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

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!

More Posts from Mitsukii-07 and Others

mitsukii-07

1 month ago

hii :)

do you have any hcs for jackie as an older sister? (yellowjackets)

𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗝𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗘 𝗧𝗔𝗬𝗟𝗢𝗥 ┊ 𝗉𝗋𝖾-𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

n/a. yesss ofc, i love older sister jackie <33

⊹ ࣪˖ She’s definitely protective, especially because she’s sort of the unofficial queen bee in your high school, which means that she knows everything about the whole ‘social scheme’. She’s always looking out for you, making sure that none of Jeff’s jock friends hit on you. It isn’t that uncommon though, after all, everyone at school knows you because of her.

⊹ ࣪˖ When it comes to dating or hook-ups, she’s quite protective. She lets you do your thing, but at the same time she’s judgy. “I mean they're cute but… Why don’t you go out with x instead? They're cooler,” she suggests, trying to persuade you.

⊹ ࣪˖ And if she ever sees you with someone she knows is a player, she literally forces you to never speak to them again. And if you don't listen, she def makes up a lie and pulls the older sister card in front of your parents so that you get in trouble.

⊹ ࣪˖ But being the little sister of the popular girl has its benefits too, for instance, she lets you come with her to a lot of parties — though she only lets you hang out with people she knows, probably because pretty much everyone there is older than you.

⊹ ࣪˖ Also, dating Jackie means getting unlimited rides from Jeff.

⊹ ࣪˖ She helps you do your makeup and pick out your outfits — she respects your own style tho.

⊹ ࣪˖ She doesn't want you to be trapped in the same never-ending cycle of living up to your parents' expectations as she is, so she tries to make your life as comfortable as she can — and while she loves to influence you, she also wants you to grow into your own person, not a mini version of herself. She wants the best for you — even if she doesn't directly say it.

⊹ ࣪˖ Sometimes you get a bit annoyed tho, because it feels like she's always trying to influence your decisions. But deep down, you know she's just looking out for you and trying to help you avoid making the same mistakes she did.

⊹ ࣪˖ Jackie's also the kind of sister who knows how to brighten your mood and bring an instant smile to your face. And if u're having a shitty day and she can't make you laugh, she'll do everything she can to bring you comfort. "We're gonna figure this out together, okay?” she assures you with a gentle smile, enveloping you in a warm hug.

⊹ ࣪˖ She always tries to look happy around you tho — well, at least when she's not scolding u lmaoooo. Sometimes you wish she would let her guard down and be more vulnerable with you. It feels like she's always putting up this facade of the perfect popular girl, and you just want her to know that it's okay to be herself around you.

⊹ ࣪˖ But despite that, Jackie loves you unconditionally, and you know that if you ever need her, she'll be there in a heartbeat.

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mitsukii-07

1 month ago

Yandere batfam x Catwoman!Reader

Gotham was never kind to strays.

Selina used to tell you that, back when you were small enough to curl up in her lap, listening to the city’s heartbeat.

"No one gives a damn about a stray, kitten—unless they can own it. And once they’re done? They throw it away."

She wasn’t wrong.

When she left, Bruce took you in.

Not because he wanted to. But because you were Selina Kyle’s daughter, and that meant something.

You weren’t a Robin. You weren’t a Wayne. You weren’t even a sidekick.

You were just… there.

Ignored. Forgotten. Overlooked.

Until you left.

And suddenly, they were obsessed.

Alfred was the closest thing you had to a father.

When Bruce was too busy? He was there. When Dick forgot you existed? He remembered. When Jason dismissed you? He encouraged you. When Tim ignored you? He listened. When Damian sneered? He scolded him.

He was the one who made sure you ate. The one who noticed when you were gone too long. The one who never made you feel like an outsider.

"You deserve more, Miss (Y/N)," he said once, handing you a cup of tea in the dead of night.

"More than them."

You should’ve listened to him sooner.

Dick was all smiles and promises—until it came to you.

"You're part of the family, (Y/N)! You can count on me."

And yet, he never did.

He was too busy being Gotham’s sweetheart. Too busy playing the perfect son. Too busy charming the entire city to even notice you existed.

