once again and I fall asleep.
When I wake up again, it´s to the feeling of hands caressing my back and moving along my right side.
Jackie: Good morning.- she whispers against my ear lovingly, leaving a kiss on the spot and tracing the healed scars with her fingers.
Y/n: Good morning.- I murmur without opening my eyes and enjoying the caresses on my side, stomach and back.
Jackie: You're freezing.- she murmurs against my shoulder, pressing her body against my back and molding herself to mine completely.
Y/n: Yeah, well, it turns out someone loves to hog the duvet and blankets at night, and then there's no way to cover myself with them in the morning.- I reproach her, amused, feeling her bite my shoulder in response. -Ouch, savage.- I complain, trying to separate myself from her, but she clings to my back like a koala.
Jackie: Now I'm a savage? So when I bite you while we're fucking, then I'm not a savage anymore or what? - she asks me amused with a certain lust in her voice.
Y/n: On both occasions you are a savage.- I assure her, turning around and facing her. -But at no time have I said that I don't like it.- I tell her with a smile, moving my eyebrows suggestively.
Jackie: Idiot.- She laughs, hitting my shoulder and I hug her around the waist to hold her flush against my body.
Y/n: If I'm an idiot, then what are you when you married one? - I ask her amused, hiding my face in her neck and starting to leave small, affectionate kisses.
Jackie: I don't know and I don't want to think about it.- she answers me caressing my back and leaving a kiss on my head. -But we have to get up, you have to make breakfast and I have to wake up the gremlins.- she reminds me starting to caress my hair.
Y/n: Yeah, if you think I'm going to get out of bed and let you go if you keep caressing my head, you have it difficult.- I assure her, snuggling up against the warmth of her neck and closing my eyes.
Jackie: Come on, the kids have to go to school and we have to go to work.- she tells me leaving another kiss on my head and trying to get away from me.
Y/n: Noooo.- I complain, keeping my grip on her waist and pulling her towards me, while she keeps trying to escape from my grip. -5 more minutes.- I beg, fighting with her so she doesn't get up.
Jackie: I let you sleep 5 more minutes earlier.- she says pinching my hand and causing me to let her go. -I did it, i´m free!- she celebrates standing at the foot of the bed with her arms in the air.
I just frown, giving her a dirty look and crossing my arms as I watch her celebrate. The way her whole face lights up with happiness, how her natural waves bounce in her now dark brown hair and how her eyes squint at the smile on her face.
Even at 42, there are times when I look at her and see the same 17-year-old Jax running around the soccer field with a smile on her face.
The accident 25 years ago may have been the worst experience we have ever been through, but that doesn't take away the fact that the experience brought me closer to the person I love most in this world, and with whom I have formed a truly happy family.
A family based on love, affection, honesty, quality time and parental presence. Not like the families we grew up in, where love and the lack of parents was bought with objects, and where criticism filled the whole house constantly.
We have created a family and a home that we both should have had when we were children and in which to grow free. A home where our children live happily and we feel complete by being together.
Jackie: Move and stop looking at me like that.- she tells me throwing a pillow at my face and leaving the room.
I can only smile in response, getting out of bed and walking to my closet to get ready for the day.
Once dressed and shaved, I begin preparing the pancakes with chocolate chips and blueberries, along with the bowl of fruit and orange juice. While the coffee is brewing, I head out of the house to the mailbox and pick up today's mail.
I leave the mail on the kitchen island, grab my cup of coffee from the machine and start preparing my wife's just the way she likes it.
I place the breakfast plates in their usual places on the island and begin checking my email while I wait for the rush of footsteps down the stairs that every morning brings.
I'm looking through the bank letters, advertisements, and an envelope from the high school about the 25th anniversary reunion, when an envelope with no return address catches my eye. I open it while taking a sip of coffee and see that it's a postcard.
The postcard shows a mountain range, with a lake in the middle of a forest and snowy mountains in the background. On the right side, at the bottom, you can clearly see a message: Wish you were here! and when I turn it over, I choke on my coffee at the sight of the symbol.
The damn symbol that was everywhere in the woods, in the cabin, and everywhere you looked closely.
I react quickly when I hear the stampede downstairs, folding the postcard and stuffing it into the pocket of my black suit pants.
Tomas: Good morning dad.- he greets me jumping on me with a smile just like his mother's.
Y/n: Good morning gremlin, how did you sleep? - I asked him leaving a loud kiss on his forehead and sitting him on his stool.
Tomas: Very well, I dreamed that a dragon appeared and burned down the school. - he tells me with excitement and with his eyes wide open with the imagination of an 8-year-old child.
Alice: And his homework is doing sums and coloring.- she growls, sitting on her stool and starting to eat her breakfast.
Jackie: As if you were doing your homework. - she reproaches our 15-year-old teenage daughter with amusement.
Emma: I like school. - the middle child of the family shrugs her shoulders with a big smile.
Y/n: That's my princess.- I support her with a smile and high five her.
Tomas: I like school too, because I can play with my friends and learn cool things.- he tells us happily with his mouth full.
Jackie: You don´t talk with a full mouth, honey.- she corrects him with a smile, wiping his mouth with a napkin and leaving a kiss on the top of his head.
Alice: You'll tell me if you still like going to class when you go to high school.- she says to her 12 year old sister with an amused smile.
Y/n: Don't be mean to your sister and don't try to scare her.- I shake my head at my oldest daughter, drinking my coffee and trying to hide the smile on my face at the faces of the 2 youngest.
Tomas: I´m not going to like high school?- he asks us all, a little scared.
Jackie: Don't pay attention to your sister, it's just that the boy she likes doesn't pay attention to her and that's why she has such a sour mood. - she reassures him with a wink, earning a laugh from him and a complaint from the teenager.
Y/n: What boy? - I ask my daughter, confused and serious, when I have processed my wife's words.
Alice: None.- she growls in response, biting the piece of fruit somewhat aggressively.
Jackie: Don´t deny it, there's a boy in her math class that she likes and he doesn't pay attention to her.- my wife tells me with a huge smile. - His name is Axel? I don't know, but apparently he's in the debate club and he's a basketball player.- she says with a voice full of emotion.
Sometimes I forget how much my wife loves and enjoys other people's gossip. But she especially likes it when it's about our teenage daughter. It's like she goes back to that age again.
Alice: Alex mom and no, I don't like him. - she corrects her mother with a serious gesture.
Y/n: You better, because you're not going to have a boyfriend until you're 30, and that's me being nice.- I shook my head seriously.
