living-with-ghost

[living-with-ghost]

i hate when top wildlife predators are just lil babies teeny tiny babies

[living-with-ghost]

[living-with-ghost]

soft yandere!fairy king with villainess!reader mini-series [chapter one]

warnings: mention of death and violence, fem!reader, explicit language, obsessive behavior, implications of bigotry, fairy!reader, references to the Emily Wilde series by Heather Fawcett and Long Live Evil by Sarah Brennan, smut, minors dni.

Hey guys and welcome~! I had put up a poll about a month ago for what should my next big project be and here it is, another collaboration with the incredibly talented @deathmetalunicorn1! Contrary to our previous mini-series, this one will have some spicy content in it, we hope you're prepared for the heat we'll be dishing out~.

Do you have a favorite book troupe or theme associated with fairies and villains? A least favorite troupe that could definitely be improved on? We would love to hear your thoughts on them in the comments section and how you would react if you found yourself trapped in the pages of a terribly written romantasy manuscript~.

Special thanks to @solxamber for writing her Twisted Wonderland Trash Novel Chronicles that motivated me to write, especially her Azul Ashengrotto piece. I will leave to it the link here and the masterlist if for anyone who are interested in reading them!

Comment with 🌶️ if you would like a little bit of spice or ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 if you want the spice to be almost too hot to handle in one sitting 🥵.

divider by @cafekitsune

You honestly wonder why you haven’t started your own writing career yet. You didn’t consider yourself the next Ernest Hemingway or Haruki Murakami, but you knew how to write sentences and remove unnecessary exposition so that the character’s actions show rather than tell the story’s narrative. Hence why you are very good at your job as a proofreader at one of the largest publishing houses in the world, blankly staring at the email popped in your inbox just seconds before you closed your laptop for the day.

One unread message from Mira Kingfisher.

You loved and hated her at the same time. Not entirely impossible, but given how many of her author’s manuscripts have graciously plopped on your desk in the last three months alone and you’ve polished them into diamonds on tight deadlines without a break, it is. She’s a brilliant editor and agent who represents her literary darlings incredibly well; if there’s one person who any self-respecting author who writes in the romantasy genre wants to have on their side and promote their books, it is Mira Kingfisher.

So why did she re-send you the godforsaken manuscript that is literally copy-pasting the latest trends on BookTok and possesses zero logic?

You informed Mira via email that despite the record-breaking preorders and the social media hype for this author’s new romantasy novel, the book simply isn’t ready. There were too many subplots, repeated use of the word ‘growl’ and ‘golden eyes’. Did you mention the author wrote almost all the characters as being breathtakingly beautiful, or so handsome that the entire world fell silent upon seeing them? This is a song and dance that’s already done before, and the hot magical creatures in this manuscript are fairies.

Mira might see the numbers and how much she’ll receive from the royalties and advances, but you see a story that is clearly not ready to be released into the world yet. The manuscript needed extensive revisions! Revisions that take time, and at best you could finish going through all two-hundred-ninety-five pages in three weeks, maybe two months. If the author will read and follow through the list of revisions you had attached in the email last Thursday down to the last letter, then this book is going to be another New York Times bestseller, hell, even become Barnes and Noble’s Best Fantasy Book Year of 2025. But the only one to make those impossible feats possible is to push back the deadline.

It’s highly doubtful that Mira or the author will listen to reason when there’s a huge paycheck on the line, so you have no choice but to show them how extensively you have edited this manuscript with your trusty red pen. Which is why you thanked your lucky stars that you have invested in a state-of-the-art office printer. Reading manuscripts hot off the press makes the job (plus line edits) so much easier than spending more hours staring at your laptop and giving yourself another headache.

It was still beyond your comprehension how this manuscript landed on your desk again after rounds of quality control, but if this is the game that Mira wants to play, fine. You were a professional proofreader and you will soldier on. Inhaling a deep breath through your nose and exhaling through your mouth, you adjusted the settings and listened to your printer get to work after tapping the icon twice with your mouse.

Thirty minutes later, you had a double-sided manuscript sitting in your lap. A large water bottle sat on the coffee table on your left, and the lamp was on the right. You steeled your mind, prayed your remaining sanity wouldn’t be not be shredded after reading this hot mess, and started your S-Rank proofreading quest.

The title of this piece is A Dance of Gold and Glitter. The story follows a bookish Courtly fairy heroine; her mother’s staggering military accomplishments as commander of the Fairy King’s army secured her place as a candidate in the Queen’s Trials. The male protagonist is, of course, the all-powerful Fairy King. The courtly and common fairies across the continent of Iayihos answered him. To defy the Fairy King is unthinkable. He’s super strong, and no one knows his true face minus his trusted advisor, blah, blah, blegh. Predictable. Next. An incredibly stupid and vain villainess acting as a foil to the heroine’s perseverance and kind heart, thus creating a love triangle between the heroine, the Fairy King, and her apprentice knight childhood friend.

Yay. Cliched troupe number two is check-marked. Moving on.