But the second you walked away?

Suddenly, he was watching.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were unhappy?"

You scoffed. "Oh? I didn’t realize you could see past your own reflection long enough to notice."

Jason made sure you knew you weren’t one of them.

"You’re just a spoiled alley cat, living off scraps."

He ignored you unless he needed someone to argue with. Mocked you when Bruce gave you even a little attention.

But when you left?

He was furious.

Breaking bones for info. Watching from rooftops. Glowering at every man who so much as glanced your way.

"You wanna tell me what the hell you’re doing, flaunting yourself around Gotham like that?"

"Aww, Jay, you sound jealous."

"Tch. Keep dreaming, kitten."

Tim was always too busy.

He never even looked at you when you were in the room. Too lost in his screens, too obsessed with cases, too wired on caffeine to care.

But the second you left?

He had every camera in Gotham tracking you.

"You’re reckless," he muttered, catching you outside a gala, staring as men practically fell over themselves to get your attention.

You sipped your champagne. "And you’re obsessed. Funny how that works."

Damian loathed you.

"You are nothing but a thief, unworthy of my father’s resources."

"Cats are not loyal creatures. You will betray us."

"You are an embarrassment to the family."

But when you left?

He became your shadow.

"You cannot hide from me, (Y/N)."

You laughed, flipping off the nearest security camera. "Not hiding, baby bat. Just don’t wanna be found."

Barbara barely tolerated you when you lived in the manor.

"Stay out of my way, (Y/N). This is real crime-fighting."

But once you left?

Bruce became obsessed. The boys started chasing you. Even criminals whispered your name like a legend.

And Barbara was seething.

"He’s only worried about you because of Selina," she sneered once.

"Oh? That why you’re mad?" you hummed, inspecting your nails. "Because he never chased after you?"

She didn’t speak to you for months after that.

Stephanie always mocked you for being a “spoiled alley cat.”

"What, you think you’re Gotham’s princess now?"

But suddenly?

The men she flirted with were too busy staring at you.

You barely had to lift a finger before men were offering you drinks, pulling out chairs, tripping over themselves for a second of your attention.

And Stephanie?

She hated it.

"What, you think you’re better than us now?" she snapped once.

You smiled sweetly. "Honey, I don’t think. I know."

At first, it was just messages.

"Come home." "You don’t have to do this." "This isn’t how family treats each other."

Then, the sightings.

Jason breaking kneecaps for intel. Damian lurking in the shadows. Dick trying to “talk” on rooftops. Tim hacking into your every account.

And Bruce.

Bruce, who was always watching.

You felt it before you saw him.

A shift in the air. A silence too loud.

You turned.

There he was.

No mask. No cape. Just Bruce Wayne, standing in the alley like he could already see you locked in the manor again.

"Enough, (Y/N). This game is over."

You smirked. "Aww, Bats. You finally noticed me?"

"Come home."

"Let me think… no."

His jaw clenched. "I won’t ask again."

"And I won’t say no again. But hey, at least now you care, right? Only took me leaving for that to happen."

He moved fast—too fast. But you were faster, slipping from his grasp like silk.

"You can’t run forever."

"I don’t have to."

You grinned, stepping into the shadows as a familiar figure emerged from the darkness behind you.

Long legs. A knowing smirk. A whip coiled at her hip.

"Kitten," Selina purred, eyes glinting like gold. "Time to come home."

Bruce stiffened.

Because for the first time—

It wasn’t his home you were going to.

It never was.

And it never would be.

And the Batfamily?

They would never recover from losing what was never theirs to begin with.