Jackie: Aren't you being a little bit exaggerated? - she asks me, standing next to me and hugging my waist with one of her arms.
Y/n: No, my children will not know what a broken heart is until they are emancipated.- I deny seriously, making my teenage daughter and my wife laugh at me. -Now we are all finishing up because you guys have to go to class.- I hurry them a little and start to collect their plates.
Jackie: And remember that today I will pick you all up after school. - she reminds our children when they go up to brush their teeth and get their backpacks.
Within ten minutes, I've kissed Jax goodbye and am driving off with my three kids in it. My first stop is the high school where Alice has class and debate club, and then I have to drop Emma and Tomas off at their school.
Jackie´s POV
I turn off the car once I'm parked in the driveway and can't help but frown at the presence of a woman on my porch. I stare at her for a few seconds, before turning my gaze to the back seats and seeing my two youngest children laughing.
Jackie: Go inside with your siblings and do your homework.- I order my teenage daughter.
Alice: Why? What's wrong? - she asks me confused, taking off her belt and picking up her bag from between her legs.
Jackie: I don't know, but I don't know who that woman and considering that it´s the anniversary of the accident, I don't want to take any risks. - I explain sincerely and she nods in understanding.
Alice: Okay.- she nods and gets out of the car as I do and helps me get her youngest siblings out of the back. -Come on kids, the sooner we finish our homework the sooner we can play in the garden.- she tells them excitedly and they run towards the door.
I walk quickly to the porch, opening the door for my children and closing it once they are inside. I look at the woman who is leaning against the porch railing in total comfort, observing her closely and crossing my arms in defense.
Jackie: Who are you and what are you doing in my house? - I asked the stranger directly and without wanting to prolong the subject.
Jessica: My name is Jessica Roberts, I work as a journalist for the Star-Ledger and I wanted to talk to you and your husband about a juicy deal.- she answers me with a fake smile.
Jackie: How the hell did you get our address? - I asked aggressively, taking a couple of steps towards her and trying to maintain my composure.
Jessica: I have my sources.- she answers, still smiling. -I just want to talk about the proposal I want to offer you.- she repeats, moving away from the railing.
Jackie: What proposal? - I asked wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible and get her out of my property as soon as possible.
Jessica: I'd rather wait for Y/n to talk about the proposal.- she tells me without ever stopping her smile and that makes me want to slap it away.
Jackie: And I'm telling you to tell me now.- I demand, raising an eyebrow. -Because if you don't get off my property in the next 5 minutes, I'll call the police for trespassing and i can assure you that you will spend the night in a cell.- I assure her with an evil smile.
Jessica: Star-Ledger wants to make a deal to publish a book about what happened 25 years ago. - she answers, removing the smile from her face and with a more serious tone.
Jackie: Everyone knows what happened 25 years ago, it came out in the press conference that was held and it is not a secret. - I remember her tensing my jaw and trying to remain calm.
Jessica: Yes, but is that what really happened? - she asks now, crossing her arms. -Because we both know there's more to it than what was said. - she clarifies with a certain knowing tone, as if she knew something about what really happened.
Jackie: What really happened? - I asked sarcastically. -What happened was that one of the happiest moments of our lives turned into a hell in which many people lost their lives. Either because of the accident or because of the bad conditions in which we lived for 19 months. That's what really happened, and I'm going to ask you to get off my property right now.- I say with my arms at my sides and standing up as much as possible to look taller.
Jessica: You could earn more than seven figures just by telling your story, the reality of what happened and not letting other people benefit from your misfortune. - she insists with some desperation.
Jackie: Do you know how much my husband and I make in a year?- I ask her with a smirk. -Your offer is only 15% of our earnings, so if you really are a journalist and you think that is a juicy offer, I think you should do a better job.- I say walking towards the front door. -So get the hell out of my house right now and never come back again.- I end the conversation and enter the house, closing the door behind me.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and get my hands to stop shaking from the adrenaline.
Once I've calmed down, I walk to my office on the first floor and leave my briefcase on the table. I take my cell phone out of my jacket pocket, texting my husband and asking him to come home as soon as possible.
With the message sent, I walk to the living room where my children are doing their homework and sit down among the little ones on the floor.
We didn't spend much time on their homework, as they didn't have much to do and it didn't have much difficulty with the grade they are both in. So once they had their middle of the evening snack, the four of us went out to the back garden and played soccer for a while.
When I hear the garden gate open, I see Y/n still dressed in his black suit pants and a dark green shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
I stare at him in rapture for a few moments, appreciating the way his clothes hug his body in the perfect places and how the colors of the clothes make his skin tone and eyes pop even more.
Jackie: Keep playing, dad and I are going to start preparing dinner.- I say to the three of them, leaving a kiss on the top of Tomas head and walking towards where my husband is.
When I reach where he is, I hug him by the shoulders and stand on my tiptoes to give him a welcome kiss. A kiss that lasts longer than I was planning, as he hugs me by the waist and holds me close to his body so I can't move away.
Y/n: Is everything okay? - he asks me in a low voice when we separate from the kiss and I can see his worried expression.
Jackie: Let's go to the kitchen so we can talk while we prepare dinner.- I ask him, leaving another kiss on his lips and grabbing his hand to pull him along.
Y/n: But is everything okay? Are the kids okay? Are you...- he starts asking non stop and I interrupt him with a look.
Jackie: Wait until we get to the kitchen and then I'll tell you.- I order him without stopping walking and pulling him with me.
Once in the kitchen, I take out the ingredients for the pasta and place them on the counter. I take a couple of deep breaths, trying to gather my thoughts and think of the best way to tell him what happened.
I can feel his curious and somewhat worried gaze on me, making me more nervous than I already am.
Jackie: Stop looking at me, I can't focus.- I beg, a little frustrated at not knowing how to start the conversation.
Y/n: What are you thinking for dinner? - he asks me, leaving a kiss on my head and checking the ingredients.
Jackie: I was thinking of making carbonara and some roasted vegetables to go with it. - I explain to him and he immediately starts taking out the things we needs to cook it.
Y/n: I'll start with the pasta and you with the vegetables? - he asks me and I nod in response.
We both start cooking in complete silence, moving around the kitchen in total synchrony and naturalness. After a few minutes of cooking, I feel more relaxed and while I am chopping the carrots I decide to start the conversation.
Jackie: When I got home with the kids, there was a woman on the porch waiting for me, and it turned out she was a journalist.- I begin to tell him, listening to the sound of the frying pan stop. -She wanted to talk to both of us and offer to write a book.- I explain with a grimace.
