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ktkat99 · 2 days

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Batfam prompt I wrote out planning on it being a oneshot. I don't have time or energy for another long story at the moment, but don't want to just let it sit in my outline folder forever. Feel free to use it, play around with it, add to it, use it for inspiration, or whatever.

Tim gets injured while not wearing his suit one night.

Bernard, who has never met Tim before, finds him and takes him home. He ends up losing his memory and Bernard decides to let him move in while he heals, unaware that he's really Red Robin.

Bruce and the rest of the family can't find Tim anywhere.

Days turn into weeks.

Weeks turn to months.

All without a trace.

Tim and Bernard are getting used to living together, and both the pros and cons of being roommates.

Tim will sometimes have nightmares or flashbacks, but he’s also started to heal.

His family ends up torn, with Jason, Dick, and Steph convinced he’s alive, while Bruce, Cass and Damian have all resigned themselves to believing that he died.

One night, Tim and Bernard take a nighttime walk to a convenience store and witness a robbery.

Tim stops the guy on instinct and has a flashback of fighting with Nightwing. He assumes he was a criminal and runs off before the clerk can thank him.

Something the clerk mentions to Officer Dick Greyson when he arrives to arrest the thief. The clerk hands over the surveillance footage, which ends up being proof that Tim survived.

Dick is overjoyed, but Steph and Jason point out that he isn't being held hostage. He's free and yet never contacted them.

Was he in hiding?

From them?

Or for his own protection from someone?

Or maybe the civilian he was with had done something to him?

Whatever the reason, they decide against telling the rest of the family until they can figure out what's going on.

They begin following Tim, keeping their distances.

Tim, meanwhile, after ‘remembering’ being a criminal, can't stop obsessing over his scars, and who he might have hurt to receive them. He keeps thinking about the convenience store clerk and Bernard, wracked with guilt about all the things he may have done.

Bernard stays by him the whole time, doing his best to calm him down.

Tim doesn't tell him what's on his mind out of fear of being kicked out, and Bernard assumes the event was too stressful for him and doesn't push him to talk.

Eventually, the two of them fall asleep together, and Tim promises to make up for his past crimes by protecting Bernard. Things gradually go back to normal with Bernard going to work and Tim, who has no valid id, staying home and taking care of the apartment.

Nightwing, Red Hood, and Spoiler take turns watching Tim and Bernard.

They still haven't told their family, but know they can't just follow Tim forever.

Before they can decide on their next move, though, Cass bumps into him while grocery shopping. She freezes and he doesn't recognize her, but Dick, Jason, and Steph have to come clean.

Cass is pissed, Bruce wants to bring Tim home immediately, and Damian points out that he might not even want to come home, and that they should leave him be.

They decide that, before they make their decision, they need to talk to Tim. Maybe he really did just decide to quit.

Tim, meanwhile, has been using his free time while Bernard is at work to help people who need it. He becomes somewhat of a neighborhood vigilante, believing that he needs to make up for his past crimes.

Most of the injuries he incurs are minor and easy to hide from Bernard, but one day he takes a knife to the arm.

Bernard freaks out and tries to give him stitches in their kitchen, but then has to convince Tim to let him take him to a hospital.

Tim, not wanting to be arrested for crimes he doesn't remember committing, therefore leaving Bernard alone, argues that he's fine.

It doesn't hurt that bad.

He'll heal.

Bernard gets frustrated and shows off his own scars, which he had worked hard to always keep hidden. He explains what happened to him, and how his family disowned him as a result of ending up in the cult, and that he promises he won't put Tim in a situation where he could be in danger.

He asks to know why Tim is so adamant against going to the hospital and Tim reluctantly admits what he's pieced together from his flashbacks.

Bernard is shocked to find out that he might have been sharing his apartment with a criminal, but reasons that that must be why Tim knows how to fight.

Deciding to focus on the problem at hand, Bernard convinces Tim to at least let him take him to Leslie’s place, as she doesn't ask questions.

Leslie proceeds to ask questions, prompting Bernard to be the one to answer them for Tim.

Leslie comes to the conclusion that Bernard is answering so that Tim doesn't say the wrong thing, and only grows more concerned when she tries to subtly give him openings to slip her a message or some sort of sign that he needs help and he doesn't.

She decides that, since he's acting like he's never met her, she'll play along.

Once Bernard and Tim leave, she calls Bruce and tells him what happened.

Bruce decides it's time to step in because something is clearly wrong with Tim.

Tim and Bernard head back home and have a long talk about everything Tim's been hiding and what he's been up to.

Bernard wonders if Tim might be wrong about his assumption that he was a criminal, but Tim remembers stalking Batman, fighting with Nightwing, Robin trying to kill him and a few other things.

Tim was a criminal, and he's certain of it.

At a loss of what else to do, Bernard convinces Tim to get takeout for dinner, since neither have eaten yet.

Tim agrees and they walk down to Tim's favorite place.

On the way there, Batman and Nightwing show up and order them into the Batmobile.

Tim manages to fight off Nightwing as Batman is driving and Nightwing isn't expecting Tim to fight him and escapes with Bernard.

Their suspicions all appear to be confirmed; the Batfam believe Tim is being controlled by Bernard, while Bernard and Tim believe he's a wanted criminal.

Tim decides he needs to leave, since he's obviously being hunted, but Bernard refuses to let him.

Not alone, at least.

Tim wants Bernard to stay safe, which means away from him, but Bernard is just as worried about Tim's safety. They argue, but ultimately both find an abandoned building to hide in together.

They decide to take turns sleeping and Tim falls asleep wondering what sort of crime he committed to warrant the Bats searching for him. He ends up dreaming of the night he found his father's body and wakes up believing that he killed him.

Bernard has nodded off at this point and Tim needs to clear his head so he heads up to the roof to process what he dreamed about.

The bats decide that, for their safety and his, Tim will need to be taken by force and they can figure out what's wrong with him once they have him back home.

They track them to the abandoned building and break in, but only find Bernard.

Bernard ends up getting captured quickly and taken to the batcave for questioning.

Tim, who witnessed the abduction but hadn't been quick enough in getting down from the roof to do anything, decides it's time to go on the offensive against the bats.

He has had enough flashbacks to piece together that Batman is Bruce.

He's tired.

Angry.

Frustrated.

He's been living for months without knowledge of who he used to be and having to deal with random flashbacks and trying to piece together what his life before looked like.

The bats taking Bernard is his last straw.

He decides to start by breaking into the manor and looking for Bernard there.

Bernard, meanwhile, is desperately trying to convince Bruce and the others that he has no idea where Tim is, that he didn't do anything to Tim, and that Tim has amnesia.

They don't believe him until Tim shows up and goes all-out trying to attack them and escape with Bernard, but Bernard is the one who manages to calm him down and convince him to listen to his family.

It takes a while, and a lot of proof, but Tim finally regains his memory.

He and Bernard officially start dating and move back in together.

They like to joke that Bernard had the craziest introduction to the family, despite being a civilian.

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muddyorbsblr · 9 months

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timeless

See my full list of works here!

Summary: While doing some research to help out Mobius on a 'moonshot project', you and Loki come across a startling revelation about your lives. All your lives.

Pairing: TVA!Loki x TVA!Reader

Word Count: 3.5

Warnings: some talks of smutty times, but overall this is just fluff [let me know if i missed something!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship, talks of soulmates, references to my other stories

"I really don't get why you're in here bugging me for something to do, Y/N," Agent Mobius chuckled, shaking his head as he thumbed through another folder's worth of records that he hadn't told you quite yet what they were for. "No high-level variant threats have been reported, timelines are--well, they're relatively stable. Things are quiet for a change. I say enjoy it while it lasts and go on a vacation or something with Laufeyson. Just don't--"

"Don't cause any Nexus events, yes yes, Mobius, we know." A smile broke out on your face at the sound of Loki's voice cutting off the TVA Agent, your cheeks nearly aching from your grin widening when he walked up behind you and long arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "Thing is we already have partaken in quite a handful of adventures across the timelines, indulging ourselves in the…numerous pleasures and luxuries that they have to offer."

One look at how you were reddening with the implications of your boyfriend's words had your fellow Agent scrunching up his face in feigned appalment. "Time and place, you two, jeez."

You and Loki shared a confused look when an analyst from another table yelled "And you did it at my birthday dinner!" and rendered Mobius into a cackling heap, laughing into his sleeve to muffle the sound.

"Anyway…" you spoke up, making the grey-haired agent look back up at you. "Are you sure there isn't anything we can help with? Doesn't even have to be high-level, I'll literally take up a timeline reset caused by a woman at a grocery store grabbing a can of peaches instead of a can of mangoes, I'm getting antsy here."

"Alright alright fine," he sighed, motioning toward you and the god behind you. "It's something of a moonshot but we've been trying to find proof of the existence of soulmates throughout the timelines, so we need concrete cases that no matter the circumstance, no matter the obstructions between two souls, they always find each other and they always end up together."

"You mean like in that TV show where they've got fairytale characters in like Maine or something and there's this couple that constantly goes--"

"I'll find you, I will always find you," you and Mobius said at once, causing you both to break out into laughter.

"Exactly like that," he confirmed when he calmed down some. "Preferably without the cheesy catchphrase because in case you do find one I would actually prefer to not include in my report that all soulmates have some line they tell each other that's so cheesy it's pungent."

"Right so…soulmates, no cheesy lines, across the timelines. Got it." You gave him a little salute before you went off to the shelves, holding Loki's hand as he followed a few steps behind you.

"Darling we have been scouring through files for hours. Perhaps it's time to report back to Mobius. Tell him that every pair we've found so far have broken the pattern at some iteration down the line. The most we've come across is a pair that were together for five iterations of their lives before the sixth showed they never even met in that lifetime."

Your shoulders slumped over when you placed your latest folder on your pile, of failed attempts, just about half the size of Loki's own little mountain of case files. Maybe he was right; every possible lead you'd found all ended up a dud, and that alone would be proof enough that this was all a wild goose chase of an assignment for Mobius.

Then again, he did call it a moonshot, so the realization didn't smart too much.

The frustration you felt began to melt away the moment Loki's hands touched your shoulders, leaning into him when he started working at the knots that he found with expert precision. "Okay, you're right," you sighed. "Let's go tell Cubey his moonshot's a single needle in a city of haystacks."

He placed a kiss to the top of your head, using his seiðr to stack the case files into neat stacks arranged by file number. "Thank the Norns that ridiculous magic dampener fractured some when the timelines diverged," he mumbled, chuckling into your hair. "Now how about I bring us to a nice hot spring and we could simply…enjoy one another's company?" You let out a giggle when his hands traveled down your sides, lightly grasping your waist and pulling you against him.

If only you could have silenced the little voice in your head when you were just seconds away from him whisking you off to Jökulsárlón or Hakone, clad in a dark emerald bikini that your lover would peel off of you as he made good on his promise for you both to enjoy each other's company.

"I can nearly hear the thoughts forming in your mind, darling," he cooed, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, chuckling against your skin when you wordlessly confirmed what he'd said by slumping over again. "What is it?"

"Just one last try?" You wouldn't ever let yourself live it down if you'd gone down this road and not looked at this particular set of files.

He let out a sigh, his slightly cool breath tickling your skin before pressing a tender kiss to the back of your head. "One last attempt. And if we reach another dead end--"

"You can whisk me away to any destination of your choice and have your wicked way with me," you finished for him, letting out a little yelp when he brought his lips to the spot between your neck and shoulder, playfully nipping at the skin.

"What a deliciously reckless promise, my love," he teased, smirking against your neck when he proceeded to lightly suck at the sensitive skin and you had to bite your lip to muffle the whimper that slipped through your lips. "I look forward to collecting on it in a short while."

He rested his chin on your shoulder, still holding you close when you called out for a bit of assistance on your final hunch. "Minutes?"

Your eyes squinted to adjust to the sudden brightness when the orange hologram appeared on the desk in front of you. "Well hello there, lovebirds. What can I do for y'all?" she asked with a small wave of her cartoonish stick arm.

"Could you pull up our files?"

"Well sure I can, Y/N! How much of your files are we talking here?"

You shared a look with Loki before you answered, "All of them?"