Someone is killing off the candidates one by one, and everyone automatically assumes the villainess is responsible because she is a fairy who was born with the ability to wield dark magic, which automatically makes others see her as an unredeemable monster as opposed to the pure-hearted and righteous light fairies. No trial, just a swift execution right before the steamy, drawn-out sex scenes between the heroine and the Fairy King. A BJ under the table while the Fairy King holds a meeting with his advisors? Wow! Just wow. Who would have thought of that?

Second love interest gets sent off to war, dies, and the Fairy King comforts his new queen with sex. And that’s how the story ends.

Sorry Mira, but this is not how the story will end.

Click.

Your pen did not stop crossing out or circling paragraphs or adding notes on the sides until it was almost two o’clock in the morning. You were halfway through the manuscript now with the weekend to finish it before showing Mira just how much work her literary darling needs to put into this book. Not through an email; you believe that dropping it on her desk, right on top of her other projects when she’s on her lunch break, doom-scrolling is a much more effective method in getting your point across.

You had also been kind enough to include cottage-core sticky notes with detailed suggestions on how to improve certain areas of the manuscript, plus title suggestions because A Dance of Gold and Glitter is very misleading. Why is it even called A Dance of Gold and Glitter when the currency of this fantasy world dictates that a gold coin is as valuable as copper? Hopefully Mira can help her client figure that out, at least. That’s why she gets paid to do besides promoting books and acting as a middle-man between her darlings and the publishing company.

Now? You needed to sleep.

Placing the manuscript gingerly on the coffee table and the red pen on the side, you stood up from the couch before stretching your arms over your head. What you did not realize is that at when your big toe slammed the foot of said furniture piece, two things happened. You lost your balance, careening forward, and landed on top of a pile of paperbacks; the novels you had the honor to polish up into the bestsellers they are today, yet still didn’t have a place on your shelves because they are already full of books you’ve read. The woes of being a professional and chronically tired proofreader in the world of literary mediocrity.

You swore under your breath, rubbing the sore area for a moment before making your way to the back bedroom to perform your usual nightly slash early morning routine.

The final thought you had before the sweet, comforting blankets of your bed lulled you into darkness is that you hoped that this time, Mira Kingfisher will listen to your grievances or else A Dance of Gold and Glitter will turn into a catastrophic clusterfuck that could cost the company thousands and many die-hard readers who loved the author’s previous works.

Then nothing. Just peaceful silence amidst the humming of your ceiling fan.

When you woke up, the first thing you realize is that an antler chandelier hangs above your head, and you know that the walls of your humble abode don’t look like someone carved them from the inside of a mountain because you’re not that rich. Your precious Egyptian cotton sheets? Gone, replaced with a myriad of tawny and onyx pelts. You still had a pillow, so that was one positive note in this weird-ass situation. It still doesn’t explain why your head hurts like a bitch. And why are there feathers on the bed?

A glance at the ornate mirror hanging on the other side of this bizarre room confirms your worst fear: an impeccable beauty with the face of a goddess was staring back at you with jewel-blue eyes that glowed under the dim lighting of the torches mounted on either side of the mirror. Pointed ears poked out from the curtain of long, lustrous jet-back hair cascaded over her bare shoulders and past her lower back. Her tits were huge.

Authors portrayed the villainess as a femme fatale, using charm and gorgeous looks to achieve her goals and secure her power. Now? It seems the universe thrust you into the villainess’s body, finding amusement in watching a proofreader survive in this world, destined for execution so the heroine might achieve a happy ending. But the worst part is that you couldn’t find the energy to scream, to panic, or cry because you were still so damned tired.

Fuck.

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2025

Taglist: @actuallysaiyan @phisen @sleep-all-day-everyday @detectivesparrow @moongurl95 @yandere-dark-cupid @yandereaficionado @stingywiththeirusername @the-cat-queen-peasants @hotnbloodied @lanxianschoenheit @jurijyuu @ozzgin @mochinon-yah @imperfectbloodmoon @isuckatwritingsobenice @ladydoe8 @aiimee9 @thetruepair @diannaflight @emperatris-rinaka @queenofspades403 @dreamlessnight @msfantasy-anime @faesdreaming @fanboilingwriter @mydearestbeloved @sweetbatherodonkey @lovelyevil @gudaworks @persephone-kore-law @lu-zo-san @valeriinee @charming-mage @sleeperazury @secretkoalapersona-blog @strangepoppy @aria-tempest @ixchelhernandez4

[living-with-ghost]

[living-with-ghost]

It’s me again!! And with another LW idea:))

Alr so- imagine Kon and Mouse having a little movie night over at the manor and js trying to have fun but Bruce and mouse’s brothers (and maybe Hal and Alfred) keep trying to get between them whenever they get too close for their liking- like even if it’s js Mouse leaning on Kon’s shoulder.

-🌻

OH MY GOD AMAZING

The Littlest Wayne: Movie Night

Conner Kent x GN!Reader

Masterlist is Here!

Conner: tries to do the yawn-and-stretch maneuver as they sit together in the theatre room

Dick, materializing out of thin air: HEY GUYS WHATCHA WATCHIN CAN I JOIN

Mouse: Oh! Hey...yeah, I guess! There's plenty of seats over —

Dick: amazing!!!!!! I love family time!!!!!