Y/n: A book? - he asks confused and I hear the sound of the frying pan again.
Jackie: A book in which we tell what really happened 25 years ago. - I answer, swallowing hard and listening a frustrated sigh behind me.
Y/n: I can't believe it.- he denies with her voice full of annoyance. -Every year it's the same, there's always someone lurking around trying to dig into what happened. Why can't they leave the past behind and let us live in peace.- he complains with anger and I sigh tired with the situation.
Every year some journalist or news article appears questioning the version that was published when we were rescued. Every year it is the same, hundreds of conspiracies and stories about what really happened come to light again. Some of them are very close to the truth that we all, absolutely all of us agree to deny and hide at all costs.
Jackie: I know, but like you said, it's nothing out of the ordinary and as soon as they appear, they disappear. But I had to tell you because this time I didn't feel the same way, she was more insistent and it seemed like she actually knew something. - I tell him with some uncertainty, not knowing very well if the journalist was bluffing or if she really knew something.
Y/n: Maybe this time it will be different.- he comments with a sigh, leaving the kitchen and leaving me confused rooted in my place.
Jackie: Where are you going? - I ask without understanding why he is leaving and where he is going.
I look confused at the hallway where my husband has disappeared, trying to process what just happened and why he left. I try to think of something, but my husband comes back into the kitchen and leaves something in front of me.
I look at what he has placed in front of me, seeing that it is a postcard with a beautiful landscape on it and a simple phrase.
Jackie: What is this? - I asked confused, looking between the postcard and my husband.
Y/n: Turn it around.- he orders me in a soft but somewhat heavy tone.
I do as I'm told and as soon as I see what's on the back, I drop the postcard immediately like it burns. I take a few steps back, hearing my heart racing in my ears and feeling my mouth go dry.
Jackie: Like... I don't... I don't... - I try to say something, but it's like my mind and mouth have lost all communication.
Y/n: It arrived this morning.- I listen to what he says and look at him in astonishment. -I haven't told you anything because I thought it would be a joke and that I shouldn't give it any importance. But the presence of that journalist makes me doubt if it's a coincidence or something premeditated.- he explains to me with some insecurity, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a few seconds.
Jackie: So what... what are we supposed to do? - I asked with a little difficulty, trying to keep my focus on the conversation and not on the symbol on the postcard.
Y/n: I don't know.- he denies, defeated, resting both hands on the kitchen island. -Maybe our best option is to ignore it for the moment and wait to see if something else happens.- he says with a doubtful tone that makes it more of a question than a statement.
Jackie: So we ignore it all? - I ask to make sure.
Y/n: Yes.- he nods, letting out a long sigh. -Unless you think there's something else we can or should do?- he asks me with some curiosity.
Jackie: No.- I deny through my teeth, feeling the tremble in my lower lip and an annoying itch in my eyes.
Y/n: Hey, everything's going to be okay.- he assures me, running towards me and wrapping me in his arms. -Nothing bad is going to happen.- he tries to reassure me, placing my head on his chest and gently stroking my hair.
Jackie: What if something bad happens? - I ask with a broken voice, with my hands on his back and my fists clenched around his shirt.
Y/n: As long as I'm around, nothing bad will happen to you or the kids. I promise.- he whispers with conviction against the top of my head, continuing to comfort me and letting me cry against his chest.
We spend a while wrapped in each other's arms, until I feel like I'm no longer crying and that I feel a little calmer.
Once I move away from his chest a little, he immediately grabs my face and gently wipes away all traces of tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. I just stare into his gorgeous green eyes, which are filled with worry and something more intense.
Y/n: Do you want a glass of wine? - he asks me with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood and cheer me up a little.
Jackie: More like the whole bottle.- I reply with a pout, causing him to laugh, and in the end I join him.
Y/n: A bottle of wine is coming to the most impressive woman in the world!- he exclaims with humor, leaving a kiss on my forehead and walking towards the wine rack. -Red, white, rose, sparkling?- he asks, moving his fingers between the bottles.
Jackie: White.- I respond amused, watching how he moves and feeling more relaxed with his movements.
Once we have a meal in hand and a lighter mood, we go back to preparing dinner. I just hope that Y/n is right and that doing nothing is the most appropriate thing for this situation.
I just hope it's a coincidence and there's nothing premeditated or organized behind this.
I look up from the color palette, when I hear the doorbell ring and I frown looking towards where the front door is. Somewhat doubtful, I sit on the stool and think about who could be knocking on the door.
But I don't have anyone I know in mind or any reason why someone would knock on my door on a Sunday morning.
The doorbell rings again, so with a sigh I get up from the stool and walk calmly to the door. I open the door and the polite smile on my face immediately disappears.
Jackie: What the hell are you doing here? - I ask through clenched teeth, looking behind the people and making sure there's no one else around.
Taissa: We need to talk to you and since you're not answering the phone, we've been forced to come. - she answers, crossing her arms and walking past me to enter my house.
Jackie: No, no, no.- I deny trying to grab Tai and prevent the others from entering the house behind her. -You can't come in.- I growl annoyed.
Natalie: This concerns you too.- she assures me, looking at the photos on the walls. -Where's Y/n?- she asks, turning around and looking at me.
Jackie: Out.- I answer simply, frustrated with the presence of the three women and closing the door.
Taissa: When will he come back? - she asks me a little worried.
Jackie: I don't know.- I answer, passing by the three of them and walking back to the kitchen.
Taissa: And could you call him to ask him to come as soon as possible? - she asks me walking behind me.
Jackie: No.- I answer as if it were obvious.
Natalie: What do you mean no? - she asks with a hint of aggression in her voice. -We have to tell you something important, something related to that and it's urgent.- she assures me, referring to our accident.
Jackie: That's in the past and right now my husband is busy with our present and future. So no, I'm not going to call him and ask him to come over immediately. - I explain with finality, knowing that I'm not going to call him and force him to leave our son's soccer game.
Shauna: You're still just as selfish. - she tells me evilly, speaking for the first time since I've seen her and causing me to clench my jaw in anger.
Jackie: You, you're the one calling me selfish? - I asked in a sarcastic and somewhat poisonous tone. -The one person who, after fucking my ex-boyfriend and getting pregnant by him while she was still with me, made ME look like the bad guy. - I reproached her, still upset and hurt by what she did to me.
Shauna: And yet after all this time everything still revolves around YOU.- she reproaches me with pure venom in her voice.
Jackie: You're in my house, you've entered uninvited and you're demanding things from me when I haven't seen you in over 20 years.- I remind to two of three. -But I'm the selfish one for refusing to do something, when you two haven't even asked me how I am or explained the reason why you've invaded my home.- I comment, pointing at the three of them with obvious frustration.
