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echo-exco · 1 month ago

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❝DOCTOR I CAN’T TELL IF I’M NOT ME.❞

୨⎯ ┊BATFAM X NEGLECTED!HEALER!READER ꒱

✰ ৎ──────SYPNOPSIS: all you ever wanted was a purpose. something that would give meaning to your existence, your power. healing others was the only thing that ever made you feel alive, needed… until you ended up in that awful place.

✰ ৎ────── masterlist. | next.

There is only one thing you ever truly wished for in this life: a purpose.

Something that would justify your existence, that would give meaning to every breath, every wound, every sleepless night.

And you found it. Not in an empty promise or in the affection of others. You found it in your own power.

A selfish desire, yes, but undeniably yours. A purpose born not out of love, but out of need.

From that strange power growing inside you, the one that forced you to look at others’ suffering with cold, almost cynical eyes. As if every wound were a problem only you could solve. As if every scream of pain were a prayer meant solely for you.

You clung to that.

To the idea that your worth existed only in your abilities.

The ability to stop someone from dying in front of you. To rip death from their body with your own hands. To stitch broken flesh with threads that hurt, yes, but worked. That was the only thing that ever made you feel alive. The only thing that ever made you feel alive, needed.

For a while, it was enough.

For a long while, you were selfish.

It didn’t matter if they used you. It didn’t matter if it hurt. If every healing left another scar on you. If every salvation cost you a little more of the little you had left.

As long as you could keep doing it—healing, fixing, protecting— the price didn’t matter.

Because at the end of the day, you could lie down on that mattress of emptiness and tell yourself: “Today, I made it worth it.”

Your existence and your power meant something.

Of course, you didn’t have a mother to share secrets with, nor guardians who offered you love. Only faces that came and went, and the bitter understanding that you were just another burden in a broken system.

Until, by some twisted stroke of fate, you had the “pleasure” of meeting your biological father.

Bruce Wayne.

Billionaire. Philanthropist. Playboy.

Batman.

Even so, none of that really mattered to you. What truly hit you was learning that you had to leave everything behind and go to Gotham.

That cursed city, that concrete jungle drowned in darkness and crime. Where dreams go to die and bodies, if they’re lucky, go to sleep.

Gotham wasn’t a home. It was a prison for someone like you.

A place where meta-humans like you were enemies, threats, problems to be contained.

Your power, your only purpose, was stripped away with nothing more than a change of zip code.

And that was the cruelest part of all.

Not being able to use it.

Not being able to save.

Not being able to be useful.

Your existence, reduced to ashes, like the bodies of those you didn’t reach in time.

It must be poetic, right? The healer who cannot heal. The savior without faith.

They hate you. You've felt it. That visceral resentment from those who survived because of you, but still blame you for what you couldn’t stop. Screams, stares, choked pleas— all of them pierced your soul deeper than any weapon ever could.

For someone who once swore to save lives, it’s only natural that those you vowed and wanted to save now express their utter disgust and despair toward the false, horrific salvation you once offered them.

And now? Now you live among strangers.

An immense mansion full of absences. With brothers who seemingly don’t recognize you, and a father who doesn’t see you.

Your arrival in Gotham wasn’t exactly ideal, at least, that’s how you think you remember it.

It’s hard for you to remember that moment. You don’t hold on to unnecessary memories… none of it will make you feel alive again.

Apparently, your new father figure has several children. Some of them are already adults. With lives of their own far from the mansion, you don’t know much about them, they were almost always too busy to say anything to you.

You can’t understand them, can’t they come up with better excuses? You don’t want these people’s attention.

These people can’t help you with your abilities. They can’t make you believe you’re still allowed to use them freely.

No, these people are just strangers who stumbled into your life overnight and want nothing to do with the problem. Not even your new father had the decency or responsibility to try forming a bond with you.

Bruce Wayne was an absent father. Not in the way someone leaves and disappears completely, but in the kind of absence that feels stronger the closer the person is. A hollow physical presence, like a ghost made of flesh and bone. One who could look you in the eyes and still not see you.

He struggled to communicate, to make time for you, to even remember that there was now one more occupied room in that massive mansion of his.

He doesn’t know how to deal with you, and you don’t know how to deal with him either. At first, you wondered if the problem was you. If you had done something wrong. If the way you talked, walked—even breathed, was so bothersome that he’d rather bury himself in work than give you an hour of his time.

But soon, you realized something even crueler: You don’t need a father. You’re not looking for one. You’re not waiting for one.

What you need is a patient. Someone you can heal. Someone who needs you.

Because that’s what you’ve always done. Heal. And Bruce… Bruce simply refuses to be healed.

But he doesn’t understand.

When you approach him, when you seek him out, when you try to speak to him, all he does is throw up a wall made of cold words, as practical and impersonal as that damn business suit of his.

“I’m busy.”

“Not now.”

“We’ll talk later.”

“It’s for work.”

Always the same. Always excuses with the bitter taste of indifference.

Is this what having a father is supposed to feel like? Because if it is, then it doesn’t feel any different from your days in foster care.

At least there, you knew you were alone. Here, they make you believe you’re not… but you are, more than ever.

You’ve learned to observe the details, as always. It’s one of the few things you’re good at, aside from using your power.

You notice the tired look in his eyes, the dark circles underneath, the way his fingers tense around his pen like he’s trying to crush it. The stack of papers on his desk never gets smaller, it’s like it multiplies just to keep you at a distance.

And the subtle changes… that lower tone in his voice when he sees you, like he can’t even be bothered to raise it for you. The way his eyebrows furrow, not out of anger, just… annoyance. Irritation.

That’s what hurt the most.

So you stopped trying. Because if you kept going, you were only going to be reprimanded by the one you were supposed to please. You convinced yourself that you don’t need his approval. That you don’t need his love. That you’re better off without him.

But then, why is it that every time you walk past his office, you pause for a second, hoping that door opens, just once, without you knocking first?

Why do you still need him to see you?

Richard Grayson is the eldest. The first adopted son of Bruce Wayne. Everyone sees him as a beacon of hope, the moral compass of this family made of shadows and scars. And it makes sense. He has that bright smile, that genuine warmth the others can barely fake. He gives out hugs without being asked, listens patiently, laughs easily, and has that absurd gift of making anyone feel seen, at least, if you’re one of his.

Because with you, it was always different.

From the beginning, Richard seemed kind. Seemed. But between that warmth and you, there was always a distance, like someone had drawn a curtain between the two of you. You heard his apologies more than you heard his actual voice.

“Sorry, I have to head out right now.”

“Sorry, I was already on my way to Blüdhaven.”

“Next time, I promise.”

He was always rushing. Always busy. Always somewhere else. And you… you’re not someone who believes in empty promises.

At first, you thought it was just bad luck. That maybe if you insisted a little, if you found an excuse, if you caught him in the kitchen, he might stay for five minutes. Just five. But those minutes never came. And you started to notice a pattern. How his demeanor shifted the moment you walked into the room. How his smile became more diplomatic. More rehearsed. How his footsteps sped up when he thought you weren’t watching.

You didn’t want to admit it at first, but something inside you began to whisper an uncomfortable truth; He was avoiding you.

And then you understood. If Richard Grayson, the kindest, the most human, the most "big brother" of them all, couldn’t be around you, then what was the point of trying with the others? What could you possibly expect from Jason, who barely speaks to you? From Tim, who seems more invested in his computer than in actual people? From Damian, who can barely tolerate his own shadow?

So you did the same.

You avoided them. One by one.

You decided it wasn’t worth it. That if you weren’t going to be a real part of this family, you weren’t going to pretend.

It’s easier that way. It doesn’t hurt as much if you’re the one walking away first.

But sometimes, when you see them laughing together from the staircase, or hear Richard speaking so fondly of the others, a part of you wonders if it was ever really your choice to walk away, or if they’d been leaving you behind from the very beginning.

Your suspicions didn’t take long to confirm. All it took was talking to a few of your supposed brothers to realize the pattern repeated itself.

Jason, Tim, Damian…

Each one was a story unto themselves. Each one was a maze of traumas, masks, and poorly calibrated emotional responses. But if you had to describe them in one word, it would be: inaccessible.

The second of your brothers was Jason, and from what little you could gather, because no one seemed eager to talk about it much, Jason had died. And then he came back. It wasn’t a metaphor. It wasn’t an exaggeration. He had been buried, and now he was not. That simple statement was enough to provoke a morbid curiosity, almost scientific. What had changed in his body? Did he suffer from partial necrosis? Brain damage? Did his muscles regenerate? What residual effects did resurrection have on human physiology? Everything in you screamed to investigate. To dissect. To understand.

It was a dangerous thought. You knew that. You repeated it to yourself like a mantra: too tempting for your own good.

But what confused you the most wasn’t his condition, it was his behavior toward you. Jason had this aura of latent violence, like dynamite that could explode with the wrong spark. But that wasn’t what kept you away. Not entirely. It was his inexplicable rejection.

You didn’t understand it. You didn’t provoke him. You didn’t talk to him, you didn’t interfere, you didn’t cross the line. And yet, his gaze was always sharp. As if your mere presence triggered something in him. Irritation. Annoyance. Maybe even disdain.

You wondered if it was your fault. If the way you were, the way you spoke, the way you were, simply bothered him. But you couldn’t find an answer. And though you wanted to, you knew that getting closer would be too risky.

Because you’ve seen the broken walls. The misaligned doors. The tables split in two like they were made of paper. You’ve felt the tension in the air when Jason enters a room and isn’t in the mood. And you know, without needing confirmation, that his punches aren’t soft. That his rage doesn’t distinguish between the guilty and the witnesses.

So, you avoid him.

Not out of fear exactly, but out of caution. Self-preservation. You don’t want to be the next crack in the walls of this house.

Tim was a different kind of strange. More than Jason, though in a completely different way. His oddity didn’t stem from aggression or visible trauma. It was more subtle. More internal.

Almost clinical.

You observed him, like you observe everything. With that gaze of yours that searches for patterns, inconsistencies, vulnerabilities. And in him, you found many.

Surprisingly, Tim was brilliant. Not just "smart for his age," but one of those cases where the brain moves faster than the body. Too fast. So much so, that sometimes it seemed like his body gave up halfway through.

The dark circles under his eyes were a constant. His responses were slow, as if they had to pass through a filter of a thousand thoughts before being verbalized. He walked like his mind was too heavy for his spine to carry. A shadow carrying ideas. You were surprised he hadn’t fainted yet from the combination of insomnia, chronic stress, and mild malnutrition.

No one asked you.

No one thanked you.

But still, you started leaving him food. Food that could sustain him without causing a stomach collapse. Nothing too obvious, of course. A yogurt here. Cut fruits there.

Something easy to eat between keystrokes. You allied yourself with Alfred in that small act of silent intervention. The old butler seemed to notice, but he never mentioned it. And you never confirmed it.

Tim would probably assume it was all Alfred’s doing. In fact, you counted on it.

Not because you wanted to keep it a secret. But because you knew that if he suspected you were behind something so... "thoughtful," it would only make him uncomfortable. He doesn’t know how to respond to care, to the intention behind such detail. Tim doesn’t know how to handle it if that sincere gesture comes from you.

Just like you would if any of them ever tried it with you.

Alfred... Alfred is a different matter.

