When You See A Food You Like:

Undoing Fate

neglected to regressor batsis! reader x platonic batfam

what if after 20 years of neglect from your family full of vigilantes, you face an unfortunate death, only to find yourself regressed back to when you were 16?

⤷ lots of emotional neglect, reader was batgirl, reader was a tryhard and an overachiever, reader had no social life in her first life, mentions of drugs, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of death, regression themes, toxic and unhealthy relationships, dysfunctional family, toxic mentalities, reader and everyone else needs therapy…, canon divergence, major character death(s) | tba | based on this

⤷ info! (background) 1 | 2 | read this first to understand the plot and each batfam better :)

⤷ art!!! 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

⤷ if you’re bored m.list—under reconstruction

00 | And she cried over nothing

01 | Sixteen again

02 | A quitter? | ?

03 | Everything is awesome…

04 | Until it’s not | .

05 | Untouched memories

06 | Another suffocating day | .

07 | 1–Paranoia at its finest

| 2–To care or not to care

| 3–Sneaky link?

08 | 1–We’ve been here before (13/4)

| 2–Tricks and Riddles (16/4)

| 3– (TBC) (19/4)

09 | —

taglist is closed‼️

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(idk why i can’t tag some of y’all, must be your settings i think 😓) (or let me know if i accidentally spelt ur user wrongly 😭💀)

Marshmallow Miles

summary: prompt fill. Wally needs to get the hell out of Split River. thankfully, he finds the perfect excuse and takes you along for the ride. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut lite. fluff. AU - everybody is alive (zesty). lore established offscreen. same 'verse as Cuddle Bug.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧁

Marshmallow Miles

Wally spent the last 40 years haunting the high school. Then spent the last few months within the town limits, adjusting to being a regular student while he got his second chance at life organized. Principal Hartman, Ms. Chung, and Mrs. Moretz—the guidance counselor—banded together to help the formerly-dead reacclimate, and part of that means they all need to graduate.

Except, obviously, Mr. Martin, who Sheriff Baxter's keeping a tight leash on. Or Janet, wherever the hell she is.

Point being, Wally and his friends are still tethered to the place they hate most in the world. Even if there is a light at the end of the tunnel this time, they don't get to enjoy it until they walk across the stage, diplomas in hand.

Which means Wally? Is feeling somewhat-very claustrophobic. Skin too tight, walls closing in, suffocated and nauseous at the thought of having to spend another goddamn second in the town that killed him.

It's as he's listening to you, hanging onto your every word like psalms, that the idea strikes. Light. Bulb. Wausau? Claire's stepdad's ski lodge? You don't say!

He knows your birthday's coming up (Simon made sure to stick post-it notes in every single one of Wally's text- and notebooks to remind him) and he's been fretting over what to do for weeks. But this? This is it! Not only will Wally be able to celebrate you the way you deserve, doing something you seem genuinely keen on, he'll be able to put Split River in the rearview for a whole week.

Is it a little selfish to use your birthday as an excuse to escape? Kind of, sort of, maybe. But he's desperate to find out if he can have a life beyond this. Beyond Split River High and Number 57 and tragedy and discombobulating rise-agains. And the only person he wants to find anything out with, well, is you.

It's two-birds-one-stone, honestly, and don't you always praise his efficiency? Hell yeah, you do. His biggest fan. Besides, he will dote on you, treat you right, make you feel like the center of the universe because you are. At least, you're the center of his, and that's why he has to do this. To prove there's a future with him that has more potential than cultivating small town syndrome.

You catch him grinning that dopey little grin he gets when he's thinking about surprising you, but Maddie distracts you before you can question it. Which gives Wally the rest of lunch to plot into his tater tots.

Thank you, Maddie. Best wingwoman ever.

‗•‗

The plan comes together seamlessly. Everyone pitches in to help bring Wally's vision to life. Claire gives him the keys to her stepdad's lodge. Maddie and Charley morally support Wally as he shops for warm clothes in your size that he can smuggle in his own luggage so you stay in the dark for as long as possible.

Nicole and Rhonda, the unlikeliest of best buds, drag him into The Body Shop and Victoria's Secret—"imagine a romantic bubble bath after skiing all day?" Nicole coos. "Imagine undressing her on a bearskin rug in front of a fire." Rhonda smirks around her new vape.

That's. Really. All the convincing Wally needs to make a dent in the allowance Rodney gives him.

Wally even swallows his pride, puts on his most charming smile, and asks Xavier for his truck. He knows the only reason Xavier agrees is because it's for you, but still, a win is a win. With a general, "hurt her and I'll rip your balls off," from your platonic soulmate, Wally joyfully departs. Tosses the keys in the air and catches them, his chest feeling lighter than it has in decades.

Everything is packed in the truck and ready to go the night before. He called you earlier to impart the vaguest of instructions as to what you should bring, proud of himself for not giving anything away too soon. Even when you asked in that silly-sweet voice, pouting on the screen like a princess, "Please? At least give me a hint!"

No. No hints.

Like a child on Christmas, Wally can barely sleep, he's so excited, but he manages a few hours. Dreams of the world beyond Split River as if he's setting off on some grand adventure and not just driving a 3.5 hour span of state highway.

Tomorrow, Wally will experience a first. Something that was so far out of reach there was no point entertaining it because all it led to was disappointment and regret. Instead there were years upon years of distractions. Mock Trials and obituaries and looking at his feet when he should've looked back.

Wally sometimes wonders if those missed opportunities weren't the yellow brick road that brought him to you. Everyone else walked through The Door with him, but there's no sign of Dawn who crossed over. If Mr. Martin didn't do what he did, Wally might've moved on, and you and he wouldn't exist...

His heart lurches in his chest.

No sense ruminating. You have him. He has you. That's all that matters now. And tomorrow, Wally will have his first real taste of freedom with the only person he wants to share that moment with.

It's going to be perfect.

‗•‗

Wally picks you up just after sunrise. You're grumpy and sleepwarm and, Jesus, Wally loves you. Pouting at him like he's both a menace and your savior. Arms up, lower lip jutted out, a sweet demand of carry me before you slump into his embrace and force him to take your weight. Which he does, easily, big grin on his face as he toddler-carries you to the passenger side of Xavier's truck.

He bundles you in, sets you up with the softest blanket Claire found at Target—Yuri and Ajay not doing their jobs as devil's advocate at all as the cart filled up with Claire's suggestions. Honestly, Wally doesn't care. Especially not after your eyes brighten as you run your fingers over it, wiggling happily in your seat.

"You cozy, babygirl?" He asks as soon as he's behind the wheel and the smile you give him makes him fucking melt.

"You got me a blanket." You state, tucking yourself in more securely; shoes off, feet up, elbow on the console so you can lean over it and kiss Wally's cheek. "Thank you."

Wally blushes, he can't help it, and shrugs as if it's nothing. "I got you a bunch of things, baby," he says as he starts the truck, "Just wait and see. You're gonna feel like a princess, I promise."

You slip your hand into his, fingers laced, and he rests them on your thigh as he drives. Down the street, turn left, continue to the intersection of Main and 4th. Right on 4th, all the way to the end and then left on Pine. Drive until the highway onramp. Now Leaving Split River, We'll Miss You!

Oh God... Wally's heart pounds, blood rushing in his ears. This feels bigger than his first step off school property. Bigger than feeling air in his lungs and a drum in his chest after being hollow for so long.

Somehow, and Wally doesn't know how, you manage to talk him through pulling over, crawling over the console to plant yourself in his lap. Hands cradling his jaw, you press your forehead against his and guide him away from the edge of a panic attack.

"—got you, Wally, I'm right here, you're okay, shh, you're okay..." The steady cadence of your voice sharpens as his breathing regulates. He's holding you like a lifeline, arms fastened around your waist, heaving great gulps of air as he trembles slightly.

"I'm sorry, baby," He gasps and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Nuh-uh, no apologies, Wally Clark," You say firmly. There's a lull before you chuckle, gentle and kind, "Hey, this was a lot better than the night you first stepped across the school boundary line, right?"

Fuck, that was a mess. However, Wally wasn't alone when that happened. Charley and Rhonda and Yuri, Mr. Martin and Ajay, Mina, they were all there too, equally as overwhelmed. Rhonda threw up on Quinn's shoes. Charley passed all the way out. Yuri and Ajay were fine, fuck them, but Mina just...screamed. And then laughed. Then cried. Then screamed some more, listening to the sound ricochet off the surrounding buildings in a way it wouldn't have days before The Door.

Wally snorts, "Yeah. Sure," and finally peeks up at you. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks that he realizes belatedly feel damp. Is he crying? Weak. But you aren't judging him, simply gazing at him like he hung the moon; you're perfect person, the man you love most, and Wally's chest swells. "We're out of Split River," Wally croaks.

You beam at him, "We're out of Split River."

Holy fuck. He's out of Split River.

‗•‗

After climbing out of the truck to holler into the ether. To chase each other around the Now Leaving sign. To grab you, spin you around and fall into the grass as you and he laugh and laugh and laugh, Wally finally gets the show back on the road.

Once again, he tucks you into your seat, takes your hand, checks his mirrors and then pulls back onto the highway, the town that raised him then witnessed his death becoming a speck in the background with every mile marker you and he pass.

He lifts your hand, grazes a kiss to your knuckles, his eyes on the road and his mind on you and everything he has planned for this trip. At the halfway point, he stops for gas, shadows you as you browse the aisles for exactly the right snacks. Fondly gazes after you the whole time as you make tough decisions: Nerds or Twizzlers? Cookies or chocolate? Wally, do I want a vanilla or butterscotch pudding with my Oreos? Because that's a normal combination, what?

He's absolutely no help at all, too busy mooning over you as you flutter between the fridge and the chest freezer, babbling about how integral to your mood it is to pick the right snack. To cover for the fact that he isn't paying attention, Wally grabs a bag of marshmallows off one of the shelves when you call him out for not listening.

"These." He says, holding the bag up and then glancing at the graham crackers and Hershey's displayed at eye-level. "Maybe these?"

"You wanna make s'mores in the truck?" You ask, dubious.

"No," Wally saves himself, "Just these," and he jiggles the bag of marshmallows. They're the jumbo kind; the kind he used to bet his cousin Dennis to eat five of in one bite or else he couldn't play Wally's Magnavox Odyssey.

You consider the marshmallows for a moment and then, with a decisive nod, "And hot chocolate."

"And hot chocolate," Wally agrees, following you around the shop to the coffee station.

Wally pays for everything, hip-butting you (carefully, no spills) out of the way when you try to pass the cashier your card. He takes the bag and the tray of hot chocolate and still holds the door open for you with his heel. No fucking way is his princess lifting a finger on her birthday-slash-Wally's-freedom trip.

For every mile, you dip a marshmallow in your hot chocolate—dipping Wally's as well and feeding him, giggling when he nips or sucks the gooey sugar from your fingertips. It's silly and sweet and Wally basks in every second of it. Every second of your off-key singing, your trivia answers, your arguments over which is better, Thunderbirds or Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons.