"Before I hand 'em over, I think it's best y'all know from the get go that you're about to deal with thousands of files. It'll take a whole lotta time before you can sort 'em all out," she cautioned you both, already giving you a digital visual of how many files she'd already begun to pull up.

"Minutes, as I've come to understand it, we variants apparently have all the time in the world," you countered, shrugging your free shoulder and giving the living hologram a little smile. "We can take it."

"Alright well suit yourself," she comically shrugged both her hands before making the files that were already on the table disperse and go back to their original locations throughout the library shelves before stacks upon stacks of folders materialized in their place. All of them sectioned off into two sides. "Have at it, y'all."

You picked up the first folder from the stack closest to you, your brows knitting together already once you read the name on the file. "Minutes, I don't think this is mine, it says Eve but that's not--"

"Your name?" she finished for you. "Darlin', Y/N is your name in this lifetime--Well, the lifetime you came from before your Nexus event, you get what I mean. The file you're holding is from another lifetime, heck, might even be from another timeline. But one look at that file and you'll see that that's you. All of these are you. Doesn't matter if you're goin' by a different name, the soul remains the same."

The air left your lungs when you opened the folder to find a picture of you with pale skin and matted ivory hair on the front of the file. Only thing was that this version of you wasn't quite human in her lifetime. In fact centuries of it were spent as a vampire.

A few moments later she spoke up again. "Well then that's my cue. Happy sortin', y'all!" And then she disappeared. Leaving you and Loki alone with your couple thousand files each to rifle through.

Had you been there on a different objective, you would have spent a bit more time thumbing through the pages that detailed the life of this version of you, rubbing elbows with numerous prominent figures throughout history and having her fair share of trysts with a handful of them. But your only focus was her most prominent affair. Her great love.

When you reached that page, you felt yourself go breathless once again looking at the picture that stared back at you. "Loki," you breathed out, holding out the file to him so he could see for himself. The god's eyes widened at the photo in front of him. The ebony hair may be matted and the skin somehow even paler than his usual complexion, but there was no denying it. This Eve's companion throughout her years, this Adam, was another lifetime's iteration of Loki.

He began to rifle through his own stacks of folders, finding the one that had the same variant number and interlocked his and your folders together, starting a new stack at the center of the desk. "If you're right, and this yields the moonshot result that Mobius has been searching for, you can pick the destination and have your wicked way with me."

"Why Mischief, how reckless of you," you said coyly, batting your eyelashes at him. "What if I wanna tie you up?"

"It's endearing that you believe you could, my darling." He lightly poked your side, quickly pulling you into his arms the second you started wriggling and giggling in his direction. "But if that is truly what you want then I can promise not to break out for an hour."

"Two," you countered.

"Ninety minutes."

"Deal."

"Now if I'm right and this leads to another dead end, I whisk you away to any destination of my choosing for a fortnight, no tempads, no missions, and not a stitch of clothing on this glorious form of yours." His lips skimmed the side of your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek when you let out a squeal at his finger deftly undoing the top button of your shirt. "Do we have a deal, my love?"

"Okay okay," you relented, turning your head to steal a quick kiss before bring your attention back to the folders you were about to sort through. Before you could pull away, his free hand went up to the back of your head and deepened the kiss.

"What if I told you I've been plagued with visions of stripping you bare and laying you out on the desk before me? That I'd been thinking of enjoying every delectable inch of you as if you were my own personal dessert board?" You let out a gasp at the lustful image his words had conjured in your mind, allowing him to easily lick into your mouth and turn you into putty in his arms the moment your tongues met.

"I'd say I'm not surprised," you breathed out when he pulled away, placing your hand over his before he could undo a third button from your shirt. "But the faster we get this done, the faster oneof us will be at the other's mercy and maybe you can even bring that desk fantasy of yours to life." You pressed another quick peck to his lips before managing to wriggle your way out of his embrace, jutting your chin at his side of the desk. "Pick a file, Mischief."

The next file had you and him initially on opposite sides of the Battle of New York, your story starting in Stuttgart when he had clones force you down on your knees and the injuries from that encounter permanently damaging you. A handful of times throughout the day of the actual battle, he went out of his way to save your life, ensuring your safety from a fatal fall and even the Hulk; the document even had a mention of him asking Thor of what came of you after he was apprehended because you weren't among the Avengers that saw him off to Asgard, only to find out the true extent of your injuries. Then he found himself back on Earth to serve his sentence and falling in love with you, using his magic to undo the physical damage that he dealt you. And then you two went on your own adventure to have 'do-overs' in places that held bitter memories for him, from Stuttgart to Asgard and even the balcony in Stark Tower.

Another file saw Loki as an English baronet named Thomas Sharpe, and you as his final wife and a sort of partner in crime. Initially you teamed up to play a dangerous game of sneaking around his ancestral home to gather and send out evidence that would put his incestuous and murderous sister Lucille behind bars, and somewhere along the way you two had genuinely fallen in love with one another.

You then found a good handful of scenarios where you both lived in the Avengers Compound, having a bad case of mutual pining and both of you being too hesitant and overcome with doubt that neither of you made a move until the situation practically forced you to confess. One even involved you photographing him for an Avengers calendar where he stripped for you during his session.

"Yeah, this definitely sounds like you," you joked when you showed him one of the pictures from the photoshoot in question where he laid on his side on a white bed wearing nothing but a pair of white boxers. When you opened the next file, you let out a whiny groan out of sheer frustration and disappointment.

"Darling, that is a sound I only wish to hear when I elicit it from you. What's wrong?"

"Might as well just lie down on the table right now because there's no way this isn't a dead end." You waved the file in your hand in the air.

"Much as I would thoroughly enjoy claiming this particular prize, perhaps we need not be so hasty, my love. Tell me what would be such a hindrance that you'd be ready to give up your theory--"

"Place of Birth: Asgard," you read out, cutting him off. "Born to Lady Sif of the Warriors Four--"

"Alright well Sif would surely have some choice words with me if I courted you but--"

"And the Crown Prince Thor, God of Thunder." You gave him a look as if to say "This is why", the realization dawning on him as well that yes, this would be the dead end that would grant him his victory. And yet for some reason, you decided to keep on turning the pages. "Gotta be honest, though, I thought that what would break our streak is if we never met in these--Oh what in the Game of Thrones Targaryen nonsense is this??"

"What is it?"

"The streak isn't broken yet," you croaked out, the disbelief entering his eyes as he frantically started searching for his corresponding variant file. "We were married for two and a half thousand years."

"I surrendered my claim to the throne of Asgard for you," he declared in astonishment. "We have children in this timeline." His voice began to hitch at the end, making you immediately close the distance between you to lace your fingers together.

"Looks like even something as monumental as being your brother's daughter couldn't stop us," you noted with a little smile, breaking out into a full grin when your comment made Loki exhaled in a rather loud chuckle that traveled across the library. You took your two folders and interlocked them, adding to the pile in the center. "Let's keep going."

It was several hours later that you two had finally found your way back to the desk that Mobius occupied, the more tenured agent pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes in clear frustration.

"You still got nothing, Cubey?"

"One of these days I'm gonna find a name for you that's just as annoying, Y/L/N, just you wait," he groaned, his posture visibly slumping when he saw the interlocked stacks of folders that you were carting around. "What in the name of the Alioth is that?"

"We found one," you proudly stated. "Proof that soulmates exist and…only some of them have a catchphrase."

"That's just one?!" he boomed, immediately getting shh'd by a more elderly analyst a few tables behind him to which you and Loki shh'd her right back without missing a beat. You nodded your answer to Mobius. "So what's the catchphrase?"

"I was made to be yours," you began, letting go of the cart to hold your hand out to Loki.

"And I yours," he finished, lacing your fingers together before draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"Wait a damn minute," Mobius said suspiciously, pointing a finger between the two of you. "Are you two trying to tell me that the first and so far only case of soulmates we have on record is--"

"Us," you finished for him, nudging the cart in his direction with your foot. "Every single lifetime on every single timeline accounted for."

"What about your own?" he questioned. "You both mentioned that you'd never met your timeline's version of each other prior to your Nexus events."

"Well see that's the thing. These files only cover everything prior to a variant's Nexus event, or what the events were in their own respective sacred timelines. We met each other after our Nexus events. So maybe our souls never found each other in the lives that we left behind because…we were meant to find each other here."

"Huh…" he mused, looking carefully at the two of you. "Could be. Nice catch, you two. I knew I made a good call giving you a partner, Loki."

"My darling mortal is quite brilliant," your lover beamed, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for our introduction."

"Well, you really don't have to but if you feel so compelled, I'm willing to take a jet ski and a vacation to Miami if you two can swing it."

"We'll call you if anything serious pops up, just keep your tempad charged," you shot back, extending your free hand toward him to shake. "But really, Cubey. Thank you. For introducing us. For vouching for me and making sure that I didn't get pruned during my trial with Rennslayer--"

"Otherwise you might have crossed paths with that one-handed variant in the Void and who knows what nefarious and depraved intentions he would have had with you," Loki interjected, resting his head on yours.

"You have a Captain Hook variant?"

"Nah it was a president," Mobius answered with a wave of his hand. "Got his hand bit off by an alligator."

"So…a Captain Hook variant."

"Yeah, you know what you're right. Loki has a Captain Hook variant. You'll meet him soon enough when you get sent on a mission to the Void. Loads of highly dangerous variants usually find themselves there when they try to escape processing."

"If he even dares touch you I'll divest him of his remaining hand," Loki grumbled, once again pressing his lips to your temple. "That heathen can find his own variant of you. You're mine."

"All yours," you beamed, bringing your joint hands to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. "And speaking of…we're off for a few weeks, Cubey. We have a date to get to."

"Please don't get arrested for indecent exposure. Or public fornication," the senior agent groaned. "That's a timeline I'll need therapy for if I have to be the sorry ass to reset it."

Neither of you responded other than a little wave and a thumbs up in his direction as you walked away, the god giving you a dimpled smirk as you two made your way to your shared apartment.

"Where shall we head to first, little mortal? A hot spring? Or perhaps a nice scenic tundra? Or perhaps a cherry blossom forest? I can already picture your beauty with the backdrop of the falling petals…"

He stopped listing options when he saw you shaking your head, mirroring his smirk with one of your own. "Bedroom first. And give me your tie. You owe me ninety minutes."

A/N: I'm so glad to finally get this out for y'all to see! This was originally supposed to up weeks ago for something but some of my own revelations were made (translation: I got bitch slapped in the face by reality) which led to the postponing of this story. Anyways, I hope y'all liked it even if it is kinda cringe and silly. I'm always gonna be cringe and silly, so manage expectations accordingly. 🥴🫡

Also if you got all the references within the files (except the OLLA one that's a freebie) I officially love you. 💖💛

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #muddyorbs writes

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overnowsfcb · 6 months

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halfway out the door; fermín lópez

summary: fighting to keep a little flame alive underwater, you couldn't lose the only stable thing in your life

warnings: ANGST!!! (no good ending) mature language, mental health issues (panic attack, anxiety, emotional distress), relationship struggles, unhealthy dinamics, brief mention of smut themes. if any of these topics makes you uncomfortable, i advise against reading this story.

word count: 3,3k

note: hiii! it's me again, this time posting for my sweet boy (who is not as sweet in this story) fermín. im planning to do something with all the 1989 vault tracks x barça players. so take it as the first from the series!! also, apologies if the angst hits hard, promise to post fluff next time (its a bit of challenge for me haha) super excited about this and would love to hear your thoughts or suggestions! – venus 🫂💐🫧 p.s.: im so proud of this one tbh

He didn’t seem to have enough time for you anymore. You didn’t want to see the subtle twist, but you knew him all too well and an imperceptible change for everyone was an imposing earthquake in your world.

It was in the hours that your messages would be waiting for a response and the way he wasn’t starved to taste your lips anymore. Once, he’d find an excuse to be with you, even if only for brief minutes. He’d dash to your apartment bearing your favorite chocolate with the pretext of keeping you fed. A smile brightening and your stomach still produced the same fluttering butterflies, as the first time he kissed you underneath the moonlight at fourteen.

Back then, everything was perfect, the chill air in your faces as you ran with sand getting between your toes, you could still feel his timid hands and tender touch on your waist as you both shared a breathtaking kiss.