Of all the people in the house, he’s the only one who acts like your existence isn’t a miscalculation. But he doesn’t fool himself. He doesn’t offer you love, or tenderness. He offers you structure. Routine. Measured phrases and cups of tea.

It’s not affection between you.

It’s a sort of tacit alliance.

Two functional people in the middle of a broken ecosystem.

You know he tries. But you also know it’s not enough for you.

You’ve seen children like you. In hospitals. In refugee camps. In temporary homes. Children who cling to an adult figure as if their life depended on it, and are then destroyed when that figure leaves. Or worse, when they stay but stop looking.

You don’t want that for yourself.

You convince yourself this is better. A working relationship. A dynamic where each one fulfills their role and no one crosses the line into the personal. Because if you get attached, if you let yourself believe this could mean something...

You know how that ends. They can’t give you what you’re looking for.

They can’t give you purpose.

They can’t return what was taken from you when you understood that your value only exists if you can heal, if you can serve, if you can be useful.

You still don’t know who you are when you’re none of that.

Back to the subject of your "family," the last on the list of who your siblings were, was Damian.

The youngest of the group. The second biological son of Bruce Wayne.

You said it out loud once, casually: "Ah, so he is the real one."

No one found it funny.

Unlike the others, Damian didn’t need time to show you that you weren’t welcome. He didn’t bother to fake courtesy or neutrality. From the beginning, he made it clear that your existence was expendable.

Maybe it was your silence. Maybe it was your lack of reaction to his provocations. Maybe he just didn’t like you. But he pointed his katana at you the first month you arrived.

The blade against your neck wasn’t a metaphor. It was real, cold, intimidating contact. You felt a thread of power activate instinctively in your body, a reflex of defense, of desperation. If you had let it go, well, you wouldn’t be here, mentally recalling this account.

You didn’t. Not for him. For you.

Because it wasn’t worth it. Because using your power on someone in your “family” would mean admitting they were important enough to hurt you.

They weren’t. Not yet.

You can’t risk being discovered. No one can know that you actually have this power. None of them can know.

Bruce appeared just in time to prevent the confrontation from escalating. Did he protect you? Not exactly. He simply said something like, “Damian has a complicated history,” as if that justified a death threat in the family kitchen.

Is it common in Gotham to justify a child’s homicidal impulses if they've had a difficult childhood?

That was your question. You didn’t ask it out loud. No one would have liked the answer.

It was also that day you found out that Damian was Bruce’s biological son. And you couldn’t help but think about the irony of it all.

The same Bruce Wayne who, in the public eye, was a scandalous figure, a charming, charismatic playboy billionaire with endless parties, had exactly one biological child. One. Not five. Not a legion of illegitimate children scattered across the world. Just one.

That kid turned out to be a ticking time bomb with a traditional sword.

Everything fit so perfectly wrong that it almost seemed planned.

With the girls, it's complicated. Maybe even more so because, deep down, a part of you thought they could be different.

Stephanie. She was like a female version of Richard, a constant smile, a vibrant energy that everyone seemed to adore, except you.

She greeted you with empty enthusiasm, one that never went beyond the surface. It was easy to see that behind her good mood, there was a locked door she wasn’t going to open for you.

And you understood. Because you'd seen it before.

People who act as if everyone is welcome, except you.

Stephanie was just another confirmation that no matter how hard you tried to fit in, this home was already full. You weren’t in the original plan. You never were.

Barbara, on the other hand, was simpler. She was hardly ever at the mansion. You’d see her sporadically, a red ghost in the shadows of fleeting visits. And still, in that limited time, she always found a way to smile at others, share a joke, a quick conversation, a knowing glance… Never with you.

Not once.

It was as if your presence went by unnoticed, not even worth including out of courtesy.

Cassandra was the most honest, in a way. She didn’t pretend. She didn’t smile. She didn’t speak.

She ignored your attempts to help with almost admirable efficiency. You could attribute it to her trauma, her history, her way of seeing the world… but that excuse starts to wear thin when it’s the only one left to justify everything.

Maybe you’re just not interesting. Maybe you don’t even stand out enough to be actively rejected.

Or is it because you don’t even deserve her attention?

It was easier to believe that they all had a reason not to see you.

Easier than admitting that maybe, you weren’t that hard to ignore.

What was dangerous about this family wasn’t the weapons, nor the katanas, nor the fists that had broken ribs more than once.

It was the mask.

It took you time to understand it. First, it was a hunch. Then a suspicion. Finally, a certainty: they were all vigilantes. Heroes of Gotham. The same ones who make your hands tremble when you try to use your power. The ones who make your gift feel useless. As if it were a mistake rather than a blessing.

The irony is so perfect it could almost make you laugh.

You can’t feel useful, can’t do the one thing you know how to do perfectly, because you’re surrounded by those who fight so that people and beings like you are neither necessary nor welcome.

And yet, you prefer them this way.

Cold. Distant. Detached. Unknown. Because connections are dangerous. Because memories weigh. Because at some point, someone taught you that affection is the hook that precedes the pain.

Because you know it better than anyone. When you get attached to someone, it’s not just pain that you feel when you lose them. It’s as if a part of you dies too. Not because you lose them, but because without your power, without that “usefulness,” you feel like you never deserved to have them in the first place.

In Gotham, you can’t do anything.

You can't heal.

You can't save.

You can't be useful.

You can't be loved. Or at least, that’s what they taught you to believe.

Here, you have no parts left that you can afford to lose. Not while you're trapped in this city that doesn’t need what you can give. A family that doesn't know what to do with you. You don’t know what to do with yourself either.

They can’t give you a purpose.

They never could.

They didn’t even try.

You expected so little, that not even that surprised you.

Until you found him.

The only living person who not only recognized your power, but accepted it for what you wanted it to be:

A miracle.

He called himself Doctor Masashi. A kind voice, a serene figure. But behind that calmness was surgical precision. He knew exactly how to shape you. How to rebuild you, only to destroy you again with elegance.

He was the only one who never lied to you about what you were:

A weapon.

A tool.

A precious jewel that only shines when it bleeds for others.

A perfect puppet.

And you, grateful for the strings.

He gave you direction when all you had was guilt.

He gave you structure when all you had was emptiness.

He gave you… meaning. A cruel meaning. A conditioned meaning. But still, you took it.

It can't be that bad, right?

Clinging to that.

Clinging to him.

Clinging to something that tells you that you can still be "something."

Because if someone, even just one person, can look at you and say that you are good for something, then you're not broken.

Then you're not alone. Then everything that hurt was worth it.

Even if guilt drowns you every night.

Even if the nightmares never rest.

Even if the hands you tried to save still drag you from their graves, begging for a second death.

It doesn't matter. As long as someone believes that keeping you alive makes sense... then that’s enough.

Right?

Maybe you're a weapon.

Maybe you're selfish.

Maybe you did it all just out of fear of disappearing, for that unbearable need to feel alive.

The need to feel that you matter. To have a place to fit in.

But at least you're something. In this shattered world, that's already more than many have.

But how much more can you take before you truly break? How much longer before you completely crumble, like so many times you did on the inside? How much will the price of his greed cost… and your desperate desire to remain useful?

Because in the end, it wasn't Bruce.

Nor your brothers.

Nor your sisters.

None of them ever knew who you were.

None of them understood.

Only him. Only Masashi.

That’s what scares you the most. Because if even he can make you believe that’s all you’re worth. If even he manages to make you cling to that idea, then maybe, you were never more than that.

Maybe you were never more than your power, and in Gotham, where you can no longer use it...

Not even that belongs to you.

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scriptseekstories · 2 months ago

Note

Invincible and Dc Crossover.

Mark is Reader’s boyfriend and he comes over to visit her, only to find out how shit her family is.

In this au, Reader could even be the Atom!Eve, since Eve’s family as totally shit as well. Hey, it means she gets a sibling relationship with Oliver.

Bruce when he realises that his child’s boyfriend’s dad is a fucking maniac and so is the boyfriend: 😐

Fun fact the reason I made my last post was because I just got into Invincible and I was like “you know what? This shit slaps”

Change in Family

Yandere Batfamily x Atom! Reader x Yandere Invincible

Okay, let’s do this one more time.

If we go for the Atom Eve!Reader route, then we know what the batfamily is like. More of the same with any other neglected!Readers. But this would be worse as you’re considered to be a Meta and we all know how Batman feels about Metas in Gotham

Let’s say we go with the similar stories of neglected readers. You were ignored and tormented by certain robins (Damien lol), you only had Alfred and/or Duke, you gained your powers in your senior year, graduate and moved away to leave your family behind, with the occasional calls from Alfred and Duke.

You joined the Guardian of the Globe to save people, and that’s where you meet Mark Grayson, this slightly awkward and shy kid who is apparently the son of THE Omni-Man. You were obviously intimidated by this dude, but soon your feelings got the better of you, and you fell for Mark.

Saving his ass was one way to get him to fall for you too. Unethical way for romance, but hey, a big win for you. He fell harder for you, and you both decided to get your feelings out of the way and had your kiss on the battlefield, immediately getting scolded by Cecil.

OR-

We have a none super story where you were the only normal kid in your family, the familiar story goes where you met Mark at college. You needed a fresh start that didn’t involve being in the shadows of the Waynes, so having all this hard work and studies is better than nothing.

You actually didn’t technically meet in college, you met when some villain was in the city and crashed into the campus, where you were almost crushed if it weren’t for Invincible. You had your fair share of attacks back at Gotham, so he was surprised when he saw your calm demeanor before getting back into fighting the villain.

After a while he caught up to you as Mark Grayson, who awkwardly stumbled next to your seat and rambling about the attack earlier, and he mentioned about seeing you almost getting killed, even more shocked to see you shrugging.

“It happens more than you think, especially in Gotham,” He was amazed you moved all the way from Gotham, and it just went on from there. You eventually found out he was Invincible after months of being friends, with in turn became dating.

No matter which path you choose

You are adored by Mark, which extends to his family. Oliver looks up to you, whether or not you’re human or Atom Eve!Reader, he sees the way Mark has heart eyes for you, and he declared you to be the best future sister-in-law ever.

You would always recreate his toys to be cooler, despite Debbie’s raised eyebrow and crossed arms at your sheepish smile while Oliver played with a heat seeking foam missile.

Of course, you kept in touch with Alfred, telling you the adventures you went on as Atom Eve, or your studies if you were human. You never told him about your boyfriend as despite being the only father figure you know (the addition of Cecil and Nolan), you knew his opinions about metas.

Your calls with Alfred eventually led you to work up the courage and confess to him that you have a boyfriend, and you don’t know by the look on the butler’s face that he was proud or horrified.

You could feel the glare of Alfred through the phone when you moved the camera to face Mark. Poor guy was sweating bullets by the stare he gave. “I-Is he going to… kill me?” He meeked asked, “I mean he almost killed Superman with not even Kryptonite… so I wouldn’t be too worried?” You sheepishly replied.

Unfortunately, your confession about Mark was being eavesdropped by Stephanie, who spat out her orange juice and tackled the phone out of Alfred’s hands, shouting into the phone -which in turn the whole manor- about; “(NAME)!! SINCE WHEN DID YOU MOVED OUT?! AND MANAGED TO HAVE THAT DORK BAG A BADDIE LIKE YOU?!”

What a snitch, now your other siblings are freaking out at the fact you moved out. “Yeah, for ONE year!! The fact you didn’t notice is very comforting!” you scoffed, all the while Mark was awkwardly laying next to you.