"You know, I have been catching up on TV shows, right?" Wally laughs, "You can use better examples."

"What's wrong with puppets, Wally? Are you a pupaphobist?"

Wally barks a laugh, "That's not a thing!"

"It definitely is a thing," And you wield your phone, flashing Google as Exhibit A. "So? Are you? Just say it, you hate Jim Henson and everything he stood for."

And it's amazing. It's anything and everything and so much more than Wally could've ever hoped for. Even the quiet intervals when the sugar wears off and the early wakeup call catches up to you; your body curled up in your seat awkwardly just so you can angle yourself right to rest your head on the console and place Wally's hand in your hair.

Adorable little diva.

As you doze, Wally watches the scenery drift by, his lungs expanding more and more with every mile he puts between himself and Split River.

Eventually, he turns off the highway and onto the backroads without you noticing a thing. His fingers card through your hair, trace the shape of your jaw and cheek as he absorbs the softness of the moment and tucks it away behind his ribs. Safe and sound, to be pulled out and cherished when he's alone.

When he parks, he's reluctant to wake you. So, he doesn't. Not immediately. Rather, he spends a few minutes just resting himself, sinking down a little in the driver's seat. Then slants sideways, curls over and around you to kiss your ear, cheek, jaw.

He couldn't dim his smile if he tried, enamored when you protest at first, but then sigh, realize where you are and who you're with before groggily chuckling at Wally's antics.

"Surprise, baby girl," He whispers, letting you sit up so you can take in your surroundings.

The look on your face tells Wally he did a good job. The way you tackle him into the inside of his door and kiss him tells him he's going to have to start planning next year's surprise tomorrow, because, fuck yeah, this is exactly the reaction he's looking for.

Getting out of the truck and staring at Claire's stepdad's lodge; at the trees and the snow and the vast expanse of sky, it hits him again like a ton of bricks.

Holy fuck. He's out of Split River!

‗•‗

He doesn't wait to celebrate. As soon as he closes the door behind him, he reels you in, kisses you deep and hungry while you're only halfway out of your jacket. That's okay, he helps you get it the rest of the way off, along with everything else.

"Let me make you feel good, baby," He whispers against your skin, hands everywhere, his hips rolling into yours as he pins you to the wall beside the door. "Let me show you how much I love you..."

Wally kisses you deep, hungry, groaning into your mouth as he keeps grinding his hard cock against you, fuck, you get him going like nothing else. All you have to do is breathe in his direction and his pants tent.

Heat courses through him, curls tight in his belly and flushes outward to his limbs, God, he needs you. Now. Right fucking now, baby, come on. He carries you to the enormous kitchen island, peels your leggings and panties off and has his lips on you and tongue in you faster than you can cry out his name.

"So sweet, baby," He moans into your pussy, panting, not bothering to breathe in his greed for your taste and pleasure. "Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you."

He spears his tongue in and out of you before teasing little circles around your clit, his fingers plunging into you in place of his tongue. Wally could do this all day and never get tired; the sounds you make, the way you writhe and beg for him, Jesus, he can't imagine ever wanting anything else.

Cruel, desperate, he doesn't care what you call it, he stops right as you're about to come, shoves his sweatpants just below his balls and drags your hips off the counter to punch his cock into you. His head falls back as soon as he feels you around him, so tight and hot, "Fuck, yes, baby, so good for me."

And he sets a frenzied pace, unable to keep himself in check now that he has you like this. His fingers dig into your lovehandles, your legs hooked over his elbows. He's grunting, you're mewling your pleasure, and Wally about loses it before you do. But he doesn't. He's better than that, fucks you like a beast until you scream and shake and squirt around his cock.

It's game over after that. No way can he hold on, his body tensing, hips grinding, as he spills deep inside you. Carefully, he sits you more firmly on the counter and leans in to kiss you, soft, sated, a little blissdrunk in the afterglow. Bodies pressed together, slowly recovering, Wally strokes the arches of your cheeks with his thumbs and gives you a muzzy smile.

"You're my whole world, you know that?" He tells you and then captures your lips in a kiss that quickly turns heated, "I'll do anything for you, baby." Fuck, he's already getting worked up again, needs more of you, always needs more. "I'll die all over again if you asked me to."

"Wally..." You gasp when he rocks his hips forward, driving his cock back into you.

It's just after sundown before you and he finally check out what's beyond the open kitchen/living room space, the table and couch and ottoman and, shit, bearskin rug fully christened in sweat and come.

You and he jump on the beds with childlike glee, music blaring on speakers that cost more than Rodney's mortgage. Claire explicitly forbade Wally from using the master suite so, taking that into consideration, that's the first bedroom he fucks you in—from behind, driving his hips forward while he pulls you back against him. What? He'll do the necessary laundry.

If he remembers...

‗•‗

After a supper of haphazardly thrown together and grossly microwaved nachos, Wally snuggles you between his legs on one of the Adirondack chairs outside, under a thick blanket and dressed accordingly in the thermals and sweater and fuzzy socks he secretly bought and brought for you.

The fire pit blazes, the stars above twinkle, and the land around is a peaceful kind of dark. Not the ominous, suffocating dark Wally grew accustomed to in the confines of the school. The comfortable silence between you and him is accentuated by the crackle and pop of the fire, the scene so peaceful, Wally has to wonder if he ever experienced any such feeling before.

His arms tighten around you and he presses a kiss to your cheek from behind, watching the flames dance as you lance another marshmallow on your stick.

Tomorrow is your birthday and he intends to take you skiing. Or, when he knows you'll diplomatically decide to trade skis for slippers, he'll bring you back here at noon and spoil you rotten with presents and a homecooked meal; that bubble bath Nicole suggested (thank you, Nicole), and a long night on that bearskin rug (thank you Rhonda).

It's going to be an incredible week, he assures himself. And on Saturday, the others will arrive while he takes you into the resort town to explore so they can set up your big surprise party. Yuri will grill in a t-shirt, and Charley will force everyone to play '90s boardgames he died too soon to play, and Rhonda will make everyone take shots whenever Wally gives you heart eyes just to watch the messiness unfurl.

Claire will probably reprimand him for fucking in her parents' bedroom, but Wally doesn't care. Because it means he celebrated you right. That you and he had fun. That there's evidence of the fact that, for the first time in 40 years, holy fuck, Wally made it out of Split River!

🧁___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Anxiety.

a smutty flashfic explaining how not. clingy. Wally is even when he thinks you're mad at him but won't tell him why.

I was thinking of Jackie Taylor (housewife Jackie perhaps?) with a trans male boyfriend or husband! Helping him remember to take his testerone shots or even taking care of him after top surgery!

oh my god all these housewife jackie thoughts are making me so happy....she'd be the best wifey ever 😭😭😭😭

housewife jackie who lovess wearing your shirts... especially your collared shirts for work. coming home after your shift and finding her curled up on the couch, only wearing your shirt and your boxers. literally the dream.

housewife jackie who wakes up when you wake up for work just so she can help you get dressed :( tying your tie for you... doing your t-shot extra early because she knows you'll forget to do it when you get home >.> jackie already having breakfast ready for you... or times when you have to get up super early and she's too tired for that, she makes sure to leave you a note on the kitchen counter along with a snack for you to take on the way.

housewife jackie helping you shave!! you always nick yourself so she loves doing it for you sometimes :) you also always steal one of her razors because you like the gel ones so she buys you a new pack :D but jackie gently holding onto your face, her thumb rubbing your stubble as she shaves you. NEED.

god. thinking about all the small stuff she would do to affirm your gender 😭❤️ things like buying you aftershave, deodorant, shaving cream, new work slacks or new clothes in general. god, and you know she'd call you hubby.

housewife jackie who has a whiteboard on the fridge that has the days you do your tshot. jackie who is so good at calming you down if you're nervous about it :( she talks you through it while prepping your injection site and she always makes it painless. she apologizes so much and probably tears up if she accidentally hurts you 😭 she'd be clingy the rest of the day and give you tons of kisses to make up for it.

housewife jackie who ALWAYS bakes you a cake for your t anniversaries! it's your 2 years on T? she's baking you a nice ass cake and probably inviting all the girls. also makes sure to take good care of you in bed to show how proud she is of you ;b

she'd Love pampering you after top surgery bro. thinking of showering with her the morning of and just being so giggly because it's finally happening!!! maybe you had to travel to get it and i think she'd love crashing in a hotel with you. she def overpacks. also thinking of telling her that you wont be able to hug her for a while because of recovery and she pouts so hard 😭 she's right there comforting you when driving you to the hospital and whlie in the waiting room, she's helping you into the gown and trying not to cry 😭 it ends up making you cry because you HATE seeing her cry and you're just so emotional because it's scary!! ur scared shitless but so excited.

god she's a mess when you go to the actual surgery room dude 😭 she's trying to calm herself down whlie waiting for hours but she's right there when you get out, all smiles and asking how you feel. you feel like proper shit of course, and she's doing everything she can to help you :( praising you for moving slightly to get onto the hospital bed, giving you a pillow to rest your arms on, giving you as many kisses as she can, helping you drink some water. helping you into your clothes after you're ready to leave!! jackie washing you and helping you go to the bathroom despite how embarassing it is for you. oh my god she'd be the best.

Surviving The Wilderness

Pairings: yellowjackets x reader

Summary: With how much effort you had put in trying to look after the group as the seasons start to change, you get dubbed the unofficial mom of the team. Find request here.

Winter was on the horizon. Temperatures were starting to drop even further during the night and daylight hours were shortening with each day that had passed. With no foreseeable chance of rescue happening any time soon, the group had to prepare for the oncoming harshness of the next season. 

There was only so much you could do with having very little to begin with but you were trying your best, as was everyone else. At first it was just the menial tasks that you had double downed on, the chores everyone had already been doing in order to get by.

The pile of firewood stood tall and proud in the attic of the cabin. You had buddied yourself up with Tai to collect as much dry wood as the two of you could. There wasn’t a shortage of wood out in the wilderness but it would mean spending less time out in the cold for necessities when it came to it.

You had also started out marking out all of the spots for potential food. Colder temperatures didn’t immediately mean there’d be nothing available to eat, or at least you hoped, but you figured knowing where food could grow would be important for when it became a scarcity. You weren't sure what you were going to do if the snow rolled in early but you didn’t like thinking about that. 

You had paired yourself up with Misty for your impromptu foraging trip. The girl knew an uncanny amount of facts about mushrooms and berry bushes, the whole sorts. While you were out there, you used a copy of one of Natalies maps she had made while out hunting to mark off all the potential spots for food. The two of you also took the chance to gather what you could to add to the rations. Food was the main concern for everyone at the moment. 

Misty had talked your ear off the entire day. She was probably excited that someone had actually sought out her company. It was rather endearing when she got excited by the sight of a specific mushroom and how serious she would suddenly turn when warning you not to touch a specific plant you’d stumble across. 