Your mother's words echoed - relationships don't last forever. You'd always dismissed her musings, attributing them to the bitterness stemming from your father's departure. But now, that thought held a glimmer of truth.

He was your soulmate, your solid backbone, he would hold the candles for you even if his arm grew weary, drawing strength from unimaginable places. Unseen pictures would fill his phone, capturing your candid moments, proudly setting you as his lock screen. One cherished memory stood out: a photo of you, pajama-clad, returning from a late-night ice cream run, a victorious smile on your face. You had lost a bet that day, darting to the store at 1 AM, just a street away from your building.

However, now everything appeared to be falling apart; the last picture in his gallery folder, titled 'I love, mine, mine, mine,' dated back to July, and it was already November. It contrasted the warmth of July with the chilling absence of recent affection.

Yearning for something to blame, tears seemed futile as memories replayed relentlessly, etched deep within your heart. Each sob felt like a painful reminder of the emptiness in the cold, desolate bed without him by your side. Staring at it blankly, your mind echoed the silent void, your chest tightening with every expelled breath.

Sleeping alone always felt unbearable. You reached for your phone, gazing at the lock screen displaying a snapshot of both of you in a summer pool. His outings with friends never bothered you; you accepted that he was now part of Barcelona's first team, and you weren't his priority. However, deep down, a simple goodnight message like "Sweet dreams, Pip, I love you" was all you silently longed for. Was it too much to ask from someone who claimed to love you?

The absence weighed heavily as you saw the clock strike 4 AM. This hour always induced a sense of dread, a time too late to sleep, opening the gates to wandering thoughts about life's choices. Moving to Barcelona for him might have been a hasty decision.

In Sevilla, there wasn't much to lose. Your little town overwhelmed you, especially under the weight of your living nightmare, your mother and her pursuit of perfection. That was until she married your toddler brother’s father, her focus shifted almost forgetting about your existence.

He was your escape from that suffocating environment. Initially, it felt liberating, but gradually, it became confining again. The cage expanded as you became his pillar while his name was in everyone’s mouth, especially girls who found him attractive. The weight of being his support, witnessing the attention he received, caused an internal storm. But he wouldn’t change you, right? Yet, the conflict brewed within, the tug-of-war between being the support he needed and holding onto your own identity.

You grew tired of waiting for him, tossing and turning in bed for ten minutes, before finally succumbing to sleep, cocooned in blankets to ward off the cold.

Abruptly opening your eyes, hours later, your body spasmed and your heart raced, reflecting the recent struggles with sleep these days. Observing to your side, relief washed over you; he lay there peacefully, an arm draped over your waist.

Tears welled in your eyes, a sense of loss filling your chest. Deeply in love, you realized your first waking thought was about him, albeit taking a negative turn.

What if I lose him? What if I lost the lighthouse in the middle of the sea? The uncertainty of the waters and the potential fall weighed heavily.

You wanted to get back to those times when you smiled as you landed your eyes, his body next to you, where blonde strands of messy hair framed his face and you delicately organized them while you talked and kissed every morning, staying in bed like an old married couple, feeling each other's warmth, laughter used to fill the air as he playfully booped your nose.

The weight of invisible hands squeezed your chest, making each breath a desperate gasp for air.

You didn't want to feel this anxiety; your breath became erratic. Rushing to the terrace, you breathed as if your mind forewarned a trailer of what has to be.

Struggling to regain control, your hands tightened on the cold railing, a reminder of the grounding reality you struggled to grasp.

Peering down, the height induced paralysis, intensifying your vertigo. "y/n, estás bien?" (are you okay?) His concerned voice, muffled and distant, struggled to penetrate the thick fog of panic, fear rooted you in place, afraid the floor would fall through if you made a step.

"Amor, háblame." (darling, talk to me) He approached, unsure. This panic attack was the first in years. His hand on your shoulder offered reassurance like an anchor, and you emerged from the state, meeting his gaze with your tear-stained eyes; he was still your gentleman. He was still yours.

And you needed to repeat it to stave off madness.

"Abrázame," (hug me) you whispered in a fragile plea. His arms enveloped you, he was the refuge that you needed; his familiar scent eased your breathing.

His head on yours, he sought to share his heartbeat, attempting to quell the sudden anxiety and the questions that haunted your mind. His furrowed brows hinted at his confusion, but conversation could wait. For now, it was about you. The one who never failed him; he couldn't fail you now.

When your body distended completely, he gently guided you back to bed. You clung to him, as if he could run away at any moment.

You walked to your side of the bed and he tucked you in like no one ever did before, leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead, an attempt to dissipate the negativity.

“What time is it?” you inquired, looking up at him.

“Six a.m., sleep. ok?” He stroked your head, and your eyes closed under the weight of fatigue. “I love you so much.”

Days passed after the incident. He chose not to ask more about the reason behind your anxiety, he decided to act as if everything was fine.

This didn't imply he lacked concern for you, but it certainly felt that way. His demeanor towards you was still unchanged.

Feelings unaddressed hung in the air, manifesting in the cold kisses and the superficial small talk that never deepened. But, in front of everyone, you maintained the façade, accepting compliments from everyone about your seemingly perfect relationship. Only if they knew the underlying truth…

Yet, you personally sensed his gradual withdrawal, a palpable feeling of him slipping through your fingers. The strain became evident as you found yourself having to repeat things that were important to you at least three times, only for him to continually forget. Or the lackluster pecks he gave you, making you feel pathetic.

Although feeling unwanted, you weren't a resentful person, so you would religiously sit in the stands at every game and witness how he gained fan's hearts with outstanding performances on the pitch, earning the title of man of one of the champions league matches and you loved how the stadium echoed his name as he made an incredible goal.

You found joy in his happiness, doing his thing with the team of his dreams. In that moment, your mind transported into a different time – those moments when you stood by his side, offering comfort during his moments of self-doubt, back when he believed his dreams would forever be just that – dreams.

His satisfaction meant the world to you. Meeting him as he emerged from the dressing room, already showered, you couldn't help but admire how his wet hair framed his face.

A big smile adorned his face as he approached you. Opening your arms, your bodies collided as he effortlessly lifted you spinning around, creating a whirlwind of laughter that filled the air.

Once he gently set you down, you couldn't contain your pride. Cupping his cheeks, you locked eyes with him. The sense of accomplishment and joy was overwhelming. Your lips met his in a deep, meaningful kiss – one that hadn't been shared in weeks, but in that moment, it felt like the perfect reunion.

You believed this moment marked a fresh start, a much-needed rejuvenation to propel you forward. That optimistic outlook, however, disintegrated after he bid you farewell at your apartment, scrolling through TikTok on your couch, a video of his post-match interview caught your eye, and an involuntary smile crept onto your face.

His voice echoed through the video, captivating in its beauty. The interviewer's final question lingered in the air, "Who are you going to celebrate this with?" Anticipating a mention of teammates, family, and you, you were bewildered as the final words left his mouth – your name conspicuously absent.

And in that instant, the realization struck: he hadn't kept his promise to do a heart gesture to include you in his celebration either. But you decided to let it slide; perhaps it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins that caused him to forget, and you were willing to overlook it.

You turned on the TV to avoid your thoughts. He no longer watched movies with you, and lately, the time you spent together felt like his phone held more allure than anything you did to catch his attention.

Without even mentioning that he wasn't fucking you lately, offering excuses of exhaustion from training or unexpectedly halting any progress when things got heated and leaving your folds wet.

But still, your mouth stayed shut, justifying every action. What you didn't know is that only one drop was missing in the glass before it overflowed – the last straw.

And eventually, the bomb exploded in the least suitable scenario. You stood by his side, his arm around your waist, desperately wanting to take his hand out and shout your feelings in front of everyone.

You didn't want to be there; you longed to be at home with your fluffy cat, who offered more comfort than Fermín did in these past months.

He was so smooth about it, engrossed in the conversation with his friends, seemingly oblivious to your distress. You whispered in his ear that you needed to get home, you weren’t feeling at your best, the strobe lights blinding you, the music pulsating louder than your heartbeat. It felt like water was reaching your nose, and you feared you'd stop breathing any moment.

Yet, you stayed, like a naive girl striving to make everything perfect for her lovely gentleman. But was still that gentleman who put you above all else?

The voices and laughter from his friends overwhelmed you. While you genuinely liked them and had never encountered an issue before, this night seemed a challenge you couldn't survive.

Your gaze darted around, hoping for a savior amid the sea of faces. But there was no one.

The air seemed to get thinner, and your chest constricted, as if locked in a slowly tight embrace. The blue dress discomforting your skin, felt like an additional layer of confinement, fantasizing to shed not only the fabric but also the skin beneath.

It was as if transparent walls were materializing around you, and this was the moment to escape a place to which you didn't belong, feeling like a misplaced puzzle piece, you watched him again with pleading eyes, silently urging him to notice you.

“Fer, really, I need to go home.” You whispered, careful not to let his friends overhear. He scanned your gestures, it took him a few seconds to realize that something about you was off. You wish he had seen it earlier.

Everything he did was later than you needed it, when he did the things, you have already fixed yourself into the uncomfortable.

“Okay, let's go.” He nodded and he finally took out his hand off your waist, allowing a momentary exhale. Greetings were exchanged with his friends and you reciprocated, not wanting to show an impolite image.

Almost running, your feet propelled you outside of the disco, pushing people out of your way, without waiting for Fermín.

The doors swung shut behind you, plunging the abrupt silence upon your ears. Relief washed over you.

Closing your eyes, you took deep breaths. You needed to hold yourself like the grown woman you were and not cry. As the doors swung open and closed again, you turned to find Fermín, a frown etched across his face.

“Why didn't you wait for me?” his voice held a trace of anger, making you shiver. Realizing the street wasn't the place for such a conversation, you began walking towards the car, your feet aching from the high heels worn that night.

He hurried to catch up, the tension palpable. When the car alarm reached your ears, signaling it was unlocked, you opened the door and entered as quickly as you could.

Sitting there, attempting to adjust to sudden silence, you sensed his presence beside you.

Leaning back into the headrest, you brought your hands on your face.

He started talking again. “What's going on you?” you hesitated to face him, reluctant to confront those expressive brown eyes you memorized like the back of your hand.

As he insisted again to hear a response, anger got to your head. Without warning, you exploded, all the carefully restrained words meant to preserve your relationship pouring into a torrent.

“I'm just so damn exhausted! I feel like I'm invisible. I ache to be seen, to matter in your eyes again. I’ve been here, baring my soul, and it feels like you're a million miles away.” Your scream echoed, tears smudging your makeup. You saw the weight of his actions settling on him as his eyes reflected comprehension. A sob escaped your lips, he stood frozen. “I'm just asking you to hear me, to truly see me, and realize that I'm shattering inside because I've already fought too much alone for the person who I thought I would marry.”

He shook his head, a boy who had always the right words now seemed that they left their mind, leaving him defenseless. A hesitant pause filled the car.

Lips parted, but the sentences seemed to dissipate before finding form. It was as if they were navigating a maze of thoughts, searching for the right words to offer comfort or understanding, yet coming up empty-handed.

You got tired of waiting, you've been doing it for such a long time, you almost felt old. But if he just opened his mouth, you knew you would forgive him. “Let's go home.” You whispered, disappointed about a man who you were calling the love of your life.

He gripped the steering wheel and hit the road. Memories flooded back of the anecdotes shared in that white car, now slipping through your fingers like ash.

You pondered the absence of rain, almost expecting the heavens to open up. Wasn't it obligatory for the sky to weep when something magical began succumbing to rationalism?

When you arrived at the house, he finally was able to speak. “I'm so sorry for everything that I caused you.” He didn't know if physical contact would be well received from you. So he gripped even more the steering wheel, needing to make something with his hands, getting out the tension.

“What happened to us, Fer?” your heart-wrenching question hitting him. You were already talking in past tense.

There wasn't an exit for this situation, and he knew that. He wished he could build a time travel machine and make everything alright, fix the first mistake that led to this big snow ball that was making an avalanche. “I-I don't know.”

“I think I'm coming back to Sevilla.” you confessed, stepping out of the car. Your headache due to the tears that you've been letting out and your eyes were puffy.