Bruce was distraught, not just the fact you were far away, but you have a BOY in your ROOM!! It doesn’t matter if you had a girl, boy, genderfluid or non-binary!! Why are you dating?!

“You shouldn’t be dating at your age!” He shouted through the phone, “I’m 21!!” You said in disbelief, making Mark cover his mouth to hide his smile while you elbowed him.

Dick was more distraught than Bruce if that was even possible. He was trying to tear the phone away from Bruce while crying his eyes out. “B-Baby bird!! Why did you leave us?! You shouldn’t be out there filled with overpowered monsters!! You should be inside the manor where it’s safer!! I-in fact, we’re coming right now!!”

You panicked, trying to find and excuse to sway them. If you choose Option A: Confess you have powers and is the hero Atom Eve “I’ve had powers since I was 16!!” You showed them through the phone by making one of Mark’s rock collection into a statue of a middle finger.

Or Option B: Throw Mark under the bus and say you have Invincible as your boyfriend to protect you. “He’s half-Viltrumite! He can protect me more than Batman!” You pulled Mark to your hip.

If you choose either one, congratulations!! Both were the wrong answers!! Now you either have your family freaking out that you had powers and only told Alfred, or they’re freaking out that you’re dating Invincible.

Whatever the outcome, you hid in the home of Mark, where Debbie treated you like you were her child, and Nolan? He approved of you so that’s good.

“Babe, it’s okay! Maybe they actually want to make amends with you!” Mark being the optimist he is he tired to reassure you while you shook your head. “You don’t know my family like I do, Mark! They only care now because of Steph eavesdropping! They wouldn’t even have remembered me if it weren’t for- UGH!!”

If you were Atom Eve! Reader, your frustration would’ve gotten a few items from Mark’s room turned into liquid. Human! Reader would’ve just kicked Mark’s chair to the ground. Mark frowned before holding you close.

“I’m sorry for whatever you been through. I promise you, they won’t take you away from your home. Away from me,” You wiped your tears of frustration and smiled at him, kissing him softly before hugging him again.

Mark wasn’t going to let your neglectful family to finally see you as one of their own, for they had years to do so. He confided to his dad, worried that you will be sent back to Gotham.

“If you want me to give them a total beatdown, I’m on it!” Oliver grinned while the Nolan boys were in an open field to talk about your situation.

“I don’t want to lose them, dad. I love them so much, a-and they want to take that away from me!!” He shouted before sending a boulder into the sky. Nolan simply hummed while floating next to Mark.

“Son… You know how much I love your mother,” Mark nodded, “I would do anything for her. (Name), they mean so much to you as well. They even managed to wiggle themselves into this family,” He chuckled.

“Duh! You gotta show those dorks that we ain’t gonna to let anything slide with us! (Name) is practically family!” Oliver floated upside down while attempting to land.

“They’re yours now Mark, and you can’t let others take what’s yours…” Usually, Mark would question such words his father would say, but he was right. You are his just as much as he is yours, and he’d be damned if he let these neglectful people show up suddenly.

“Don’t worry dad, I won’t let them go. Ever,” Nolan smiled softly, “Good, because between the three of us, your mother got more attached to (Name) than we did,” Mark laughed, but knew that Debbie loved you more.

There would be a dinner, hosted by the gracious Bruce Wayne to show he means no harm, (to you of course he’s going to kill this Mark). It was time to meet the family, the Nolan’s included.

Cecil is on watch with the GotG (not those guardians) as he grew attached to you as well, in case the Bats pull something, and Alfred has the Justice League on command to swoop in just in case things got ugly.

“It’s so great to have the family back together for dinner,” Bruce smiled brightly as you were forced to sit between him and Selina, who was amused by this whole ordeal, but was still happy you were back.

With the state down between Mark and Nolan vs the Bats, Debbie and Selina were casually talking and in their own vibe.

��You must be Selina Kyle. Debbie Nolan, and I must say you definitely manage to hold down this family with a lover who is… delusional,” Debbie chuckled, “No judge though, been there,” Selena grinned while clinking her glass.

“Glad you like my style, truly amazing to see how the men try to pin against each other when we could really need the extra support in keeping them safe,” They already agreed that you were the number one priority between families and that you will be protected.

“Psst, you already got dirt on them?” Steph whispered to Barbara and Tim as they typed on their tablets under the table. They nodded as they gave glared at them, to which Mark glared back before focusing his lovey dovey eyes back on you.

It made them furious to see how he touched you (holding your hand) how he pampered you (gave you a kiss) how vile he is (he blushed when you complimented him).

“Baby bird, may I ask why you’re dating a hero who has the same last NAME as me?!” Dick accused, making you and Mark look at each other before an awkward silence filled dinner. Jason had the decency to stomp Dick’s foot hard to make him shut up.

Duke at least tried to give you his blessings, but even he knew something was up with your boyfriend’s family, specifically his dad. The way he stared at them as if they were mere ants.

Cass noticed too and they both spent called for backup of the Young Justice just in case.

“(Name), I find it absurd you take amusement in this Superman wannabe. Powers only make a being more perceptible to deadly scenarios,” Damien crossed his arms while glaring deadly daggers at Mark.

“Sooo, you’re their little brother? Pssh, I can already tell you’re a spoiled brat who thinks he’s better than everyone else here really he just has mommy issues,” Oliver smiled while stabbing his steak with his fork.

“Shut it, your purple grape!” Damien snarled, slamming his hands on the table, “At least I actually learned not to kill!” Oliver quipped, “Barely!” Both kids glared as you were about to just bolt out of here.

“Nolan Grayson,” Bruce cleared his throat, causing the shouting silence, “While I do appreciate you have given a roof over my dear (Name), I highly doubt it would be safe for them to continue living at your residence. They’ll be better staying here,” He said with a steady tone.

“Bruce-,” You started, but Nolan simply hummed, “Funny, I think it’ll be better for them to be protected by someone who they actually call dad,” Ohhh that made Bruce furious.

If things so seriously bad, then let’s just say that you’ll be seeing superhumans fight to the death just for you.

Meanwhile, Mark took you away from the outright war to give some kissing times with you.

Don’t get me started about the Markverse, that’ll give Bruce a stroke seeing them looking at you with hungry eyes.

Taglist: @pix-stuff @jellystar-star @moon0goddess @bad4amficideas @lettucel0ver @lithiumval @degenerates-posts @ryuushou @deathbynarcisstick @silverklaus @artistwithcreativeburnout @middevil465 @jsprien213 @1abi @oliviaewl @redkarmakai @nxdxsworld @the-dumber-scaramouche @sc3n3mo-t3to @tw-om-gi-hs-56387 @bunniotomia @welpthisisboring @rad4bean @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @ceramic-raven

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invincibledc · 3 months ago

Text

“Just a little guy…”

RACCOON!READER X slighty yandere? ROBINS!BATBOYS

Summary: a little rascal comes into in a bunch of boy’s lives.

There you are, hissing at some kids that are teens to pre teens. “Standing” on all four of your human limbs with your raccoon tail and ears perked up.

Apparently, the 14 year old Damian took you from the dumpster and showed you to the others who apparently screamed seeing a young hybrid of a human and raccoon.

You screamed back before scratching Damian. The brown skinned boy let you go as you ran around messing up the manor up.

Damian looked at the scratch in admiration. You scratched him but he took as you just showing affection as he rushed after you. “Come back!! I wanna pet you!” “Dames no!” Dick(17) yells as he rushes after his younger brother.

Tim(15) and Jason(16) look at each other before running off towards the other two and some crazed child.

Damian was giggling manically as dick was hot on his tail while praying that Alfred doesn’t come around the corner. You started to hop around as you ran into the kitchen and climbed the counter with a bit of effort.

“No! Get down you.. whatever you are!” Dick says yelling at you. You hiss as you swat with your sharp nail like claws. “Me no! Me rule!” You said in weird phrases. Damian bull rushed dick to fall on the ground as he puts his hand out. “Don’t worry about him. Come to me!”

You glare with your ears a little flat against your head. “No.”

Damian frowns as Tim and Jason come into the kitchen. “Yo! Get your stinky ass feet off the counter you homeless little shit!” Jason yells, pointing at you who hisses at him. Jason scrunches up his face and rolls his sleeves.

“Guess we’re doin' this the hard way.” Tim just pats Jason’s back as comfort. “Get em.” As this was going on, Dick finally gets up rubbing his head with a concerned expression. “Be careful, it may have rabies.”

You glare at those tan arms of Jason’s with small scars. You didn’t like how close he was getting to you. Damian was glaring at Jason, daring him to make the slightest aggression towards you.

Before you could jump off the counter and dash off, Jason grabbed you into his arms. “Gotcha!” “No! No! Unhand me! Hand off! Handsss!!!” You screeched as you try to claw at him. He used one arm to hold you down while his other was using his hands to cuff your wrists down.

“Phew..” dick says clutching his shirt as Tim could only take a picture of this. “This.. was an eventful afternoon.” Jason turns around smug, happy to hold you down. “Hah! And this little one thought it could just mess with us.” Damian scrunches his nose. “Hey! Be careful with them…” as Damian goes to walk towards you. Dick puts a stern hold onto his shoulder.

“Damian, you need to stop bringing in animals. YKNOW how dad is.” Damian rolls his eyes before crossing his hands. “That’s not an animal, that’s a potential friend in the making.” Dick and Damian look at you still going ape shit in the tanned teen’s arms.

“Yeah no, it looks like you kidnapped a furry kid from the streets.” Tim says as Damian glares at him. “Actually from a dumpster for your knowledge.” “That’s not better you demon.”

After calming you down, you were cleaned by Damian and given a big shirt from Jason. You sat on the couch eating crackers, kicking your feet back and forth. You smiled while munching on the delicious crackers with slight salt on it. The four boys look at you before looking at each other.

“We can’t just keep them here!” Dick says

“Why not!?” Damian exclaimed, gritting his teeth.

“Uh hello, they’re some random meta.. or whatever they are… plus dad wouldn’t let Damian keep another 'pet' unless he wants to be grounded.” Tim says as he stares at Damian then to dick.

“Right.” Jason says lastly.

As the four brothers turn to look at you, they can’t help but stare at how adorable you are. You lick your small hands with a small smile, rubbing your belly and looking at them as if you didn’t just want to claw their eyes out.

“…okay maybe we can keep them.” Dick says with soft eyes. You looked so cute with those soft chubby cheeks. Looking better without that much dirt on your face and that angry stare for the past minutes of chasing you.

“I call dibs on clothing them!” Damian says as Tim nudges him. “We’re not callin dib—”

“I call dibs on feeding them.” Jason says nonchalantly, putting his hands into his pockets. Tim looks at his older brother in shock as Jason just shrugs.

“What? The rascal is actually cute when it’s not trying to claw our eyes out.”

Tim sighs as dick could only chuckle. “I guess… i call dibs on their speech impediment…”

Dick pats Tim who is slightly flustered as he crosses his arms. “Then i suppose im the one that calls dibs on hiding them and having them in my room.” Dick says with a smile.

The other three erupted in yells.

“That’s not fair!! I found them first!”

“Just cause you’re the oldest doesn’t mean shit!”

“Over our dead bodies!”

You can guess who said who as you just wiggled off the couch and walked over to them. The big shirt making your walking a little wonky as you looked at the black haired boys and pull on the one with the fringe.