While you had entertained her rambles and managed to learn a thing or two about how to spot a poison berry from a safe one, you didn’t know how to keep up with all her energy. You were kind of thankful for the quietness of the cabin that night.

Preparations for winter weren’t the only thing on your mind. You liked keeping up the morale of the team, being a shoulder to lean on for anyone who needed it, or a person to confide in. It brought a smile to your own face when you managed to make one of your friends smile. It was what you were there for. 

Jackie had pulled you aside from the campfire you were all perched around outside, telling you she needed to talk to you about something important. You were in the middle of learning how to whittle with a few of the other girls but a small break wouldn’t hurt anyone, you’d catch back up when you got back. 

“You’ve really stepped up out here.” Jackie was proud of the efforts you had put in, you were holding up surprisingly well. “Thank you for being the leader I couldn’t be.”

Jackie had especially seemed to be struggling with the adjustment of being stranded out in the wilderness. You couldn’t see it at first, not when she was the most hopeful about getting rescued, doing the most she could to keep her team up and going but the longer she stayed out here, the more that sparked dampened. 

As much as her comment made you proud of your own achievements, it also struck a chord within you. 

“Hey, it’s not easy out here but you’re trying your best and that's what matters, right?” You offered her a reassuring smile. You couldn’t blame her for not adjusting so quickly. The chain of jarring events you had all been through over the past few weeks wasn’t easy to get over.

“It feels like I'm losing my mind out here.” Jackie tried to crack a smile but you could tell it was forced. 

“You’re not the only one going a little crazy out here, you don’t have to cope through this alone.” You reached out to her and enveloped her in a comforting embrace that she immediately leaned into. You hoped she’d remember that. She never had to do anything alone. You were still a team.

The two of you stayed like that for an extended moment. You felt like she needed this so you weren’t going to pull back until she did.

“You’re a really great friend.” Jackie mumbled into your shoulder.

“I’ve got your back, alright? We’ll get through it. All of us will.” Even if it wasn’t easy.

The stillness of the cabin after sundown was always something that unnerved you for some reason. You didn’t like prolonged moments of silence but sometimes everyone was too exhausted after a long day and they didn’t have the energy to keep themselves entertained. 

The first time you had brought up the idea of telling each other stories at night, it wasn’t so well received but you were determined to provide some sort of entertainment.

“Bedtime stories? Seriously? What are you, my mom?” Taissa  mocked.

“Your mom still reads you bedtime stories?” Van jestered.

“Shut up.” Taissa rolled her eyes at Van's joke. That wasn’t what she meant.

“It doesn’t have to be some fairytale woe it can be about anything. Have some fun making up your own world or something.” You tried reasoning with them, seeing the potential in the fun that could come from such a thing. You didn’t see the harm in indulging in your creative sides again, even for something a little silly and childish. It’d let you be teenagers again and not just survivors.

“I think I’ve got something.” The look on Van’s face had Taissa groaning and that could only mean one thing. Whatever the girl had in mind was going to be the most ridiculous and therefore amusing story you would ever hear. 

Since then, storytelling with Van every other night or so practically became a nighttime routine. Sometimes it was the smaller things that counted, the silly things that kept everyone looking forward. Everyone would huddle around the fireplace wrapped up in their blankets while you and Van sat on your chairs telling stories, some a little spooky the others pure comedy gold.

The days were only becoming shorter as each one had passed. The looming threat of winter hanging over you all but you were keen on making it your job to make sure each and every one of your teammates would make it through the next season. You’d be there for them every step of the way, no matter what they needed.

Supplying everyone with proper winter attire was next up on your agenda. You had become everyone's self appointed tailor so to speak. There was a spare suitcase in the makeshift pantry room of the cabin where everyone had spared a few things for anyone to take for grabs. You picked off a few stray buttons from the case and a small selection of spare material from clothing, making sure to leave plenty left for anyone else too.

Everyone had their own clothes they could layer themselves up in when it came to that so luckily you didn’t have to worry too much about that. If you had to, you’d remind anyone who was going outside for a prolonged period to remember to take a headscarf with them. 

You had done your best sewing a couple of pairs of gloves, especially for Natalie and Travis who were going to be out in the cold the most as they were the appointed hunters of the group. With what you had, you managed to make a few pairs and one of them was even an adjustable size by threading the button that held the pieces together through a different hole of the three you had poked through. That way everyone would have something that fit them.

You hoped the pair you made for Travis was the right size, you couldn’t exactly use your own measurements from your hands for his gloves. “Try these on for me?” He was surprised when you had approached him, offering up the items of clothing to him.

“What are these for?” Despite his question, he took the gloves from your hand.

“For when you go hunting with Nat.” You explained like it was obvious. “You two are outside the most out of all of us so I figured I should make sure you at least stay warm out there.”

They probably had one of the most important jobs, keeping everyone fed. You couldn't afford them falling ill or anything like that. You noticed that they had already been waking up earlier to get out in the early morning and while you wanted to applaud their efforts in feeding the group, it did worry you a little that they were sacrificing so much rest and walking about in the dark so you figured you'd look after them the only way you knew how.

“Yeah, I'll be using these. Thanks.” Luckily the gloves fit him pretty well as he wiggled his fingers around to test the amount of movement he had in them.

“Stay safe out there.” You nodded curtly with a proud smile on your face, happy that the gift turned out well.

It was when Natalie and Travis kept coming back from their hunting trips empty handed more and more often that you really kicked into gear. Things started to feel a little more real to you then, like there really was something to worry about or fuss over. Being cold and bored was one thing but starving out here was another. You had to find a way to keep everyone well nourished.

In order to do that, tea had become the next thing you tried to master. Everyone liked tea, right? It may not have been the most filling thing but with the right ingredients it would have a good amount of the necessary nutrients to keep you going. Plus it didn't take too many resources to make which made it accessible to drink daily.

This was the third evening you had gone around the group offering up your cups of tea. The one you had made this time was tinted with mixed berries seeing as Misty had gone to you with what was left over. She didn’t want them to go to waste and they couldn’t be stored away for much longer or else they’d go off so she figured you could make use of them.

“Didn’t take you for such a tea connoisseur.” Shauna teased, then getting nudged in the side by Jackie who mumbled something about how you were just being nice. 

Making tea was something new to you and not every pot came out perfect but oddly enough you enjoyed making a new batch every time.

“Here, Nat, you’re shivering.” You offered up a fresh cup of hot berry tea to her, knowing it could help warm her up. 

“It’s fine, really, I’m good.” She held up her hand in a gentle refusal, brushing your offer off but that only made you catch sight of her pink fingertips. She had been out all day with the shotgun, maybe it was already getting colder than you thought.

Despite her words, you pushed the cup into her open hand and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief at the warmth it brought to her cold hand. Maybe your offer wasn’t such a bad one after all. You smiled triumphantly when she took the mug from you and started sipping away at the drink.

“Wait there a moment.” There wasn’t much reason for Nat to be going anywhere now that she had the chance to relax but you wanted to make sure she stayed put. Seconds later you came back with one of the blankets and you draped it over her shoulders for her, making sure it stayed in place over her body to preserve as much heat as possible.

“You’re such a mom, y’know that?” Natalie raised an eyebrow at your coddling and your cheeks tinted pink when her comment earned a few chuckles from around the group. That wasn’t the first time you had been compared to a mom by one of the girls, you hoped you weren’t doing too much. 

Ironically, it was one of the moments Nat had felt most cared for, she hardly had a problem with your naturing ways. She didn’t get that sort of treatment back home. 

“Well I’m not letting you freeze to death on me.” You justified your actions sheepishly but the moment Nat sent you a gentle smile, you relaxed. She didn’t actually seem to mind the fact you were fussing over her.

Another day brought another cold night. You had made sure the fireplace was lit up enough to last for as long as it could throughout the night. “Does everyone have enough blankets?” You asked the group before you let yourself settle down in your own makeshift bed. It was better to check before you tucked yourself in.

“Yes mom.” Shauna goaded, earning a huff from you, and a few snickers sounded out throughout the room. The newly appointed nickname was coming up more and more recently.

“Hey! You’ll be thanking me when I save your asses from your reckless selves.” You loved your team, you really did, but some of them really lacked the self preservation that they needed out here and someone needed to take care of them.

Shauna waved off your comment and seeing as no one had complained about being too cold, you let yourself settle down in your own bundle of blankets that was placed next to Lotties. 

“You’re doing a good job at looking after all of them.” Lottie appraised you, having taken note of your continuous efforts. 

“I want to make sure everyone else makes it through this.” You could only hope your actions would pay off. 

“You’re the best mom I could ask for.” Lottie’s smile wasn’t one of mockery, it was of appreciation and you finally found yourself laughing along with the joke. Maybe being the appointed caretaker wasn’t so bad.

Equals: Chapter III - Kitsune!Male!Reader x Yae Miko

A/N: Finally, eh? I didn't expect this idea to get so popular. This one got quite chonky, 4.5k words, so I decided to post it early and just split things up. This way, you get content early and I get something to look forward to. As for making Reader an actual character, I decided that I will give him the name Fractal when I post it to AO3. Anyway, do enjoy! CW: Light violence, mentions of body modification, mentions of suicide. It's just the aperitif.

Respected Yumemizuki Mizuki,

It has been a while since our last outing, and I cannot help but wonder if you hold a grudge for that jovial bit of teasing regarding the recent customer crisis of your bathhouse. I can only assure you I meant no harm, and pray most piously to the Sacred Sakura for your forgiveness. It was my intention all along to motivate you out of your, do not take offence, rather pathetic state of defeatism. Judging by how the issue was resolved, it seems that my ploy found significant success. Wouldn’t you agree?

Regardless, there is a matter of great importance that happens to require our attention. I am sure the situation regarding a certain destructive white fox has reached your adorable, pointy ears - it is indeed the topic of this letter. You may remember that he was rescued quite recently from the open ocean, but until yesterday, he was rather docile in terms of behavior. His sudden outburst worries me greatly; dark bags under his eyes, seemingly relentless night terrors and his words all lead me to the conclusion that his unprecedented episode of mania is related to his dreams. I will share more details at my home - feel free to visit me at your earliest convenience. Haste would be appreciated as the sedatives will wear off in about a day or so; I believe the opportunity to examine him without resistance will significantly speed up our work. 

If you indeed hold a grudge towards me, I ask you to do it for him, not for me.

Awaiting your visit, 

The Beloved, Beautiful and Powerful Kitsune Guuji of the Narukami Shrine

Yae Miko

That morning, with the warm sun shining down on her, Mizuki was greeted with the sight of soldiers as she approached the Yae estate. The walls around Miko's home towered high but, clearly, proved inefficient at stopping one of her kind. Even if in her heart Mizuki doubted that humans, further slowed by armour, could stop a fox, she acknowledged the reasoning. 

The standing officer nodded as she went past him and further into the courtyard towards the Tengu General, exchanging words with her subordinates. Mizuki stepped up, attracting Sara's attention. 