As you stood outside the car, the quiet suburban street provided a bleak contrast to the storm raging within your emotions.

Fermín, still gripping the steering wheel, searched for words that could somehow mend the gashes that had formed between you two. The realization of the inevitable distance settled on him like a heavy cloak.

“I never meant for it to come to this,” he finally uttered, voice heavy with remorse. “I let things slip away, and I can't forgive myself for that.”

You, caught between the pain and the need for resolution, gazed at him with a mixture of sorrow and longing. The familiar surroundings of the neighborhood seemed to transform into a backdrop for the end of something significant. You already knew you were never coming back here.

In the distance, a streetlamp flickered, casting intermittent shadows on the pavement. You took a deep breath, the chill in the air stinging your lungs, and said, “Sometimes, we have to go back to move forward.”

His eyes, filled with regret, met yours. “Is there anything I can do to make things right?”

But the answer remained unsaid, it wouldn't be fair to give him instructions and keep rowing and carrying him while he was just there. Wounds were already too deep and your energy was drained.

You turned away, the distance between Sevilla and this quiet street growing smaller in comparison to the emotional gap that now separated you two.

The door creaked shut, marking the end of a chapter that perhaps, in the unfathomable depths of your heart you didn't want to admit that you anticipated it.

In the solitude of your apartment, surrounded by echoes of shared laughter and the ghost of a love that once flourished, you confronted the daunting task of rebuilding your world. The faint glow from the streetlamp outside cast a melancholic light on the remnants of what was.

Fermín, still parked, felt the shared years withering in the blink of an eye, something you had been discerning for a torturing amount of time. The engine hummed softly, an averse companion to the lingering regret in the air. As he drove away, the distance between your hearts seemed insurmountable.

You watched as Blaugrana, your Calico fluffy cat, approached you unawarely of everything surrounding her, you sat on the wooden floor with her purring next to you. The sparkle of her collar made you remember how your life was bound to be lived with Fermín forever, in that collar your initials were carved. You didn't want to fall back to this cruel reality.

You even commanded yourself to religion to save your relationship, months before. Night after night, you poured the essence of your yearning into prayers addressed to Aphrodite, beseeching her to weave the threads of love and passion back into your relationship, to restore its former glory. Each whispered plea carried the weight of your sincere desire, a desperate hope that the goddess of love might heed your call and guide your connection to the blissful days of yore.

But even that didn't work. And you realized the hug of what you thought would be a fresh start unraveled into the deceptive clarity of terminal lucidity. Now you would hear the eternal melancholic tone of the complete loss of vital signs. Forever.

#fermin lopez x reader #fermin lopez #fermin lopez angst #football angst #football x reader #gavi x reader #pedri x reader #fermin lopez imagine #fermin lopez x you #football imagine

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tau1tvec · 6 months

Text

GALLO FAMILY HIDEAWAY // Pinewood Island Airbnb

Happy holidays, although wouldn't it be a lot happier for your sim if they had a nice, quiet place to spend some time with loved ones, to truly appreciate it? Well they're in luck! My sim is renting out his holiday home on scenic Pinewood Island, and it might just be the cozy location your sim is looking for! This three story alpine lodge boasts two spacious bedrooms, a chef style kitchen, a study/workout room fully outfitted for your sim's inner online creative, dining room with a stylish fireplace, a wine cellar, sauna, and a garden with a few friendly hens to keep your sim company. Your sim will also have access to their own private dock, complete with plenty of boat options to fully admire the water surrounding the island.

DETAILS

Library File. Two lots included, the house and the dock. Once you've placed the files into your Library Folder, you can access them in Edit World, use them to replace the ones already there.

Fully Furnished! CC is included in the zip, install it as you would any other package files, unless you already have them. Mind you it's quite hefty though, roughly 500 files, so I can't promise I didn't miss anything, but I checked several times.

Pinewood Island is strongly recommended. You can try it in another world, but I can't promise it'll look good.

Playtested. Weirdly it isn't very cramped, despite being heavily decorated, so everything seemed to be working well on my end.

I have all Packs and Store Sets installed, my Store Sets are "decrapped".

Should you run into any issues feel free to inbox me.

CREDITS

Major thanks to all the cc creators that helped make this happen, and the biggest thanks to @nilxis for creating Pinewood Island, and its original lots!

DOWNLOAD | MF

#the sims 3 #ts3 #ts3cc

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fleuraliasave · 2 years

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*OUTDATED NEW VERSION AVAILABLE HERE*

❤ Version 5.0 Fleuralia Save File ❤

Download link down below (please read entire post before installing)

This save file uses all EP’s, GP’s (not Journey to Batuu), SP’s and some of the kits (Country Kitchen, Blooming Rooms, Incheon Arrivals, Retro Fit, Industrial loft, Moonlight Chic and Little Campers kit).

What’s new in this update?:

Moonwood Mill and Copperdale have been completely redone, added multiple new lots, updated other lots and provided make-overs for the households.

All households that are currently living in the different worlds have a set sexual orientation and pronouns.

Added new households

Current Status of Worlds:

Finished worlds: Willow Creek, Oasis Springs, Newcrest, Magnolia Promenade, Windenburg, San Myshuno, Forgotten Hollow, Brindleton Bay, Del Sol Valley, StrangerVille, Glimmerbrook, Sulani, Britechester , Evergreen Harbor, Mt. Komorebi, Henford-on-Bagley, Tartosa, Moonwood Mill (NEW!) and Copperdale (NEW!).

Finished vacation worlds: Granite Falls and Selvadorada.

Finihed other lots: Hospital, Science Lab and the Police Station.

To be updated: the Magic Realm, will either be included in a future update or on the gallery (OriginID: fleuralia)

What do you get with this save?:

For my save file all lots are either completely new builds (almost all) or renovations, ofcourse created by me. Exceptions: I have added the official builds for the releases of the Paranormal SP by Dr Ashley and the Dream Home Decorator GP by Deligracy to this save, since I thought they deserved a spot. These two are therefore not my own creations, credits are given in the description to Dr Ashley and Deligracy. Mt. Komorebi, Henford-on-Bagley, Tartosa, Moonwood Mill and Copperdale lots are largely created by GameChangers. Most lots have gotten small updates, others are completely new builds by me.

All the townies had make-overs plus I added new families to spice it up a bit. Some of the townies are made by other creators, who are given credits in the description of the household. All the townies in the different worlds have a story, some include sentiments and adjusted relationships to the story.

Added plenty of community lots to give your Sims something to do (YAY!). Almost every world has one restaurant, but it also includes festivals that represent the four seasons (park lots) and a fully functional shopping street in Magnolia Promenade (toy store, bridal store and more).

I have added rental lots so you can go on vacation in more worlds. For example in Sulani, Willow Creek and Windenburg.

Other details:

As mentioned at the beginning, this save uses almost all packs (except Journey to Batuu and some kits). This means that if you download it without owning or installing most of the packs a lot of objects will disappear from the save, but if you are not bothered by this you can stil download and play in it.

I would love to add some households in this save created by all of you! Add your household under the hashtag #fleuraliatownies in The Sims 4 Gallery, you can add a storyline and world in the description but thats not obligatory. If I respond on your creation it means that I have incorporated it in the save for the next update (first one added with this update in Copperdale!)

Sadly the last update and pack came with a lot of bugs, the one I noticed were not specific to the save but to the game, as more players in different saves experienced them. I suggest before reporting problems in the save to me, to check on forums if its related to a general bug/glitch or to mods (if you use them).

Questions and supportive feedback are always welcome, you can reach me here via a comment on this post, an ask or through a DM 😁

How to make it work in your game:

Download the save file from the link below.

Drag it in your saves folder under: PC/Documents/Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/saves.

Change the numbers if you already have a save with the same name.

It should now show up in your game as: Fleuralia Save Version 5.0.

DOWNLOAD (SFS)

!!Don’t re-upload or claim as your own!!

Future updates will follow after each pack release (if it includes a world). The time the update will be uploaded after each release depends on how much I have to change and on my work schedule around that time.

Last but not least, enjoy and till next time! XX

Fleuralia

#fleuraliasave #fleuraliasaveversion5 #update #sims 4 save file #fleuraliatownies

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companionjones · 11 months

Text

We’ll Always Have Cuba

Pairing: Sierra Six/Courtland Gentry x Reader

Fandom: The Gray Man (Netflix)

Summary: After the events of The Gray Man, Claire and Six run off to Cuba because it doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the USA. There, they meet you. You are staying in the same apartment building as them for the summer. Over that summer, Six falls for you.

Warnings: None that I can think of, I skip over the smut

*******

“You’re staring again.”

Claire’s voice snapped Six out of the trance he was in as he gazed out the living room window. “Am not,” he childishly defended.

“Are too.” Claire plopped down on the couch with her newest record folder in her lap. It was currently playing. Claire’s eyes scanned the words of the folder. “Is Y/n home?”

Six turned away from the window. He glanced at the young girl as he headed for the front door. “Maybe,” he vaguely informed.

“You’re a stalker!” she called after him as the door shut.

He was far from that, he thought as he descended the stairs of the five-story apartment building. To be a stalker, one must follow a person places, and Six hadn’t done that in a couple months.

Yes, he knew that sounded bad, but he was only checking to make sure you hadn’t been sent by the CIA to hurt him or Claire. His mental alarms were set off when you didn’t bat an eye at his code name, which Claire had presented to you as his real name. You just kept the same sweet (and beautiful) smile on your face and thanked them for welcoming you to the building.

Six tried not to trust you after that. He followed you to stores and to the beach, looking for any sign that you weren’t the kind, gentle, and loving person that Six came to know you to be. He found nothing to contest what his instincts were saying about you. So, Six stopped following you, and consigned to only keeping a close eye on you while you were at the apartment building. Maybe too close an eye for what you warranted.

“Oh, you’re a life-saver,” you smiled at Six as he started to help you with your bags. “One thing I won’t miss about this place: the five-floor walk-up.”

He smirked at you. “It’s not so bad when you’ve got someone to talk to. That’s why I’m here.”

You tried to hide a smile from Six, and that made his heart skip a beat. Because of that, the bags he was carrying seemed light as air.

“You know, this was my last grocery trip here,” you pointed out as you and Six walked into the apartment you were staying at.

Six’s brow furrowed when he felt his heart drop slightly. “You’re leaving at the end of next week, right?”

“Yep.” You put the milk away, and opened the next bag. “I think the owner of this place told me that I’ve been at this Airbnb the longest out of his customer. A whole summer...And I really want to thank you and Claire for helping me feel more at home.”

“No problem.” Six glanced at the ground to hide the sincerity behind his words. “Well, if that’s all you need...”

Your eyes grew wide. “Oh! Yeah, you can go. I’ve got it from here. Thank you again!”

“No problem,” Six repeated under his breath. He felt he needed to get out of there, or else he would end up saying something he would regret.

“Hey, Six?”

He turned around at the sound of your voice just in time to duck his head out of the way of a box. Of course, Six caught it. He read the English words on the box.

Hubba Bubba Bubble Gum

Six smiled.

“I, um...found that at the store for you...I hope you like--”

“I love it,” he interrupted you to say. “Thank you.”

That put a smile on your face as well.

Six popped one of the pieces into his mouth, and exited your apartment.

“You’ve got it bad...” Claire teased as soon as Six came back into their living quarters.

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her, “No, I don’t,” before moving to the kitchen to put away the gum.

“Oh really? Then what’s that?” Claire leaned over the back of the couch as she referenced the present you had gotten Six.

“None of your business,” Six warned with no real malice.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Come on, Six. That’s just proof they’ve got it bad for you too. Why don’t you do something about it?”

Six leaned on the counter and sighed. “You know why I can’t.”

“Why? Because they’re leaving? That’s more of a reason to take the jump now, before you never see them again. And who knows, maybe they’ll--”

“Not with the life we lead, Claire,” reminded Six.

At that, Claire just shook her head. “You can’t let that hold you back forever, especially from stuff like this.”

“Somewhere between getting kidnapped and running away to Cuba,” she shrugged.

Six stood at the counter, contemplating for a moment more. Then, he figured he should go now before he talks himself out of it. Six marched toward the door, and yanked it open.