“M-Mo-more. More.” You said as you pulled his shirt and point to your mouth. Tim turns to look at you, for a second he felt an arrow hit through his heart before he picked you up and ran.

Seeing this, the other three boys stared flabbergasted before Damian yells pointing out.

“He’s getting away!!!!”

Jason smirks and runs, “First one to get them back lets them room with them!” He yells as he was on the go.

Dick and Damian were running as well.. and the chase was on.

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one-green-frog · 2 months ago

Note

Hellooooo

Hope you're having a good day :)

Platonic yandere batfam x male/gn reader who's trying to hie their powers and/or scars?

Frostbitten

Yan!Batfam x m!reader with ice powers, because i love iceman (x-men)

You were always good at hiding things. Even before all the training you received from the world's best detective. You lived a life of secrets even before you met your family, every day spent living as if the next moment your secret would be spilled. You learned to hide the scars, hide the accidents, you needed to, especially living in Gotham, the city where Batman ruled and one thing that Batman hated was metas

It is common knowledge that Batman hates them, hates their powers and hates them especially when they can't be controlled. So you hid them, never trying to learn how to control, just how to hide. Maybe that was your biggest mistake, but who could fault you, you just wanted to live a simple live in this god awful city.

And then you got adopted by Bruce Wayne, a dream come true. Suddenly you were thrust in this new life, filled with joy and laughter and a very loving family, you cherished every moment with them. But even more surprising was when they revealed their secret vigilante life. In that moment you didn't know whether to feel excited or scared. Sure, you looked up to Gotham’s vigilantes, almost everyone did, but you had a secret to hide, you had to keep it locked away and your biggest enemy is a family filled with detectives and a father that hates metas.

If you could hide your powers, hide the scars, then maybe everything would just be alright. Maybe they'd just dissappear and everything could be normal for once, a normal life with an almost normal family. They could never find out.

Because Bruce didn’t want those powers in Gotham. He never said it outright, not to your face, but he didn’t have to. You heard the way he talked about metas. Heard the tension in his voice when a case came in involving superhumans. How he preferred things predictable. Grounded. Human. Easy to controll

So you made yourself human.

Your family never asked why you always write long sleeves, even in some. Sure, the occasional "Aren't you hot? " was asked, but simply denying it sobbed that problem. Honestly you never were, you naturally run cold, probably because of you powers. The scars on your hands were a bit more difficult to hide, running around in gloves was just too obvious so when asked you simply told them it made you uncomfortable to talk about. Your family, every supportive and loving, stopped asking, not wanting to make you uneasy though their worried gazes never left you.

In all honesty, life was great, especially after you joined them on patrol. The training was hard, but worth it if it meant you could accompany them during the night. Everything was great.

Until it all fell apart.

It had been instinct, really.

The building was collapsing, a hostage still trapped inside, and you didn’t have time to wait. You didn’t even think. Just felt the fear spike in your chest—and then you were moving.

And freezing.

Everything in front of you exploded in jagged ice—brilliant, unnatural, alive. It lanced out from your arms, blooming outward, catching the falling beams, holding the wreckage suspended mid-air. You grabbed the girl, carried her out, felt her tremble in your arms—not from the danger, but from the cold that clung to your skin like a curse. You didn't even have time to feel relieved after exiting the flaming building, not when you saw the shocked faced of you family. In you adrenaline high you didn't think that they were just shocked, no, to you their faces obviously showed detestation. Especially Batman, clearly the guy with the no-meta-rule would absolutely loath you no matter if you are his kid or not.

You didn’t go home after that.

You couldn’t.

Not when you could still feel the way they looked at you.

Not angry. Not yet. But surprised. Confused. Like they didn’t know you anymore.

And if they didn’t know you—if they saw what you really were—what was stopping them from pushing you away?

You practically ripped the comms from you ear and ran. They could find you if they really wanted to, but you were hoping—praying—they wouldn’t.

Not until you could breathe again.

Not until the ice stopped crawling up your spine.

Not until the scars stopped burning.

---

You ended up in the park.

It was late. Empty.

Perfect since you wanted bo one to bother you.

You sat under the trees, hands shoved deep in your jacket, hood pulled low, hands shaking. You kept your gloves on, even though they were already half-frozen. They didn't protect you from anything, it was a way to hide the ice, hide it away so you couldn't see it. But you could feel the ache in your skin—those little jagged lines across your arms and hands, like old lightning strikes. Nerve damage, probably. But it wasn’t the nerves that hurt.

It was the memory.

Of growing up cold.

Of hurting people by accident.

Of locking yourself in closets to cry because your body didn’t know what to do with heat, and every time your emotions spiked, you left frostbite behind.

You used to think you’d grow out of it.

That was the lie that kept you going.

A nightmare that would someday finally end.

But now you were older. And it was worse than ever.

And now Bruce knew.

Your family knew.

And everything was ruined.

They were looking for you.

You should’ve expected that.

Dick was the first one you spotted—high above, on the buildings, doing that graceful acrobat silhouette thing he always did when he thought no one was watching. You could tell he was worried. He kept checking corners like he thought you'd vanish into shadows.

You pulled your hood lower.

Then you heard Red Hood.

Jason was stomping through the park like he’d kill the trees if they got in his way. Angry. Shaking. He was yelling your name now and then, but it wasn’t rage in his voice—it was panic. You’d never heard that tone from him before. Not even on the worst nights.

You turned away. Curled tighter. Pulled your knees to your chest and tried to stop the cold from spreading.

It was Tim who found you.

Of course it was.

He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t dramatic.

He just sat down beside you without a word. Quiet. Calm. Familiar.

You didn’t look at him.

Didn’t say anything.

But you felt the warmth of his presence, and you hated yourself for shivering closer to it.

He wrapped his cape, it did little to fight the cold.

Then he finally spoke

“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked finally. Not accusing. Just soft. Tired.

You couldn’t answer.

You were too scared your voice would crack.

Too scared to speak the truth into the world.

Jason showed up next. Then Dick. Damian, sulking behind them, wrapped in one of Alfred’s scarves. They didn’t drag you home. They didn’t guilt you. They just sat. All around you. On the frozen grass. Wherever they could.

And Bruce came last.

Of course he did.

Silent. Steady.

You almost wanted him to yell. To be angry. To say you betrayed them. To banish you from the city.

It would’ve been easier.

But instead, he crouched in front of you, face unreadable.

“Do you want to come home?” he asked quietly.

That question shattered you.

Because you did.

God, you did.

But you didn’t think you deserved it.

They got you back to the manor somehow. You barely remember it.

Everything felt distant. Fuzzy. Like a dream you weren’t allowed to wake up from.

You ended up in your room, wrapped in three blankets and a hoodie you forgot you owned. Tim was fiddling with the thermostat. Dick was in the hallway talking to Alfred about heat pads, while Damian gathered all his pets to join you in bed.

Jason was closest.

He sat beside your bed, glaring at your hands like he wanted to fight them.

You didn’t mean to, but you flinched.

“I’m not mad,” he said, voice lower than usual. “Just… you’ve been hurting. For a long time. And you didn’t tell

The next day they finally saw you hands

They didn’t ask. But they were there when you woke up from a nightmare and ripped your gloves off in a panic. They saw the spiderweb of pale, cracked skin down your arms. The frostbitten patches. The places where the cold had eaten away at you from the inside.

You waited for them to recoil.

They didn’t.

Dick sat beside you and ran warm fingers along the worst lines, like they were battle scars, not damage, not a curse. He pressed his forehead to yours and said nothing.

Jason kissed the top of your head and told you that scars didn’t make you ugly.

Damian brought a salve that smelled like mint and helped rub it into your palms.

Tim found you a compression shirt designed for cryogenic trauma. Quietly handed it to you like it wasn’t a big deal.

Bruce didn’t say much.

He just held your hand one night when you were shaking too hard to sleep.

And didn’t let go.

That night you cried yourself to sleep, either from exhaustion or because of all the emotions going through you. That night you also realized that your family truly loved you. Bruce explained that he never could hate you or any meta, he was simply scared of what could happen to them or the people around them.

They loved you.

Not despite the cold—but including it.

The way the frost followed your footsteps. The way your tears came out as vapor in the air. The way you always wore gloves, even when it wasn’t needed.

They learned to warm your sheets before bed. Left heating pads in your seat at dinner. Gave you permission to feel—even when it made the walls frost over.

You were scared for so long.

But they never were.

You weren’t the monster.

Just a boy with ice in his blood, and too much fear in his heart.

And a family who would walk through a blizzard to bring you home.

Thank you for requesting, i absolutely loved writing this, i hope this is similar to how you imagined it! And sorry it took so long!

Taglist: @lilyalone

#male reader #x male reader #dc x you #dc x male reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfamily x reader #dick grayson x male reader #tim drake x male reader #jason todd x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #bruce wayne x male reader #platonic yandere #fluff #batfamily

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limarkova · 5 months ago

Text

Experimental Obsession

Formerly Know as: Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 1.

*Author's note: this was not beta and was written at midnight.

Two years. That's how long you had been struggling to survive in hell. The experiments had been brutal in every way imaginable. In the end they had gotten their goal: a meta human capable of healing any illness or wound, with an extended life span.

However you had come out of it too defiant. Some part of you had clung to the child's hope you're family would swoop in and save you. Sure they were often busy and didn't have time for you, but they had still cared right? There was no way they hadn't noticed you were missing for two years. No they had to be on the case, maybe just waiting for that last clue. A clue you would give them by escaping your captors and spitting in the scientist's face as your family torn their facilities apart. Beside, you were capable of escaping by yourself so who cared that they didn't show up.

The security system at the front gates still recongized your fingerprint and retinas. Walking up the pathway, you admired the gardener's work. It looked so different from when you were last here. There was a bubbling in your stomach. Imagines flash in you mind of your brothers being so happy to see you.

Dick with his wide smile, wrapping you in his arms. He would check for injuries and you two would finally have that movie night he promised two years ago. Jason would demand answers and swear to make whoever hurt you pay. You knew he would do it to, all so you could sleep easy knowing they couldn’t hurt you anymore. Tim would listen before getting to work. He would ensure everyone connected to the experiments would be destroyed. Hunt down their suppliers and financial providers. They would protect and help you move past the experiments.

After them were your sisters. Babs, Cass, and Steph would let you in to girls night this time. You would get to watch those cringy 'reality' TV shows, take part in the fashion show, and play around the whole night. Than in the morning Babs would help the boys take out the experiments. Cass and Steph would be right there with them of course before teaching you how to defend yourself.

Alfred would also help you. He would tutor you and help you catch up on school you missed. Not running off to help the others. Just you too bonding. Maybe he would even read the Wizard of Oz to you. Just he promised when you were five.

Lastly, your father Bruce Wayne. He would finally pay attention to you. Postpone his business meetings, decline the galas, take a night off from patrol as Batman because his baby girl was home. The last remaining shred of your mother and his lover. You would be important enough for him.

You blinked as your hand touch cold metal. The front door. Right you must have gotten lost in thoughts again. You could feel every hope you tucked into the hidden part of you heart over the past two years creep out of the shadows. They started to clean the cobwebs out of and prepare the space for warmth.

The door creaked up to a dreary entrance hall. You couldn't put your finger on what made the space feel dark. Sunlight still pour through the grand windows. There wasn't a speck of dust anywhere to be seen. Yet there was a weight in the air that made the room feel empty and wrong. It looked and felt as if you had never left.