“Greetings, Yumemizuki Mizuki.” She bows formally, a gesture returned by the newcomer. 

“Good afternoon, general-sama.” 

The soldier bows deeply and walks away, leaving the two women alone. Sara glances towards the building and sighs. 

“I assume you are here for Y/N? He made a lot of hassle, I'm sure you've heard.” The Tengu crosses her arms. “He sneaked between the house staff and left shamelessly through the front gate in his fox form.”

Mizuki nods. “I see. I wonder, if I may… Isn't it too trivial of an incident for you to get personally involved?”

“Not at all. After all, the fox escaped because of the incompetence of Tenryu guards. It's no insignificant matter as the escapee was a kitsune. As you know, they are highly dangerous.”

The doctor frowns. Wasn't Y/N supposed to be docile? From Miko's previous descriptions he sounded more like a traumatised child than a violent one. 

“Was anybody hurt, general?” She asks, looking around for any bandaged or limping soldiers. 

“Hm. Well… Sort of.” Sara clears her throat. “During his extraction from a cave by the beach, two officers tried to take him in by force. Y/N resisted, scratching and biting.”

Sara turns and waves a duo of soldiers closer. “See, despite what Yae Miko told me, not only did they escape with their lives, but also with little to no harm done to them. Show her.”

One of the soldiers passes his spear to the other and, saluting his superior, wraps up his sleeve to reveal… Nothing on his left forearm. Mizuki takes his arm and moves her face closer. There are no obvious marks - no blood, no scars, not even redness of the skin. Eventually, her sharp eyes spot two barely noticeable dents. She runs her fingers over them. It's almost as if this wasn't a bite, but a simple poke with two fingers. 

“That's… Strange.” She mumbles to herself, seeking out more of these bite marks. There are very few, as if the kitsune was playing, not seriously intending to defend himself. “Did he attack you anywhere else?”

“Mhm. Here, on my face.”

Indeed - Mizuki’s eyes quickly found multiple bruises and red lines across the man's right cheek. Again, however, these didn't seem like an honest attempt at doing harm, even superficial. The markings clearly signaled the fox's hands to be the weapon, but he must have had his nails trimmed so significantly that they lost any hardness in them. Was that even possible? 

Mizuki nods. “Thank you, soldiers, general. Is Lady Miko home?”

“She is, waiting for you and keeping an eye on the Yokai. Go in, we shan't keep you here any longer.”

After a brief exchange or parting pleasantries, the women part ways. Mizuki skips up the stairs and places a few polite knocks on the door. Almost instantly it opens, revealing Miko's exhausted, but smiling face. Without a word she moves to the side and motions towards the house’s depths, inviting her guest in. Mizuki enters. 

“What's the situation? How does he feel?” She asks, looking around to guess where Miko is leading her. 

“Asleep”, comes the answer. “The Naku Weed brew will keep him like this for the next three, maybe four hours. We can work in peace.”

Mizuki lifts her perfectly groomed brow. “Isn't that poisonous?”

“Heh. Not at all, for us kitsune at least. This kind of dose would do irreparable damage to the nervous system of most yokai and humans, but our race is more protected against it.” Miko explains, pressing the knob and pushing open the door to your room. “No need to be quiet, he's out.”

Her eyes land on your unconscious body, your back turned on her. The long, grizzly scars carved into your body assault her eyes. Some are new, staring back at her with recently scabbed crimson, but some seem old - so old that their only remnant is a colourless, white line left on uneven skin. Snow-white bandages snake around your torso, some stained with dark, red blood. There are many scratches and sickly-purple bruises across your arms and torso, likely there from your mad dash of an escape. In places untouched by harm, your skin is clean, pristine, so soft that just looking at it feels like caressing velvet. The hair in your head, as white as the bandages, seems to grow messily around two pointy, fox ears, only barely relaxed due to your state. 

“He went through much trouble, I can tell.” Mizuki sits down on one of the chairs facing the bed. “Who is he? A warrior?”

Miko looks down on her hands, tone nonchalant. “Hardly. I'd say that the term… Slave… Would be more descriptive of his life.”

“S-slave…? Yours?” There is surprise, but also worry in the baku’s voice. After all, the wretched act of taking away another's freedom was prohibited for centuries, ever since Makoto came to power. The thought of Miko enslaving one of her kin…

“Not at all. I should feel insulted by the mere notion that I would stoop so low as to chain another, but I'm willing to forgive your ignorance.” Miko's gaze hardens as she looks at her friend. “You don't seem to know the basics of our history.”

“Then, please, enlighten me.”

Miko crosses her arms. “Inazuma was always welcoming towards Yokai, was it not? No matter the age, all of us could find shelter here. Baku, kappa, oni, tengu… Even malicious spirits like umibozu or ningen were left to their devices, provided they did no harm. But to this rule there was an exception. Us, kitsune.”

A sigh escapes her lips. “Before humans settled here, Inazuma was primarily a mess of city-states belonging to Yokai species, constantly warring for influence and territory. Kitsune were, of course, major players. Even a single fox could strike down tens of oni or swat even the most nimble of tengu from the sky. Our power was grand, but so was our thirst for conquest. My kind would have long conquered this land if it weren't for a major burden nature left us with. Kitsune mature slowly, so slowly that replenishing losses took centuries, millennia even. Every war was a blow to our population. Vixen like me bring litters into the world, counting up to seven kits true, but we can't reproduce at will - starvation would quickly set upon us. We knew we were a dwindling race, but we didn't bother changing our disposition.”

The Guuji stands up, starting to walk up and down the room at an even pace as she recounts. “We accumulated hate, curses, hexes. We drowned in evil, but we made light of various nithings and omens. Most of those bad charms were able to be nullified, but the more we turned against our kind, the more powerful our next opponents became. Until one fateful curse befell us.”

Mizuki stays silent, a part of her surprised at Miko's voice growing ever more silent. The next words are spoken with great care, as if to avoid insulting whatever being cast that spell. 

“May your daughters forever weep, for your unborn sons and brothers shall repent for your crimes and writhe in agony within the world below. Plague shall befall your fathers and husbands and brothers and sons until only the ninth remains standing, able to raise his arm in the name of evil.” Miko says, staring out the window. “These words, clear of any hatred towards its foxian killers, were spoken by a dying kirin.” She turns, a somber expression on her face. “Indeed, it is as you think. We, kitsune, murdered a kirin. And we were punished for it.”

You stirr in your drug-induced sleep. Miko quickly comes to your side as you turn on your back. She places a hand on your pale, scarred breast. 

“That day every male was brought to his knees by an illness unlike we saw before. It acted fast, so fast that most weren't able to even go home, let alone get help. Choking to death on their own blood, clutching their throats with veiny, purple hands, they fell and died on the street, corpses soon littering every corner. They died in agony and panic, no matter who they were - a soldier, a hunter, a doctor, a farmer… All paid for something our entire race was responsible for. Not even children were spared… They… Died the quickest. Newborns died in their cribs while infants spasmed in their mother's wombs. As it said - the majority of our dogs died, leaving the nation’s vixens in maddening grief. Only one in nine males survived, and each was only decades old… Far too young to hold a spear.”

She continues, stroking your hair. “In a matter of years our society plummeted into disarray. From the lack of engineers to keep our cities whole to a dreadful absence of warriors to fend off other, vengeful races. A male birth was an event so grand that entire towns came to greet the kit. We crumbled into dust, gradually pushed back to the brink of extinction, saved only by the coming of Makoto who chose to enforce peace between the Yokai.”

Her hands roam around to yours, her index finger stroking the bruises and scratches around your wrists. “Dogs became previous. They had to be protected, at all costs. We kept them inside, we monitored their every step, rushed to their side with medicine at the smallest cough. Their extinction meant our end - we couldn't allow that. Us vixen took it to heart so much that, over the centuries, males went from priceless treasure to slaves. To goods, like gold or the purest jewels. They were trained from birth to obey, forced into a rigorous training regiment to remain healthy and appealing to their owners, and sold when the time came - for Mora or political favours. Some vixens treated their dogs well, while some enjoyed torturing them for their sick entertainment; but no matter the personal preference, we sent them a clear message - they weren't people.”

Both women remain silent; Mizuki takes in her friend's words while Miko grips your wrists gently, clenching her teeth. For what they did to you, they deserved to be treated likewise. They deserved to be fed from a bowl, to be fed raw meat, to be assaulted whenever their captors wished. To have their clothes, their children, their dignity, their foxhood stripped away. 

“They deserve to be treated like animals. For what they did.” She hisses through her teeth, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. Helplessness. 

“Hm?” Mizuki shakes her head out of deep thought and asks. 

“Nevermind.” Milo sighs. “There is a reason, Mizuki, that even the benevolent and kind Makoto could not bare to see what we were doing to them. She ordered our race to cease our barbarity or be gone from this land. The answer to what happened next should be obvious - most of us, noblewomen and mistresses with their entourages, families, entire clans even, left. Some of us stayed. I was, for example, abandoned at just three years of age during the exodus. Those that remained took me in, raised me to be who I am today. Our matron Hakushin was one of the fair few who did not choose to participate in this cruelty and tried to fight back when we were exiled, to wrench at least one male from the claws of her kin. Kitsune Guuji chose to live a childless life of chastity in the name of those crushes in our claws. And she failed.”

“I see. I'm… I can't even imagine what he went through. How old is he?” The baku asks. 

“Six hundred years old. Can you picture that? Six centuries of slavery, torture, rape. Six centuries of being fed like a canine, kicked away or being forced upon. Six centuries… Tens of litters, either pried from your hands or never allowed to be there in the first place. A living nightmare. A hell that, for him, was reality.” She raises up and turns back towards Mizuki. “As for what he'd been through, we shall see.”

The woman freezes. What? Surely, Miko wouldn't be willing to metaphorically crowbar his mind open and see inside…

“Oh my, I can tell what's going on inside your head, Mizuki. Are you perhaps thinking I would violate his privacy without proper cause?” Miko turns, her gloomy expression now replaced with a light smirk. “Whoever do you take me for?”

Mizuki stands up and crosses her arms. “Sure, sure. I know you have a reason, but we'll see if it's convincing enough. I never force myself into any mind, and I wouldn't make an exception for you.”

“I understand. Let me tell you, then, why this course of action is not only the best, but also the necessary one. I doubt you understand the true scale of his mind's corruption. If things were, indeed, less severe, I would have just waited for him to rest and taken him to the bath house.”

Miko leans over you and places a hand over your forehead, checking the temperature. It's normal, making her breathe a sigh of relief. 

“When I caught up to him and had the rickety old house he hid in surrounded, I went in on my own. I didn't want to scare him, you see. Y/N pounced on me from the ceiling wielding a rusty knife. I shielded myself, making him fly across the room like a rag, collapsing into some shelves. He didn't surrender though - he rose up, coughing, and attacked me with his bare hands. I had to push back yet again, but this time he fell and did not strike again. Instead, I saw tears in his eyes. The words he spoke are why you are here.”

