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yandere-daydreams · 11 months

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Title: Caught In The Spider's Web.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel O'hara x Reader (Spiderverse).

Word Count: 2.8k.

TW: N0n///C0n, AFAB!Reader, Biting, Mentions of Blood, Implied Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Verbal Degredation, Slut-Shaming But In A Projection Way, and Choking.

“Get back here, qué perra!”

“Keep your voice down, we’re in a museum!” You called over your shoulder, chasing it with a breathless laugh before sparing a glance behind you, to where Miguel was still busy clawing through the layers of haphazardly laid webbing that were currently keeping his chest and arms pinned against the far wall of newly-emptied display. You saw his talons tear through the last of it before turning your attention forward – to the tall, narrow halls of the museum, or more specifically, to the stone archways spaced every twenty feet or so. With a wild grin and one last squeeze to the diamond-studded necklace around your neck, the strap of the rucksack weighing heavy against your back, you shot your webs toward the next archway and flew.

Or, swung, more accurately – with Miguel close on your heels. He was more experienced than you, more used to superhuman strength and animalistic agility and everything that happened when a radioactive spider took an interest in you, but no amount of refined skill could’ve measured up to your raw, unrestrained zeal, to the rush of adrenaline that came with every new heist, every new opportunity to use your new powers. Even in the confined space, you moved erratically; vaulting off of walls and falling into jagged nose-dives, never gaining any distance on Miguel but never letting him catch you, either. More than once, you felt his claws graze your back, heard his low growls and muffled cursing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to worry. Why would you? You were a superhero, now, even if you didn’t do many heroic things. You felt invincible. You were invincible – at least in that moment. At least before Miguel got his hands on you and put an end to your fun for the thousandth time. “Y’know, I really thought you’d be cool with this,” you went on, bouncing off of a display case a fraction of a second before he crashed into it, shattering the glass. “I’m like Robin Hood, dude!”

There was a half-snarled bark, a flash of red in your peripheral. You threw yourself to the left just in time to avoid a tendril of pulsing, luminescent webbing – earning yourself just enough time to shoot a playful wink back at him. He bared his teeth, in response. “Robin Hood gave to the poor. You just steal and cause anomalies.”

“I’d be poor if I stopped stealing!” Finally, you came to the room you were looking for – an open lobby with a domed, crystalline ceiling – a ceiling with a panel no one ever seemed to remember to lock. You’d left it open on your way in, and if you were lucky, you’d be able to slip out of it without alerting the guards posted at every other exit. After that, it was only a matter of losing Miguel in the dark city (you’d apparently been the only spider-people smart enough to skip the eye-bleedingly bright color scheme) and hiding a place to lay low in your own dimension. You’d have to come back in a few weeks to sell what you’d stolen, but that was something you could worry about later on. You’d earned your haul, tonight. “It’s been fun, Miguel, baby,” You let your swing go wide, vaulting yourself towards the ceiling and landing just underneath your escape hatch. You let yourself hang there for just a second longer than you could afford, flashing another smile toward Miguel before—

Before you felt his webbing latch onto your lower back, wrenching you away from the domed ceiling and sending you plummeting downward before you could think to react. Your back hit the floor with enough force to crack the marble, your rucksack of stolen art and jewelry landing somewhere to your left and spilling open. With any chance of escaping Miguel gone and your latest haul scattered across the museum floor, you went limp, letting a pained groan slip past your lips. That was the thing about super-durability. The fall hadn’t broken every bone in your body, but your bones didn’t know that.

Miguel was bolting towards you in a second, on top of you in another. You managed to lift your arm, but your web-shooters only responded with a sad, dry grinding – out of ammo, because you always ran out of webbing at the worst times. His hand shot to his mask, his bared fangs catching in the dim light, but you raised your hands in surrender before he could bite down. “Hey, hey, you can save that for the thirst traps. I can spend the next twelve hours catatonic without your help.” With a heavy sigh, you collapsed, letting another wave of aching soreness wash over you before going on. “Take me home. I’m done for the night.”

It took him a few seconds to bite back his anger, to put on that stoic, put-together face you loved to tease him for. Pursed lips, narrowed eyes – all the things that’d fall away as soon as you got on his nerves. “You’re not getting off that easily, this time.”

“C’mon, Miguel, what do you think you’re going to do to me? Lock me in a cell for a couple days? Let your mega-spider bite me? Lecture me until I buy into your ‘great power comes with great responsibility’ bullshit?” Even exhausted and worn down, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. He made himself an easy target, and you’d always loved the taste of low-hanging fruit. “We both know how this works. You toss me around a little, tell me to spend more of my time saving orphaned puppies trapped in burning buildings, then send me back to my own dimension. Don’t tell me you’re gonna break our routine now.”