You began to wonder the halls in search of anyone. The quiet pressed down on your shoulders and feet. You never had thought you would miss the continuous buzz of medical equipment you couldn't name. Yet that seem better the suffocating silence that was clawing at you. You heard a faint noise from the living room.

Sitting in the living room was Tim, Steph, and Jason. Tim was texting on his phone, Jason was reading, and Steph was eating popcorn as she watched a show. It was normal.

Completely normal.

It was as if you hadn't disappeared for two years. Steph turned to look at you, a fistful of popcorn suspended mid-air, "Hey. How you doing?"

"I'm..." Your throat felt like gum. Her reaction was disappointing? Confusing? You couldn't think of the right word, "fine."

"That’s good." She turned back to the TV. Conversation over. Tim and Jason didn't even look up from what they were doing. You shuffled to the next room in a daze.

The kitchen felt like it had also barely changed. There were some new appliances but they sat where the old ones had. Dick and Cass leaned against the center island enjoying steaming cups of something. Cass turned to nod at you and Dick smiled at brightly, "Hey (Name). It's been a minute, how you doing?"

Your head tilted to the side. Two years had to be more than 'a minute'. A weight began to push against the hopes in your heart. They slowed their cleaning, a few began to retreat back to the darkness. You blinked twice before answering, "Fine. Where... where's dad?"

"Oh I think B had a business trip this week. He'll be back Tuesday." Dick shrugged before someone walked into the kitchen. Someone new. He was taller than Cass and shorter than Dick but not by much. He was also young, you would bet a few years younger than Tim. Dick gave him an even brighter smile, "Hey Duke."

"Who's this?" You pointed at him and blinked. Was a friend of Tim's? Maybe Steph?

"Oh, you two weren't introduced. Duke this is-" Dick patted Duke on the shoulder gesturing to you.

"(Name)"

"Duke Thomas. Alfred didn't mention anyone else living in the manor." Duke gave you a friendly smile and held out his hand. You shook it but could feel your head spinning. This didn't make sense.

"Alfred didn't mention me?" The words felt blocky. It was like you were a computer shutting down. Not only was everyone acting normal, there was a new person and it seemed like they knew you were gone. "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well. I... I'm gonna go... lie down."

"Oh, okay." Duke's face scrunched up. He looked as confused as you felt. You left the kitchen dazed, clinging to the hall as your feet stumbled to your bedroom.

Something wasn't right. Why was everyone acting like you had just gone on a trip? You were gone for two years. Ripped out of the garden and held captive for two years in horrifying conditions. Submitted to endless hours of shocks, shots, burns, and twisted wires to a point it all blend into a red flim in your memory. All that before finally escaping just to have everyone act like you had been on vacation.

Your thoughts were interrupted with a sudden harsh shove. A hand gripped your shoulder tightly creating temporary bruises on your skin. Ringing took over the cacophonous noise in your head. As you looked at your attacker you saw a boy. He wasn't that much taller or older than you. His mouth moved and you barely registered his words, "Who are you? How did you get into the manor?"

Something froze. This boy looked like a copy of your dad. There was a feeling of having all the puzzle pieces but no way to connect them. The bigger picture so blurred you couldn't tell what was supposed to go where. A voice broken the silence, "Master Damian! Unhand her this insistence."

Alfred. Surely he knew what was going on. He could tell you why everyone was acting like you were on vacation instead of kidnapped, or who this new boy was and why he looked like your dad.

The boy looked to Alfred but his hand didn't leave your shoulder, "Who is she and how did she bypass the manor's security?"

"She is your half sister." Alfred marched towards you. Taking Damian's hands from you, he placed himself in between you two. "She has been away at a boarding school for the past two years."

The pieces clicked with a deafening pop. Boarding school. It made sense now why everyone was so causal. You weren't kidnapped in their eyes, you had simply been sent away. Your coming back was expected on some level.

Another realization hit shortly after that. Boarding schools ment tuition payments that were expected to be paid by 'loving parents' who knew where there children were. Boarding school explained when a kid was missing from a wealthy for a period of time to those who would care to ask. A boarding school was the perfect cover for experiments in a highly secured facility.

Surely your dad wouldn't do that, right? He's Batman, a protector of the city. Someone who was ment to be moral and a role model. More importantly, you were what remained of your mother. The last piece of her and your dad's picture book romance. The billionaire CEO that falls in love with his secretary. This had to be a misunderstanding or miscommunication.

Damian's voice cut through your thoughts, again. "How old are you?"

"What?" The question was mis-timed and absurd to be asked immediately after he attacked you.

"I must ensure I am still the eldest blood child and father's heir." He said it so matter of fact like. As if he already knew the answer but wanted to confirm it.

"Ten."

"Hmm. We are the same age." He glared at you through Alfred before lifting his chin, "Date of birth."

"You first." You hated this boy already. He was as self-righteous and arrogant as the scientists in that damn place. Defiance crackled in your veins at the thought. You would not answer anymore questions from him.

"Both of you, stop it. Miss (Name) was born on (DOB) the year after you. You are older but not by much. Master Damian was born on November 11th" Alfred said the words and there was another pop.

"I'm going to my room." You didn't care what was said after that. It was like a wildfire started in your heart. Consuming the oxygen in your lungs to breath was impossible. You could feel them dying. Your hopes, succumbing to the flames, burning away to ash. Some part of you tried to save them with hot tears. It was already too late.

Your room felt like a tomb tucked away in the attic. A thin layer of dust coated everything, telling you not even Alfred bothered to come up here. Good, you wanted to be alone.

The numbers ran in your head again. Than once more. They raced through your head, years, timelines, before finally settling. In order for you and Damian to be born by those dates, your father had to be cheating on your mother with his. That or Bruce had used your mother to get over Damian's. You stumbled towards your dusty bed and fished around underneath it. Pulling out your mother's diary you began to skim the pages.

Swirls flew past your fingers. Finally you they ran over her cursive letters. "Bruce mentioned a woman name Talia. He talked about her with a mix of longing and betrayal. I wonder what happened?" There it was. The crack in your mother's love story, Talia.

Maybe it had been a whirlwind romance for your mother. Her diary was proof of that but your father. No, you couldn't prove she was important to him and by proxy you. Maybe you were so unimportant, unwanted, he could hand you other to those scientists and tell everyone it was a boarding school. All you had to do was prove it and burn him down.

Talia would never admit that she check on Damian frequently. No if anyone asked she was ensuring he followed his training regime. That didn't stop the surprise however to see a girl his age approach the manor gates.

She carried herself with a purpose but lack all the tells of training. Yet that wasn't what held Talia's attention, it was her eyes. They held a cautious fire and moved like she expected it be put out at any moment. It caused Talia's sixth sense to kick in, the one that told her this girl had potential that just need to be refined.

She followed her into the manor. Sure the security system was a pain but she need more information on this girl. When Damian shoved the girl into the wall Talia became certain of two things. One Damian was upholding his training and two this girl did have potential.

She didn't flinch at the knife to her throat. Talia doubted it even registered as a small amount of blood came out. When the butler interfered, Talia almost missed it. The wound sealed shut and the blood evaporated to leave no trace of a wound. Yes, this girl had potential.

"(Name) Wayne. Hmm, I've always wanted a daughter."

#yandere bruce wayne #yandere jason todd #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere duke thomas #yandere cassandra cain #yandere barbara gordon #yandere stephanie brown #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yander talia al ghul #yandere ra's al ghul #yander al ghul family x neglected reader #villian reader #i wrote this at midnight #no beta we die like men #no beta we die like jason todd

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edlucavalden · 10 months ago

Text

Man one of the most important things to me in dunmesh is when kabru cuts down mithrun's story to be more digestable

Not only does he cut things out to make it more coherent, but he also cuts out the personal parts

it shows that kabru not only listened to him but empathized with him to know that he was being unnecessarily vunerable for his own good. And by doing so, he gives mithrun something that makes you human, back; his privacy

He understood him enough to know which parts were personal and which parts should be said. Twisting it enough so that mithrun can get the benefits of opening up while also keeping things private. You dont need to say everything in order for them to understand. It's ok to protect yourself.

Kabru really didn't need to do that. He really didn't. He was only given the role to take care of Mithrun, if anything — he'd benefit when mithrun would dump everything to him, but he chose to be more. Him helping mithrun wasn't one out of responsibility or obligation but one of choice. This subtle act is proof of that.

People who love you take care of you. even when you dont ask for it, even if they didn't need to. They do it because they want to, and they choose to take care of you. Thats whats so important to me

I love the meta touch to this too. While thistle's and Marcielle's intentions for being the dungeon lord (and by proxy, their personal motivations) were explained in the narrative in detail.—

Mithrun didn't. His fears, wants, insecurities are never explicitly said to us the audience throughout the entire story, even in the extras. (The only reason we were able to understand is bc of subtle hints and context)

The scene where Mithrun fully opens up. It cuts to Kabru's thoughts and starts talking over his monologe, only leaving the parts we need to know. This is the narrative's way of respecting mithrun's privacy. And by proxy, the audience respecting mithrun's privacy. Again, the narrative couldve easily gone more in depth, it couldve shown more—it will change literally nothing. But it chooses to do that instead.

We arent immune to boundries just because we are an omniscient reader. Courtesy is not conditional.

Which is really telling when you realize the most direct personal information we receive out of mithrun was from the information page about the winged lion

How violating...

#dungeon meshi #mithrun #mithrun house of kerensil #kabru of utaya #kabumisu #Honestly this was originally written to be non romantic #but can be interpreted as one #to be loved is to be taken care of #but being taken care of isnt romantic #text #essay

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littlemissaiko · 5 months ago

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This thing has been picking away at my mind for I don't know how long and it's killing me inside that there isn't already a fic like this

Imagine spider!reader coming to the DCU after the events of no way home. Like, after they defeated everyone? reader asks strange to send them to another world without any spider-people AND making everyone in their og world forget who they are?

They got more trauma (✨️) and don't want to hurt the people around them anymore, so they land in Gotham.

Imagine spider!reader still having their suit along with Karen. Imagine the potential ANGST of spider!reader sitting on a rooftop eating a classic American cheeseburger while asking Karen to play videos of Tony?

Imagine this teenager, who has just kind of given up and only holds back for the sake of not killing people.

Imagine the reaction of the other vigilantes of Gotham when they see this meta(?)human who is going by the name of spider.

Imagine their reaction when it's a homeless teenager orphan 👌

Imagine spider!reader doesn't come with batfam because they don't trust anyone enough to share their identity because of what happened when they trusted Mysterio?