—

“Ugh…” You clutch your chest, trying in vain to stop the blunt ache from spreading across your body. The dust and sand raised by the commotion gets into your lungs - you cough. Her pink hair pierces through the colourless cloud of dust, slowly coming closer. 

Your hand desperately pats your closest surroundings in search of a weapon. Nothing. 

“Calm down, please.” She speaks, raising both her hands in an attempt to look less threatening. But you know these tricks like the back of your hand. Even the softest of tones can carry the most hateful of words. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“Liar! Do you think I'm… Ah… Stupid enough to believe you?!” You crawl back but soon feel the woodworm-chewed wood of the hut against your skin. There is no way out, but you won't go quietly. “What is this new torture? Did you find my screams and pleads boring enough for you to invade my dreams too? Do you think that you infesting my waking life is not enough?!”

She stops, her hands lowering. You can't see her face through the dust-caused tears, but she looks… disoriented. A soft “what” reaches your ears. 

“So that's how it is, Matsui. If you think you can fool me with a simple change of face and name, you're wrong. And if you think you can rape my mind too, you're mistaken! This is my dream, I have the power here! And I can do whatever I want. I can kill you. Or I can kill myself.” You look around, spotting a dusty razor blade, half-buried under the debris. You make sure not to look at it directly. “You may hurt me in the physical world, but you won't hurt me in the only safe haven I have left. Fuck you!”

Leaping forward towards the weapon, you quickly feel your body freeze in mid air. Thin, purple lightning wraps around your wrists, arms, ankles… You're stuck. You wiggle your fingers, desperately trying to reach your way out. Your proof of agency. Your display that you can influence what happens to you, that you’re not a mindless object. This simple tool that will break her toy once and for all. 

But regardless of your desires, Miko snares you with her elemental powers, just short of the razor. An ancient painting of helplessness and dread. 

“I hate you! I hate you!” You scream, ears folding in rage. “I hate you and everything you stand for!”

Miko doesn’t respond. She simply does not know if any word could convey the feelings brewing in her mind; neither the confusion about the reason for your outburst, nor the astonishment at just what came out of your mouth, are expressible. She observes you as your malnourished body trembles with rage, with hate. Vitriol rolls freely off your tongue. You call her every single insult you know in a hopeless attempt to… Scare her, make her back off, make her react somehow. The silence confuses you… Does she not want to kick you into shutting up? Your futile resistance against the bindings falters, wrath turning into hopeless sadness. Yet again you feel tears rolling down your face. 

“H-hate you… W-why…”

Your body is lowered back onto the floor and you immediately fall limp. The world, your past, your future and your present overwhelm your senses. You don’t want this, you never did. You didn’t plead in the face of Gods to let you come into this world, experience neither the pleasures, nor the pains of what surrounds you. You cannot deal with this yourself. You cannot be a hero. You cannot be an example that it’s possible, that you can endure anything and live on. You’re weak. 

So weak and witless that you can’t even kill yourself. 

You hear her shuffle closer to you. Normally you would move away from her, dodge her touch as best as you could. But this time your hands wrap around her loose sleeves and pull them closer. Before long your face nuzzles into her chest, attempting to hide from the world, even behind the one that hurt you so much. She strokes your hair, softly speaking to you in an attempt to ease your nerves, fruitlessly. Because, sobbing, you realise why you cling onto her so much. Even after she broke your tails, even after she broke your ribs, branded you, starved and humiliated and assaulted and belittled and objectified you. 

It’s because you have nobody else. 

Only her. Only Matsui. 

—

Mizuki listens intently to Miko’s report, her mind already picking apart your words and analysing it for potential basis. Her conclusions come swiftly and decidedly. 

“Derealisation”, she says. “Clear signs of post traumatic stress disorders, suicidal ideation and rock-bottom self esteem. Nod-Krai syndrome.”

“I’m unfamiliar with that. What does it mean?” Miko sits by your side, eyes boring into your unconscious face with a vague, hateful expression. She wants to hug you, shelter you from the world like she did just hours ago. But she would much more tear out the throat of Matsui, whoever she was - sky kitsune or a lowly fox, it did not matter. 

“Nod-Krai was conquered by the Cryo Archon, who quickly began decisive repressions against the local culture and ethnic identity.” Mizuki explains. “However, thanks to circumstances, local power play and propaganda, the native people of the land became thankful and loyal to their oppressor, the destroyer of altars and the murderer of entire villages. In the same exact way, Y/N seems to cling to Matsui - in this case, believing you’re her in disguise, despite everything she did to him in the past.”

Miko clenches her other hand, keeping the one on your shoulder soft and open. She nods. “I understand.”

There’s a moment of silence before the baku picks up the conversation. 

“Would you let me examine him?” She stands up. “I might not be a trained medic, but I think I can pick up some things you might have missed.”

The other woman, having shaken off the gloom of her memory, sends her friend a playfully indignant expression. 

“With respect to your own skill, Lady Guuji.” 

Miko smiles. “Ah, such compliments. In that case, you may have a look.”

Mizuki nods in thanks and takes the spot just freed by her host. Your defences seemed rather timid - the reason could be simple restraint or mercy, but judging by Miko’s accounts of your mistrust and paranoia, something else was at play. She guides her finger closer to your lips and carefully lifts up your lip, revealing perfectly tended, pristine teeth. Upon a closer look, she notices what exactly stands out among them. 

“His canines. They are filed down, see?” She opens your jaw a little, revealing just how even your teeth are, deprived of the four points in the corners. “The ends are imperfectly flat and there are small chips on the inside of each tooth. It could have been done with a simple nail file… I barely see red, meaning they must have been fairly long before.”

Ignoring the chills running down her spine from the mental image for curiosity’s sake, Miko leans in to get a better look. “Isn’t the pulp inside the entire tooth?”

“It is.” Mizuki nods. “But here it has a large circumference, meaning this is the base of the tooth.” Her own teeth hurt as if in solidarity with yours. “By the Shogun, I pray he wasn’t awake for this…”

Miko refrains from speaking to avoid words unbefitting of the Guuji slipping from her lips. The psychologist’s eyes wander down to your hands. The sight of perfectly clipped nails, so much so that they end with not the thinnest of white lines, seems odd to her. Surely after an extensive journey to Narukami Island by sea, and presumably no manicure from Miko, they would have grown even a little bit. She takes your left index finger into her hand and pauses right away. The nail… It’s not tough. To verify her suspicion, she scratches at it with her own fingernails, only to find that they meet no resistance. What’s more, something brown flakes off. Mizuki does this some more and proceeds to gather up the shavings onto her palm, turning around and presenting it to Miko. 

“Can you please tell me what they smell like?” She asks. “I touched his fingernails and they flaked off.”

Without question, Miko lifts Mizuki’s hand up to her nose and takes a careful whiff.

“Hm…” She muses. “His scent, sweat and… Leather? Yes. Tanned leather, the sort used for shoes.”

“Then it is just as I had feared. Miko, I think he’s been… Declawed, in a manner of speaking.” She presses your fingers into her arms, as hard as she can, but she feels no toughness digging into her skin. 

Miko’s heart begins to beat faster. “Declawed? Like a cat, you say? How is that even possible if he is in human form? Human nails grow all the time…”

“That’s a good question. I’d guess that the techniques they used to subdue dogs became advanced enough to do that. Even if it’s impossibly cruel… It’s impressive.” She shows your hand to Miko. “These painted strips of leather do look like normal fingernails.”

Your caretaker glances at your hand, then back at your peaceful face. It seems like your owners didn’t like their toy having any capability to fight back, or just show displeasure. Like a cat that paws anybody in defence or a dog, biting its cruel owner, you were stripped of your natural defences. She can already imagine it wasn’t enough - judging by how you acted, they tried to remove your very instinct to oppose and protect yourself. If not for this episode of confusion between dreams and the waking world, would she never see you fight back? Never see you refuse, stand your ground, all because whatever you could use was taken away and your mind was washed with cruelty and abuse to be unable to comprehend consent, self-preservation?

Most importantly…

Was this done to you right away, or as punishment…?

“I want to know. I want to see what he experienced.” Miko says, her brow furrowing. “He might not be able to tell me, but I must know. I must understand.”

Mizuki nods. “Give me a moment. We’ll see soon enough.”

In Miko’s gaze, resting on your limp, nailless, tortured hand, there is a promise. 

She’s coming for you. 

She’ll pick up the pieces and put you back together, however shattered you might be. 

Thanks for reading!

Smalltown!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfamily: Part One - Rewrite

A/N: I got stuck on the action scenes in Part Nine and decided Hey, I should rewrite the earlier parts since my writing has improved. Only to realized, a lot of shit went down in those earlier parts. lol. help. This is 4.6k words and I have to make into two parts because so much happened.

Link to the Original Part One.

Warning: Parental Death, talks of grief, Bruce being an obsessive and cryptic mf, Alfred being a bit delulu, attempted GN!Reader.

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You had a happy childhood. You know that. You've always known that. People had repetitively said it to you. Over and over again. Blessed. Lucky. Privileged. Not just with material things, but with affection and talents. And, it seemed to increase as you got older and the circle of people you interacted with slowly began to expand and bubble around you. Sure there were some struggles. Some terrifying and suffocating moments. But, life was good.

You were quite serious as a child when you were told to be grateful for what you had. You'd say that mind et helped you retain some level of humility. But, in reality, you were grateful because you were selfish and didn't want to lose what you had. Not even for something better. You had enough. You could make the rain fall or the sunshine or even make a snowman on a hot summer day. And, you were loved. What more could you want?

The children's stories about being greedy stuck with you. So, being a little selfish was fine, but being greedy was not.

Besides, there was nothing to be greedy for. You had loving parents, lived in a wonderful community. Fresh air, good food, good clothes. An annoying, but lovable little brother.

Life was practically perfect.

I mean, sure, you had to live with the knowledge that Daddy wasn't your real father. It wasn't something that had been hidden from you. You knew, you were told. He loved you all the same and spoiled you almost as much as he did your Momma.

The way he loved you was without question. You might have thought he would have been weirded out when you discovered you were a meta, but out of everyone in the town and in the family, he had been your rock. He'd been the one to sit with you when you struggled not to make it rain in the house. When you accidentally shot off lighting when you sneezed. When your crush said you looked cute and a snow flurry followed you around for three days.

But, there was the fact that you just wanted to know who it was. Daddy even agreed that you should have been told who the man was. Not that even he knew. He didn't care about knowing who the man was. He'd probably just thank him for giving him such a blessing before containing to enjoy his easy going life.

You weren't greedy with it. In fact, you had dropped the topic after months of asking.

So why did everything fall apart if you didn't commit the sin of greed?

Why were you standing over two graves in the back of the family property surrounded by your loving town?

You couldn't muster the will to let rain fall. Rain was your delight. A delight you shared with Momma and Daddy. With them gone, seemed the only thing to fall was you and Lukie-boy's tears.