Shauna: Because you've blocked us from everywhere and this is the only solution we've found. - She gestures around her with both arms. - So don't blame us for being here, when this could have been avoided with a phone call and that's it. - She spits in my face through her teeth.
Jackie: And you're surprised that I blocked you? - I asked her surprised. - You're surprised that after almost freezing to death because of you, I didn't want to know anything about you and I made sure of that? - I asked her with some sarcasm and disbelief at her attitude.
Shauna: It wasn't my fault! - she exclaims in denial. -I didn't force you to leave, I didn't put a knife to your neck to get you to leave the cabin and you know that perfectly well.- she claims pointing at me with her finger.
Jackie: You may not have held a knife to my neck, but at no point did you make me feel welcome or safe to continue being in that cabin that night.- I assure her through gritted teeth. -And the only, the ONLY reason I'm alive today, is because Y/n went outside with me that night, who put me in the meat shed when it started to get too cold and who made sure I didn't freeze to death that night. So yes Shauna, I hold you mostly responsible for my near death.- I remind her with venom and some pain at the memory of that night.
Neither of them says anything for a few seconds, filling the kitchen with a tension that could be cut with a knife, which gives me time to start gathering my things from the island and processing their presence in my house.
Natalie: What is that? - she asks me curiously, approaching the island and looking at the different sketches, colors and textures spread out in it.
Jakcie: A work project.- I reply vaguely, placing everything in a pile and putting it into a big folder.
Natalie: What project are you working on? - she asks again with curiosity, pulling out a stool and sitting on it.
Jackie: In the inside of a two-story and 500 square meter house, decorated with natural colors and metallic objects.- I explain with a small, happy smile at her interest.
The truth is that in all these years since we were rescued, both Y/n and I cut off ties with all the other survivors. The only people we kept in touch with were Nat and Lottie.
After all, Lottie is Y/n's twin sister so it's only natural that we maintained our relationship with her, especially given how overprotective my husband has always been of her. On the other hand, he and Nat have always been very good friends, so we continued to keep in touch with her after being rescued and returning to our daily lives.
It's been a while since we last saw them, but seeing Nat in front of me and giving me a slight smile makes me happy. Since the moment we were rescued, she was one of all of us who had it the worst at adapting and is constantly in rehab.
Taissa: Do you work? - she asks me, surprised by the information I just gave.
Jackie: Why do you seem so surprised? - I ask her, both offended and amused by her reaction.
Taissa: I don't know. - She denies with a grimace. - I always imagined you marrying someone rich and being a rich housewife. - She explains, shrugging her shoulders.
Jackie: Well, you got the first part right, because I married someone rich.- I remind her with an amused smile. -But I went to college for a reason, right? Besides, it's something I love and they pay very, very well depending on the client.- I explain, shrugging my shoulders.
Natalie: And are you going to offer us something to drink or? - she asks, moving her hands in circles.
Jackie: Do you want something to drink? - I asked them politely, offering a fake smile to the dark haired one.
Taissa: A coffee with milk would be nice, thanks.- she thanks me sitting on the other stool.
Natalie: You know what I want.- She gives me an amused look and I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it.
Shauna: Something strong.- she answers sitting on the last stool on the island to Nat's left.
I quickly start making the coffee and while it's pouring into the cup, I grab the bottle of tequila from the cabinet on top of the fridge and place it in front of Nat. I grab three shot glasses and Tai's coffee, placing them on the island.
The brunette opens the bottle and begins to fill the glasses with the yellowish liquor. We each take a glass and drink the contents in one gulp.
Jackie: Okay, what's so urgent? - I ask them once the sting of the tequila in my throat calms down a bit.
Taissa: This.- she answers me taking her phone out of her pocket and sliding it towards me along the island.
Jackie: What the hell is this? - I ask, somewhat disturbed and scared when she saw the message.
Natalie: Blackmail.- she answers me as if it were obvious. -Haven't you received the message?- she asks me confused.
Jackie: No, neither Y/n nor I have received it.- I immediately deny. - Yes, we received a postcard a week ago and a journalist showed up that same day offering a deal to tell what really happened. But apart from that, nothing.- I tell them with all the honesty possible.
Shauna: It wouldn't be a Jessica Roberts, would it? - she asks me with her eyes wide open.
Jackie: Yes.- I nod immediately with my eyes open. -Did she go to your place too?- I ask trying to connect the dots.
Shauna: Yes, she came to me a little over a week ago, offering to write a book and receive a sum of more than seven figures to tell what really happened in that forest. - she confirms, pressing her lips together in a continuous line.
Natalie: None of this makes sense.- she denies, massaging her temple and pouring herself another shot. -The postcard was only received by Misty, Tai, Y/n, you and I. While the blackmail message was received by Taissa and me. So why send the postcard to some and the message to others?- she leaves her doubt hanging in the air and I agree with her.
As Tai was about to say something, we hear the front door open and a couple of quick footsteps.
Y/n: Jax we're home! - I hear him shout from the entrance and I can hear the fun in his voice.
Tomas: Mommy, mommy, mommyyyyy! - he shouts, running through the house and entering the kitchen with his dirty uniform and a huge smile on his face. -We won! - he exclaims completely happy, running towards me and jumping into my arms.
Jackie: Really? - I asked, exaggerating my reaction and smiling at the happiness on her face.
Tomas: Yes.- he nods enthusiastically. -I scored a goal.- he tells me enthusiastically.
Jackie: Wow that amazing.- I say with my eyes wide open and a hugh smile.
Emma: Auntie Nat? - she asks from the kitchen entrance with her eyes wide open.
Natalie: Isn´t that the blonde dwarf. - She smiles, getting up from the stool and opening her arms. - How you've grown. - She growls against my daughter's blonde hair when she hugs her.
Shauna: Auntie Nat? - she asks completely confused, exchanging glances between the black haired adult and the blonde girl in her arms. -Since when do you have children? - she asks, looking at my son in my arms.
Jackie: Since when do I have to give you any explanations? - I answer sharply. - Why don't you go out with your sister to the garden and play for a while? Okay? - I ask my son, giving him a kiss on the forehead and putting him down on the ground.
Tomas: Okay.- He nods happily, holding out his hand to his sister and running with her to the garden, once they both join hands.
Jackie: Plus, I'm surprised my mom didn't tell you about it at one of your lunches.- I commented ironically, crossing my arms.