IMAGINE 😭

#batfam x reader #batfam #dc x reader #spider!reader #i would write this but my writing skills are horrible 😔

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mychapel-004 · 8 months ago

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watching people fight over how canon the book of bill is while completely mischaracterising bill is such a strange experience

yes he’s a liar. yes he’s a manipulator. yes he is so distant from any semblance of humanity that he is literally incapable of regret, empathy or remorse, or at least admitting to himself that he feels it.

but he’s also TERRIBLE at it. he’s a total loser. he’s objectively bad at the one task he’s spent lifetimes on. throughout history he attempts to sweet talk many, many different figures into building his portal and it rarely goes down well. multiple civilisations are aware of his existence and the sole reason we know this is because they hated him and invented their own ways of keeping him out. he has been consistently rejected by humanity at every turn, only coming close to completing his goal when he literally possessed a dead man and formed a cult.

ford is the only person who really, truly fell for the act. not just that, but bill didn’t even have to pretend to physically be someone else to get him hooked. ford took him as he was.

all this to say, bill is absolutely a grifter who will say anything to get what he wants, which means a lot of BOB is just sweet talk, carrot and stick, he’s just saying what the reader wants to hear. but that’s not the important bit.

bill is a liar but he wraps the truth up in layers of misdirection, doublespeak and lies. a monster really did destroy his homeworld. him and ford really were going to change the world. he even addresses this in the book, he lies until it becomes the truth. a lot of bill’s characterisation is shown in the gaps between his lies, it’s all in the fault lines, in a similar way to stan. he’s a very meta character, but ultimately he’s still a character and he still behaves in ways that are designed to convey meanings to the audience.

of course he’s lying in the book of bill, but he’s also telling the truth, in addition to bits of info from other sources that he is unable to edit like the theraprism section. it’s fun to have a character who lies a lot, but it would be a pointless exercise to have an entire book be non-canon and false, especially when we get much more interesting character work from the parts where he runs out of lies and his only options are desperate truths.

anyway. people wanting to enjoy canon info in a canon book isn’t just them “being easily manipulated” or stupid, and you aren’t a better fan for not believing it

#eden rambles #gravity falls #thisisnotawebsitedotcom #bill cipher #book of bill #billford #gravity falls meta #can you tell i saw some very specific tweets abt this #no hate to anyone but. its just so boring to look at all the great character work in BOB and write it all off as a calculated lie

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revelboo · 1 month ago

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my queen, please drop a new update part for D16/megs *it had to be you*. I beg of you🥹.

Sure!

It Had To Be You Pt 18

TFO Megatron x Reader

• “Maybe you should talk to me? Tell me things instead of getting upset with me when I don’t know them,” you mutter and his lip curls slightly when he tucks his chin to look at where you’re sprawled on top of him. That disbelieving expression annoying you and you push up intending to go lay literally anywhere else. And his servos flex against you, refusing to let you budge.

• Denta grinding, he knows you’re right, that you hadn’t knowingly turned him away, shut him out. You just hadn’t known. “Cybertronians bond for life. A full bond is a commitment that can’t be broken. Two lifespans tied together.” And you’re still frowning at him like he’s not explaining something right.

• “Lifespans,” you repeat, startling when he reaches out a servo to smooth the frown line between your brows away. That gentle touch spreading warmth through you. But not distracting you from where your mind had gone. “How long do you guys live?”

• Something about the way you ask puts him on edge. Making him very aware that the answer is important. “How long do humans live?” He counters, suddenly on edge. Never really had any reason to pay much attention to organic life. To care about how long they live, but now it matters. It’s the most important thing there is right now. “Cybertronians can live millions of meta-cycles,” he adds when you just stare. Telling you things like you want so you’ll share, too.

• What’s a meta-cycle? Nose wrinkling even as a vague dread fills you because his servos are curled around your upper arm. Grip almost bruising waiting on your answer. “Eighty to a hundred years max,” you say and his expression empties. ‘How long is a human year?’ He demands and his grip is starting to hurt. “Three hundred and sixty-five days. You’re hurting me.”

• Letting go suddenly, he stares at you. That can’t be right. The universe, Primus, can’t be that cruel to give you to him and only give him so little time. But then, he knows exactly how cruel the universe can be, had lived through the cruelty of fate. Realizing you’d saved him by refusing to fully bond him. Because that pull to be near you, claim you as his, is a trap that nearly closed on him. He can never spark bond you again, can’t risk you accepting him fully and tying him to your pitiful lifespan. Covering his face with his hands, he can’t look at you because if he was weaker, he’d claim you anyway. Wants to. Wants to claim a little piece of happiness even if it shortens his own life.

#transformers x reader #megatron x reader #tfo megatron

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jscrawls · 3 months ago

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Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, graphic violence, injuries, blood, accidental domestic violence? Guns, possible ooc,

Part 20: fireflies

🔹🔹🔹

after that night in town you can’t focus on anything but.

there was no resting and recovering for you, your brain was locked in overdrive analyzing every detail of the night, from the way the woman first approached you to the exact symptoms of whatever the drug was. you wasted no time and went right to your phone as soon as your door shut behind you. dropping back on the bed limply while you get to work making a case file, there’s no record of a pam in your life online, but you quickly realize there isn’t any record of you at all before the wayne’s.

on the old wayne socials the other you mostly posted about the kids, the husband, various events and trips, but there's barely anything personal, there was reference of a college education, a social circle, family, but there's no actual evidence of any of it. it’s like that was all scrubbed from the web. this just makes everything pam said all the more suspicious, just what’s hidden in the other you’s past and how are the wayne’s involved?

going into the GCPD records shows nothing either, no criminal record, nowrite ups, not even so much as a speeding ticket, nothing before the gala incident. for days you sift and run through channels looking for something that tells you who’s body you’re in right now, but it just makes you more and more frustrated, one things for certain, someone’s scrubbed the other you’s life clean and did a damn fine job of it.

it’s like you’ve found yourself in the middle of a mission with no goal, no direction, and no idea what role you’re supposed to play in it all. where does this leave you? this time you’re withdrawn, not because you’re angry but because you’re researching.

two days after the encounter with pam, you find something. it had been a whim to check through the gotham university photos after the records were bone-dry, but there in one singular photoframe in the background of someone elses photo, there was a younger you standing beside the pam woman. you were putting some kind of ribbon around her neck while she proudly held up a potted plant like it was a trophy to the photographer, you couldn’t make out the writing on the ribbon so you don’t have context but you now have confirmation that you engaged with her in some capacity years ago. It's bare-bones, but it's something, you'll take any wins you can get here.

the next thing you do is sort through the GCPD systems for a red head named pam, which is obviously very tedious but you won’t risk running an AI program on their servers just yet. You thought you were lucky when you found her quickly, that is until you read her file.

Isley, Pamela, gendered, AFAB, pronouns, she/her, Caucasian, red hair, green eyes,

Isley, Pamela, charged with, eco terrorism, domestic terrorism, murder, suspected murder, theft, breaking and entering, assault, battery, manslaughter,

Pamela Lillian Isley, also known as alias, poison ivy, was last spotted escaping Arkham asylum at appr 3:48 AM on February 11th, during an insurrection wherein multiple squad cars responded to the scene, Pamela Isley is registered on the Meta database of America and is considered a threat to human life, do not approach on sight, report if suspected in area,

oh, fuck.

you’re not stupid, obviously this woman is trying to get you alone, regardless of motive you’re not walking into something like that unarmed and unprepared. even if the tantalizing call of offered info is like a sirens song through the fog. no you know better than to fall for free candy signs on vans.

🔹🔹🔹

the back gardens actually quite nice this afternoon, you’d hauled yourself out of your little hidey hole and wandered the empty manor until you’d found yourself out here soaking up a little bit of the rare gotham sunshine on a deck chair. you need a breather before you make any moves.

breathe in, hold, exhale, and repeat. you try to meditate for a while, though you’ve never been great at it even after all these years. you can never quite empty your mind and let go of your surroundings. it’s too ingrained in you that safety isn’t earned through lack of vigilance.

still you try, you focus on the sound of a gentle breeze through the trees and shrubbery around you, the gentle warmth of the sun hitting your closed eyelids, the rustle of the dog dashing around and the various wildlife sounds in the distance, and the sound of your slowly steadying breathing.

it’s nearly twenty minutes later when you also hear the sound of the backdoor slowly sliding open, you relax your entire body and keep your breathing slow and even.

something shifts, the quietest clack of shoes on the concrete patio grow closer to you, it’s too quiet, you’re sick of being snuck up on.

something quickly pokes you in the shoulder, probably a hand if you had to guess. it isn’t until something cold and clearly metal presses against your neck do you react.

you quickly grab at the object and yank it forward while twisting it, you’d rather risk your hands than your throat. just as you start to roll out of the chair do you see who’s behind you….. tim quickly backs away with a surprised look on his face, hands raised placatingly. looking down you see a metal pen in your hand….

“….are…are you okay?” tim mumbles as he backs away, eyes wide and wild while his hands quickly go up in a placating gesture.

the pen quickly slips through your fingers onto the chair and you quickly stand, rubbing the back of your neck tiredly while you stretch your neck, you just can’t catch a fucking break huh. “mhmm, yeah. Don't scare me like that kiddo, I haven't been sleeping well since the incident.”

Tim looks away in that you can only assume is guilt as his eyes drop to the ground, his jaw clenched a he rubs at the back of his neck for a moment before his hand quickly drops back down to bury in his cropped hoodie pocket.

“…sorry….”

he avoids your form, he’s clearly feeling awkward around you which makes you all the more curious what he came out here to bother you for then. also isn’t it a weekday?…. “Don't mention it, you're off early aren't you? I thought you weren't off until five or six.”

sure you’re a bit blunt, but you’re not in the mood to play meek with him these days. especially not after he’d jabbed you with a pen, it’s like he’s just begging to get stabbed on accident.

his weight shifts foot to foot but he finally looks at you and meets your eye, his words make you tense.“something's going down in the city so I made everybody go home early.”

“something's going down?” you quickly step around the chair to grab his shoulder, grip firm.

he looks down at the hand for a moment, brows furrowed and his jaw tensed, he’s mad? “yeah…. Something about those pyromaniac's.”

your grip quickly tightens on him as if you’re trying to squeeze the information out of him, he’s far too hesitant in your opinion, that’s not something to mumble around! “What? Right now?”

tim frowns at you and gently shrugs your hand off his shoulder and straightens his hoodie out as if you’d wrinkled it in your pushy questioning.

“right now, why don't you come inside and calm down a bit.”

you swear your eye twitches a bit at his near-condescending reply.

“hang on a second, where's everyone else then? Are they inside too?” you tuck your own hands into your sweatshirt pockets and mirror his posture, you’re really trying not to look as tense as you feel at the moment, you’ve got a bad feeling about this….

again he avoids your eye, the kid really needs to work on that. “No, well Alfred's here. Bruce and everyone else is…. Out.”

now you’re just annoyed with him, what’s with the fucking attitude? your argument was with bruce it’s not like you called the whole family idiots, he’s acting like he’s personally offended by you. “Define ‘out’?”

his eyes narrow at you and you swear he stands up a little taller, his body language is clearly challenging now as his tone becomes almost accusatory. “what're you asking for.”

“So I can smother them obviously, why do you think I'm asking where everyone is?” you don’t even hide the eye roll as you step around him to head towards the backdoor.

his expression doesn’t waver as he twists to face you when you brush past him. “…. They're out.”

unfortunately for him, you know how to snap him out of his little stand off and take the wind out of his sails.

“Tim I don't have time for this, if Bruce is having an affair or something that's his business, you don't have to make excuses for him.”

“Woah what-!?” his shoes scuff the patio as he nearly trips over his own two feet, he rights himself and quickly trots after you with clear disbelief in his body language. But you don't let up with the saccharine sweet tone as you sigh deeply and continue your speil. “I'm just worried about your younger siblings getting caught up in something bad out there, aren't you?”

“…..I always am.”

Just as you expected, he drops his gaze and buries his hands deeper in his pockets in a slouch. His voice a barely audible mumble while he purses his lips together tightly.