312 notes View Post

mitsukii-07

1 month ago

i need to see baddie!reader and jackie during practice. like imagine jackie staring at you the whole time and acting all smitten around you or staring at you while you change but not in a pervy way. she’s just admiring the view 🙂‍↕️

jackie taylor x 90sbaddie!fem!reader at soccer practice a/n: i know you said not in a pervy way but i think i accidentally made it a lil bit pervy...

jackie's always the first one on the field and the last to leave. it's just a part of what she considers her captain duties. this particular time, she's sitting beside shauna on the bench, waiting for the rest of the team to emerge from the locker room.

shauna's telling her about the math test, and jackie nods along, listening intently. that is, until, she catches sight of you over shauna's shoulder.

she's seen you in your practice jersey and soccer shorts about a million times by now, but her heart still stops each and every time. suddenly, calculus has left her mind entirely, and all she can focus on is your beautiful hair cleanly slicked back into a low ponytail, giving her a full view of your perfect face, and the subtle sway of your hips as you walk.

jackie's so focused on you, she forgets how to swallow and ends up choking on her water. she nearly spits it out all over shauna, but she forces it down and endures a terrible coughing fit instead. shauna pauses mid sentence and sends her a look.

"um, are you okay?"

"mhmm," jackie hums, nodding frantically and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

she doesn't say anything more before she gets up, grabs a stack of cones off the turf, and practically skips over to you.

"hey, y/n!" she says with a grin, falling into stride beside you. "can you help me set up this drill?" she asks, handing you half the cones.

you willfully ignore the fact that she was just with shauna, who probably would've been more help than you, and accept the cones from her hand. she makes sure to hand them to you in such a way that your fingers brush against hers. she almost sighs at how soft your skin is and feels her hand tingling where your acrylic nails subtly scraped her.

"yeah, of course, jax," you say, smiling back. her heart flutters in her chest when she hears her nickname leave your lips.

it turns out "helping" meant setting up everything yourself while jackie followed you around like a well-trained puppy, instructing you where to place each cone, but mostly asking about your day and giggling at everything little thing that you said. you certainly didn't mind it. in fact, you preferred it to your usual routine.

once practice begins, jackie can't think straight (literally!).

usually when coach martinez is talking, she's laser-focused on him. but now, her eyes stray to the side where you're standing with your hands perched on your hips.

jackie swears her heart begins to race when you shift your weight to one side and absentmindedly take your bottom lip between your teeth. she finds herself fantasizing (for the hundreth time) about how your plump lips would feel against hers.

everything else becomes background noise as her love-sick brain plays "kiss me" by sixpence none the richer while perceiving each of your subtle movements in slow-motion. that is until she hears a shout of her name and her head whips back toward martinez.

"go ahead and give us a demonstration, jackie" coach martinez says, looking right at her. she feels everyone turn their attention toward her, you included.

"oh, umm..." jackie trails off, gaze quickly flickering over to you just as you release your lip and it pops back into place. damn you and those lips! "okay!" she says walking toward one of the cones and trying to deduce what drill this could possibly be.

it's all your fault that she's so distracted for the rest of practice. she misses a pass because she's watching you jog across the field all sweaty and graceful. and then she trips over the next ball because she's too busy thinking about how perfect you looked jogging across the field.

"what the fuck was that, jackie?" nat shouts from the endline, throwing her hands into the air.

jackie opens her mouth to respond, but you beat her to the punch.

"hey, give her a break," you say from behind natalie, grabbing her arm. "we all have bad days," you shrug.

nat grumbles something under breath before shaking her arm out of your grip and stomping away. you look over at jackie from across the field and give her your best encouraging smile.

jackie is ready to get down on one knee and propose to you right then and there, but she settles for a bashful "thanks" during the next water break. she makes sure to squeeze your shoulder as she says it just so her thumb can brush over the damp skin of your collarbone.

"anytime," you say, squirting some water into your mouth. you miss jackie's hungry stare as you do so. "i know you'd do the same for me."

oh, she'd definitely do the same and more.

when the team is ready to scrimmage, jackie makes the two teams by counting everyone off. she makes sure to remember the number she gives you and gives herself the same one once she's done counting.

"oh my god, we're on the same team?" jackie exclaims, feigning surprise as she waltzes over to you. "no way!"

when you score a goal, she uses the moment to her advantage.

"yes, y/n!" she shouts, enthusiastically running over to you and sweeping you into her arms. you're forced onto your tip toes as her bone crushing grip nearly picks you up and off the ground. you laugh at the gesture, music to jackie's ear, but everyone else stares at the two of you confused.

"it's not that serious, it's just a scrimmage..." tai says, voicing what everyone was thinking.