And there you were.

Both you and Six were shocked into silence.

You were the first to speak. “Um, I know I have a couple weeks left, but I was wondering if you and Claire would like to come over for dinner, so I can properly thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

Before Six said anything in return, Claire was off the couch and heading for her room. She gave a fake yawn. “I’m actually pretty tired. I think I’ll head to bed early tonight. You two kids have fun, though!” Her bedroom door shut behind her.

“What was that about?” you said over a laugh.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Six smiled, hiding his embarrassed. “You sure you want to make dinner?”

You answered as if it were obvious. “Of course I’m sure. Plus, I’m going to miss you-guys,” you clarified. “Why not start the goodbye now?”

Six could feel his heart clench in his chest, but he hid it well. He closed his front door behind him, and followed you to your apartment.

A couple of hours later, Six couldn’t remember ever being as relaxed as he was right then. There was just something about you that put him at ease.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked as you sat down next to him on the sofa, two refilled glasses of wine in hand.

Six couldn’t find it within himself to lie to you. “You,” he answered sincerely.

You blinking, obviously taken off guard by the response. You tried to hide your nervousness. “What about me?”

He smiled as he elaborated, “You brought me here to thank me, but I’m pretty sure I should be thanking you.”

“For what?”

“For being you.” Six informed, “You showed me...that life can be normal.”

“Can you tell me what you mean by that?”

Six hesitated. “My life, my whole life...has always been...less than normal.”

You smiled, “I know, Six. I’ve always known when it comes to you.”

That threw him off guard. It even scared him a little. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I can’t guess the details, but I always figured you and Claire have lead less than easy lives. It’s in how you carry yourselves, and how you treat each other. I mean, come on, your name is Six.”

He chuckled. His worries were somehow put at ease by you somewhat understanding his past.

“I’ve lived a life, too,” you admitted, “Let’s just say there’s a reason behind why I ran away to Cuba for a summer.”

Six’s interest was peaked, but he wasn’t going to ask about it if you didn’t want to know about his past for the moment.

You took a drawn-out sip of your wine. “I really don’t want to go back. This summer has just been so amazing. Plus, there’s you and Claire.”

A part of Six wanted to ask what else was keeping you from going back, but he surprised both you and himself by what he said next. “Stay.”

Your brow furrowed a little as your soft voice questioned, “What?”

Six put his glass down on the coffee table. “Stay with me, with Claire.” He took your glass from you and put it next to his Six took your hands in his. “Please, sweetheart. I don’t want you to go.”

“Where is this coming from?” came your worried question.

“It’s coming from what I’ve felt since the moment I laid eyes on you. I’m sorry, I just can’t keep this inside anymore--mmhh.”

You had cut him off with a kiss.

Six relaxed against you, but he tensed up again when a thought crossed his mind. He broke the kiss. “I’ve killed people.” He bluntly stated. He couldn’t let the night go on without you knowing.

“I know.”

He realized you had guessed as much as you caressed his face between your hands.

“That don’t change anything for me.” You pulled him in to kiss you again, and this time, Six accepted it wholeheartedly.

Hours later, you and Six were curled up in your bed together, with you in his arms.

He kissed the top of your head. “You know, my real name is Courtland Gentry. Court.”

You smiled, “That’s a nice name.”

He went on. “I actually prefer Six.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged. “Because, for the longest time, it was tied to my purpose in life, the CIA. The name Six helps me kill bad guys and help good guys. And it doesn’t help that my abusive dad gave me the name Court.”

“But?” You had guessed correctly that that word was coming.

He smiled, “But...I don’t know. I’m not a part of the CIA anymore, my dad’s long dead, and I got a new purpose in life now.”

“Taking care of Claire?”

“And you, if you’ll let me.”

You bit your lip and nodded, cuddling closer to him. “I think I like Court. Courtland Gentry.” You tested the name out.

Court smirked. “I definitely liked the way you said that.” He put a hand on your cheek and guided you back to his lips.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, I have more stories over on my page, you should check it out. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

#sierra six #sierra six x reader #courtland gentry #courtland gentry x reader #the gray man #the gray man x reader #the gray man netflix #ryan gosling #companion jones #we'll always have cuba

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develop-your-oc · 2 months

Note

Your blog has been so helpful with my oc developing journey! Thank you for putting so much time into collecting resources and the like! I did have a question, if you wouldn't mind answering, but how do you use Obsidian for sorting/recording your oc data? It's a little daunting and I've found myself constantly going over the info and trying to format everything. It's maddening. Thank you again for your hard work and time! <3

It's awesome that you've found this blog to be helpful! Thank you so much for telling me! 💖 (it ain't much but it's honest work dot jpeg)

Obsidian as a program is daunting especially if you're not familiar with similar applications (OneNote, Evernote, Joplin, etc.), but somehow I have completely forgotten how frustrating it was to get started from a blank page, even though I spent years struggling with that frustration. Here's a basic rundown of what I do!

Folders and basic setup are as follows:

Within one vault, I use multiple folders. One folder contains my templates, lists and other data, prompts, and so on. There are individual files for each original setting within this folder in order to take quick notes to be sorted later or keep reminders. Other files in this folder include ideas for future character names and other writing ideas.

Each setting has its own folder where everything related to it is stored, with OCs being the star of the show at the top level. There are several subfolders filled with notes, completed prompts, drabbles, lore, codex entries, etc.

One of the subfolders is for files regarding characters that my OCs interact with but aren't mine (a roleplay partner's OC, a game NPC, etc.) to store notes and other useful information for later reference, like a wiki page built only for myself.

As for the OCs themselves:

Each OC has its own file within the folder of their setting where a template holds their information. This template is vague enough to be useful in most settings, and simple enough to allow editing as needed.

The template begins as a simple formatted list of basics as you would expect (identity, appearance, occupation, etc.), as well as likes, dislikes, hobbies, skills, virtues, and flaws.

All friends, family, lovers, and so on are listed with a very brief description of how they are connected to my OC.

There are sections beneath the list for all the substantial information. — Background: everything from before their story begins. From before the arrival of you, the creator, if that makes sense. — Going Forward: from the beginning of their story, to the end (if there is one), and into the future beyond that. — Trivia: tidbits of information and facts that don't fit anywhere else. — Timeline: a chronological list with dates and concise details. Additional information is sorted into one of the other sections, the destination based on where the information would be most relevant. — Relationships: important relationships are detailed here. — Notes: the anything goes catch-all. Less about the character and more about you, like a reminder ("name their childhood pet!") or something worth noting ("my first OC!").

If the character is still in its concept phase, I stick to bullet point notes and update with the template later as needed.

Other things I'd like to mention:

There's more functionality within Obsidian than what I use, but I'm happy with my methods for now.

I make heavy use of bullet points, tab indents, and the little arrow that pops up to open or close lengthy sections as needed.

I never fill out the entire template at once, or ever; some sections remain empty permanently and some characters remain bullet points. It is what it is!

I keep the files for all the OCs that are currently rotting my brain open in tabs at the top! 🥰

Sometimes a folder is a genre and is instead used for multiple settings, such as all my OCs from the various farming simulation games I play sharing the same folder.

Relationships can sometimes be easier as their own page, particularly if it involves more than two characters, such as families and their dynamics.

This is a brief description of how I do things for myself. This works for me, but may not work for you. I tend to make up a bunch of silly little rules for myself, so please take this as inspiration rather than instruction. If this is confusing or you would like more help, anon, please DM me again and I'll work on visual examples and better explanations. Thanks again, and I hope this helps!

#answer #uhhhh #does this make ANY sense idk 😳#untagged

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riddler-green · 10 months

Text

Tea for three. Prologue

Summary: You have been a patient/prisoner of Arkham for several months since you were charged with a crime you did not commit. But what happens when you meet Batman's latest enemy? the man of the hour? In which you help Batman on his cases, you're Edward's new favorite person, and Jonathan is part of your past that you want so badly to return to.

Edward Nashton x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader, Jonathan Crane x reader.

A/n: Holaaa everyone! here I am posting another story that I thought of in a sleepless night, I think it's one of my most ambitious fics that I've been planning but that makes it cooler! I should clarify that this fanfic is mixed with the 2022 movie with the Nolan saga (but in such a minuscule way that it's barely imperceivable). I'm back from my vacation so I'll update my other work soon! ♡

I also want to clarify that English is not my first language, so an apologize for the spelling mistakes. ✧˖°. (My English is rusty :´p).

(Also this fanfic is published on AO3) ✿

Warning: Fluff and angst, Obsessive Behavior, Canon Compliant (the flood occurred, sorry) Movie spoiler (Batman 2022) if there is another warning I did not put, please let me know.

Words: 5,400

You stroll as two guards lead you to a room, you don't know where they are taking you but it's not like you could complain either. The guards behind you ignored you all the way chatting with each other as if they were not watching an Arkham patient, they let you into the individual visiting room. Still, you nicknamed it the interrogation room because you only come here when that person requests your presence.

You sit down without a problem in the stiff metal chair, the approving noise of the iron partition sounds throughout the place, and you hear one of the guards closing the door leaving you alone with him.

At first, it was tedious, even traumatic in a way to come to this room to talk to the person who captured you and brought you to Arkham without hesitation. You couldn't refuse to see him, not when the caped man is a colleague of an important commissioner. No matter how many times you told him, how many times you yelled at him that you were innocent, he either didn't believe you or just wouldn't listen. You got tired of telling everyone around you that it wasn't your fault, none of them listened to you.

The metal partition rises completely, and little by little you see the almost imperceptible figure of the knight of the night. He kept silent without sitting down, standing in front of you analyzing you as everyone does nowadays, but you no longer care what he thinks of you, you are practically a hopeless case for him.

"Hello?" your greeting sounded confusing, you were not expecting a visit from him, but you have an idea why he comes to you, on certain occasions he shows you cases of different indoles, also that he has found some clue of the…

"I'm looking for the Riddler" He doesn't greet you and moves closer to the glass that separates them, you can take a better look at him, he's still the same since the last time you saw him, his attire nor his face have changed at all, but you notice something different in his voice, is it tiredness you hear?

"The Riddler?" you look at him unclear as to what he means "Who is that?".

"A serial killer" he informs you, you often hear those terrible words from him, how often does Batman chase killers like that, it's like there's one every week, it's cruel but it's the truth, Gotham is the cradle of evil, hell on earth, some would say.

"And what have I got to do with him?" you ask hesitantly.

Batman leaves a gray folder in the crack that connects the two rooms as if it were a mailbox "I need to know your perspective".

For a moment you thought about rejecting whatever is in that folder, but your curiosity won you over, you slowly grabbed the folder somewhat heavy because of the many sheets stored, on the cover of the folder you can see a CLASSIFIED in capital letters, that fuels your interest even more and you open the folder.

It's a lot to take in at once, you open your eyes from the initial shock, you haven't seen so much blood since your clinical internship days, you close the folder for a few seconds to recover, and you look Batman in the eye with a frown, he didn't even warn you how grotesque the case could be.

Batman looks back at you completely seriously, he looks immutable and silent. You open the folder again and are greeted by the same disturbing images "Wow, it's something " you comment uneasily.

You see the evidence, black and white photos of the murders stapled to the autopsy reports, it is amazing how this man can have such information. the more time you spend reading the events and the evidence the more disturbed you become.

Mayor Don Mitchell Jr, mayor of Gotham for several years, you saw him once at a social event done by Gotham University, he was happy and smiling maybe because of the excess alcohol in his veins. but now you look at the crime scene, his face completely wrapped in duct tape.

"No more lies..." you whisper reading the message on the corpse of the mayor, then that was with an already established motive, to give a statement.

On the other hand, Commissioner Savage's body is barely recognizable, the cage on his head says it all.

This is no ordinary killer.

What have you gotten yourself into, batman?

"why are you showing me this?" you manage to ask him even with the murders fresh in your mind, you don't think you will sleep tonight.

The already-seated masked man repeats to you "I need to know your perspective".

"As a patient or as a psychologist?" technically you can no longer practice your career since they took away your degree, but he doesn't correct you, you peruse everything that was offered, the riddles, the pictures of all the letters he has left for Batman, descriptions of the crime scene, write-ups of the witnesses who found the bodies.