Condolences and condolences. You knew everyone meant well, but right now all you wanted was to curl up in Momma and Daddy's bed with your little brother and bury yourself under the covers. Just pretend this was a nightmare.

You didn't care that you were almost an adult, the grief left you feeling strangely like a child.

Nana had taken over most of the proceedings. While Granddaddy kept you and Luke close. You couldn't stop yourself from leaning into him. Being reminded to the silently way Daddy would hold you. Nana had a tendency to be overbearing and she was even more so today as she fluttered about Luke and you with concern.

You had to remind yourself she was also burying her son, and that made you hold back your tongue and most of your tears.

It wasn't until everyone moved back to the church building for some food that you felt the shift in the atmosphere. One you know you hadn't caused yourself with your lack of energy at the moment.

There was a man. He wore a sharply fitted black suit. Faintly you heard Mae mutter that it was Tom Ford in the same tone she used when speaking about her fabric and bugs.

You didn't recognize him. In fact, no one seemed to recognize him. That was until you really looked at him and you meet his gaze with your own solemn one.

Everyone said you were a sweet child. But, Mae was your best friend and she had little filter on her thoughts. And, you recall what she had said to you once after that long forgotten incident in the bayou a few years back.

"When you frown, when your eyes narrow, when your nose wrinkles in anger and annoyance, you're entire face reminds me of a dark and stormy night. Like from the stories. Even when your eyes glow, there's a shadow sometimes."

You had seen what she was talking about in the mirror once. Had wondered who it was you had gotten that from. It wasn't from Momma, or MawMaw, or Gab. But, you remember the way your Momma would sometimes look at you when you got like that. The way she'd poke your sides until it went away or held you close until it melted it off.

You didn't know who you got it from back then.

You did now.

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Bruce had hoped this day would come, but not like this. Not in a way that felt like history repeating it's self once more.

Two people dead, but this time two children left.

He wasn't even meant to get the call from what he knew. It was an accident. Something he was grateful for when he pushed that DNA test on Adeline all those years ago. A social worker, fresh to the field, called the manor. Luckily, Alfred had picked up the call. And, right when Bruce had walked down the steps, nearly missing the last one when he saw the expression on his face. One he has seen a few times before.

"Yes, he's just come down. I'll inform him myself, and he will be there promptly. No, no, travel will not be an issue. Thank you, Ma'am. Have a pleasant evening." The elderly man's voice remained stoic and composed, but Bruce watched him lean all his weight onto the decades old accent table enough for him to hear both, the bones of his Butler and the table, creek.

Alfred pressed a hand to his face, only letting out a sigh when he wanted to curse. Curse the word. Curse the Wayne name, curse the blood. Just scream at the cursed world. But, he didn’t.

He couldn't even bring himself to look at Bruce. His son. Knowing that this would break another piece of him once more.

"Ms. Adeline and her husband have passed."

Bruce's reaction is immediate as he moves in a rush. "The children-"

"Alive and well. Or, as well as they may be, all things considered," Alfred manages to finally take a weary breath before letting out an exhausted exhale.

"Drunk driver. Ms. Adeline and her husband had been on a date that evening. The children had been home. They pulled the car from one of the swamps this morning after a fisherman spotted it. It- It appears Ms. Adeline was rendered unconscious during the crash. And, Mr. Anderson drowned trying to unbuckle her." The old butler manages to keep a slightly even tone when speaking. Relaying the information he managed to garnish from the young social worker.

For Bruce it was a tragic sigh of relief. You were alright, but not alright. Tragedy had struck you, but not taken you.

"I'll be leaving to get-"

"The young Jean-Luc is already set to stay with his grandparents. But, the courts deemed you fit to take custody of our-" Alfred coughs, catching himself.

"Understood." Bruce grits his teeth. He doesn't want to separate siblings, but maybe you being around your other siblings will be enough. Besides, he can petition for custody. Surely an elderly couple would prefer their grandson stay with his closest relative?"

"I'll have my secretary arrange a flight out and clear my schedule. We need to cover all press leaks as well." Batman was in control now, already coming up with a plan and mentally coming up with a new patrol roster for the coming few days while he heads towards the cave.

"Alfred, prepare a room for them, please." He also asks, knowing the older man would need something to do unless Bruce wanted him to nearly exhaust himself by cleaning the manor top to bottom.

"Which room, sir?"

Bruce pauses to consider the options in the manor. Most of the rooms having been filled by the others or are in need of repair.

But, one does pop into mind.

"The Madam's Room."

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During the flight to that little backwater town in Louisiana, Bruce passes the time with his own thoughts. It's only a four hour flight by private jet, but, for a man like him, playing with the thoughts in his head can be dangerous.

The 'what if's linger in his mind. The few times he's allowed himself to stare at you through the screen of the Bat computer on your birthday. The occasional way he'd let his eye's linger on Adeline. Noting how she's aged like wine. How she remained soft and warm in each image and her only wrinkles were faint and clearly from sunshine and laughter. Faintly he could hear it echo even now. The throaty sound added to the list of things that haunt him.

Sometimes his eyes would linger on Jean-Luc in those rare instances. The boy an exact replica of his mother, with her warm brown eyes and curls. Sometimes, he'd pretend they were dark blue like his own. But, only for a second before he wiped to computer's hard drive and replaced it with another one.

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Your feelings over the entire matter were… complicated. You certainly didn’t expect to find out your biological father was one of THE richest men in the entire world.

But, it was just such an odd situation.

You had wondered about him, yes. But, you didn’t want to leave everything behind in your hometown.

Nana had thrown an absolute fit about him taking you. It was almost terrifying to watch the sweet woman you loved practically spittle with rage. Though in her defense, he had offered to take Lukie-boy too. Like an added bonus. Apparently he collected orphans judging from your quick google search in the bathroom after his arrival. Guess that means you fit his criteria now.

You had flinched when he’d done that. You understood he was trying to keep the two of you together - you did appreciate that, but the dirt over Momma and Daddy’s graves had barely settled before he’d made the offer in that almost posh accent of his.

It had soured things a bit, but you tried. You had tried.

Reassuring Nana that you’d call her every week helped her cope a bit. Telling her you’d promise to keep her updated helped soothe her some. And, asking her that she help by just focusing on Luke seemed to bring her back to reality.

Though she did grumble and get that terrifying look in her eyes when your family lawyer, one of the town residence explained that a new social worker had made the call to him accident. That same look that made Momma weary and Daddy's face age. But, they weren't here any more so there was only you to watch with furrowed brows.

Instead you hugged Luke, kissed his curls like Momma used to only to the be pulled into tight embraces and firm grips by nearly everyone you knew before boarding the private jet with your father.

It felt weird to say father.

Daddy was dead. Drowned and buried and in the dirt. Yet, here was your father. You didn't want to replace Daddy.

You also didn’t know how to react. How to handle this new father. And, you guess neither did he. Since for the first two hours of your flight to Gotham city, the man was completely silent. So instead you decided to look for similarities. Already you found one.

Momma had a thing for the quite type, you decided.

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Bruce couldn't really bring himself to say anything. To see you in person finally after all the years, made something in him break and the pieces collide back together suddenly. He's seen still shots with the highest quality imaging. Videos and audios with the best equipment money could by or he could create.

But, there was something different about watching you breath and blink in real life. No need to rewind and watch the footage again. To pretended he was there in those moments. He had you here beside him now. His baby.

And, you were beautiful.

Just as beautiful to him as you were in the first image he'd received of you in that clear hospital nursery cradle. He stands by his previous thoughts. You had his mother's eyes. And, now grown you had even more of his mother's features, blended together with your own mother, of course. Something he strangely found himself grateful for. A small reminder that he had once held a softer woman once. Even if he ended up letting her go.

But, he was afraid. This was a different fear than when he was introduced to Damian. Damian had been a surprised, not entirely un-welcomed. But, Bruce knew Damian was expecting Batman as his father. You were expecting Bruce Wayne. And, Bruce Wayne as a father didn't exist.

The media may say otherwise, but it was an act. And, he couldn't give you an act. He wouldn't. He wasn't going to lie to you. But, he needed you to be safe. Especially now. Especially when you had such sad eyes and a frown like his own on your face from a loss he deeply understood, but couldn't help you with. Not in the way you needed. Your hands were far to delicate for justice.

He'd already made plans to track down the driver that knocked Adeline and her husband into the bayou as you called it. He could see the way you shudder and how your eyes would water each time your mother and step-father's drowning was mentioned. Something he desperately wanted to ask about. A fear he could sense that he so deeply wanted to understand.

Instead, he finally broke his silence after you both were halfway to Gotham.

"Don't worry about being introduced to everyone right away. I want you to take some time to get acclimated to the Manor. Settle in a bit and find a new routine." He finally said, hiding the rough raw emotions he was feeling from sheer will power.

"I appreciate it, sir." Hearing you drawl even though your voice was hoarse was something Bruce found himself taking a deep breath over. Letting it sink in.

"You don't have to call me 'sir'. I know you have manners and all that, but you can call me," Father, Dad - give him the title he desperately wants, "Bruce. If you'd prefer."

"Understood, sir-- I mean, Bruce." You trail off, awkwardly. The silence filling the air. The jet was clearly one of the fancier breeds, considering you couldn't even hear the engines and use them as white noise.

"Um, what's Gotham like?" You finally decided to ask. Crossing your ankles in and attempt to relax while your eyed drift towards him again.

His eyes strangely seem to light up at your question, though a frown tugs at his lips.

"It is, in short summary, dangerous. There a lot of crime in the city. You'll defiantly be staying in the manor after dark."

You try ignore how he's instantly ordering you around. Like your not seventeen. Like you didn't just leave a loving home where you were allowed to float on the breeze through the bayou's trees at whatever hour you pleased. Things were going to be different, and you'd accept that. For now.

"What's the manor like?" You decided to ask instead. Concluding it was a fairly safe question.

"Oh, I think you'll like it." Was all he said while smiling warmly.

Already you wanted to smack him. You wanted conversation, not to talk to a damn cryptic.

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You should’ve taken Bruce’s ambiguous nature at face value for what your life was about to become.

Quite.

You wouldn’t have minded too much, if it wasn’t for the fact that you were stuck inside Wayne Manor while Bruce got all the paperwork set up for your fancy new school and the fact that he wanted to ease you into things at a snails pace.

Though you wouldn’t forget about the overwhelming nature of the entire situation. Looking up at the veritable brick castle of multiple styles you’d seen throughout decades of different architectural trends. The only comment you had gotten from him when you asked about it was that it had been in the Wayne family for over a century while he smiled proudly. Like that single sentence was enough to fill the silence.

You didn’t like silence.

Even when you were alone, you liked to listen. To music, to the wind, to raindrops, to the cicadas and crickets chirping back home. Not hollow echoing silence.