"so?" jackie whips her head around to meet tai with a glare. her arm is still intentionally encircling your waist. "we need to have more spirit, guys! come on!"

she only splits from your side when the ball comes back into play, though a smile stays fixed on her lips as she replays your adorable laughter in her head for the rest of practice.

"you were so good today!" she says to you once practice is over. it doesn't matter if it's true or not, her smile shows she's too smitten to care.

she walks you back into the locker room, eyes flickering down to the hand at your side every few seconds. she wants nothing more than to lock it with hers and feel your warmth directly.

once inside the locker room, you don't stop talking, even as you change.

you lift your practice jersey over your head in one swift motion, never breaking conversation. luckily you're not looking over at jackie because her eyes are glued to your chest and stomach, now only covered by a sports bra. she's practically drooling and if she didn't have self-control, her hands would already be imprinting themselves on your skin.

you tug on the fitted crop top with the low v-neck you had been wearing earlier, and somehow your tits look even better than they did when you were shirtless. jackie has to literally shake her head in an attempt to shake the thoughts from her brain. it doesn't work.

she goes mute when you slide your soccer shorts off. in a state of pure panic, she really tries to keep her gaze fixed straight ahead on the lockers. she really, really tries. but you have to go on and ruin it by mumbling:

"ugh, i forgot to wear spandex today!"

jackie glances over just as your shorts pool around your feet and holy shit. how did you even play soccer in those slutty little panties?

when you seem to turn toward her, she diverts her gaze back to the lockers.

"uh, jackie?" you ask when she doesn't respond to what you've just said. she can see you turned fully toward her in her peripheral vision and suddenly her mouth is uncomfortably dry.

"oh, sorry, i'm just a little...out of it today. what did you say?" she asks, looking over at you and using all her strength to keep her eyes on your face. still, she manages to catch a glance of you wiggling on your favorite pair of jeans that are baggy everywhere but around your hips. jackie knows that from her previous leering.

her eyes flit down as you expertly fasten your belt, your fingers deftly moving like clockwork, and she can't suppress the fleeting thought about what else those fingers could do.

when it's time to leave, her heart aches because there's nothing worse than not seeing you until the next day. she'll fall asleep that night thinking of how you defended her to nat and how warm you felt in her embrace (and maybe even stick her hand between her legs to the image of you in your itty bitty panties) , feeling giddy to make more memories with you tomorrow at practice.

230 notes View Post

mitsukii-07

1 month ago

hc! jackie has a crush on you and she doesn't hide it well.

jackie taylor x fem!reader

summary: jackie having a painfully obvious crush on you while you remain completely oblivious.

warnings: characters are aged up, oblivious reader, jackie being possessive, jealous, clingy and over-the-top affectionate, jackie being awkwardly sweet, jackie as the most dramatic lesbian alive, not proofread.

a.n: oh hi! its been a long time...

jackie taylor, the golden girl of wiskayok high, was not known for being subtle. like, at all.

when she developed a crush on you? game over. everyone could tell. the team knew. her parents probably knew. heck, even the cafeteria staff were rooting for her. everyone... except you.

she would insist on walking you to every single class, even if her next one was on the other side of the building. "it's fine, I need the cardio," she’d say, hair bouncing as she kept pace with you.

whenever you sat together at lunch, jackie always had some excuse to sit as close as humanly possible. your thighs would brush, and she’d casually drape an arm behind you on the bench like this was some romcom where she was the suave lead.

her attempts at giving you compliments were both endearing and slightly chaotic. “that shirt looks really good on you! not that it wouldn’t look good off— wait, no, not like that!” cue her face turning an alarming shade of red as she stammered, completely flustered.

jackie was all about grand gestures. she'd bring you your favorite snacks without asking, even if it meant "borrowing" them from her teammates' lockers. r she'd "accidentally" sign you up as her partner for every school project ever. that was probably just her 'marking territory'.

her jealousy was comically bad. if someone so much as looked at you for longer than five seconds, jackie would swoop in like a hawk, throwing an arm around your shoulders and flashing her biggest, most obviously fake smile. "Oh hey, let’s go! you promised to help me with... uh, math homework!” (she had a solid A in math, by the way. that girl is smart.)