Dick: squeezes purposefully between Flittermouse and Conner despite the numerous seats in that big-ass theatre

Dick: I LOVE PLATONIC FAMILY TIME SO MUCH

Mouse: :(

--

Mouse and Kon: streaming a movie on a laptop in Mouse's room

Mouse: scoots closer and wraps an arm around Conner

Conner, red as a cherry: h-hi, hey....how about this movie, huh? Real...action-packed and —

Mouse: we're watching a rom-com?

Conner: I'm sorry, I...wasn't paying attention. I was thinking about making out with you.

Mouse, grinning and leaning in: what a coincidence. I was thinking the same thing...

Damian, kicking the door in: BABY SIBLING, WHY IS YOUR DOOR CLOSED. YOU KNOW THE RULES WHEN THE HALF-BREED IS HERE.

Conner: Half-breed? :(

Damian: WHERE IS THE ROOM YOU'RE MEANT TO LEAVE FOR JESUS

Mouse: Dami, we're Jewish. Also why are you here, you have a shift at the hospital today >:(

Damian: I'M ASKING THE QUESTIONS. I WILL TAKE THE LORD'S PLACE TO MAINTAIN YOUR PURITY. SCOOT OVER AT ONCE AND PLEASE RESTART THE NOTEBOOK. PASS THE POPCORN.

Mouse: >:((

--

Mouse and Conner in a movie theatre just trying to enjoy themselves: :)

Conner: holds Mouse's hand as they share the arm rest

Tim, sitting directly behind them: Keep those mitts to yourself, Kent.

Conner, lacing his own fingers together in his lap: :(

Mouse: >>:((

--

Jason: Don't even think about it

Mouse: oH COME ON, I JUST WANNA WATCH A MOVIE AND CUDDLE WITH MY BOYFRIEND

Jason: Movie cuddling is the gateway drug to movie making out, which is the gateway drug to movie head, which is the gateway drug to movie sex, and then bam, you're six months pregnant with your third child and suing the baby daddy for child support.

Mouse: what the fuck

Jason: LOL, I'm just fuckin' with you. Bruce put me in charge of chaperoning your little date but I don't give a shit what you get up to.

Mouse: :D

Jason: Just no head

Mouse: D:

Jason: I'm kidding. Head if you want. Just make him wear a condom.

Mouse, sobbing: I just wanna watch a fucking movie, why are you all making it weird, I hate this family

Conner: was genuinely wondering for a second if he was about to get head

[living-with-ghost]

[living-with-ghost]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSWEET BUNNYㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How would they be with a timid and shy darling?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne.

☆⁠ NOTE : Request by anon ♡ English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

Bruce never saw himself as possessive. He saw himself as cautious, reasonable, and responsible. But when it came to you, it was different. You’re the softest thing in his life, a delicate presence that soothes the storm within him. Your shy nature makes you easy to shelter, easy to protect. You don’t argue when he keeps you close, don’t push when he subtly alters your life to fit his vision of safety.

You needed him. It was obvious.

How easy it is for you to let him take care of everything. How naturally you let him lead you through crowds, shielding you from eyes that linger too long. How your voice wavers when you say his name, like you’re unsure you’re allowed to. You are. You’re allowed to do anything with him. But no one else. And that’s the problem. Because he notices the way people don’t hesitate to approach you, knowing you won’t push them away. That man at the gala who leaned too close. The colleague who placed a hand on your shoulder. The waiter who smiled too much. He finds your timidity utterly enchanting. The way you hesitate before speaking, the way your gaze flits downward when he holds your chin, how you stammer under his scrutiny—it feeds something deep inside him. You need him, even if you don’t realize it yet. Bruce never gets frustrated with your shyness. If anything, he finds it ideal. You aren’t reckless. You aren’t difficult. You’re perfectly moldable. His perfect little doll. You don’t have to worry about the outside world anymore. Gotham is dangerous. Men look at you too long, the world is too harsh, and Bruce knows what’s best for you. He’s a provider by nature, and now you belong to him, his fragile little thing. You won’t even notice when your life shrinks—how he’s always there, subtly guiding you into dependency. He’s a master at making his control feel natural. It’s for your own good, sweetheart.

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

Dick is obsessive in the purest sense. He’s everywhere—hovering, smothering, watching. He doesn’t just want to own you; he wants to drown in you, breathe you. You’re so shy, so quiet—and it drives him crazy. Every time you flinch under his overwhelming affection, every time your voice dies in your throat because he’s just too much, he melts. "Aw, sweetheart, don’t be shy. It’s just me." But he loves it. He loves how you tremble when he hugs you too tight, how your voice wavers when you try to refuse him. It makes him feel powerful—knowing he’s the only one who gets to see these pieces of you. At first, he tries to ease you into his intensity. But the longer he’s around you, the more agitated he becomes. Why are you still flinching? Why do you shy away when he’s the safest place you could ever be? The frustration isn’t with you. It’s with the world. Did someone teach you to be afraid? Who hurt you? He wants to rip them apart. He wants to keep you forever. So, he keeps pushing. The cuddles become longer. The touches linger. The kisses are too frequent, too intimate, but he brushes off your hesitance. "Come on, angel, don’t be like that. I just wanna be close." And when you still shy away? When you still look uncertain even after everything? He just pulls you tighter, cooing into your ear. "You’ll get used to me, baby. You’ll see."