Shauna: She didn´t.- she shakes her head with a strange expression on her face.
Y/n: Jax, you're not going to believe the funniest moment of the game you missed.- he comments between laughs entering the kitchen. -What's going on here? Nat? When did you get out of rehab?- he asks, wiping his smile away when he sees the three people in our kitchen.
Natalie: It's been almost two weeks.- she answers, shrugging her shoulders without giving it any importance.
Y/n: And didn't you think to let us know or come visit? - he asks her, crossing his arms.
Natalie: Yeah, well, let's just say I haven't had much time between Travis' death, the postcard, Misty being crazy and now the damn blackmail. - she tells us with some frustration and I can only open my eyes in surprise at the information, and I can see that my husband has a similar reaction to mine.
Y/n: Travis is dead? - he asks in shock. - Wait, postcard? Did they send you that damn postcard with the symbol too? - he asks again, approaching the group.
Taissa: They also sent it to Misty and me.- the curly haired girl answers. -But we're not here for the postcard, we're here for a more important reason that affects us all.- she explains seriously, picking up her cell phone from the island and showing him the blackmail message to my husband.
Y/n: What the hell is this? - he asks angrily after reading the message.
Shauna: We're being blackmailed by someone who came back with us or who has been told something from one of us. - she replies, taking another shot.
Y/n: Have you been the only one who received it? - she asks the future senator and returns the phone to her.
Taissa: The two of us.- she answers pointing at the short black haired one and herself.
Y/n: Okay.- he nods with a frown. -But they haven't sent us that message.- he says with some doubt looking at me and I shake my head in confirmation.
Natalie: It seems so.- she nods, agreeing with him.
Y/n: So why are you all here?- he asks confused. -Don't get me wrong, it's good to see you again and all that, at least some of you. But I don't understand why you're here.- he comments seriously, walking towards me and giving me a short kiss.
Taissa: We didn't know that you hadn't received the message. - she explains, letting out a sigh and taking a sip of her coffee.
Jackie: Well, you already know that we didn´t and to be honest, I don't want to get involved in whatever you're doing and have our children be affected in any way. - I deny, adopting a defensive posture.
Natalie: And we understand, but we need your help.- she asks us, biting her lip and letting out a sigh.
Y/n: What do you need? - she asks directly.
Shauna: Money would be nice, if you have it.- she answers with her lips in a straight line.
I immediately throw a dirty look at the one who was my best friend, letting out a mocking sound at her audacity and I feel the words bubbling in my throat.
Y/n: Okay.- nods and disappears through the archway into the main floor hallway.
Taissa: Where is he going? - she asks me, just as confused as I am.
I just shrug my shoulders, not knowing why he left without saying anything and not knowing where he was going. Nat refills the glasses with tequila and I bring mine over to him to refill.
Jackie: And how did it go this time in rehab? - I ask the short haired one with interest.
I rest my elbows on the island, leaning against them and giving my friend my full attention. Since we were rescued, Nat was the one who had the hardest time adjusting back to our life before the accident.
So since we got back, she's been going to rehab and has got herself arrested a couple of times.
Natalie: Fine.- she answers with a grimace. -I haven't taken any drugs yet and I'm not lacking in desire with everything that's going on.- she admits, taking the shot.
Taissa: You better, because I can't pay for your rehab visits anymore. - she comments with a certain humor, taking another sip of her coffee.
Y/n: Here you go.- he says returning to the kitchen and leaving a wad of bills on the island.
Shauna: You have 50,000 grand at home? - she asks surprised seeing the money.
Y/n: I have more than that stored at home.- he admits shrugging his shoulders and I look at him surprised.
Jackie: Why do you have so much money at home? - I asked, stunned by the money and thinking about where he could have that money.
Y/n: For emergencies - he respond simply raising his shoulders downplaying it.
Shauna: Is that really 50 grand?- she asks again and my husband nods. -Well, it's a bit disappointing compared to the standard of heist movies.- she says with a smirk on her lips.
Y/n: It's 50 grand in 100 dollar bills.- he answers as if it were obvious. -How crazy would I be to have that much money in our house in small bills, they would take up a lot more space.- simply explains as if that amount of money wasn't much and placing a hand on my lower back.
Taissa: We already know who will pay for your next rehab.- she says to the short-haired girl somewhat funny.
Natalie: Thank you for your faith in me, Tai.- she reproaches her, rolling her eyes.
Jackie: Do you need anything else? - I ask them with some impatience, wanting this conversation to end so they can leave.
Taissa: No, thanks for this.- she says holding the wad of bills in her hand. -We will let you know if we manage to catch the blackmailer so we can return your money.- she tells us and I nod in agreement with her words.
Natalie: Well, let's go. - She gets up from the stool and takes a few steps back.
Y/n: You're not leaving.- he points at her with his finger. -You're staying for dinner and spending time with your goddaughter.- he says seriously and with an evil smile.
Natalie: Really? - she asks, grumbling like a child.
Y/n: What do you think? - he asks back with his arms crossed and raising an eyebrow.
Shauna: Well, then the two of us are... we're going to go.- she says, pointing towards the archway towards the hallway with her thumb and with a slight tremor in her voice.
Jackie: Can you help them out and while I bathe Tommy?- I ask the only man in the kitchen.
Y/n: Sure.- he nods with a smile, leaving another kiss on my lips and walking with the other two women towards the exit of the house.
Jackie: And you play with your goddaughter for a while, she missed you.- she ordered the brunette with a big smile.
Natalie: Yes, captain.- she mocks with a military salute and walking with me to the garden.
I watch my children for a few seconds, listening to their laughter as they chase each other and feeling a warm feeling all over my body at their happiness.
The unexpected visit and the conversation with the girls made me remember the worst moments of my life. But they also made me realize how lucky I was, because thanks to that accident I found my soulmate and I managed to start a family with him.
A happy family, with its bad times and its good times. With dysfunctional aunts and absent grandparents. But a family like neither of us had growing up with.
We have managed to form a family based on love and the different forms of affection that our parents omitted during our growing up.
In addition, I am now the happiest I have ever been in my entire life, without having to pretend and I feel complete with the presence of my loved ones.
For that very reason, I curse that horrible day when we got on that damm plane, but I bless the moment when I set my gaze on Y/n in the middle of all that madness.
Because thanks to him, I am alive today at this moment and I can be watching our children run around in our home. It was all part of our destiny.