He didn’t answer, a pressed scowl pulling at the corners of his mouth as he worked off his mask. He hand dropped to the collar of your suit, and you let out another laugh, this one more nervous than the last. “Are you going to take my watch? You know I’ll just make another one when I get home.”

His fist wrapped around your stolen necklace, wrenching it off of you with enough force to snap the silver, jewel-studded chain and send rubies and sapphires scattering around you. You watched the precious gems clatter to the floor, mentally tallying up how much you could’ve gotten for each. Clearly, Miguel wasn’t as concerned with their value as you were. “You’re not going home.”

“Miguel, that’s not fun—”

“Say my name one more time and I swear I’ll—” He cut himself off with a throaty growl, turning his claws toward your chest. Before you could so much as think to panic, the front of your suit had been torn to tattered shreds, leaving you vulnerable and exposed to the open air and thrashing against the hand now wrapped around your neck, clawing at his wrist and kicking at his chest for all you were worth. If Miguel noticed your meager attempts at resistance, he didn’t seem fazed, didn’t feel the need to respond with anything more than a harsher glare, a straighter posture, a row of pointed nails driven that much deeper into the side of your throat. “Cállate. Just shut up and take what you deserve.”

The palm pressed into the base of your windpipe, a flash of sharpened teeth in the corner of your vision, and then, Miguel’s fangs were planted in your neck, his venom sent coursing through your veins. The feeling, while unpleasant, wasn’t alien to you. You were hyper-aware of your joints locking into place, your limbs going stiff and still, a heavy fog forming over the part of your brain that told the rest of your body to get up and fight. He pulled away before the numbness set in, before you could completely float into that void of immobile, oblivious existence, but when you tried to lift your arm, to kick at his chest, your body failed to respond. You cursed under your breath, glaring at Miguel, but he'd already moved on.

A gloved hand worked its way under the tattered remains of your suit, grazing over your lower stomach before cupping your cunt. It was the adrenaline, the high and the sudden let-down. Miguel must’ve known that, but it did little to dampen the condescension in his faint smirk as he collected your slick on his fingertips, swiping the pad of his thumb over your clit and drinking in the way your expression contorted. “Little slut,” he muttered, the scarlet shine of your blood still visible on his fangs. “You’re already soaked. Can’t let someone put their hands on you without dripping all over them, huh?”

You grit your teeth, doing what you could to swallow back a half-choked moan. “Stop,” And then, with more than a note of desperation in your voice, “This is a crime, you’re not supposed to—”

The air hitched in your throat as he brought his open palm down on your cunt – the blow rough, sudden, sharp. If you’d been able to, you would’ve gone stiff, would’ve lashed out, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t squirm, couldn’t do anything but hold your breath and stifle a pained moan as the first blow was followed by another, then another, then another, until your cunt was sore and throbbing, until there were tears forming in the corners of your eyes and Miguel was breathing heavily above you. “I told you to be quiet.” It was a hiss, more than anything. A threat he could carry out, but not say aloud. “I’d tell you not to make this worse for yourself, but you were always going to find a way to make this more difficult than it had to be.”

You moved to apologize reflexively, to beg him to let you go, but he clearly didn’t have an interest in anything you had to say. He was already shoving two fingers into your burning entrance, adding something else to the ache – not quite pleasure, but not as far as you needed it to be, either. Everything he did was rough, cruel, from the way he stretched you open to how much force he used while grinding the heel of his palm into your clit. Everything he did was less for your gratification and more for his own entertainment, for as humorless as he’d always seemed to you before. Miguel’s paralysis limited your reactions, stopped you from grinding into his hand or squirming underneath him, but it didn’t help to hide your expression, to stop you from biting your lips or rolling your head to the side, giving in to the baselessly hopeful part of your mind yelling that not looking at Miguel would make him leave. He only laughed, the noise low and dark and infinitely more than anything he’d ever given you, before. That made sense. Miguel had always struck you as the kind of man who could only let his guard down after he’d already broken through yours – this was just the first time he’d gotten the chance to prove you right.

Eventually, he pulled back, drawing an airy whimper from the base of your throat at the sudden lack of stimulation. There was a wet, distorted sound you couldn’t bring yourself to name, a fist wrapped around your arm, and then, he was turning you onto your chest, keeping your wrists pressed against your back with one hand while the other spread your thighs apart. You felt his cock, already hard, already thick enough to send a pang of dread to your core, against your ass, and suddenly, you were very aware of just how easily he towered over you, just how little effort it took for him to press his chest into your back and cage you underneath him. Even if you hadn’t been paralyzed, you didn’t know if you’d be able to do anything to get away from him. Not after you’d already been caught in his web.