— JASON TODD ⋆

At first, your timid nature makes him incredibly soft with you. You’re so meek, so gentle—and that means you need someone to keep you safe, right? You need someone who won’t let the world chew you up. Jason adores your shyness. The way you shrink under his gaze, the way you hesitate before speaking—it makes him feel needed. But as time passes, his patience wears thin. Why won’t you trust him? Why do you still tense when he holds you? He’s here to protect you, damn it. He’d kill for you. The worst part? You’re so sweet that you don’t even fight back. Your soft apologies, your nervous glances—they’re infuriating. He doesn’t want your fear, he wants your adoration. But Jason is impatient. And when you keep shying away, keep hesitating—he starts getting rougher. Not in a way that hurts, never that. But his hands linger longer, his grip tightens, his voice drops into something more desperate. "Stop bein’ so scared of me, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you." He doesn’t realize how terrifying he can be. How his sheer size, his intensity, can make your heart race in a way that isn’t just flustered affection. But he doesn’t want you to be afraid. He just wants you to be his, to love him. So he softens again. He makes up for his outbursts. He coaxes you into his arms, murmuring apologies against your skin. "I just want you to feel safe, doll. You are safe. Just let me take care of you." He’ll never let go.

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

Damian sees your shyness as a flaw—a weakness in need of fixing. You’re too soft for this world, too easily pushed aside, and he simply cannot allow it. At first, he tolerates it. He even finds it charming. The way you lower your gaze, the way your voice barely rises above a whisper—it’s a novelty. He enjoys watching you struggle for words, enjoys the way you shrink in his presence. But soon, it frustrates him. "You must learn to speak when addressed, beloved. Do not make me repeat myself." He doesn’t understand why you hesitate, why you fear expressing yourself. And it makes him mad. Not at you, never at you—but at the world that made you this way. So, he takes control. He begins teaching you. He holds your chin between gloved fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. He corrects you when you stammer, urges you to speak up when your voice wavers. "Again. Say it again—this time, with confidence." But he adores how pliant you are. The way you listen, the way you try to please him—it soothes something primal inside him. He’s training you, molding you into something worthy of standing beside him. And yet… there’s a part of him that likes the way you tremble when he raises his voice. The way your breath catches when he leans in too close. The way your small hands clutch at his sleeves when he pulls you in. Perhaps… you don’t need fixing after all. Perhaps you just need him to be the voice you lack. "Very well, my love. If you refuse to speak, I will simply do it for you." And from then on, Damian owns every decision you make.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[living-with-ghost]

Pinterest nade me cry with this today so I leave it here.

Here is the link, the post doesn't belong to me.

https://pin.it/670YJ1Q91

[living-with-ghost]

DIE YOUNG

summary : batfam enjoy each other's presence while Alfred and Bruce silently mourns your death.

Dick sit's down and eyes his family with a warm smile as he looks at his siblings with a loving look - they've all came so far and they all deserved this moment of blissful peace . He observes Tim and Damian engrossed in some random videogame , duke was painting steph's nails while she shows him random memes on her phone while jason and cass are talking about the latest anime they watched .

Everyone is happy , including himself because he's back home , surrounded with the people he holds so dear to his heart. Alfred approaches him with a fresh pan of brownies . Dick quickly snatches three portions and flash Alfred a smile , " Thanks Alfie !!" he exclaims . Alfred nods and rest the pan on a nearby table . " Hey Alfred when is Bruce coming back ?" Jason randomly asks . Alfred glances at his watch , " In approximatly one hour Master " . Jason groans. " That's so longggg besides why is he always disappearing off these days ?"

Alfred takes a moment to compose himself - he desperately tries to swallow the underlying pain he feels bubbling inside before he answers , " He always has board meetings around this time Master " , his tone wavering in the slightest yet unnoticeable. Jason rolls his eyes - annoyed but understanding and was about to retort but gets distracted when Cass shows him something on her phone.

Alfred excuses himself and makes a beeline escape to the outside patio . In the quiet stillness of the manor , when the eloquent halls are empty , when the kids are enveloped in their own innocent warmth , Alfred takes his time to shed a silent lone tear as he grieves . God knows , knows that every night when his worn palms are intertwined as he mutters a silent pray - that he's praying that your soul is safe and happy wherever it is - that your watching over him and this family with your silly smile and wrapping them in your soft , delicate hugs as you shield them away from the evil that tore you apart from them.

Meanwhile Bruce sits in his office chair - the room dark and quiet save for the occasional hum of the AC . His workers long since left hours ago , his work long finished and laid discarded on his desk . Bruce was a man that planned for everything , whether he was doing business or simply being Batman , he had plans and preparations for everything but parenting - he swears no matter what he does he can never ever fully plan .