sometimes, her crush got the better of her, and she’d trip over her own words. “so... you wanna make out? i mean go out— I mean, hang out? like friends! or more than friends! or—" you’d just laugh it off, assuming she was being her usual goofy self, while she tried not to combust on the spot.

her teammates would not let her hear the end of it. “just tell her already!” van would groan during practice. “she’s not that clueless.” jackie would shoot them a death glare because, in her mind, this was a delicate, slow-burn process. it's all about romance!

she wasn’t above using petnames to test the waters. “hey, sweetheart, pass me that notebook?” she’d grin when you handed it over, your only response being a confused, “uh, sure?” her heart would leap even at that small acknowledgment.

one time, during a party, someone asked if you two were dating. jackie nearly choked on her drink while you laughed and said, “no way, we’re just friends!” jackie’s forced laugh after that? absolutely tragic.

despite all her awkwardness and dramatic flair, jackie genuinely adored you. she’d memorize all your quirks, from the way you scrunched your nose when you were deep in thought to how your laugh sounded when you found something genuinely funny.

if anyone asked her why she liked you so much, she’d have an entire list ready: you were smart, kind, gorgeous, and somehow still completely oblivious to the fact that she was hopelessly in love with you.

spoiler alert: eventually, her feelings would spill out in the most unplanned, dramatic way possible. probably during an argument where she’d blurt out, “because I like you, okay?!” only to immediately cover her mouth in horror.

and even though you’d be stunned into silence for a moment, when you finally smiled and said, “you should’ve just said so sooner,” all her embarrassment would melt away in an instant.

because, honestly? it was all worth it for you.

post planecrash!

after the crash, jackie’s crush intensifies tenfold. with no distractions like school or soccer, all her attention is on you, which becomes very obvious to everyone.

jackie insists on sticking close to you at all times. “we need to stay in pairs, it’s safer that way,” she’d argue, even though it’s clear she just wants to keep you within arm’s reach.

she’d hoard little things she finds that might make your life easier, like an extra blanket or berries she foraged. she’d always frame it like it’s no big deal: “i just thought you’d want this, that’s all.”

jealous jackie? oh, it’s dialed up to 100. if someone else offers to help you with something, jackie will immediately swoop in. “she doesn’t need your help, i’ve got it covered.” even though she could barely lift a bucket of water.

arguments would break out among the group about leadership and survival, but jackie’s main concern? you. she’d constantly check in on you, asking if you’re warm enough, if you’ve eaten, or if you’re scared.

shauna would initially try to protect jackie’s secret, but even she’d get tired of the whole thing. “jackie, just tell her. you’re already risking frostbite just to sit next to her by the fire.”

during the long, cold nights, jackie would find excuses to be near you. “body heat is the best way to stay warm,” she’d say, but the blush on her cheeks would give her away. that damn fag. (affectionate :D)

if you ever got hurt or sick, jackie would lose her mind. she’d hover over you like a worried mother hen, snapping at anyone who wasn’t taking your condition seriously enough. “she needs rest! and better food! and-” you’d have to calm her down before she worked herself into a frenzy.

and even though the wilderness is brutal and unforgiving, in that moment, her confession would feel like the warmest thing in the world.

793 notes View Post

mitsukii-07

1 week ago

Broken heart

The rain tapped quietly against the tall windows of Wayne Manor.

But inside, it was quiet.

Too quiet.

Not peaceful. Not warm.

Just… hollow.

You’d been brought here when you were thirteen.

After your mother died, Bruce took you in.

His real daughter.

Blood.

No one could say you didn’t belong here.

And yet, every single day since you walked through the doors of this grand mansion…

You felt like a stranger in your own story.

There was no welcome.

No warmth.

Only rooms that were too big, silences that were too loud, and people who were too busy to look.

Bruce gave you a bedroom, not a family.

A last name, not a father.

He told you he was "doing his best."

But he never looked you in the eye.

He never asked what your favorite food was.

Or if you had trouble sleeping.

Or if your chest hurt again.

Because it did.

It always did.

Your heart condition had followed you your whole life.

Weak rhythms, shortness of breath, chest pain.