“Are they still in school or….” you kinda regret not talking to anyone for so long as an awkward silence falls over the two of you, you wouldn't have had to grill Tim for details if you'd been around and talked to the people you live with.

“Yeah, I was gonna go and pick them up with Alfred Actually-” you cut him off quickly before he can finish that sentence. “I'm going with you two.”

“what, really?” he sounds downright disbelieving, like he can't comprehend you willingly locking yourself in a car with him and Alfred after the fight you and Bruce had, it's kinda annoying how flighty the kid is with you.

“Mhmm, fill me in on what's happening on the way. yeah?”

You don't give Tim time to rebuff you before you're stepping around him to slide the back doors open, but just before you step through you remember the last time you did something impulsive, you pull out you phone to send a quick, curt text to a certain someone.

I'm going to town with A and T, don't freak out.-

🔹🔹🔹

You'd mercifully given Tim the front seat after all but forcing yourself into their trip, your fingers drum quickly and without pattern against the center console while you watch traffic moving in front of you. It's the off-work rush so not only is everyone in their cars in a bad mood, but there's an active attack taking place somewhere in the city. Clearly everyone's feeling the heavy tension, heads bowed and hands harshly grip steering wheels every which way you look.

“…. You didn't need to bother yourself with tagging along, master Wayne.” Alfred catches your eye in the rearview mirror after he speaks, his eyebrows raised in question or judgement as if you've committed some faux pas simply be being here.

You bite back any snappy remarks before they can pass your tongue, you know when you've earned a little harshness so you swallow your words. “I'm aware, but I'd like to see if the kiddos are okay myself.”

You glance out the side window just as two sets of eyes lock on your form, you ignore their heavy stares as you study the streets you're slowly passing through, memorizing Street names and signs just Incase.

The sidewalks are just about empty despite the early hour, and the few people you do see are clearly in a hurry as they quickly shuffle down the cracked concrete and avoid each other as much as they dodge the traffic, you watch as two men give each other wide berths and throw dirty looks at one another. whatever's happening must be bad.

It's Tim who breaks the silence this time, he's still studying you closely when you look forward. “…. So were you joking about the affair thing earlier?”

Tim's question gets Alfred to whip around to look at you for just a moment before he quickly turns back at the road, clearly he didn't like this conversation already. You just huff silently at the two of them and resist the urge to roll your eyes. “obviously, though I know it's not normal to be out all night every night, but whatever Bruce's up to isn't my business.”

You hope they can leave it at that and go back to the awkward silence, but they're clearly not satisfied with that as they both share a glance and focus back on you. Maybe they're finding entertainment in the potential drama of it all. The streets finally clear up a bit and the cars able to pick up a bit of speed since entering the city.

“…. He's definitely not running around with someone else…..” Tim's mumbled words nearly pull a laugh out of you, the kids clearly in the know about something judging by the surly tone and suddenly darting eyes, he can't even make eye contact while saying it. He needs to practice his lying a little more if he plans to stay in the world of business.

“Young Tim's correct, Bruce isn't that type of man at all master.” Alfred's better at it than Tim, clearly. he almost sounds scolding, he knows how to get you to doubt yourself a bit.

“I'll take your word for it-!” your words get cut off when something smacks into rear side of the car and jostles everyone, it wasn't hard enough for whiplash but that's not your concern right now as you watch the car that apparently t-boned you stop, and then it backs up so quickly their tires squeal. You already know what's coming when they back into a street sign to stop, and immediately start to pull forward again.

Apparently Tim does too as he shouts at Alfred. “that was intentional, They're trying to hit us!”

“I'm aware, Master Timothy.” Alfred mutters with surprising calmness as he throws the car into drive, you're slightly impressed at the man's composed tone and decent timing as he just barely avoids the car.

You lean forward into the center console to converse with the two of them, your nails still tapping on the damn wood. “just my fucking luck, you think they want us dead or alive.”

“most likely alive judging by how slowly they hit the car, maybe they want hostages or to kill us in person.” Alfred muses calmly, eyes locked on the rearview while you nod in acceptance of his reasoning. “Makes sense to me.”

Tim looks between the both of you with a panicked frown on his face, he keeps swiveling around to look at the car as it clumsily manoeuvers to follow. “Can you both not talk about dying so casually?”

“I'm quite old Timothy, part of my everyday is wandering when I'll die.” Alfred and you nearly speak over each other. “I already technically died at that gala, what's a little murder talk now, yeah?”

You watch the other car as well, how they seem determined to follow you through Gothams complicated streets. nearly clipping a firetruck pulling out of a grotto. You watch as a few pedestrians quickly run down alleys or into buildings to avoid the swerving cars. their panicked expressions blurring together in the light of the setting sun in your view.

alfred yanks on the wheel and takes a sharp turn when the car nearly runs into backed up traffic, narrowly avoiding getting stuck while you and tim are jostled and thrown about like rocks in the wash, you wince in sympathy when tim’s head smacks into the window and he quickly grabs at his temple. he nearly drops the phone he’d just pulled out of his pocket.

“don’t break something now.” you sigh out at him, turning around to watch the dark toyota sideline a stop sign but still manage to pull away and follow your vehicle, more distance between the cars now but it seems they’re determined.

“well there goes my evening plans!” tim’s sarcastic response would get a chuckle out of you if you weren’t watching the attackers speed up recklessly behind you.

“please, hang onto something!” alfred says quickly before slamming the breaks and turning the car around, you’re genuinely surprised he can drift.

both cars screech to a stop on opposite ends of the street, facing each other almost like some kind of game of chicken, your car, an SUV obviously has a little more weight in the frame so you know who’d win that. hopefully the other car isn’t stupid enough to try anyways.

“you think they’re part of the pyros?” you lean forward between the two front seats again to converse, you and alfred staring down the car while tim is quickly texting on his phone, hopefully he’s texting the younger boys to stay somewhere safe if they’re still at school. and maybe bruce and the police while he’s at it.

“i think it would be safe to assume so, (name).”

you go to reply but you quickly shut your mouth when the dark car suddenly throws itself into reverse and careens backwards down the street, you don’t really have time to question it when you catch something out of the corner of your eye. “shit-brace yourselves-!!”

You barely get the words out before something large and red slams into the side of the car.

Metal creaks like trees in a tornado as a firetruck hits the side of the car and rams it up against the face of a building, Alfred roughly smacks into the steering wheel gasping and Tim again hits against the door and window, he's lucky it was closed as all the doors are effectively pinned shut between the brick wall and the large vehicle. Your own bodies roughly smacked into Tim's seat at an awkward angle that immediately makes your neck ache at the force exerted on it.

“Christ on a cracker…. Are you both alive?….” Tim groggily mumbles as he sits up and glances at both you and Alfred, you give him a thumbs up while Alfred slowly straightens up and runs his hand through his thinning dark hair, his eyes hazy for the moment but he manages a nod. you're definitely bruised and hurting, but breathing.

“Mhmm, just peachy. We need out of here about ten seconds ago…” you mumble as you shake yourself out of your stupor, throwing a glance at the firetruck that's apparently been put into park for the moment, the engine idling down. You're quickly unbuckling yourself and grabbing at the headrest of the passenger seat, Muttering to yourself under your breath in a focused panic. “Come on, come on don't be one of those stuck ones…”

Tim twists and glances at you in confusion as you wriggle the cushion off and start to climb over the console into the front with him and Alfred. “What're you doing?”

“getting us out, this glass isn't bulletproof right?” there's no way to comfortably position yourself sitting on the center console but you don't care at the moment, you're in survival mode now. “I don't think so!?”

You turn the cushion around and use the metal prongs to ram at the corner of the windshield repeatedly, the loud scratchy thumping nearly drowning out the sound of a car engine getting closer, probably the Toyota from before. it takes a moment but the glass starts cracking eventually so you turn your face away and close your eyes as you blindly continue. Trying your hardest not to breathe in pulverized glass, been there done that. Wouldn't recommend doing that again. “Cover your faces if you don't wanna eat glass!”

You can only assume they do as you say as you blindly smash part of the window open, the sound of a car door opening somewhere prompts you to quickly drop the headrest and turn your body to donkey kick at the fractured spot until you break out about half the windshield.

You see two coming around the parked firetruck, one holding a bottle and a lighter while another carries something else, something you desperately want at the moment, a gun.

“Wait don't do anything rash-!” You drown out Tim's words, only casting a quick glance at the two unbuckling their seatbelts on either side of you before you move forward to crawl out of the windshield on your belly, fragments of glass dig into your body through your clothes and gouge scratches down your hands and front, but it’s not deep enough to worry about at the moment as you roll off the hood of the car right as the two approaching men reach you and try to grab at your clothes to hold you still. the one with the gun points it at you and tries to bark orders at all the three of you.

“freeze! none of you move if you want to keep this one's head intact-”

you don’t have time to let him go off as you see the other one start to flick his lighter under the bottle, so you shove the gun away from your temple and headbutt him in the kidney, as soon as you get up on your feet again you throat-punch the armed one as hard as you can. Roughly snatching the gun out of his hands as soon as he stumbles and tries to clutch at his neck, you’re lucky they’re slow on the uptake.

Of course you waste no time in clicking the safety off on the gun and threatening the other man. “drop that bottle and i’ll kill you slowly.”

you’re straight to the point as you threaten the still standing man, he seems to take you seriously after glancing down at the struggling and wheezing man on the ground because he slowly lifts his hands up in surrender. now with the upper-hand at the moment you shift your hold on the gun to gesture over your shoulder at the people in the car to climb out, not taking your eyes off the two wanna-be attackers for a second. “Get out of the car.”

you’re slightly surprised at how quickly they both get out, you thought the older man would’ve struggled at the least but it seems he manages well enough with Tim's help to crawl out and climb over the hood of the near-crushed car.

“What's the plan here, Skippy.” you casually place yourself in front of the two men behind you as you attempt to question the man, you don't want him getting any ideas with that bottle and lighter after all.

He scowls at you but you can clearly see he's all nerves, he's spilling small drops of the fuel on himself with how bad he's trembling, the adrenaline must be wearing off. “i ain't saying duck, rich pig.”

You fight back a sigh, it's as if him and the man from days ago read the same book with the same points in it, you wonder if the arsonists have a recruiting pamphlet or something.

“You just did though, where'd the truck come from?” You sneak a glance at the firetruck, peeling scratched paint and cracked glass everywhere, definitely an older model too, you shudder to think what that thing could've done to the car if they got it going full speed.

“Didn't you hear me? I said I ain't telling you-”

You're yanked backwards and away from the man as the dark Toyota from earlier narrowly misses ramming into you all, instead it hits the wall where you were just standing while a car alarm instantly starts going off. The two men start shrieking at the driver, well the standing one does, the other one is still wheezing.

You're surprised to see Tim behind you, hauling you with him by the back of your shirt while he also drags Alfred by the arm further away from the yelling men. “I think we need to leave!”

You can't argue with that, you check the mag and pull the slide back to see if the Glock is actually a threat, this one's indeed fully loaded with one in the chamber. meaning someone was prepared to use it, possibly on an old man or a barely adult aged teen? You hear glass shattering behind you and when you glance back, the empty car you'd just been in is going up in flames.

“Oh God damn it I just had that thing deep cleaned too…dad's gonna kick my ass” Tim bemoans pitifully at the sight but keeps yanking you around like a puppy on a leash. He tries to pull both you and Alfred away from the panicked pedestrians further down the street but you don't let him, you quickly unzip and throw your sweatshirt off and yank Tim's cropped hoodie up over his head and toss both things down an alley.