He never planned on adopting Tim , Jason , Dick and Cass , never planned on being Steph or Duke guardians or hell never plans on having his son, Damian. None of it mattered because he would never ever regret having them in his life . He has read so many parenting books over his years , learning how to carter to each one of them but none of them prepared him to bury a child.

There is no feeling in this world that comes as gut retching , as tragic , as painful as the feeling of a parent burring their child . The memory is fresh in his head - the view of your small body - mangled beyond recognition - save for the pretty pink princess dress he dressed you in to go to preschool - your own blood covered you - like a blanket - a last ditch attempt to protect you from the harshness of the world .

Your once glowing big eyes that always looked at him with excitement now stare at him with a dull , blank look . He remembers cradling your small frame into his chest as the world around him crumble apart , as it slips through like sand slipping away to the ocean whenever the tides crash onto the shore . He remembers crying when he felt the bullet holes in your chest against his own. He holds your cold body close , cradling your head into his neck like he always do when he tucks you in to sleep . He lips memorized the way it kept muttering " it's okay baby daddy's got you , it's okay " .

He held your body until the police arrived and had to confiscate it . For the first and last time - Bruce lashed out at them - where were they when the school called in an active school shooter - where were they ? What was more important than saving his daughter's life ? He remembers screaming at them and Alfred having to hold him back . Alfred had to make the difficult decision to shove Bruce into the car to stop him from attacking the officers even though he himself wanted to confront them.

That night the manor for the first time was silent - Alfred was opening his fifth bottle of whisky in his room as he drowns himself in his own misery - he misses his grandbaby so much - he knows you hate seeing grandpa so sad and miserable - would always climb up on his bed and offer him your plushie as you gave him a big old kiss but you aren't here to do that anymore so he downs another after another.

Bruce sat on the floor of your room that night , the pastel walls filled with polaroid pictures of all three of you , his eye caught one - you were sitting on his shoulders , you wore a wide grin on your face , arms outstretched as you held a cone of ice cream he got you . He looked so happy there , hair tousled from your antics but he wore a smile . That day you were offering him your ice cream because you claimed " ice cream is the bestest thing in the entire world !".

He sobbed into his hands - why - why must the world be so cruel to him ? Why must the world take away his parents ? Why must the world take you away ? Does he not deserve happiness ? Does he not deserve to have hope ? Why must only he suffer ? Why out of all the children in that preschool the shooter chose to shot you ?

Was it because you were a small kind thing and had pushed your classmate out of harms way and took that hit ? Was it because you were too caring for your own good so you cradled your classmate's crying form into yours while you bled out ? Was it because you were you ? Did anyone ever thought in that moment to help you when the shooter yanked you away from your classmate and began to beat your small frame with his gun ? Did no one stop him from mangling your form ?

Did anyone care to step in before he shot you in your stomach a few times and left your body to be ensnared by death's cold fangs? Did anyone care to listen to your last words ? Did anyone catch the way you softly whimpered papa and grandpa - too scared , confused , too engulfed in pain to understand what was happening - just a small child searching for her family because that's all you knew ?

He curses that blasted teacher everyday - how could she let a child face that ? How could she huddle the other kids closer to her - leaving you to face that monster alone ? He wants to grab her and brutally rip the life out of her lungs - he doesn't care that she was pregnant and stressed and was doing 'her best' - what makes her unborn child and those other children more important than you ?

Another anguished sob leaves him and he remains there , crying his eyes out til the dawn breaks upon the world again. He hated that moment the most - of course that morning the sky had to shower upon them all a strong storm - strong winds that destroyed rickety rooves - practically plucking them from their houses like it was nothing . Strong , heavy rains that flooded the earth , a desperate rebuttal to wash away the scum of the world.

Alfred and Bruce stood together side by side as they watch a small casket descend into the depths of the earth . The priest practically choked on his tears during his prayer - Bruce feels himself going numb all over again - just life when his parents left him - he feels himself succumbing to the darkness and emptiness that reside inside him.

He shovels dirt onto your grave , each movement engraves a knife deeper in his chest - further solidifying the fact that you were gone and never ever coming back . He will never get back the sound of your cute giggles , never receive your colorful doodles of Alfred and himself , never get the opportunity to carry you on his shoulders , never get to experience you going to high school , you getting to experience you bring home your first boyfriend , the feeling of being overbearing and overprotective of his little girl going out with some guy , never get to experience watching you graduate high school , never get to experience you going to university and hear you complain about how annoying your professor is , never get to experience being happy and celebrating you getting your dream job and he would never ever get to experience watching you get married to the love of your life .

He would never get to experience any of this because you were never coming back home to Alfred or him . Bruce pulls up to the drive way of his home . His hand falls to his side as he watches out of the window and glances at the shrubbery. He misses you so much - he wonders all the time if you would love your adopted siblings - if you'd doodle all of them with your scented crayons and hang them up on the fridge , he wonders if you'd love petting Titus with Damian , if you'd play tea party with the girls , if you'd chase Jason down the halls with Tim and Dick because he stole your plushy -

He wonders if you'd love them , wonders if your watching over them - if you are proud that after you died he became the Bat ? Wonders if you would be proud that Alfred stopped drinking for you because he didn't want his little girl to be sad . He exits his car , his hands clutches the stuffed white bear in his hand and the other holds the bouquet of tulips and sunflowers.