“You’re going to cum on my cock,” You felt his lips against your ear, the low timbre of his voice reverberating in the back of your mind. “And you’re going to fucking thank me, when you do.”

There might’ve been more. There probably was, but whatever he said was drowned out by a dull, droning buzzing in your ears – a lifeless static that nearly blocked out the feeling of his hands on your hips, his knee nudging your legs apart, the leaking head of his cock resting against your entrance before he thrust into you, splitting you open in an instant.

He was so, so much bigger than you. Even with the fall, even with his venom, you could still feel so much of him, still couldn’t seem to block out the way your own dripping cunt struggled to clench down around the girth of his cock. You let out a fractured gasp but regretted it immediately, trembling as you struggled to inhale while feeling so impossibly full. There might’ve been blood. It was hard to tell with the slick dripping down your thighs, with Miguel lapping over the side of your throat. He sounded animalistic, growling as he rolled his hips and buried himself deeper in your core, his nails burrowing into your hips and mangling what was left of your poor, ruined suit. You’d have to make a new one, when you got back to your own dimension, when you got back to your tiny apartment already over-crowded with stolen art and half-finished projects. If Miguel ever let you go back.

“You’re tight for a little whore.” He made no effort to be gentle, to hold back, to do anything but bully your cunt, bruise your ass, leave you breathless and struggling just to keep yourself sane. “Must be a tease,” he went on, dropping a hand to your clit and rubbing circles into the abused bundle of nerves. “That’s it. Stealing everything you could get your hands on, wrecking the multiverse – that was just your way of getting my attention, huh? Bet you were just waiting for someone to pin you down and fuck you.”

You could feel your legs starting to shake, in spite of the paralysis. “Please, I can’t—”

“So fucking needy, too.” There was a deep laugh, an open-mouthed kiss pressed into the curve of your throat. “I’ll have to put a collar on you. Might catch you bending over for the first person you see if nobody knows who you— fuck, who you belong to.”

His pace had been punishing from the start, but at that, it turned brutal. You felt tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes, a tight knot of tension forming deep in your core. His cock beat against something sensitive and vulnerable in your pussy and you screamed, a strangled moan tearing past your lips. “Please, Miguel, I need you to stop—"

Your voice gave out before you could finish, but that was all Miguel needed to hear. Before you could take it back, before you could bite your tongue and curse yourself for trying to say anything at all, his hand was on your neck, cutting off your oxygen supply and leaving you choking for air, leaving your cunt convulsing around him. “De nuevo.” It was a demand, an order. You were starting to wonder if he knew any other way to speak. “Say that again, before I change my mind and snap your neck.”

“Miguel.” Croaked, airy, only half-coherent. When his grip only grew tighter, you said it again, and again, and again, his name forming an incomprehensible mantra that played in-time with the pulsing in the back of your skull, in the walls of your pussy. You felt yourself clench around him, your vision burning white as either his cock or the lack of oxygen or some awful combination of the two vaulted you to a breath-stealing, mind-numbing climax – strong enough and blinding enough to leave you crashing on the downswing, plummeting into an infinite abyss of searing heat and overstimulation as soon as your climax gave out under his violent affection. Vaguely, you were aware of Miguel’s touch growing rougher, of his voice in your ear, of his cum flooding into your sore pussy. He made no attempt to pull out, but you weren’t surprised. You didn’t know if anything Miguel did could surprise you, anymore.

You were in a haze as Miguel drew back, nipping at the corner of your jaw one more time before finally letting you go. It wasn’t his venom keeping you still, anymore, but your own exhaustion – weighing you down as he lifted you into his arms, letting you rest your head against his chest. Through your eyelashes, your watched Miguel type something into his watch, a neon-shaded portal cutting through the fabric of reality a moment later. You tried to protest, to call on whatever hidden pocket of strength you still had and get away from him, but all you managed to do was squirm in his arms and let out a small, pathetic whine. Miguel responded by pressing his lips against your forehead, chuckling softly. As if this was funny to him. As if he found this cute. “Settle down. You have nothing to worry about.”

He smiled for the first time that night, and you felt something in the pit of your stomach crack.