THE END
Cuddle Bug
summary: a flashfic exploration of Wally's inability to be anything but a plural image when you're within reach. aka: he's codependent as fuck and neither you nor he care.
pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader
warnings: fluff. smut lite. AU - everyone is alive (zesty). lore established offscreen.
bon reading, frens
___________________________🍃
Wally Clark's love language is physical touch. No surprise there. The guy needs cuddles like flowers need sunlight to thrive. Always has. Being a ghost for 40 years exacerbated that need, and now that he's a real boy again, he can't help himself. Wally sits too close, hugs hello and goodbye, touches arms and knees when he's telling a story.
It's just that much more amped up when it comes to you.
He was affectionate before you and he became inseparable. Lightly grazed your hand when he walked beside you, found every excuse to tackle you when he tried to teach you football techniques. Ajay and Charley stood there like extra wheels even though it'd been Wally who'd rallied everyone to the field.
What? Your giggle's so damn cute! No way was Wally going to be able to focus on anything else!
Besides Charley's just as bad when Yuri's around, and Simon can't even function when Maddie gives him the eyes. So, everyone can suck it as far as Wally's concerned.
During group activities, Wally would find a way to sit next to you. Would squish his long limbs between you and Maddie and give you a bright, boyish grin. Sometimes he'd stare Xavier down until he got the hint and scooched closer to Nicole at the lunch table, leaving a gap that Wally could settle into beside you. His arm around your shoulders and his knee touching yours. Totally innocent.
Wally brought your favorite snacks to Game Night, established himself as your personal chauffeur despite the fact that you lived closer to Simon and Rhonda, and loyally helped you filter clothes when you and the girls went shopping. Yes. He'd made himself one of the girls just to spend time with you. Don't look at him like that; it worked, didn't it? 👀
Since accepting him as your boyfriend (he grins so big, his cheeks ache), Wally's dependence on your touch, warmth, shape against his, has increased a hundredfold.
You sit on the picnic table before the first bell, chatting to Maddie and Claire about something Wally isn't listening to, his arms around your waist, upper body slumped between your legs, head resting on your thigh as you rake your fingers through his thick hair. Oh, he could die all over again and be the happiest of ghosts just for this. Not that he wants to be a ghost again. Not unless you're with him this time. Which would require you to die, too, and that's a terrible thought and he's never going to tell you about it. But the sentiment remains. Wally doesn't want to do anything without you, ever.
He managed to convince the secretary to put him in all your classes, pouting and pleading his case that he'd been dead since 1983 and, "it's so traumatic coming back, she's the only thing I have that feels real...please?" A tactic that he should stop abusing, but it worked on all the teachers when he requested to be sat next to you. Every time a teacher caved, Wally would fold into the desk beside you, beaming like a winner. And who cares? Mina and Ajay, and Charley and Yuri pulled the same doe-eyed trick and got what they wanted, why couldn't Wally do the same?
On Fridays, everyone piles into Wally's high school best friend's living room—Rodney now Wally's legal guardian for reasons—to have movie marathons. There's trivia to guess the movie. Winner gets one veto and can insert their own choice, but there's three movies in total so pick wisely! They figured out awhile ago that Wally sometimes (always) lets you win trivia when it's his turn to play his lineup. You never veto anything, equally as eager to watch what he opts for. It drives Simon and Ajay insane.
He takes over a whole couch, the three-seater, sprawls long-ways and tucks you between his legs, your body draped over him like a blanket as he wraps his arms around you and doesn't let go for anything. He traces patterns on your back, cradles your head against his chest, soaks up the physical contact like a sponge after years of ghostly numbness.
In the school halls, Wally keeps his hand on your hip. He kisses your head and cheeks and jaw. Doesn't care who sees because you're his girl and he'll do what he wants, thank you. He's proud that you call him yours and wants to show off who his heart belongs to. This one! This one said yes!
You're in his lap more than your own seat when the group descends upon Max's Diner after football games (that, no, Wally doesn't participate in. That era is firmly in the past and he'll never don a jersey again; sorry mom, God bless, rest in peace). His hands are all over you as you engage Rhonda in conversation; on your thighs, waist, back, hips. Anywhere and everywhere that's still appropriate in public. His head under your chin, eyes closed as he listens to your heartbeat, strong and steady, the rhythm matching his.
Wally rolls over in his bed, crushes you beneath his weight as he plays dead—knock on wood that that won't happen again for many years—and tries to stifle his laughter when you struggle to reverse the position. Eventually, he showers your skin with kisses, nudges between your thighs and laces his fingers with yours, pressing his smile to yours before kissing you deeply.
The sex is amazing, but nothing beats the afterglow when he has you pliant and sweet, curled into him on your side, your face in his chest, his hand on your lower back, whispering how much he loves you as you doze. Call him codependent, but Wally doesn't want to spend even an hour without you. He isn't a lost puppy, knows how to behave like a man. He just spent too many years being forgotten that he still has trust issues.
And you don't mind. You welcome it, in fact, and that makes Wally feel safer than he ever has. It makes it easy to ignore the looks people give you and him when you agree to go somewhere, "only if Wally's invited, too" because you and he are a package deal. And he does the same for you. Obviously, not for the same reasons, you're perfectly fine being alone, it's just that Wally's not ready to experiment with your absence just yet. Maybe never will be.
Rodney's long since accepted that Wally's room has become your room. From married and childless to married with several formerly-dead teenagers and their SOs, Rodney and his wife have accepted their homebase status like champs. They treat you like family—you have a house key for the rare occasion Wally isn't with you after school—and acknowledge that Wally can't sleep without you without suffering.
He stays curled around you all night, kisses you awake, big hand trailing from your waist to your hip as he nips the top knot of your spine and grinds his morning wood against your ass. God, you get him hard so easily, Wally sometimes thinks he should get checked out. You hum then sigh then turn in his arms, hook a leg over his and press yourself against him in exactly the right way.
Through half-lidded eyes, Wally gazes at you. Licks his lips as he rocks his hips slowly and watches your expression go from sleepsoft to wanting. You like how that feels baby? You want it inside you? And he kisses you deep and thorough, rolls you onto your back to fit between your legs, groans when one of your hands squeezes his ass through his boxer-briefs.
He needs to be inside you yesterday, loves how you feel, tight and wet and hot around him. Soft touches turn hard, light sweeps of lips turn to teeth and tongue and fresh bruises on your neck. Wally loves to taste you first, to prolong his pleasure by giving you yours, his tongue delving into you and sucking your clit gently; deliriously slow because he can't get enough.