What made it worse was that Bruce practically disappeared after he introduced you to the family butler. A kindly old man that already gave you a fond look as you toddled after like a helpless newborn duck still learning how to swim and trying not to drown. His smile growing even wider when you asked your polite questions about the history of the manor, wanting to feel some familiarity if you were going to be stuck in these dark wood paneled hallways with red carpets.

Apparently, the house castle was built in the Colonial period. Fascinating, when were the gargoyles added then? Keep talking, please. You didn’t want to deal with thoughts of your grief and loneliness.

It was up two flights of stairs that you really got hit with the reality of your situation.

You remember the soft greens and earthy tones your mother was fond off when decorating your childhood home. The white trim that caught the light from the windows. The light oak wood floor that somehow felt softer than the carpets here. Even in the shadowed corners the most dangerous thing you’d find was a dust bunny. Your own room filled with dusty blues and soft whites and greys like a cloudy sky.

Here, you were hit with RED.

So much red. Dark floral wallpaper, that you’d admit was gorgeous in its vividness. But, it almost overwhelmed you. Not even the cream colored sheets and curtains could make it any less underwhelming.

“This is the Madam’s Room. Primarily, it’s been used as a closet and dressing room by previous ladies of the house. An example being your late-grandmother. I’ve taken the liberty of having her portrait hung over the mantel with your great-grandmother also having her portrait in here as well.” You couldn’t even be upset by the hint of pride in the man’s voice. The room was beautiful, tastefully decorated. Charming. Sophisticated. Historical. A million different of fancy words. But, it wasn’t home.

“Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth, sir.” You murmured looking around the room while giving him your best attempt at a smile.

Your eyes catching the aforementioned portrait over the fireplace. The breath in your chest catching. Everyone always said you looked like Momma just with different eyes and a few other little things. They didn’t feel so little now. You looked too much like the woman in the portrait. Way too much like her.

“My own room is right across the hall in case you need anything else, my dear. Please, do not hesitate to ask. And, most importantly, you are more than welcome to call me Alfred.” You snap out of your thoughts and let your manners take over, smiling politely and nodding along.

“Thank you, Mr. Alfred, sir. I most appreciate it.” You hide behind a grateful tone that seems to make him look at you with an even fonder expression.

“I’ll let you to get settled in then, my dear. Feel free to add your own touches and take it easy. Everyone else is out of the manor at the moment so don’t worry about having to entertain any questions for the time being.”

God, you’d rather answer the most invasive questions in existence than be alone right now in such an unfamiliar place. But, you smile anyway.

“Thank you, again. I really do appreciate it, sir.” Are your finally words before your left alone and the thoughts creep in.

It isn’t until you’re unpacking a few of the little things you grabbed from your room and the clothes that don’t even begin to fill the closet that it hits you. Your little happy lightning cloud pillow looking like a children’s toy on the pillows. It technically is one, but seeing it makes you realize you don’t really feel like a child anymore. Though you still cling to it as you cry softly.

You don’t bother causing it to rain.

Instead, it’s noted by those on patrol, how that particular Gotham night is unusually warm.

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Alfred felt unfortunately blessed. Bruce wanted to ease the poor child into life in Gotham, but just from how overwhelmed they were he could tell it was not going to be like any of them expected things to go.

But, it was nice. Pleasant to have someone that just wanted to lightly talk without the long history of patching up their skin and mending their bones to contact them. He would admit he thought often of Martha.

Alfred could easily conclude he was growing sentimental. But, he excused that. It was common at his age. Instead he just enjoyed your company while Bruce had the rest of the family hold back their introductions.

Though really. Bruce’s antics were a little less amusing this time around. Waiting until you were in the house and settled into bed before abruptly calling a family meeting to announce your presence? He doesn’t blame the others for being outraged. They should have at least been informed before you arrived. Though, he supposed it was for the best. It would have to do now, regardless.

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“Alright, B-man. What’s this about? No one’s escaped Arkham, and I have Alfred’s birthday marked on my phone’s calendar. So this better be important.” Jason had sat back in one of the caves chairs, possibly Tim’s judging from how he kept giving him a dirty look for creating his feet near some tech junk on the metal counter in front of him.

“What about the rest of our birthday’s?” Steph had to ask, grinning at him from her own perch next to weapons rack.

“Not as important.” Jason dismissed with a wave of his hand causing her to snicker. Duke also chuckled from his own seat, before sat more at attention. Or, at least as much as he could considering he was just about to head out on patrol.

"Didn't include your own birthday in that?" Dick quipped back, stretching the tension from his shoulders after the drive from Bludhaven. He had also picked up Barbara on the way which had added extra time. She had her chair rolled up to one of the tables where Cass was sitting cross legged on.

Only Cass wasn't in a joking mood, she was to busy observing Bruce. Noting the flickers of multiple contradictory emotions in him. Damian's eyes drifted towards her from where he stood at attention. Already suspicion brewing in his gaze at what she could possibly be reading from the family's patriarch.

“Does this have anything to do with that guest your brought to the manor?” Barbara eventually asked, catching everyone’s attention before their heads swiveled to Bruce. A guest meant they had to be careful in the manor, or at least above ground. Below it things were clear to run like normal.

“Great.” Stephanie said dryly, “How long are we going to be running like this?”

“A while.” Bruce finally answered after a moment. For once feeling out of his depth to explain this. As Alfred walking into the cave, he knew it was time.

“I believe they’re asleep now. The poor dear seemed exhausted.” The older man said while taking a seat himself, his eyes solemn and soft.

In a room of raised detectives they caught the look and the way Bruce was acting.

“Really, Father? Another stray? Thomas was bad enough don’t you.” Damian comments with little heat behind his words while Duke gives him a look of mock outrage.

“This one isn’t a stray.” Bruce admits, knowing that Damian was about to take this the hardest.

“You flew to Louisiana for them. A bit far for your usual route?” Barbara questions already rolling away from the table and towards him.

“Did you finally sign up for one of those adoption websites and get an alert?” Jason scoffed a bit.

“No. They aren’t adopted. They’re my biological child. Officially.” He finally announced, wanting to get the worst of it out of the way.

That seemed to stun everyone for a moment. However, Dick was the first to recover. Catching how serious Bruce was being. “Bruce, is this another Damian?”

Damian bristled at the question, but knew Dick didn’t mean anything harmful by it. However his breath did catch when it was Alfred that answered.

“No, Master Bruce was informed of their birth and subsequently had a DNA test done years previous.”

That made everyone’s heads spin. But, not as much as Damian’s.

“You knew about them and, you never told me?” He had meant to say ‘us’, but this was different. This was a blood matter. And, while he knew blood didn’t truly matter to make a family, it did forge a connection between people willing or unwillingly.

“Hold on, is this from the worst of your playboy days?” Barbara asked, trying to wrap her head around it.

“Yes. But, it was a particular woman. None of you meat her, except Jason.”

Heads and eyes and ears turned to him instead, watching for his reaction.

“Don’t look at me, he went through like fifteen women—“

“It was Adeline.”

Oh.

Jason remembered her. Hell, he had actually liked her. She lasted about three weeks longer than all the others. And, she was softer, warmer, with a drawl that he sometimes imagined reading to him. She hadn’t tried to be motherly to him, but it was clear to him she could’ve been. She could’ve been a lot of things.

But, Bruce had thought her too sweet and too good. And, had let her go. Jason had been sad about it. But, not distraught. It really was for the best, he'd thought. She had been to good for Bruce.

However, if he knew one thing, her kid probably had the best childhood in existence. And, away from Bruce to boot.

“The Cajun and Creole southern belle.” Was all he commented, drawing a few raised brows.

“With a bit more... spice than we anticipated. She had won full custody of their child while Bruce had been on a league mission.” Alfred added to the subject. Making Tim whistle a bit.

“Oh, damn. Those lawyers must have been good.” Was all he could find himself adding to the tense conversation.

“So, they’re… normal?” Was Stephanie next inquiry. Already feeling that spark of jealousy in her chest. A normal childhood only to end up with Bruce as your surprise dad? Talk about winning the genetic lottery.

“Yes. They’re ‘normal’. I don’t want them involved with any of our night work. Everyone is to keep it under wraps.”

“Until?”

“There is no until. Keep it under wraps.”

It was then everyone realized, Bruce was willing to throw away their entire routines and make their jobs more stressful just for this person. A person he saw fit not to trust any of them with. A person he was prioritizing over them, and possibly over the mission.

And, that pissed off more than a few of them.

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Taglist:

@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury @lilyalone @addie-r-u-ok @space1crow @imaginarydreams @dhanyasri @rosalietodd013 @rissareader @rando2509 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @interobanginyourmom @heyitsaloy @myanyan-me @animegoddess15 @resident-cryptid @schaarfyx @skwunkler @erikasurfer @enchantingarcadecreation @redkarmakai @be3b0o @couldeatthatgirlforlunch @ratchetprime211 @labryel @kawaii-cakes @linaisadream @vanessa-boo @m0063576 @oooof-ifellforyou @minkyungseokie @theseustimes @the-ruler-of-death @blueberry19000 @ghostdoodlen @victxria024 @nebulousmoon3990 @bad4amficideas @momentomoribitch @heyitsaloy @grossstinkygoblin @sg-obsessedfreak @anakilusmos @alittletiredcry @stargirl404 @bath1lda @kittzu @numbu5 @stickyricewithmangosauce @twismare @atanukileaf @nommingonfood @bunniotomia @jensenacklestoothpick @jellystar-star

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A/N: Sooooo, what we think? Improvement, I hope? Don't worry, the neglected bits are coming and Yandere bs going to begin. I'm just tightening things up a bit.

A/N: Here's my Ko-Fi link. (My husband encouraged me to make it for diet coke, my weakness.)

Hi! Sorry if this is weird or anything, this is my first time sending an ask lol

But I just finished reading your writing about the singer/influencer reader and omfg I love your brain. Like imagine the reader did a cover of/wrote like spit in my face by ThxSoMch or Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott (love her sm btw-) cause just imagine the GUILTTT

Imagine the Batfam listening to their music and just hearing the bitterness in their voice as they sing “Screwing everything up, doing everything wrong, In my defence I wasn’t supposed to be around this long, so” HGDECANZZKNFBVD

Anyway, I love your writing and I hope you have an absolutely amazing week! Take care of yourself too- drink water, eat some food and try to get some sleep ml <3

Nah anon you're cool. I love reading asks. ALSO credits to Luludelulusramblings, they made the originally made Influencer reader. Batfam belongs to DC as usual. Singer reader post: here

You know, in the Art History year 1901-1904, Picasso started the Blue Period where he only painted in the shades of Blue. It started due to the death of his friend, later his financial struggles, and of course the current state of the society. Blue Period art was so good but so doleful and depressing that no one wants to hang it in their house. Singer! Reader started their career covering mainstream songs, band songs, maybe even vocaloid. 