He takes the long walk to the family cemetery , recalls all the funny conversations you both had - like how you thought the sun followed you in the car - maybe it did because whenever he was with you things were brighter . Even now , as he stands in front of your grave , the sun set behind you like a golden crown , its soft orange and pink hues , your favorite colors , paint the sky . Bruce sits near your grave and begins to talk to you ,

" Hey sweet girl how are you ? ......Daddy and Grandpa misses you alot sweet girl ...we miss you alot .....did you know grandpa made your favorite brownies today ? He made your own pan because he knows you loved them ....Daddy brought you a new stuffie and your favorite flowers ? You can name him whatever you want sweet girl .....I see grandpa left you a princess crown - I bet you love the pink glitters don't you sweet girl ? Daddy knows your still the prettiest princess no matter where you are . I miss you so much sweet girl - I wish you were here hunny - wish I could get more of your warm hugs - Wish you were still here with me - with us "

Everything goes silent for a long time , Bruce stays , embracing your comfort . Bruce watches as the sun full set behind the distant trees , the world now engulfed in darkness . He gets up , wiping away the lone stray tears on his face as he prepares to face his family.

He gathers himself and looks at your grave one last time , " Daddy loves you sweet girl stay safe for me okay ?" and with that Bruce leaves , heart heavy and longing .

[living-with-ghost]

Violent Hearts Masterlist

Emperor Geta x reader

Used as a pawn in your father’s games, you are sent to Rome as a plaything for the Emperors to do with as they please.

One despises your very existence.

The other seems intrigued. But what exactly does he see when he looks at you?

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII (coming soon)

Chapter XIII

[living-with-ghost]

Masterlist fanfic Yandere!Batfamily X Reader

NONE OF THESE FANFICS BELONG TO ME, this is more of a personal reading list of fanfics I follow and such, all the links lead you to the creators' direct blogs.

Almost all the fanfics in the 'platonic' section are with Neglected!Reader, I'm addicted to that trope.

More than one link will lead you to the authors' master list instead of a masterlist for the series. This is because they don't have a dedicated list for the series, and it was easier for me to keep them this way. (There are also links to the first chapter, in this case, the author probably left the other chapters there, in addition to imagines, headcanons, and drabbles on their own.) I thought about adding a short description below the links to explain what the fanfic is about… maybe I'll do it later or just leave it as it is.

Not - series

Again and. Again - series

Bruce hears Reader call someone else "dad." - drabble

Reader who only recognizes Alfred - drabble

[UN] Fair - series

Adorned in pearls (although Bruce here is not platonic…) - one shot

Batfamily with a Shallow Reader - imagine

Reader in Squid Games - imagine

Crack Baby - series

Smalltown Meta!Reader - series

Forget me not - series

No more Chances - series

Inmorta! Reader - series

Undoing Fate - series

Tip toes - series

Meet The Waynes - series

Bring back the dead - series

Obsessive reader in the shadows - imagine

There are two fanfictions here, the first fic doesn't have a name and I don't know what to name it. - series

Who said money can´t buy hapinness (considering the # I assume that the batfam is platonic….but I'm not sure) - series

Between life and death, death is tempting - series

Ain´t no sushine - series

Beyond the Bat - series

Crow choir - series

Waterbone - drabble

Marine!Reader - one shot? drabble?

Saboteur - series/imagine

Unwanted embrace - series

I'm almost sure this was one of the pioneering stories in this trope. - one shot

Little Demon - one shot

Goodbye World - one shot

Batsis wakes up in a fanfic - imagine? drabble?

Batfam playing with Reader - I think it's a drabble…I don't know

Pity Party - series

Yandere Al Ghuls! - series

How would they spend time with you after the kidnapping? -drabble

You´re a fucking weird hacker - one shot

Lucid Dreams - series

What We Want - series

The sinfull Allure (the story is not yandere nor does it have neglect, but it has the batboys, and I love this reverse harem) - series

Seven Days a Week - Hit me Hard and sort - two series

First married to Bruce - one shot

[living-with-ghost]

[living-with-ghost]

other side of the moon masterlist

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

y/n y/ln once broke boundaries in formula 1, becoming the first female driver to win a race, but after a career ending injury, the sport she gave everything to turned it’s back on her. with a stacked rookie class for 2025 and an offer to get back into the sport she once loved, will she leave for good or give it one more chance?

chapter one: an offer you can refuse

years of solitude has led y/n y/ln down a dark path following her career-ending injury in 2022 but one rookie seems dead set on bringing her back into the fray

chapter two: a dutchman and an italian in london

y/n still has a decision to make, maybe a little visit can sway her vote

chapter three: home away from home

back in monaco for the first time after the crash, y/n reckons with ghosts from the past and the uncertain future.

interlude: a tango in barcelona

dancing around her teammate on and off track, y/n looks to boogie her troubles away.

chapter four: matchstick men

the cocktail party is fun while it lasts, late guests throw y/n’s decision into question but also show her just who she’s a mentor to.

chapter five: enter stage left

one big car launch with every driver in attendance - what can go wrong?

chapter six: fireproof

loading...