Stress made it worse.

Loneliness made it unbearable.

But no one noticed.

Or maybe they just didn’t care enough to ask.

Dick smiled at you.

He was always smiling.

But it never reached his eyes.

You sat next to him one afternoon, hoping for connection.

He barely looked up from his phone.

“Bored?” he asked.

You didn’t answer.

And he didn’t wait.

He left.

Jason ignored you.

He didn’t mean to be cruel—he just didn’t see you.

One night you collapsed near the stairs.

He found you.

But instead of asking if you were okay, he muttered,

“What are you doing on the floor?”

Like it was your fault.

Like your body betraying you was inconvenient.

He helped you up.

But he never looked at you.

And still... you said “thank you.”

Because at least someone touched you.

Tim barely knew when you entered a room.

You could be sitting across from him, and he’d still be more focused on his laptop than your pale face, your shaking hands.

One night, your breathing grew shallow—fast, unsteady.

You curled up in the corner, struggling.

He was there.

Headphones on. Typing.

You nearly passed out at his feet.

And he never noticed.

Damian hated you.

At least he was honest about it.

To him, you were weak.

Pathetic.

A waste of space.

“You can’t even hold your own weight,” he said one afternoon when you dropped a glass.

The truth was, your hands were trembling.

But he didn’t care.

He walked away while your heart pounded like a ticking time bomb inside your chest.

No one followed.

No one stayed.

You started keeping painkillers hidden in your drawer.

Not because they helped—

but because pretending to take them felt like pretending someone gave a damn.

You started writing letters you never sent.

Journals filled with

“Would they notice if I died?”

“Does it matter?”

Then came the night it finally broke you.

Your vision blurred.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t scream.

You reached for your phone—

but the battery was dead.

Your fingers fumbled.

No one heard.

No one came.

You passed out.

---+--+---------------+-------+-------_---------------

When you woke up, everything was white.

The hospital smelled like bleach and cold air.

Alfred was there.

He looked shaken.

Bruce came later.

He stood by your bed.

Silent.

Eyes unreadable.

And then he said,

“When did it get this bad?”

You almost laughed.

Because it had always been this bad.

But you had never been worth his full attention.

--------------------------------------------------------

Now, lying in a hospital bed, you stared at the ceiling and whispered,

“I didn’t want help. I just wanted to be seen.”

But the damage was done.

---+-------------------------------------------------

Maybe now they’d care.

Maybe now they’d feel guilty.

Maybe now someone would look at you and really see you.

But maybe it was too late.

Your heart was fragile—

and not just because of your condition.

-----------------------------------------------------------

End.

(Or maybe… just the beginning.)

English is not my native language

385 notes View Post

mitsukii-07

3 weeks ago

surely, surely, surely

2K notes View Post

mitsukii-07

3 years ago

vanijeanne is like the funniest ship ever actually. the best i can even describe what i mean is the scenario that jeanne is waiting for vanitas to come outside to join her for dinner and she goes back in and sees him with a mud mask and cucumbers on his eyes and also mozart is playing in the room he’s just like “i’m sorry for making you wait but you know i can’t rush perfection, mon cheri”

they’ll watch soap operas together and vanitas is straight up bawling the whole time but jeanne simply can’t move past the fact that the main girl is a dumb slut who had all of this coming and checked out ten mins ago

97 notes View Post

mitsukii-07

3 weeks ago

GHOSTS OF THE PAST

(Batfam x neglected hero reader)

a bird longs for freedom, just like me.

WARNINGS: violence, swearing, writing errors (English is not my first language), torture, reader has blue eyes and black hair!, fem reader, spider man reader, everything is fictional!

CHAPTERS

0 → Prologue

I → ghosts

II –> Poison

III → Spider

IV → Mask [1] and [2]

V → Bats

VI → Thunder [1] and [2]

VII → Rain

[....]

OTHERS

memes

[1] and [2]

Scenarios

sweets~

Christmas special

[Name] design!

Fanfic in progress, new chapters will be added soon!