Their blue period started months before they planned to leave the manor. It was a simple cover of MARINA’s ‘Are you satisfied?’ A lot of burnt out overachievers ate that cover, even Tim himself. The song is basically the reader questioning the Wayne last name. Sure it was a goldmine to others but to them it’s a ticket to misery. One song cover turned into many song covers, enough to make a long playlist to play at 3 a.m. when you’re about to have a breakdown. 

The whole playlist? Batfam avoids it because it reminds them of the times they could have been giving you love but they didn’t BUT at the same time they can’t really avoid it. It became like those guilty pleasures playlist. Damian loves and hates reader’s ‘The Family Jewels’ cover because it reminds him of the fact that he and the reader are basically on the same boat. They were just children who needed attention and love. He got that attention and love immediately because of the whole league of assassins backstory. He won’t admit it but the weight of the role weighs like tonnes of iron on his shoulders. 

Jason, Bruce and Cigarette Ahegao will roll together so much. That man has twice the amount of trauma Bruce had and his coping mechanism sucks. All the aggressiveness was just a coping mechanism, underneath he’s a man with conflicted feelings and those years of being dead and suddenly being resurrected didn’t help. Let’s face it Bruce is a tired man who lives a double life. He's a man who dresses up like as a bat making sure the city is safe but he can't cover all grounds. The neglect on reader was unintentional but neglect is neglect.

Dick with reader’s cover of ‘Stressed out’ by Twenty one pilots, no explanation needed. ‘This is me trying’ by Taylor Swift with Cassandra, Stephanie, and Tim. Cassandra and Stephanie being raised by villains and Tim being an overachiever to have his parent’s attention. His parents being always away and realizing he basically did the same thing to the reader by making them feel invisible. 

Double guilt if they left the playlist on autoplay and ‘Daddy issues’ plays. Any version but I think the original fits the bill. Reader ends their blue period with a cover of Mother Mother’s ‘Burning Pile’ basically saying ‘Yeah fuck it, it’s over. I’m burning it, I’m leaving it, I’m closing the chapter’. But to the Batfamily, it meant renewal and turning a new leaf, an invitation to make things better.

Can I please request a yellowjackets fic of platonic Jackie x younger sister reader (sort of like Travis and Javi’s relationship - maybe reader could be friends with Javi too), I don’t really have an idea for a plot though maybe some sort of tension and fight w Jackie but then everything is fixed by the end? And reader is like pretty different from Jackie - in typical sister style. That’s so unspecific I’m so sorry I suck at ideas I just crave big sister Jackie (I feel like she’d be a Nancy wheeler variant) okay ty bye ily

𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗝𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗘 𝗧𝗔𝗬𝗟𝗢𝗥 ┊ 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀

cw. just siblings fighting, javi & reader being friends

wc. 1.5k

n/a. tysm for ur request <33 at first i wanted to make her an overprotective sister (so that she was kinda like nancy) but i felt like making her bratty fit better with the storyline lmaooo, i hope it's what you were expecting tho :) if not lmk and maybe i can work on a protective sister blurb or something.

"Uno! Take that!" You exclaimed with enthusiasm, celebrating your third victory in the one-on-one game against Javi.

"This is so unfair," Javi said, rolling his eyes. "Let's play again. We're not leaving until I beat your ass." He spoke with determination.

You were grateful that you had packed your Uno deck in your backpack for the trip. Being stuck in a cabin with a bunch of teenagers and having nothing to do except stare at the rooftop for hours turned out to be more boring than you had anticipated.

Since the crash occurred, you and Javi had grown close. While you shared a few classes at school, you had never spoken to him before. But the shared misfortune of being on this trip as guests brought you together — Javi accompanying his dad, the team coach, and you accompanying your older sister, Jackie Taylor, the team captain. Not to mention that both Travis — Javi’s older brother — and Jackie were being assholes.

The initial weeks were challenging, to say the least. Jackie was being extremely annoying — she still is —, constantly bossing you around and disregarding your feelings. It seemed as though she was too absorbed in her own frustrations, always venting about the unfairness of the situation and the social events she was missing out on, like Rutger's rush week and all the frat parties. You knew Jackie didn't mean any harm, but it still bothered you. Additionally, the age gap with everyone being around three years older than you made you feel like an outcast and useless. Thankfully, you and Javi started getting along. You were assigned similar tasks, such as picking berries or fetching water from the lake, since both of you were younger and unable to handle more demanding activities. Thanks to this, you began spending a lot of time together and eventually became very close friends.

"What are you doing?" Javi asked incredulously, his eyebrows furrowing. "You can't play a +2 card after a +4 card," he pointed out.

You were aware that Javi was right, but decided to push back. "Yes, you can. It's literally stated in the instructions," you replied, attempting to gaslight him.

"No, it's not. You're lying," he insisted, firm in his belief.

"Fine, you got me," you admitted, flashing a playful smirk. "I'll take these four cards just so you don’t start crying," you teased.

“Ha, ha, so funny,” Javi responded with a smile.

Interrupting your playful banter, a voice called out from behind. "Hey, Y/n," Jackie said, grabbing your attention. "Have you seen my red lipstick?"

You let out a sigh as you glanced at your sister. Lately, she had been even more irritating than usual, probably because of the problems she was having with Shauna. Not that you were particularly invested in their drama. But the last thing you wanted was to engage in conversation with her, knowing all too well that it would probably lead to another argument.

"Yeah," you responded casually, briefly glancing away before returning to the game.

"Okay... So, where is it?" Jackie asked, her tone growing slightly impatient.

"I used it to write the S.O.S message on the plane," you replied nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious thing.

"Wait... What?" Jackie exclaimed, her anger starting to rise. "Why the heck would you do that?”

Rolling your eyes, you replied sarcastically, "Oh, I'm sorry, Jackie. I forgot that packing a sharpie was at the top of our survival essentials checklist in the wilderness."

"You didn't even bother asking me!" she complained, her frustration evident.

"Well, maybe I didn't ask because you're such a self-centred bitch, always whining about missing out on your stupid parties," you retorted, your voice tinged with irritation. "It was the only thing I could find to leave a message for whoever might be searching for us. Stop being such an ass. I mean, you clearly wanna get out of here, dont you? Cooperate a little."

Jackie let out a loud huff, her lips pursed and a deep frown etched on her face as she stormed off, making her way towards the cabin. In her haste, she bumped her shoulder harshly into Van, who was heading to the lake. "Hey! Watch out!" Van exclaimed, her voice filled with surprise and annoyance. She followed Jackie's retreating figure with a confused and perplexed expression before turning back to you. You simply shrugged your shoulders, raised your eyebrows, and nonchalantly returned your focus to the game, leaving Van with a sense of bewilderment.

Javi gazed at you in stunned silence, but he didn't utter a word. After all, if someone could understand you it was him, as he had to deal with Travis. Without saying anything about the previous exchange, both of you chose to brush it off and swiftly changed the topic, resuming the game as if nothing had happened.

Three hours had passed since your argument with Jackie. After playing with Javi for about an hour, you decided to lend a hand to Tai with boiling the dirty pads. Once you finished the task, you stayed there for a while, gossiping with her and Van.

“I’m getting kinda cold, I’ll be right back,” you announced, rising from your spot on the ground and making your way towards the cabin to retrieve a hoodie. They nodded in acknowledgment as you left.

You entered the cabin and opened the shared closet, scanning its contents for your favorite hoodie. Once you found it, you slipped it on and turned around, ready to make your exit. However, Jackie stood there, blocking your path to the door.

You tried to walk past her, but Jackie swiftly reached out and grabbed your arm, preventing your escape.“Nope, you’re not leaving. You’re finally gonna tell me what the heck is going on,” she declared, her arms folded and her stance blocking the door knob.

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating your response. "What are you talking about? Nothing's going on," you insisted, trying to downplay the situation.

Jackie pursed her lips, clearly not convinced. "Okay... Liar," she responded, tilting her head slightly.

You made another attempt to leave, but Jackie swiftly blocked your path with her arm. "No! You've been distant and acting weird for weeks. Not to mention how mean you've been towards me," she argued, her frustration evident.

"Well, what did you expect?" you retorted, your voice laced with exasperation. "Huh? The only thing you've done since we got here is complain and do nothing except act like a child. I'm scared and I miss home too, and the fact that my older sister, the person I should be able to rely on the most, is behaving like a brat, doesn't help me at all, okay?" Tears welled up in your eyes as you spoke, the pain evident in your voice. "I just wish you were more like Tai or Van," you expressed, your voice filled with disappointment. "They take better care of me than you do.”

Jackie's expression softened as she listened to your words, her remorse evident on her face. She let out a deep sigh and her shoulders slumped. "I... I didn't realize," she admitted, her voice heavy with regret. "Shit, I'm so sorry, Y/n," she apologized, her words sincere. Without hesitation, she pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close. "I'm really sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with genuine remorse.

Overwhelmed with emotions, you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "I'm sorry too, for being a bitch," you confessed, your voice filled with regret. "I just wanted my sister back. I'm so scared, Jackie," you admitted.

Jackie gently pulled away from the hug and tenderly wiped away your tears with her fingers. "I'm scared too, but we'll get through this together, okay?" she reassured you, her voice filled with warmth and determination. "Everything will be okay, I promise," she added, a soft smile gracing her lips. A tear escaped from her own eye, reflecting her sincerity. You nodded in response, feeling a renewed sense of hope and comfort in her words.

You embraced Jackie once again, holding onto her tightly. "I love you, Jackie," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine affection. She reciprocated the sentiment, her voice soft and comforting. "I love you too," she replied, her hand gently caressing your hair.

"But, shit, I just lost 10 bucks," you exclaimed, separating from her with a disappointed expression.

Confused, Jackie asked, "What do you mean?" Her fingers continued to caress the sides of your arms.

"Javi and I made a bet about who had the crappiest older sibling," you explained with a mischievous smile. "You apologized before Travis did to him, so now I owe him 10 bucks."

"Oh my god, I can't believe you," Jackie responded, playfully pinching your side. "And don't ever compare me to Travis. I might be a brat, but he seriously needs professional help with his anger issues," she argued.

You burst into laughter. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," you replied with a grin, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her outside with you.

–BRING BACK THE DEAD UNIVERSE!

WARNING : emotional neglect, kidnapping, murder, physical abuse/torture, obsessive behavior, schizophrenia, self-harm(?), more will be added.

NOTE : If you are sensitive to the subject matter, leave immediately! Please provide any feedback so that I can improve. Just don't go off the deep end by telling me to commit suicide because you don't like my writing, okay? Thanks! :)

🪐–CHAPTER

1 – Working for the knife

2 – there's nothing left for you

*Tim and Damian fighting like usual*

*Bat!reader on a call*: Hold on just a second. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. My brothers- My brothers are- *pauses*

*Bat!reader yelled at the two*: STOP.

*Tim and Damian stopped fighting and looked over to where Bat!reader was*

*Stephanie and Duke wheezed as they witnessed the whole debacle*

Bat!reader: GET OFF THE COUCH.

*Tim and Damian scared shitless, got off the couch*

*Stephanie and Duke started wheezing even harder*