[living-with-ghost]

Miss Wayne aesthetic 🦇✨

[living-with-ghost]

Heyyyyy how are ya 😼 I have an idea for angst (Although this has already been done by many authors but I'm curious see how you approach this kind of like concept)

"Neglected... Batsis.... Reader..."

(this is totally not me just manifesting for more neglected batsia content)

-🌭

Hotdog. Dog that's hot. Oblong tube of meat that sits on a bun. As long as you're okay with it not being Yandere, I'll give almost anything a shot.

Lonely in a Crowded Room

Platonic!Batfamily x Daughter!Reader

Content warnings: emotional neglect, isolation, hyper-independence as a coping mechanism

Masterlist is Here!

Your family loves you.

Your family does not have time for you.

Both of these things are true at the same time.

Your mother had abandoned you at the gates of the Wayne manor when you were an infant, leaving nothing but a note telling Bruce your name, her name, and that you were his biological daughter. After taking another DNA test for himself to be sure, Bruce accepted his role as your father and took you in.

Sometimes you wonder how different your life would be if he'd just admitted he didn't have the time to raise you and left you at an orphanage, where another couple looking to care for a child could devote their energy to you instead. You wonder if you'd be better off than you are now.

The thing is, nothing is really wrong. You're clothed, fed, sheltered, and if there's an emergency you are swiftly taken care of. You just don't have any kind of connection to your family.

Bruce gave it his best effort when you were a baby, when you needed more attention. Batman patrolled less often in the night whenever you had a bad time staying asleep. He bottle fed you, he read you bedtime stories, and he would bring you to Wayne Tower with him sometimes and keep you busy with toys while he worked. As you grew older, however, and started developing a sense of independence, that easy attention got harder and harder to get. Suddenly he was needed for a case, or there was an event Bruce Wayne needed to make an appearance at, or one of your brothers needed his insight during investigations of their own.

And, well, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of one. You learned to share his attention, choosing to be the polite daughter that could learn to fix her own problems, and eventually that meant to Bruce that you didn't need attention at all. You couldn't ever find the courage to correct him, to ask him to make space for you. So, still seeking emotional fulfillment, you tried to turn to your brothers instead.

Dick was unfailingly kind. He'd even remarked once that he always wanted a little sister, which was nice. But he was an adult by the time you entered the picture. He had his own life outside of the Manor, living in Blüdhaven and patrolling as Nightwing and maintaining a day job for the BPD. His already limited free time was spent for himself, chasing downtime he often desperately needed, and you didn't want to make him give that up for you.

Jason didn't come around the Manor as a rule. He had bad blood with your dad, and while he didn't explicitly take it out on you, unfortunately you live with Bruce, and so he just wasn't around enough for you to form any solid attachment. Plus, he's clearly got his own stuff going on, and likely doesn't have the time nor will to get to know you. You haven't tried to reach out and neither has he, which is enough of an answer about how he feels in regards to having a little sister.

Tim was kind of like Bruce. He had far too many prior engagements and duties to fulfill, from acting as current CEO of both Wayne Enterprises and Drake Industries, to moonlighting as Red Robin, to attending college and working on his degree. He'd give you a sweet smile and gently ruffle your hair if he caught you in passing, but then he had to focus on the rest of his daily goings on. Trying to catch Tim to talk was like trying to hold water in a cracked cup. He just slips right by you.

And Damian... Damian did not particularly like you. At least, not at first. He came into the picture a couple years after you were dropped off at the Manor. You suspect he felt threatened about there being another blood-relative in the house, and made every attempt to communicate to you that he wasn't happy with your presence. But, as you grew older, when the topic of secret identities and their nighttime work came up, you surprised everyone by showing no interest in taking up the mantle. You did not want to be Robin, or a bat of any kind for that matter, and that seemed to really mellow your brother out. His perceived competition wasn't even competing, and his hostility was for naught.

Now, he doesn't really give you the time of day. It took a while for you to understand that it wasn't malicious anymore. You know now that he's ashamed of his prior actions and doesn't know how to make amends. You've tried to bridge that gap for him, make it easier by showing that you hold no ill will, but either his pride or his stubbornness refuse to take the olive branch you're practically dropping in his lap.

So, you can't get emotional fulfillment from your dad or any of your older brothers. If you can't go to them, maybe you can turn to Alfred. He was a patriarchal figure, always tending to one thing or another and looking after Bruce and his sons after patrol. He didn't patrol himself, so maybe he'd have the time to spend with you.

And he did! He sure did. It just...wasn't quite what you wanted. Alfred was a former British Intelligence operative, and raised Bruce under the complicated duality of both a guardian and a commanding officer. He obviously knew how to talk to you like a normal civilian, because that's what you are, but it was overly formal. He was holding you at arm's length because he didn't know how to relate to you. You were familiar strangers, at best, and you felt that's all you'd ever be despite your best efforts.

So. No one is cruel to you. They are kind, they smile, they ask you how you're doing and genuinely seem to care about the answer. That's not the problem.

You know your family loves you.

You know your family does not have time for you.