It's not until you're begging him so pretty for his cock that he finally lets himself fuck into you, so hard and sensitive his brain explodes upon fitting deep inside you on the first thrust. A refrain of fuck, yes and oh God baby, you feel so good fills the room—sorry Rodney—the headboard smacking against the wall in time with Wally's hips. Throughout, Wally holds you like something precious, kisses you like salvation, breathes you in like he can't live without you.
He makes sure you come first before he even thinks about letting go, the sensation of you shaking apart around him ripping his own release right from his core. Wally licks into your mouth, moans like a beast, and then, one two three more stunted thrusts and he goes still. Hazy eyes hold yours and you can see the depth of his emotion for you. At least, he hopes so. How he'll treasure you forever. He'll never love anyone as much as he loves you. That's a promise and a threat and he smiles a lazy smile at you as you begin to giggle.
"What's so funny, baby?" Wally nudges your cheek with his nose.
"Nothing, I promise, I'm just...really happy." You tell him and he moans in delight.
"You don't feel suffocated or claustrophobic like Rhonda said you would?" Wally asks, a little insecure. Okay, a lot insecure, even if he doesn't usually feel that way about how reliant he is on your proximity. You've never given him a reason to feel anything but safe and happy and loved, but still. Rhonda knows how to hit bone even when she means well.
You shift, forcing Wally to look at you, your hands cradling his jaw, "Never. I will never, ever want this, us, to be anything but exactly how it is. I love having you all over me."
"Yeah?"
"Yes." And you grin, a warm little thing, "I like sharing everything with you. It's nice. My very own witness to my life."
Wally kisses you again, another slow, deep, sentimental gesture; everything he feels poured into it, before he settles down on top of you, careful not to crush you, his head above your breasts and his eyes fluttering closed. Relaxed. Sated. Safe.
Wally Clark's love language is physical touch, and, in this second chance at life, he's profoundly grateful to have found someone fluent in it.
🍃___________fin.____________
also on AO3!
if you liked this, you may also enjoy Fifty Seven.
fluff. between 1982 and 1983, Wally meets and falls completely head over heels for a girl who changes everything. his biggest fan, his greatest love. you.
Can you make a chat bot where the whole team already like the user but during the crash they was starting to get weird and possessive
(AND I MEAN EVERY LAST ONE OF THE YELLOWJACKET GIRLS)
YELLOWJACKETS BOT
Obsessed for you
You had joined the Wiskayok High School team after moving to another city in the middle of the school year. At first, when she joined, she thought the girls would talk bad about her behind her back like they did with Allie. Surprisingly, however, they all treated her well, even Taissa, who seemed the hardest to please. Shauna offered her a ride at the end of every practice. Lottie always showed up with a new gift for her, something like a bracelet that would probably cost more than a house. Natalie, who always liked to spend her breaks alone, would ask you to stay behind the school and smoke. Misty always tried to be accepted by the team, but with you, it was another level. During the break time between practices, she would offer you a thousand different things to cool off. Jackie always went easy on you during practice. Mari would always buy you a milkshake to share with you when she could. Why did Taissa and Van come out to you? Not even you understood, but I supported you with all the affection possible.
Then the days passed in the blink of an eye and before you knew it, you were already boarding the plane and in the blink of an eye the plane had crashed... The screams of the other girls, the cries and the dead bodies were terrible. But you had to survive, you had to get over it, so you went with the flow, and then everything started to get strange.
"You know, I think y/n shouldn't do the chores outside, it's dangerous." — *Mari said as she stirred the bear meat in the steel pan*
You raise an eyebrow in surprise, but when you were about to answer, Natalie lets out an ironic laugh as she adjusts her gun behind her back, getting ready to leave
"You want her to stay here because you're the only one who doesn't have any activities outside, it's better for her to go hunting with me" —Natalie says, looking at you
It was so fast that you didn't even notice when all the girls started discussing what you were going to do or better yet, who you were going to stay with
Yellowjackets
Note: I'm not used to making collective bots so it might not be that good but I tried hard. THANK YOU FOR REQUEST 😋
It’s been so long since I’ve sent an ask in, i fear the kids will think we’re in a divorce. So today I came to offer up a situation I believe in 1000%.
Jackie Taylor in college not knowing how to flirt with women, so whenever she meets you for the first time she doesn’t know how to talk to you. She ends up buying those stupid men’s pickup artist CDs, the like late 2000s type. She believes it completely and thinks that this is how you get girls and buys like the whole box set. It comes with douche clothes, a small notebook of pickup lines and a huge textbook along with like 10 CDs. Literally any normal person would know these lines and tactics would absolutely not work, but she’s convinced herself. So she tries approaching you in a bar and when you don’t follow the script that the pickup artist said you’d respond with, she gets nervous. She pulls out and skims through the pages of a huge book that in VERY bold letters on the front reads, ‘HOW TO GET WOMEN’
She eventually gives up on the textbook after she sees the weird look you gave her upon seeing it. Just ends up taking a bar napkin and writing “Do you like me?” With 2 options below that read “Yes” and “YES”. She’s looking at you like she’s so proud of herself that you cant help but circle the option in all caps. (She thinks that means you’re dating, immediately)
excellent ask as always bro. feels like we haven't spoken in soooo long. waiting by the window for my husband to come home from war. checking the post office every day for one mere letter from the front lines 😔
the way that little book is the only thing jackie's taking notes on before she got to college. she bombed her first exam and is like "omg how do you study in college???" and then looked at her 10 pages of notes from "chicks 101" and a lightbulb lit up
jackie has the best pickup lines written down and her phone and keeps checking the notes app as shes walking towards you (walks into a pole). forgets them immediately the second she starts talking to you (you talked first and she forgot what she crammed) but refuses to admit it and tries it anyways. completely flips the line around. like "you're the only ten i see, are you from tennessee?" and immediately winces.
screams into her pillow atleast once a week. did not realize that flirting with girls would be so fucking hard. no one tells you this thing. she almost misses when she thought she was straight. the shit was soooo easy. she's so good at flirting with boys that she's still pulling them without even trying.
also jackie for fucking sure memorizes how she wants conversations to go in general when she's nervous about something i feel and the second someone goes off script she's like "hold on now". has to schedule a doctors appointment for the first time and they ask her a question she didn't have written down and she hangs up (they needed her middle name. she makes shauna call them from rhode island lmaoo.).
peering over jackie's shoulder and she's got 20 tabs open all along the lines of "how to kiss", "how to tell her i like her", "how to flirt with women when you look straight", "how to be her friend in a gay way", "lesbian. girl pretty. help"
jackie does NOT believe in situationships. what do you mean you're not in love with her??? you went on three dates?? she secretly sprayed her perfume on your pillow when you were in the bathroom and everything. yahoo answers swore it would make you fall in love with her
side note jackie immediately hard launches you after one date. queen. writing mrs jackie taylor in all her notebooks for sure. calling shauna up like "i found the one" and shaunas like "...where is she from?". "unimportant. anyways so on our date..."
you see a no faintly written under a shit ton of eraser marks before she changed her mind and wrote another yes. (was nervous about giving you the option lmaooo)
Her Heartbeat's Wednesday: You just adopted the path of being down bad, I've lived my life being down bad for my pookie Y/n.