"Both" he declares.

The handcuffs on your wrists do not give you much freedom to move your arms but do not prevent you from handling the documents in the folder, if Batman thought this might interest you he was right, for better or worse you did not stop seeing file after file.

"How extravagant," you say your first impressions "Brusque with his victims, he really is angry" You turn the page to see the pictures of his riddles "But he is also ingenious, this is not prepared from one day to another, he has been planning this for a long time, I would say years".

"Angry at who?" the man in front of you asks but you don't answer him instantly, you take your time carefully reading all the research, it's a lot for only one killer and few victims, but it's nothing that can be used to find him.

"With the world" you turn the page to see Commissioner Savage's crime scene photo "The pattern is evident, the mayor...the commissioner...does not kill ordinary civilians."

"Do you think it's political?".

You barely smile at the mere idea that this is just politics "No, this is too intimate for him, riddles are an essential part of his life that he knows how to use to his advantage...and I only come to one conclusion..." you shut up and rearrange the documents to close the folder.

"What is it?" batman questions you with intrigue in his voice.

You see him again, he must be desperate somehow to find this Riddler who asks for the opinions of third parties, of "crazy" people like you, something he dislikes, he prefers to work alone, that's his emblem. Deep down it angers you to no end, he hasn't caught your living nightmare and he's already looking for another asshole.

"That" you passed him the folder through the crack in the partition between rooms, and he retrieves it in his hands "Is revenge, Batman, and a very wicked one."

"Give me a diagnosis" he speaks faster, and the anger starts to seep into his face and it satisfies you to sometimes see him like this, frustrated Batman...yeah that's a first.

you smile and relax in your stiff metal seat "You should ask Dr. Crane for that, he's more prepared than I am, don't you think?".

"He refused" You'd know he'd turn it down, he's not like Batman or you, he doesn't even like to play Clue.

"yeah, he doesn't have the hobby of playing detective" you shrug your shoulders "I can't give you a diagnosis because it's little, he has left only what he wants us to know, maybe he includes you in this because he admires you or because he wants to kill you, who knows" you blurt out everything you think without any shame, in your mind you are already putting together a criminal profile with only what he gave you, but you won't tell him that, he doesn't deserve your help.

The masked man's posture tenses and he begins to clench his fists, your smile grows.

"all that, all those little clues he leaves you make me think this is all a big riddle on his part" You pointed to the folder held by one of his gloved hands.

"I don't think he's going to stop until he sees everyone on his list dead."

What you told him seemed to affect him, because he suddenly gets up and goes to the door without looking at you, and he found no news "I can't waste time" he whispers with disdain, he leaves the room and you stand watching the door where he left.

So it's a riddle against the clock, huh? you think.

The sky in Gotham looks like a landscape worthy to take a picture of, from here you can see the buildings of different heights, the traffic between highways, and the bridges, even if you force your sight you can see people walking.

"Do you like the view?".

You continue to look through the window reinforced with bars and tempered glass, the bars cover part of the landscape but you can still admire the beautiful gray sky full of clouds ready to rain.

"yes..." you say putting your hands between the bars without stopping to think how happy you would be just to be out of this abyss. you didn't appreciate the beauty of the freedom you had before you were here.

"What do you like most about the view?".

You take a few seconds to respond, the handcuffs on your wrists started to itch on your skin, that itch so normalized on your skin that you don't do much to get rid of that itch, you didn't look away from the window, this simple reinforced window brought you comfort for all these months.

"Everything."

"You hear the voice of your therapist repeat your answer and nod, will your cafeteria still be open? The Gotham Library will have finally added new books? the university will have already changed that horrible lamp in one of your favorite classrooms?

Batman already caught the Riddler?

"What a good answer actually, but I need you to sit down for a further conversation, soon the session will be over" The doctor's professional tone makes you tense up, you feel like you are not talking to a human but to a fucking robot, that's how you have thought them since you were imposed to this therapist.

You listen to what you say and sit in the other chair where you are supposed to be for the whole session, however, Mr. M has let you have the sessions while you watch from the only window, you are grateful for that, even if you didn't like him at all.

"I have been informed about your good behavior this week, if you continue like this you can be given more access through the hospital" Mr.M speaks calmly looking through several documents held by a wooden board.

Fuck you, you thought but didn't tell him, you don't have the luxury of being rude to him. you'll never get the same freedom you got when you were still an average citizen of Gotham and it saddens you, it makes your blood boil to remember every moment of your existence that you're here unjustly.

"Thank you" You speak as little as possible because you know you would break down in tears just remembering that you are another day of your life wasted locked up among so many criminals.

"But" Mr.M stops looking at his documents to turn to look at you "I was also told that you refuse to take your medication, why is that?".

"Why don't I need them" you speak cuttingly again, the itch in your wrists grows and you scratch with your fingernails without realizing it.

"you have to take his medicine...it will make your recovery process more enjoyable" he grabs his tablet with documents and writes again, Mr.M does not scold you but you perceive it like this, you want to go back to your cell, you feel so ashamed that your skin gets hot, how did you come to this? How did you fall so low that you are the one they have to medicate?

"Fine" you lie to him, you dislike the taste of the medicine they force you to take, you know perfectly well what they prescribe you, you studied for it after all.

But everyone seems to forget that.

Only Batman can recognize your abilities, but he does not help you at all in your case.

And well, you paranoidly believe that Jonathan is only talking to you out of unconscious guilt.

"Okey" Mr. M gives a soft smile "Just one last question before our time is up" he checks the time on his wrist watch "Have you made a new friend? Have you managed to get along with anyone?".

You avoid the gaze of your therapist "No" you denied, another issue you don't want to address, your notorious loneliness in this hospital. If it weren't for your unique best friend who works here, you would be all alone.

"Why?."

You don't answer him, you also question the same thing, you haven't had an interest to socialize with the other patients since you arrived, and there are still things that are not clear to you.

Mr. M sighs dropping his papers in a file cabinet near him "Well, I'll leave it as homework for you to start seeing new people, making a friend sounds excellent."

"I'll try" You don't lie to him.

"Perfect."

It's been a day since Batman visited you and you had your weekly session with Mr.M, you haven't been able to sleep due to the tremendous curiosity of the new assassin the bat is looking for.

Just when you thought nothing could surprise you in this city since your accident, along comes a man with a question mark and puts the whole city in check, that's the city to him, a colossal chessboard, the DPGC, the Gotham elite, the citizens, they are all pieces in the game, and Batman and he are the only players.

Batman said he didn't have time, Does that mean that he has to catch him these days? how curious, with the Joker, it took months to find him, you were only intercepted in a couple of hours, and the Scarecrow...

no, you don't want to think about him.

You get distracted thinking about the Riddler again, you do your daily service arranging books in the small library of Arkham, your safe place where few or no people stop around these parts, here it is not necessary to use your wrist and neck cuffs, but your uniform is still on, and the plastic bracelet with your information identify you as a patient.

You yawn as you place a couple of worn-out books on the shelf, you felt like a bookstore worker, sometimes you usually fantasize that you are one to take away your boredom, but others usually burst your dreamy bubble.

Today, one of the guards decided to turn on the old-fashioned TV set in one of the upper corners of the library, you stand near a bookcase to see what channel they put on this time, usually they only put on the sports channel to watch the game of the moment.

But on this occasion, the guard put on the news channel, and you immediately put down the books you have to accommodate to concentrate on what is shown on TV.

The guard is still standing and so are you, both watching a live breaking news broadcast. The news anchor reports a new Riddler attack.

He bombed a prosecutor at the mayor's funeral.

The guard's face looked more and more frightened, you watched the news with morbid curiosity. Batman's new opponent seems more sadistic than you thought, that detailed report confirmed it.

But seeing their repeated acts on TV was shocking, you even heard the guard who put on the news say in a low voice " We are doomed. "

You silently agree with him, for the first time you are relieved to be locked away from all the chaos going on right now.

You saw how the explosion managed to reach Batman, surprising you as the guard, the man takes off his distinctive security guard hat when he sees the video, on the other hand, you are still stunned, not believing it, somehow you forgot that this man dressed in black and wearing a cape is still a human of flesh and blood, he simply can't die like that, not when he has things to save, people to capture.

He hasn't found your living nightmare yet.

Before you pull your hair out in frustration the news anchor states that Batman is still alive, the guard satisfied by the information puts his cap back on and returns to his guard position which is the entrance to the library.

You are still looking at the report, and suddenly the image of the man who calls himself the Riddler appears. You hadn't seen him in such detail until this moment, the photos in the Batman report were extremely blurry images, but this time he is in HD, he is completely wrapped in green clothes, and the only thing you can see of him, is his eyes.

His voice is altered but you can notice that venomous tone of his he asked prosecutor Gil Colson some riddles, but in the end, he couldn't answer what Riddler wanted.

You sigh while grab another couple of books and start arranging them one by one. If Batman is still alive it means this isn't over.

"I knew I would find you here".

"It's not like I can go many places" You smile slightly turning to look at the man who spoke to you.

Jonathan Crane, the living legend of the hospital, with tailored suits, no wrinkles in his coat, and a well-made tie that matches the sweater he wears under his coat. There isn't a single time you haven't seen Jonathan without his perfect appearance but maybe it's just you idealizing as usual.

Jonathan gives you a polite smile "Right" Just by hearing that you know he won't stay to chat for long, he tends to contradict you most of the time just to annoy you and agree with you when he's busy.

"Are you coming to get a book?" you ask him the first thing that comes to mind.

"No, I wanted to talk to you before I left," he says adjusting his glasses "I'm going away for a couple of weeks to blüdhaven University to give lectures, it will be a simple thing" Your smile doesn't falter, you are touched that he lets you know when he won't be able to see you, and how he manages to keep the conversation so casual.

As if they were still colleagues.

"Is that so? What will you talk about?".

"Childhood traumas" he reveals looking at you without any shyness, he has a barely perceptible smile but you notice it.

"why am I not surprised?" you resume your work in arranging books "Although you know how to pick interesting topics, I wish I could attend" You recognize that Jonathan has been too devoted to his work and student life, he is that kind of strict professor who gives his students nightmares from the assignments and exams he gives. His lectures are fascinating, to say the least, you attended many.

"I'll tell you about it when I get back, in the meantime" From inside his suit he pulls out a flyer in half "It's something extremely summarized but it'll do" You take the piece of paper and stuff it in one of your pockets. It's not the first time Jonathan smuggles things to you, god, you can even be sure he gives you something every time you see each other.

"Thank you" you thanked looking at his face, he also remains silent looking at you, the eye contact between you is not something out of another world either, on your part, it's a habit that started when you were still studying, you can't help but want to observe everyone around you, analyze them somehow, see their behavior.

Jonathan does the same, but more rigorous and practical, he is direct and not afraid to say it, you see his hair combed to his liking, his glasses clean without any smudge, his eyes examining you.

You leave your admiring mode when you diverted your gaze a little to the old TV that is still on, the news keeps showing the latest events of the hours, repeating the most recent crime of Riddler.

Your smile dims as you recall the video of the explosion, the prosecutor begging for mercy and the bomb stuck in his chest.

"Did you see what happened at the mayor's funeral?" you whisper to him in a low voice trying not to let anyone hear them, you look with your eyes for the guard on duty but you can't find him, Jonathan must have asked him for some privacy time, at times you forget the influence that the man in front of you has generated with years and effort.

He turns his head for a few seconds watching the news on TV and turns to look at you again with a sensible and neutral face.

"yes, I saw it, I was there when it happened".

"What?" you utter with surprise "You were there?" there was no sign of a lie on his face to make you think he wasn't telling you the truth.

"Some teachers from the university we went to give condolences when the show happened" Jonathan clarifies simply, you approach him to talk closer, he doesn't seem upset "So it's true? Riddler attacked that prosecutor?".

"He killed him."

You shut up for a moment because of his statement, it's true, Riddler killed him, and almost Batman too.

"And Batman? Did you see him in action?" at this point you sound like first-rate gossip, but still Jonathan answers your questions, but is no longer as pleased doing so, the moment you mention Batman.

"He arrived when most of the people had already been evacuated."