1K notes View Post

mitsukii-07

2 weeks ago

Ppl like grumpy x sunshine more than “paint me like one of your French girls” and I mean- if you’re making a series and go for the most votes… can you at least make a one shot on “paint me like one of your French girls”?

Please? For me? 🥺🥺🥺

For the brains behind soul painter?? 👉👈

-🍄🍄🍄

You’d painted before. Hundreds of pieces. Thousands of strokes. But never like this.

She lay there—draped across your studio couch, nude in the golden light, all sharp angles softened by the glow of sunset filtering through the window. A living masterpiece. Every curve a siren’s call.

And still—still—you weren’t looking at her the way a man would. You looked like an artist possessed.

She watched your eyes flick from her hip to her collarbone. Your tongue flicked across your lip as you mixed another color. The veins in your hand flexed as you clenched the brush tighter—focused. Your jaw locked, then twitched.

God, the control in you was intoxicating.

She’d stripped down thinking you’d tease. Maybe flirt. But no.

You were silent.

Worshipping her with the way you looked at her… but not like a lover.

Like an addict.

She shifted, slowly—just enough to make your gaze falter.

It did.

You paused.

Eyes flicked to hers.

“Don’t move,” you said, voice husky, low.

She smirked. “Why not?”

“Because,” you said, eyes dropping back to her form, “this light on your hip—if it slips, I’ll lose it.”

Her brows lifted. “So serious.”

You didn’t reply. Just lifted the brush and went back to it.

She stared at your forearms—taut under the rolled sleeves. At the muscles shifting under your shirt as you painted. At your hands. Those hands.

Veins raised, fingers stained with dried pigment, moving with such control it made her knees press together, even from where she laid.

You didn’t notice.

But then you turned.

And she saw your back.

Shirt pulled tight between your shoulders as you reached for a rag. Muscles dancing as you adjusted your stance. She exhaled hard.

“You’ve been painting me for over an hour,” she said, voice breathy.

You glanced over, surprised by the interruption.

“Is it not working?” you asked.

“No,” she said, sitting up slightly, eyes dark. “It’s working too well.”

You blinked.

She stood, unapologetically nude, walking toward you slowly. “I was trying to be your muse. But I’ve been watching you this whole time, and I realized—”

She touched your chest, eyes raking over your body.

“You’re the art.”

Her hand moved down. Over your abs, slow and reverent. “You don’t even know, do you? The way you look when you’re painting. That jaw. Those back muscles. The veins in your hands—”

She took one in her fingers. Kissed your knuckle.

“—I want them on me.”

You dropped the brush.

And when you kissed her, it wasn’t frantic. It was reverent. Careful. Like she was another canvas and you were building her color by color.

She reached for your shirt, sliding it off slow, dragging her fingers across the grooves in your back like she’d studied them. She kissed each one, from shoulder to spine.

“You gonna finish that painting?” she whispered, breath hot on your skin.

“Later,” you murmured.

Because right now?

You were the brush. She was the canvas. And the art was made in every slow, aching, soul-painted touch. A/N: Fuck you, now I'm horny 4 this man (I meant it as a joke btw)

83 notes View Post

mitsukii-07

1 month ago

hc! jackie has a crush on you and she doesn't hide it well.

jackie taylor x fem!reader

summary: jackie having a painfully obvious crush on you while you remain completely oblivious.

a.n: oh hi! its been a long time...

jackie taylor, the golden girl of wiskayok high, was not known for being subtle. like, at all.

when she developed a crush on you? game over. everyone could tell. the team knew. her parents probably knew. heck, even the cafeteria staff were rooting for her. everyone... except you.

and even though you’d be stunned into silence for a moment, when you finally smiled and said, “you should’ve just said so sooner,” all her embarrassment would melt away in an instant.

because, honestly? it was all worth it for you.

post planecrash!

after the crash, jackie’s crush intensifies tenfold. with no distractions like school or soccer, all her attention is on you, which becomes very obvious to everyone.

jackie insists on sticking close to you at all times. “we need to stay in pairs, it’s safer that way,” she’d argue, even though it’s clear she just wants to keep you within arm’s reach.

and even though the wilderness is brutal and unforgiving, in that moment, her confession would feel like the warmest thing in the world.

793 notes View Post