Both of these things are true.

You just wish you weren't so terribly lonely.

[living-with-ghost]

Heyyyyy how are ya 😼 I have an idea for angst (Although this has already been done by many authors but I'm curious see how you approach this kind of like concept)

"Neglected... Batsis.... Reader..."

(this is totally not me just manifesting for more neglected batsia content)

-🌭

Hotdog. Dog that's hot. Oblong tube of meat that sits on a bun. As long as you're okay with it not being Yandere, I'll give almost anything a shot.

Lonely in a Crowded Room

Platonic!Batfamily x Daughter!Reader

Content warnings: emotional neglect, isolation, hyper-independence as a coping mechanism

Masterlist is Here!

Your family loves you.

Your family does not have time for you.

Both of these things are true at the same time.

Your mother had abandoned you at the gates of the Wayne manor when you were an infant, leaving nothing but a note telling Bruce your name, her name, and that you were his biological daughter. After taking another DNA test for himself to be sure, Bruce accepted his role as your father and took you in.

Sometimes you wonder how different your life would be if he'd just admitted he didn't have the time to raise you and left you at an orphanage, where another couple looking to care for a child could devote their energy to you instead. You wonder if you'd be better off than you are now.

The thing is, nothing is really wrong. You're clothed, fed, sheltered, and if there's an emergency you are swiftly taken care of. You just don't have any kind of connection to your family.

Bruce gave it his best effort when you were a baby, when you needed more attention. Batman patrolled less often in the night whenever you had a bad time staying asleep. He bottle fed you, he read you bedtime stories, and he would bring you to Wayne Tower with him sometimes and keep you busy with toys while he worked. As you grew older, however, and started developing a sense of independence, that easy attention got harder and harder to get. Suddenly he was needed for a case, or there was an event Bruce Wayne needed to make an appearance at, or one of your brothers needed his insight during investigations of their own.

And, well, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of one. You learned to share his attention, choosing to be the polite daughter that could learn to fix her own problems, and eventually that meant to Bruce that you didn't need attention at all. You couldn't ever find the courage to correct him, to ask him to make space for you. So, still seeking emotional fulfillment, you tried to turn to your brothers instead.

Dick was unfailingly kind. He'd even remarked once that he always wanted a little sister, which was nice. But he was an adult by the time you entered the picture. He had his own life outside of the Manor, living in Blüdhaven and patrolling as Nightwing and maintaining a day job for the BPD. His already limited free time was spent for himself, chasing downtime he often desperately needed, and you didn't want to make him give that up for you.

Jason didn't come around the Manor as a rule. He had bad blood with your dad, and while he didn't explicitly take it out on you, unfortunately you live with Bruce, and so he just wasn't around enough for you to form any solid attachment. Plus, he's clearly got his own stuff going on, and likely doesn't have the time nor will to get to know you. You haven't tried to reach out and neither has he, which is enough of an answer about how he feels in regards to having a little sister.

Tim was kind of like Bruce. He had far too many prior engagements and duties to fulfill, from acting as current CEO of both Wayne Enterprises and Drake Industries, to moonlighting as Red Robin, to attending college and working on his degree. He'd give you a sweet smile and gently ruffle your hair if he caught you in passing, but then he had to focus on the rest of his daily goings on. Trying to catch Tim to talk was like trying to hold water in a cracked cup. He just slips right by you.

And Damian... Damian did not particularly like you. At least, not at first. He came into the picture a couple years after you were dropped off at the Manor. You suspect he felt threatened about there being another blood-relative in the house, and made every attempt to communicate to you that he wasn't happy with your presence. But, as you grew older, when the topic of secret identities and their nighttime work came up, you surprised everyone by showing no interest in taking up the mantle. You did not want to be Robin, or a bat of any kind for that matter, and that seemed to really mellow your brother out. His perceived competition wasn't even competing, and his hostility was for naught.

Now, he doesn't really give you the time of day. It took a while for you to understand that it wasn't malicious anymore. You know now that he's ashamed of his prior actions and doesn't know how to make amends. You've tried to bridge that gap for him, make it easier by showing that you hold no ill will, but either his pride or his stubbornness refuse to take the olive branch you're practically dropping in his lap.

So, you can't get emotional fulfillment from your dad or any of your older brothers. If you can't go to them, maybe you can turn to Alfred. He was a patriarchal figure, always tending to one thing or another and looking after Bruce and his sons after patrol. He didn't patrol himself, so maybe he'd have the time to spend with you.

And he did! He sure did. It just...wasn't quite what you wanted. Alfred was a former British Intelligence operative, and raised Bruce under the complicated duality of both a guardian and a commanding officer. He obviously knew how to talk to you like a normal civilian, because that's what you are, but it was overly formal. He was holding you at arm's length because he didn't know how to relate to you. You were familiar strangers, at best, and you felt that's all you'd ever be despite your best efforts.

So. No one is cruel to you. They are kind, they smile, they ask you how you're doing and genuinely seem to care about the answer. That's not the problem.

You know your family loves you.

You know your family does not have time for you.

Both of these things are true.

You just wish you weren't so terribly lonely.

[living-with-ghost]