"Wow" you blurt out surprised, if you didn't know him better you would have been uneasy with his calmness when talking about the experience, he says it without any fear because that's exactly what's so special about Jonathan in your eyes, he's not afraid of anything.

"Batman looked you up, didn't he?" Jonathan changes the subject quickly and you nod your head, you move away from his side to reach for a cart full of books to be arranged "He wanted my opinion on the riddler, can you believe it?" you laugh "I told him to look you up better, but you turned him down."

"That's right" he assures leaning on one of the bookcases for comfort, he looks at you picking up a book and you place it among several other books on another bookcase "I don't lend myself to that sort of thing".

"I know, killjoy Crane" you scoff boldly.

"Whatever you say" he sighs "I have to go, there will be a meeting at the university" Before you could say goodbye properly, he approaches you to give you an extremely momentary hug, it was so fast that you couldn't return the hug because he had already separated from you. You swore you could smell some of his cologne.

"uh yeah, see ya" You are barely able to utter the words without getting over the small contact they made, he has said goodbye to you like this, but you are still not used to it.

Jonathan smiles at you picking up his briefcase that you didn't see in the first place, walks to one of the tables where the TV control is, picks it up, and turns off the TV "I don't like you watching that" he tells you already heading for the exit where the guard re-enters the library.

You wrinkle your forehead due to irritation. Sometimes you don't understand Jonathan.

You genuinely thought your head was going to explode from the pain.

Being in Arkham meant being cut off from the outside, you had no idea of the chaos that erupted overnight, the perverse game of Batman and Riddler was so forceful, that Arkham unexpectedly came into the spotlight when the green-masked man was captured. An alert in your head went off when you heard from a very nervous guard. You thought it was almost impossible for Batman to catch Riddler, and that he's here being processed to this hospital gives a lot to suspect.

The report Batman showed you are not wrong, the madman of riddles is too elusive to be caught in such a short time.

Why? You ask yourself, why did he let himself be defeated?

The hospital was in chaos with the arrival of the new patient in the middle of the night, nurses running around, and security guards moving patients to different cells temporarily, you were taken out of your small cell to another one just as small and almost the same.

Even with suspicion in your being, you don't understand what all the fuss was about, not even when they paraded the Joker through the main hall in a straitjacket as if he were a villain from some movie did they get as upset as they are now with Riddler.

You sat on your new bed just as hard as the one in your previous cell, not wanting to catch the social panic you try to meditate, Mr. M advised you to do so and since then you put it into practice.

Maintaining a state of relaxation is difficult but you have practiced it for months, you started the breathing exercises, and as you slowly inhale and exhale your thoughts begin to melt one after the other, calming you down, and making your anxiety about all the fuss disappear.

You exhale again and inhale hard again, you could be doing this all day, you have nothing to worry about, you're in your world, locked away from society, and must be recovering from whatever Riddler did as his closing snap.

You open your eyes and stop doing your breathing exercises, you hear a laugh. But not just any laughter, but a loud and annoying laughter, you instantly get up from your bed and run towards the door with a small glass window. The laughter was not your imagination, and you can recognize it now that you are closer to the door.

You don't see any guards guarding this section of cells, how strange. The laughter continues unabated. It must be some neighbor of your cell because of the proximity of the noise and you have an idea of who it might be but you ignore it for only a few minutes, you can't take it anymore and yell "Can you shut up for once?".

Your cell neighbor stops laughing and you can finally feel at peace, but instead starts a conversation.

"Scarecrow?" you close your eyes just hearing that horrible nickname he gave you at some point during his hospital stay. relatively the two have been in Arkham for a similar amount of time, both trapped by Batman and calling them the dark knight's worst enemies.

But you could never compare yourself to someone like him Joker.

You had a chance to get to know each other when you let him participate in common activities, you don't want to remember the first time you spoke to each other, it ended badly, period.

"Don't call me that, asshole" you insult him and he sounds pleased with your response.

"Ah! Are we sensitive today? It's a holiday! Let's celebrate!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"our guest of honor has arrived, only his final trick is missing!" he continues to speak in that animated voice that irritates you.

When you talk to the Joker you get that feeling that he is speaking in another language, but he is not, you understand what you are saying but at the same time, you don't. You also realized that he knows too much to be just an Arkham patient.

But everyone at the hospital can assure you that your neighbor is not an ordinary patient at all.

This time you managed to understand his words, Riddler still has an ace up his sleeve, how could the Joker find out about that?

"Did Batman interrogate you too?".

"Of course he did...I'm his favorite!" he replies in the same arrogant manner as always "but I don't forgive him for being so crude on our anniversary."

"So you saw it, huh? I don't think this is a coincidence" You suppose the Joker must have seen it too, of course, he may be reciprocally insupportable but he's not stupid.

The clown laughs, but you don't, you didn't say anything funny in your opinion.

"Poor little Riddler, he thinks he can be just like him."

You ponder what he says, returning to your bed as you sit up again, the sky begins to clear and you can see it through the tiny barred window.

What if this assassin wanted to imitate Batman in some way?

"What a bizarre introjection you've made, Riddler" you whisper.

First, there was an explosion.

You felt the whole cell rumble, you woke up instantly and got up from your bed to run to the door even with your eyes swollen from sleep, naively you thought it was some kind of earthquake. You stuck your face to the glass of the door in search of a guard or nurse, whatever it is that will help you get out of this cell, you don't want to die here.

However, the section was still empty, there was no one in the guards' small surveillance cubicle, and you could only perceive the monitors on, showing the news.

You heard a completely strident noise, there was no earthquake. You turned slowly to the window, the color was changing from gray to orange.

It can't be.

you rush to see what's going on, you grab a piece of your bed to climb on it and reach the high window of the cell, you level yourself by holding your hands on the rusty metal bars, and you catch a glimpse of what caused such a noise.

You saw the light of an explosion, the combination of yellow and red colors coloring the sky, the smoke, the fire. The explosion happened far away from Arkham, but you can still see it in detail, then the noise became present, and you grimace at the impact on the walls, but it was not over yet.

Explosion after explosion went off all over the city, from bridges to seawalls, a scene so hard to believe if you weren't watching it right now.

The sight takes your breath away, you are so stunned that you almost fall to the floor witnessing such an act, this is what the Joker is referring to? the Riddler's final trick?

not even the scarecrow did so much damage to this city, you underestimated the man with the riddles.

You could not take your eyes off the explosions, there were too many and well-armed to generate so much destruction. The second thing was the water, the waves and drains getting out of control and flooding several streets.

You grip the metal bars tighter, not believing this is real, but it is. Not just bombs but a flood, was that what he had under his mask? Is Gotham drowning with innocent people?

It makes sense now, his cooperation when caught, the guards' restless attitude, and Batman's uneasiness.

All.

Suddenly you focus on the bustle of what seems to be your cell neighbors, you didn't notice when they put the other patient in the cell next to yours. The noises came together to form a horrifying atmosphere. The laughter of the Joker, the excited laughter of your other neighbor, and the explosions that went on and on. Even with your breathing exercises, you could not relax in the face of this horrifying event.

Slowly you let go of the bars and stop looking in the window, slowly you understand one thing.

Someone beat Batman.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes!*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.

#the riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #dano riddler x reader #riddler x reader #paul dano x reader #bruce wayne x reader #jonathan crane x reader

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look-at-the-soul · 12 days

Text

The Photoshoot - Part 50

Cillian Murphy series 2014, 2015

I’m sorry for not posting this sooner! Sometimes time flies and when I realize it’s boom 🤯 a month went by… but my love for these two will always make me enjoy the most for each part. And I can’t believe this story reached part 50!!?!! Like how ?

Ps. Happy birthday Cill 💙✨

Word count: 3,628

Cillian waved at the crew team as they left him in front of his hotel. As it got chiller, he shivered and walked into the small convinience store to get a bottle of water, strolling through the aisles, he found a stuffed duck and immediately thought of Scout, he loved ducks. As he walked past some people, he was aware of the glances and deep down he knew the reason.

The infamous Thomas Shelby haircut.

“Hello you.” He greeted his wife after answering his phone.

“Hey baby, how have you been?” Yael’s voice spread softly to his heart.

“Missing you like crazy.” He admitted realizing he probably sounded corny.

“Well I miss you more.”

Cillian placed the phone between his shoulder and cheek to grab something.

“Give me a sec.” He managed to make it to the register balancing the items in his arms and politely asked the cashier if she could cut the tag from the stuffed animal.

“What was that?” Yael chuckled softly.

“I’m buying some stuff.” He put his wallet in his back pocket and made it out of the store. “How’s it going? How are you ladies doing?”

“I took Mum to a yoga class and then we had breakfast at this cute little café and more ladies stuff.” She explained and he could easily imagine her playing with one of her curls with a beautiful smile on her lips.

“Oh tell me more about that girls stuff.” He stopped at the red light, checking the signal to cross the street.

“We’re getting manis and pedis later.” He loved hearing her laugh. “And oh! Yesterday when we were walking, we found an antiques shop…”

“Oh shit.” He interrupted in a playful tone.”

“Stop it.” She giggled.

“And what gorgeous rare-to-find item did you discover this time?” Cillian asked not being able to stop the smile from growing in his lips. He knew Yael too damn well.

“A painting.” Yael replied shyly. “And I immediately fell in love with it.” She rushed to explain to cover for her excitement.

Cillian laughed, seeing already the scene in his mind. His wife had a weakness for antiques, but he had to admit she had a good taste.

“It’s beautiful and the frame it’s the original, took me a while to properly clean it.” She continued.

“I bet you didn’t stop until getting it hanged.”

“Actually I didn’t, still trying to decide what’s the right place.” He heard Scout barking in the background. “How’s the scouting going?”

“Grand, grand… later we’re going somewhere else, we need some scenes by the river and the caravans look fucking phenomenal.” He explained.

The project was around the corner and he tensed his shoulders involuntarily at the thought of embarking once more into the character’s chaos.

“I can’t wait to see everything up.”

“Alright baby, I’ll let you go to your pedi time, call you later.” Cillian told her that he love her and walked into the store trying to keep a low profile.

He needed to pick up the gift he ordered for Yael.

***

“Mrs. Lieberman, Mrs. Murphy welcome.” The social worker asked them to take their seats. “Let’s see,” she seemed to focus on a sheet before her, the desk had a pile of folders and papers organized with colorful post it. “I understand you traveled for this appointment.”

“Yes, my home is in London.” Isla crossed her leg. “But right now I’m staying with my daughter.”

“I see.”

It was hard to tell anything from Mrs. O’Brien’s expression. Her lips were in a tight line and Yael always felt uneasy, not knowing if she was sharing too much or if she shouldn’t have said that.

“Would you like to tell me about your family and the dynamic you share?”

As Isla went on to talk about her children, talked about how they traveled frequently to be together as much as they could and then she shared a small snippet of a birthday party she held for one of her grandchildren.

“So how would an adoption blend into this? How do you feel about that?”

Although the question was meant to set anyone back and make you question yourself, Isla managed to pull a great comeback.

“Do you mean if I’d love that children less because it’s not biologically my grandchild?” She asked openly and when she saw the social worker nod, she went on. “My husband picked me up from the ground when I was at my lowest point emotionally and economically, for months I saw my daughter struggling with physical therapy to recover from the accident and surgery after surgery and not only that, he took my children as his own and loved us unconditionally, the same goes for our grandchildren. He never made one single comment about not being linked by blood or sharing DNA with any of them, I wouldn’t know how to love Yael and Cillian’s child any other way.”

Yael had to fight back the tears that formed in her eyes. There it was, the woman who always inspired her, opening her heart to say just what she thought.

“To me,” Isla continued. “It’s not about sharing the same genetics… it’s something deeper than that, it’s about choosing to love, care and protect for another human being without waiting anything in return and I know this takes a lot of time and steps but I can assure you my daughter and her husband will be the most loving parents if you give them the chance.”

Quietly, Yael excused herself and walked out of the office, she wasn’t needed there anyways. Emotions were suffocating her and it was impossible to prevent it. Perhaps it was the fact that Cillian was away, or her Mother’s words that touched her heart. But either way, she needed a break, to keep her guard down and trust the process and its own time. But who was she trying to fool? It was damn hard and sometimes it felt like it would never happen.