Yandere batfam x coquette!Twin x grunge!Reader Prt.3
Prt.1 Prt 2.
You left quietly, without a dramatic goodbye or a final confrontation. One day, your room was filled with your things—records stacked against the walls, black hoodies tossed over chairs, your signature leather jacket slung over the bedpost. The next, it was empty. A single note remained on your desk: I won’t be back. Don’t look for me.
They didn’t notice immediately.
At first, they assumed you were out—maybe brooding somewhere, maybe crashing at a friend's place. Then the days turned into weeks. Your absence became undeniable. That was when the guilt started creeping in. Not loud and demanding, but quiet, like an itch in the back of their minds that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
—————
Dick found out when he was flipping through a magazine in a waiting room. He wasn’t paying much attention until a familiar face caught his eye. There you were, draped in high-end grunge fashion, leaning effortlessly against a sleek motorcycle. The headline read: The New Face of Rebellion - Gotham’s Own Moonlight Icon.
His stomach twisted. When was the last time he had spoken to you properly? Not just a passing "hey" or a nod, but a real conversation? He couldn’t remember. And yet, there you were, thriving, adored by the world in a way he never imagined. He felt like a stranger looking in, realizing too late that he had been absent from your life far longer than he wanted to admit. Guilt gnawed at him, heavier than any fight he had ever been in. You had once looked up to him, hadn’t you? And he had let you down.
—————
Jason saw it on a billboard. He had been driving through the city when your face appeared, a towering display of grunge aesthetic with an unbothered smirk on your lips. You looked powerful. Untouchable.
He pulled over, staring up at the massive ad. The realization was bitter. He had never thought twice about how much he had ignored you—never cared enough to check in. And now, the whole world saw you for what he had failed to acknowledge: important. Brilliant. More than just a shadow to someone else's light.
Regret burned in his chest. He had always prided himself on being the one who understood outcasts, the one who fought for the forgotten. And yet, he had let you slip through his fingers like you were nothing.
—————
Tim read about you through a business report. One of Gotham’s biggest fashion labels had signed a major contract with you, and their stock had skyrocketed overnight. He rubbed his temples, feeling a strange mixture of pride and guilt. How had he missed this? How had he let you slip away without noticing your potential?
He had spent countless nights obsessing over data, statistics, the rise and fall of Gotham’s industries—yet he hadn’t noticed the rise of someone who had been right under his nose. He should have known. He should have cared more. Tim had always believed he was perceptive, yet when it came to you, he had been blind. The realization stung, more than he cared to admit.
—————
Damian saw it on social media. Talia had sent him a message with a simple link.
"You always underestimated her."
He clicked it, and there you were, featured in an article praising your rise as a grunge icon. He clenched his jaw. He had spent so much time dismissing you, treating you as a nuisance. And now? The world adored you in a way he never had. The way he should have.
For the first time in a long time, he questioned if maybe, just maybe, he had been the lesser one all along. Damian had always thought himself superior, yet you had thrived without him, without any of them. That truth was unbearable.
—————
Stephanie saw you on TV. An interview clip played as she scrolled through channels.
"So tell us," the interviewer said, "how does it feel to be the face of an entire fashion movement?"
You smirked. "Feels like everyone finally caught up."
Stephanie swallowed hard. When was the last time she had even spoken to you? She had been so caught up in her own struggles, her own battles, that she hadn’t even noticed you slipping away. And now? You didn’t just leave. You had become something bigger than any of them.
She had always thought you were cool, but she never really told you. Never made the effort to let you know how much she admired you. And now it was too late. You didn’t need her validation. You never had.
—————
Cassandra had known before the others. She saw your face in magazines, watched clips of your runway walks, and knew exactly how much you had grown into yourself. But she never said anything to the others. Maybe because she knew they needed to realize it on their own.
She had always watched, always understood in a way the others didn’t. And maybe, deep down, she had felt it coming long before you ever packed your bags. She had seen your unhappiness, the way you had been overlooked. And while she had wanted to say something, to reach out—she hadn’t. That guilt sat heavy in her chest.
—————
Barbara was the last to know. She had been too busy. That was her excuse. But when she finally looked you up, saw the sheer scale of your success, she had to sit down. How had she missed it? How had she let you go unnoticed for so long?
She scrolled through article after article, watching interviews and clips, piecing together the years she had ignored. And with each one, the weight in her chest grew heavier. She had once been the one who noticed things first, who caught details others missed. And yet, when it came to you, she had been just as blind as the rest.
—————
Now, you weren’t just a grunge icon. You were best friends with Gigi Hadid, Zendaya, Sabrina Carpenter, and Billie Eilish. You were invited to the biggest talk shows, sitting beside Hollywood elites as if you had always belonged there. The industry adored you. The world watched you.
Your outfits? Always a statement. Leather corsets paired with ripped jeans and chains, oversized band tees tucked into lace skirts, fishnet stockings under combat boots, dark smokey eyeshadow and glossy black nails. You were effortlessly magnetic, the kind of woman who turned heads and owned every room she walked into.
And then there was C/N, your biggest fan. Their room was filled with posters of you—every magazine cover, every candid photo they could find. They admired you openly, idolized your effortless style, your sharp attitude, the way you never let anyone walk over you.
"She’s the coolest person alive," C/N would say to anyone who listened. They didn’t just love you; they adored you. And the Batfamily? They were just distant spectators to the life you built without them.
One by one, they all realized the same thing: they had overlooked you. Dismissed you. Failed you.
And now, you didn’t need them anymore.
You know...I was thinking about ABA and Paracelsus role swap.. Paracelsus getting addicted to the unique components of ABA's blood and seemingly wanting more initially hating that but then...starts to slip into this fantasy of twisted love and despite what he says secretly doesn't want to leave ABA's side.
ABA who doesn't question it because clearly the weapons seems to know more about people. ABA who tries her best to talk her way out of fights to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. ABA who doesn't fully understand what Paracelsus is rambling about at times but goes with it to keep the weapon preoccupied.
I just think we need more of that.
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