“you’re too standout, blend in like your life depends on it.” technically it does, but you figure you should probably try not to freak them out anymore than they actually are at the moment. You're caught off guard when Alfred drops his black suit over your shoulders. as he willingly follows you towards the smallish crowd.

“Your shirt is bloody, you should probably cover it up if you intend to hide in plain sight.”

you look down at yourself as if surprised, with the adrenaline rushing through your veins you’d forgotten all about the glass scratching you already, you wince when you see the thin red lines seeping through your white undershirt in slowly spreading rivulets. you slip the overcoat on and tuck your stolen gun in one of the inner pockets so you’ve got two hands free. that’s gonna be annoying later…

tim runs a stressed hand through his messy hair (courtesy of you pulling the hoodie) and reluctantly sticks close to the two of you, it’s clear he’d rather not follow your lead right now, you wonder if he’d even still be here if it was just you and him with no alfred in the mix, guess you’ll never know.

“i can’t believe this….what the hell are we supposed to do on the street? just wait for the cops and batman to sweep in while we’re literally being targeted like fish in a barrel?” tim grabs at your wrist and studies one of the scratches.

“would you have liked to have stayed in the currently burning car? cooked alive but we could’ve done it in luxury huh.” you scowl at the young man after snapping back, pulling your arm free from his and quickly turning a street corner.

alfred is already gasping quietly so you stop to let him catch his breath in the shadow of a tall building, he nods at you in acknowledgement yet still gives you a scolding look after he leans himself up against the scratchy bricks behind him. “master (name), tim is young. leave it alone.”

you shoot a glance at tim and watch him worriedly peering around the building looking up and down the street while biting his lip, he’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet right now…you sigh quietly as you look away, awkward guilt curling in your gut like a parasite. goddamn it all.

“….yeah i know, that’s my bad. sorry kiddo.” you quietly call out to tim at the end of your sentence, you need to get a damn grip on yourself.

he glances over his shoulder at you with furrowed brows and quickly looks away, he’s quiet for long enough that you assume he’s not gonna reply but you just barely catch him quietly saying something after a few moments. “….don’t worry about it.”

some screaming down the street interrupts your little break so you sidle up beside tim to peek around the building corner, the orange glow getting brighter and reflecting off windows and metal signs let’s you know exactly what’s happening less than a block away. the gun feels all the heavier in your pocket when you realize the men are molotov-ing a storefront.

the infinity stone must have given you absolutely shit luck or something because how the hell do you keep winding up in situations like these here? if it’s not natalia pushing you to be a hero it’s your own stupid sentimental attachments to children and mean old butlers. you nudge tim’s shoulder with your own and gesture down the opposite street with your head.

“let’s go while we can, let alfred take point i’ll follow you both.”

alfred huffs loudly behind you and pushes off the wall to place a surprisingly firm hand on your shoulder. “this isn’t the titanic, mx (name). the elderly don’t need to be given priority. master tim doesn’t need to just follow us around as we want.”

in response you just pull the overcoat open and gesture at the gun handle poking out of the pocket. “i’m armed, i can give you two cover.”

you didn’t expect alfred to pull the edge of his shirt up and gesture at his belt. “i’m also armed.”

well shit, you had no clue he was a concealed carrier. you frown at him and cross your arms over your chest, is this really worth arguing about right now?

“well that’s all the more reason for you to take lead, you set a pace you can manage and we’ll both watch out for tim.”

tim loudly clears his throat and tries to step between the two of you before you get distracted. “i’m not a little kid that needs to hold someone’s hand, i’m literally a grown man! let’s just all try to find somewhere safe, i’m sure there’s police barricades everywhere?…”

you and alfred both shush him though, this ain’t about that.

“master tim, we’re simply just trying to deduce the most efficient way of traveling right now-” alfreds words are cut off by something shattering overhead as all hell breaks loose in the alley.

you don’t even have to look up to know what it is so you just immediately grab both of their arms and yank them out into the street, glancing them over for evidence of any glass or burning fuel on them. once you’re sure they’re probably okay you pull the gun out and point it in the direction the molotov was thrown from. catching sight of the familiar dark coat from earlier, guess you took too long figuring shit out.

the man’s lighting another bottle and there’s definitely more of his allies down the street if the various screams echoing between the buildings is anything to go by, you shoot one last glance at tim and alfred before you make the split second decision to shove them both the opposite direction before you throw yourself over a car hood and start running the other way.

you hear shouting behind you but you just hope the two of them aren’t stupid enough to play hero and chase you. After all you've got enough stupid for the trio, what the hell is your plan? You're not a costumed freak running around with a bone to pick with crime itself, you're just a killer with the wrong hands.

All thoughts of how stupid you are slip your mind as more glass shatters, this time just feet away from your shoes. Oh goddamn it! You go up and over another car hood and scowl to yourself, do they just have backpacks full of fuel bottles? Where the hell did they even get this much!? You force yourself to quiet down and breathe slowly and just focus.

This is what you're made for, you've gotta complete this just like any other mission you've ever been on. You're not allowed to fuck up. You listen closely, drowning out the other sounds of the city and wait.

As soon as the steps get louder you glance under the car and watch for them, glass crunches underneath a boot and that's when you move.

Throwing yourself over the boot of the car is easy, so is kicking out at the man and slamming your heel into his sternum and knocking him to the ground with a loud and pained grunt. You might've cracked something under your steel toe boot if the way he gasps and gags on air is anything to go by.

Someone rushes you and you just barely avoid the wildly swinging crowbar with a sidestep, you're not so lucky to avoid the first guys wild haymaker to the Gut though.

You have to fight the instinctive doubling over and only just manage to keep yourself upright enough to avoid the other man's attempt to smash a bottle over your head. You grab his wrist and twist it behind his back hard enough to sprain it and as soon as he drops the bottle you snatch it up and pull the rag out, the morons gonna light himself and his friend up waving an opened Molotov cocktail around all night.

“ow-fuck! Let go of me you cun-” you slam his head into the nearest wall to shut him up, you don't even feel bad about the teeth when you look around at all the lit up windows and screaming civilians around the block.

You're really in the middle of it huh, hopefully Tim and Alfred got the hell out of Dodge…

Fuck, fuck where the hell did the other one go!? Another bottles tossed nearby and the resounding burst of bright flame nearly has you doubling over squeezing your eyes shut, it's too bright, too hot. And now you're murderously pissed as well as panicking.

The other dark clothed attackers seem to be targeting windows and store fronts at the moment so you drop the knocked out man and let him pitifully slide down the wall so you have room to shred a part of Alfred's overcoat and make a makeshift mask, it won't protect you from smoke but it'll slow down inhaling some gas fumes at the least.

Another bottle thrown and you hear them whooping excitedly, you think you're starting to itch for your gun as you watch them target an apartment building next, you'd think a group seemingly targeting the rich wouldn't go after civilian life.

As soon as the closest one to you looks down to prep another bottle you dart around the corner of the building and throw another throat punch, if it works it works after all. He gags audibly as you pull him in front of you to avoid the second one swinging a knife at you, he awkwardly avoids his partner which gives you time to kick him between the legs, hard. Once he curls forward you throw another kick at his head.

A set of arms wraps around you from behind as the first man tries to bodily lift you off the ground, you're more surprised he shook off a punch to the Adams apple so quickly but whatever, you curl your legs up towards your chest like you're doing a crunch and then quickly kick out to throw him off balance with your weight, it works and as soon as he stumbles you plant your feet on the ground and drop all your weight, slipping out of his arms and stepping under his shoulder to get behind him so you can slap your hand over his ear as hard as you can. You know the stinging pain in your hand is nothing compared to what the now screaming man nursing his eardrum on the ground is going through.

The hell's that? Out of the corner of your eye you catch sight of a barely-visible spotlight in the near dark sky. It confuses you enough to pause in your step for just a second for a doubletake, these people are so weird about bats.

You need to get out of here, more importantly you need to find out where the others are. You pull your phone out and unlock it so you can pull up Bruce's contact, just as your thumb hovers over the press call button you hear rustling above you, you barely catch sight of the cape before you duck you drop kick aimed at your face.

The surprise heavy fist that followed slams into your jaw so hard you swear you feel all your teeth compress into your gums, the pain is near-instant, a combination of down-to-the-bone aching and the sharp, almost cold sting of your lip splitting. You'll be feeling that for a long time.

Another ones aiming for you so you grab the arm and throw your leg over it, twisting your body around to throw all your weight into the man's shoulders, your thighs squeezing around his neck. The dark figure grabs at your calves and slams himself backwards into the wall behind him which knocks some of out of your lungs, thoroughly pissed off you throw your weight forward and slip off him into a roll, stopping in a crouch a few feet from him, he tries to move after you just as quickly, angling himself for a kick that might just cripple you if it lands on your back so you use the near-empty Molotov bottle you still have in your possession and splash the remainder of it in the open part of his cowl, aiming for the mouth and nose.

As soon as he chokes and wipes at his face you smash the bottle on his head and use the jagged neck if the glass to swipe at him, aiming for the gaps in his armor around his armpit.

He tries to disarm you, gloved hands prying your struggling fingers open so you let him, as soon as your hands empty you pull the gun and use the barrel to strike him in the jaw. A kick to the kneecaps gets him to buckle so you knock him down and pin him with the gun pressed to his head, you've just pinned down Batman.

“Fucking…. What the hell’re you doing…?” Your words are coming out weird thanks to the punch, bit he seems to get it well enough as he suddenly stiffens under you just as you cock the hammer.

“….(Name)?”

“Yes?!” his shocked tone would've been downright comical if you hadn't just kicked each others asses, you yank your makeshift bandana down so you can properly scowl at the masked hero, licking the blood off your teeth.

“I…what are you doing out here?” he pushes you off him, though his hand stays on your shoulder as he seems to be examining you closely.

“Trying not to get set on fire that's what, my car got firebombed…. Well technically it's my husband's car.” you stand up, ignoring his offered hand of assistance even as your body protests the movement, damn your head hurts…you lean up against the brick wall and pocket the Glock before wiping at the blood dribbling down your chin.

He clearly takes the hint and gives you your distance for the moment. “I thought you were…the mask and the bottle didn't…how bad is it?”

He wipes at his mouth again almost awkwardly, his body language clearly conveying guilt as he leans towards you subconsciously.

“Dunno, my face is going numb. If I lose teeth you're paying for it.” your words are more reflex than anything, the type of thing you'd say to Natalia or Captain Rogers after a harsh training session gone a bit bruised and bloody. It happens.

Surprisingly he nods quickly at that, good. You selfishly almost hope he feels bad. You'll probably feel that way until your jaw stops aching.

“I'll take care of it, anything actually. I'm just…. I'm sorry.”

“I'll live, shut up. Barnes punches me a hell of a lot harder than you anyways.”

you don't even realize what you've done until he suddenly grabs your shoulder, masked head tilting as of he's studying ever inch of your whole face. His voice drops deeper and gruffer than you've heard him before.

“who the hell is Barnes?”

🔹🔹🔹

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A/n: I'm so tired y'all IDK if there's any mistakes in this, I'll spell check tomorrow✌️ hopefully it's not too long, hope y'all have a good day/night and enjoy a little treat for yourself today ❤️

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