“This has been extremely hard for my daughter, the process is wearing her out, but I understand this is not like going to the grocery shop and picking a kid. I know it takes time and you’ve to follow protocols and forms, but trust me, she’s the most loving person I know and motherhood has always been her biggest dream.”

“We cannot base the approval on that Mrs. Lieberman, we need to check background, records, psychology tests… we’re talking about a vulnerable child’s life.”

Isla nodded, not wanting to upset the social worker.

“May I ask how long does it takes to finalize?”

The social worker shuddered. “It can be months… even years.”

Isla’s heart shattered by the statement. She wanted to keep a positive spirit, but the time frame wasn’t very helpful.

“That long? And there’s nothing you can do?”

The social worker shook her head. “We’ve to complete each step.”

“But there are so many kids in orphanages.” She had seen it first hand, since the following day she arrived, they went to give away the books Yael bought for the children, spent hours there reading to them. It was bittersweet, but she was grateful for sharing a moment like that with her daughter.

Yael wasn’t doing it just to look good for the adoption process, she was doing it because she learned it filled her heart and soul, because she wanted to make those kids happy.

“I just wish you get everything you need to approve their adoption, they’re eager to welcome their child into their happy little family.”

“We want nothing but the very same.”

Ending the meeting, Isla went to search for her daughter. Her heart beating faster, she just wanted the best for Yael and Cillian.

“There you’re sweetie, shall we go somewhere?”

“Yes, I need some fresh air.” Yael helped her put in her coat and the pair went to the parking lot.

“I probably shouldn’t have stormed off like that.” Yael regretted her reaction.

“Don’t worry about that, the interview was meant to be just for me, and this is draining.”

“But they seem to be monitoring everything, every little thing you do and say.” Yael waited for her green light to take a turn.

“I know you and you’re probably tired of hearing this, but try to take this one step at the time, be patient. I’m sure the reward is around the corner.”

Yael knew her mother’s words were filled with the best intentions, but it was just like telling someone grieving to not feel sad about losing someone they love.

“Let’s focus on something else sweetheart, let’s go to clear our heads for a bit.” Isla proposed, worried about her daughter, she wanted to do something to cheer her up.

“Yeah, we’ve the appointment at the salon already.”

“Yes, that’s a wonderful idea.”

Yael took a deep breath. “I don’t want to tell Cill about this just yet. He needs to focus on his next project and this isn’t exactly a major step or something that tells me we’re getting good news soon.”

Yael took a U turn at the next available exit, following the instructions in the GPS.

As she was driving, her phone started ringing and Cillian’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hey handsome, I was thinking of you.”

“I got a notification marked as urgent that you left somewhere, are you alright?”

“Yeah, we just finished the interview with the social worker and I’m taking Mum for a walk. It’s the app I downloaded for you, it keeps you updated of where am I and stuff like that.”

“Oh so I can spy on you?” He joked and made Isla chuckled. “How did it go?”

Yael took a deep breath before answering her husband. “I hope well.”

“I’m sure of it.” He offered through the phone. “Why don’t you go to the movies to shake it off?” Cillian proposed.

Yael gasped at the suggestion. “That’s a great idea!”

“Yeah.” He added thinking how it had been a while since they went out. Lately he had been focusing on the script and nothing else, he felt bad because as he was getting more and more engrossed on the role, he started to grow apart from his wife. And although she never pointed it out, now that her mother was around, he was noticing the difference.

She was so supportive of each of his projects and with the adoption process, he wanted to make sure they were still connected.

“Listen, I’ve been thinking… why don’t start planning a holiday during Christmas? Or by the time I finish filming? Let’s go wherever you want, hmm?”

“Oh that’s really nice!” Isla agreed, noticing the smile on her daughter’s lips.

“I’d love that.” A few days away just the two of them? Yael was already looking forward to it.

“Alright, it’s settled then, I’m heading to the set now, let me know when you get home.”

“Will do.” Telling Cillian, she loved him, Yael hang up.

“He’s amazing.” Isla expressed, getting out of the car, as they arrived at the salon.

“I can’t wait for that holiday already, I feel like he’s been rehearsing since forever.”

She wanted nothing but have a good rest and not worry about anything else.

“Hello, welcome.” A woman greeted them and asked if they had an appointment.

Yael left her purse by a chair and started checking the nail colors options.

“You look so much alike!” The woman pointed at Isla and Yael in shock. “It’s like you did copy-paste.”

Yael blushed, she was so used to get those kind of reactions, specially now that her mother was sporting her natural curls freely.

Another woman at the salon pointed out the same in awe.

“Thanks. We hear that a lot.” Yael chuckled.

“So who’s Isla?” A kind smile appeared on her face just as a woman that was getting a haircut turned from her chair.

“That’d be me.” Yael’s mother replied waving her hand.

“Isla?” The woman turned around to face. “Isla is that you?”

“Barbara?” Her mother asked cautiously.

Yael looked the exchange with confusion.

“Oh my God I can’t believe it’s you!” Isla covered her mouth with her hands.

As the two women moved to closer to hug, Yael stared at the scene trying to understand the story behind their familiarity.

“It’s been what? A lifetime.” Isla continued.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you, but after all this time, you still look the same.”

Then, Isla looked around, noticing her daughter’s stare. “Goodness! Let me introduce you to my daughter, Yael, she’s my youngest.”

“Nice to meet you.” Yael greeted the woman.

“She’s Barbara, I used to babysit her and her sister. I was in my early 20’s.” Isla explained her daughter. “And one day, I never saw you again.”

“She looks just like you.” Barbara admitted. “You knew they took us to a government facility?”

Isla gasped in shock. “So it was true.”

“After a few months, someone adopted my sister and I never saw her again, she was only five years old back then, I waited but when I turned eighteen they kicked me out.” Barbara explained.

“You never saw her again?” Isla asked, her heart breaking in the process.

“No, I’ve been searching for her for so many years with no luck.”

“Uhm excuse me? We’ve a full agenda, could we continue while you catch up?” The hairstylist pointed at Bárbara’s wet hair.

“Sorry! Yes.” She stretched her arm towards Isla. “Mind if we go somewhere after we’re done here?”

Isla nodded, feeling like a knot installed in her stomach.

***

Cillian stood in the middle of Arley Hall mesmerized. The place was magnetic, beautiful and oozed this old vibe mansion in every corner.

“What do you think?” Steven asked, standing next to him.

“It’s amazing.” He turned around and moved away just as some crew walked past them with some furniture.

“They’re closing it to the public while we’re filming.” Steven stood there watching everything with his hands on his hips and a smile on his face.

“Are we filming everywhere?” Cillian crossed his arms imagining the scenes in this place, it was a luxury property and according to the script this was Tommy’s ultimate dream house, where he officially kick off and gets what he always wanted.

His ambitions finally materializing, his dreams becoming a reality.

Oh, but the price Tommy would have to pay…

Cillian wandered around. He learned it had been once the home of a wealthy family, it was spacious, the view to the garden was fantastic, part of the house included a cellar, and the second floor was as incredible as the first one, but for the upstairs part, they had constructed a replica on one of the sets.

As he kept walking, he arrived at the kitchen area one floor below, he had never seen something like that, it was rustic and had a huge pantry and an area where they kept the meat stored.

It was a dream, he was practically drooling over it. It was so easy to get lost and imagine how everything would look as soon as the crew got it ready for filming. Walking around, he ended in the dining room, a couple of important scenes would be filmed there.

“I think this needs something else, but I don’t know what.” Steven joined him.

It oozed luxury, it was elegant. The chandeliers sparkled, curtains with fabric that looked so expensive. Cillian imagined the kind of life the previous owners carried before it was purchased as wedding venue and a place open to the public to visit.

“A painting.” Cillian suggested casually. “A huge arse portrait.”

Steven turned around to stare at Cillian, eyes wide open as the realization hit him hard and fast.

“Yes, right there in the back of the main seat.”

Cillian nodded, hands hiding inside his pockets. It was involuntary, but it was part of the essence of his character. He couldn’t help it.

“Can your wife be in charge?”

He nodded quietly.

“Give her a call.”

But he didn’t need to do so. Because his phone started ringing in that very moment and it was Yael.

“Hello beautiful, I was just about to call you.”

“You’ve to sit down, you’re not going to believe this.” Yael started off. She sounded like there was something important she wanted to tell him.

“What’s the matter? Is everything fine?” Quietly he decided to take a walk outside, away from someone listening.

”Mum and I were at the salon, right? So when they call her name, this woman immediately recognized Mum and went to greet her, they chat for a bit. Long story short my Mum used to babysit Barbara -the woman-, when they were younger but one day she and her sister were taken away and she never saw them again.”

Cillian listened carefully, waiting for his wife to tell him the full story.

“Barbara is the Director of the child services office.” She explained him, his heart started beating faster. “She took us to her office, took a look at our records, studies, everything,” Cillian heard her taking a deep breath, “babe, it turns out we were in some kind of blacklist.”

Silence filled the call, Cillian inhaled deeply. “Why?”

“This is horrible but… have you noticed how celebrities go to places like Nigeria or Africa to adopt?”

Cillian kicked a rock he found on his way, processing that piece of information. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know about the adoption process over there, but apparently it’s easier, no questions asked and overnight, they’ve a child, we’ll thanks to that, the kind of surroundings to these celebrities lifestyle they practically catalogued us in that list so we’d never ever get the adoption finalized.” Yael’s words came out rushed.

Cillian felt a vein in his temple pulsing. “Are you telling me because I’m an actor, they practically rejected our application without telling us?”

The realization of his own words made his heart sink to the ground. Not getting the chance to move forward with the adoption process and his wife’s sadness was his fault?

Misery took over him.

“Hold on, I know what you’re thinking.” Yael interrupted his thoughts. “Not everything is as bad as it seems, this woman, Barbara she told us, basically… she’s going to help us! I asked her what do we’ve to do in order to be out of the blacklist and she gave me hope Cill, she explained us a lot of things no one told us about and I understand the reasons why they just can’t give kids to whoever starts a process, but she said literally I know your Mother, and she was always kind to me and my sister, she gave us food when we had nothing, she shared her clothes with us too, I can imagine the kind of daughter she raised.”

Emotion took over her voice, it was impossible not to feel everything right in the surface.

“How are we so sure that they won’t make it harder because of what I do for a living?” He was still processing the impact his career had, never thought it would be a negative reason in the adoption.

“She assured us she’d take our case personally.”

Despite Yael’s words, Cillian still felt doubtful now. Feeling guilty that he was the reason of not being able to adopt a child.

“So what are we supposed to do now? We’ve been begging them for the interviews.”

Yael had been calling almost daily to get the appointments, and now he was able to understand why the process had been so hard, they were trying to push them back.

“Barbara told me she’d give me a call, but I guess we’ve to wait to hear the next steps.”

When her mother told her what the social worked mentioned during her interview, Yael felt deflated. Hearing the process could take years to finalize shattered her heart. But now there was a new chance to move things forward with Barbara behind their case.

Cillian stared into the huge garden, not paying attention to anything in particular.

“Are you still there?” His wife’s voice made him snap back into reality.

“Yeah… just thinking.”

He really wanted to feel her new enthusiasm and positivism, but he also couldn’t help but feel worried, what if they have to face new challenges in the process, all this bureaucracy because of his job? He wasn’t sure to be able to deal with the guilt of knowing that because of him the process could be harder or take longer than usual because he needs to prove that he isn’t like most of Hollywood stars.

This whole thing was a roller coaster, sometimes it was Yael the one feeling down, now it was his turn while she had her hopes up. He hated to admit it but it was draining.

“If you hear anything back, call me yeah? Or text me.” He added after a few seconds, not wanting to drag her down because of his attitude.

“Absolutely.”

“Listen, Steven wants to do some photos, so I think I’m going to change my flight… your Mum is already flying back, why don’t you come with her?”

Yael took her time, to consider her options. “How many days?”

“Just a couple, to get a few photos done.”

“Okay, let me organize my planner and see how can I reorganize the things I’ve scheduled and also I need someone to look after Scout.”

“I’ll call my brother, don’t worry.” He went on walking again, sitting on the edge of the fountain. “I really want to see you.”

She wanted the same, needed to feel him close.

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