“I’m taking you home.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #across the spider verse spoilers #spiderverse spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #yandere miguel #yanderecore #yancore

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koolades-world · 5 months

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Moments under the mistletoe

Lucifer

you got him while he was at his desk, working on some last minute paperwork. you could tell he was getting worn out and anticipating his well deserved day off

after creeping up behind him with the mistletoe hidden behind you, you hug him from behind and cover his eyes

he sighs knowingly and plays your little game since he needs this break

instead of your usual antics, you surprise him by dangling the mistletoe over the both of your heads and sneaking a kiss on his cheek

before you could pull away, he catches the back of your head and presses a kiss to your lips, telling you he'll be out in five minutes

Mammon

he got you while you were making a quick late night meal for the two of you after you got back from a night out

he wasn't really hiding, more so just hanging next to you and handing you things you needed

since the kitchen wasn't exactly small he vanished for a moment after you asked him to pass you something

you assumed he was just looking for that thing but instead he gave you a shy smooch and only after you realized that he had mistletoe afterwards

you giggled and called him cute, to which he protested and actually passed you what you needed

Levi

you got him in one of the few rare moments he happened to be outside his room, making you plan much easier to execute

he was on the couch in the living room, playing a game on his DDD

you grab the mistletoe and jump onto the couch beside him

he doesn't look up which is all according to plan. while he's distracted, you hold the mistletoe over his head and kiss his temple

after that you vanish, making you kiss and run plan a success. he was left a blushing puddle

Satan

you got him while the two of you were cuddling. he was reading a book and you were just enjoy his embrace while petting his hair

the surprise wasn't planning but since he had it sitting nearby you couldn't help but pass up the opportunity

after reaching just over his shoulder, you let it swing over your heads

he quickly realized what you were up to as soon as you moved and let you give him as many kisses as you want as long as he was allowed to give the same amount back

the mistletoe was soon forgotten <3

Asmo

he got you in the most creative way possible, at least that's what you thought

he had actually attached the mistletoe to a headband with some wire to keep it between your heads

he chased you around for a while with that headband on while you playfully ran away, but eventually you caved since he was so persistent

when you asked why he made it, he said it was so he wouldn't need to use a hand to hold it up when that hand could be doing something more important

he also said it kept his brothers away from him, and by default, you

Beel

you got him while the two of you were out on a date

you were hanging off his arm, pointing at various window displays while simultaneously snuggling close to him since it was cold

one of the displays had mistletoe hanging over them, likely to get couples like the two of you on purpose

you guided him over to it on the pretense of checking out what was inside

you asked him to lean down, which he did without question, so you could give him kiss. he was pleasantly surprised and asked for another one

Belphie

he got you with this weird pocket dimension-esque mistletoe he always seemed to have

he got you so many times and made the mistletoe vanish afterwards

the one time you tried to catch him, he was just quicker. he whipped it out, kissed your forehead

as you reached up to grab it, he held it just out of your reach, brushed it against your fingertips, then pockets it

he laughed as you then stuck your hands into your pockets but found nothing. he saw this as an opportunity to kiss you more while you were occupied, but you couldn't object

#obey me #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me x reader #obey me asmo #obey me levi #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me mc

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m0chisenpai · 1 year

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Far From Home

Spiderman Across the Spiderverse

Obsessive!Prowler!Miles Morales x Spidergirl!Reader

Warning(s): slight violence, nothing too crazy

The adrenaline pumped through your veins sending a dull thump in your ears. As you and Miles traveled through the multiverse, your hands intertwined, somewhere along the line, a rift shook the two of you apart.

And once separated you screamed for Miles to him, arms reaching no helplessly as he was dumped into god knows where!

“Bug! Bug! Miles!” you yelped being thrown into the room. Miles’ room. But he wasn’t here! He must have been sent to the wrong dimension!

Your panting breaths filled the silent room as you looked around. What could you do? Your hands trembled as you tapped the watch, whispering your thanks to Hobie as you located where you were exactly.

“Earth…42…” your eyes widened. Miles was home….but where were you. Your arms settled as you took in the state of this room.

From the cracked door you could hear the front door open and see the flicker of light. Ms.Morales’ voice mumbled spanish into the empty apartment and her footsteps grew close to the door.

Quickly you latched onto the ceiling, pressing yourself as close as possible. Thankfully she neglected to cut the lights on as she entered the room, a laundry basket settled on her hip, still dressed in her work clothes.

“Ay, this boy…” she huffed, shaking her head grabbing the unclean clothes scattered across the floor and dumping them into the basket.

With every turn she made around the room you did your best to remain behind. She continued to move oblivious to your presence ce too she stopped for a moment. Your breath stopped thinking you let out a creak or dropped something to raise suspicion.

But instead she reaches for a picture on his mess of a desk. In the dark you watched a tear fall down as she gazes at this photo.

“Ahh, I wish you were here sometimes…he’s closed off since you’ve gone,” she shook her head letting the picture go back into its spot and turn on her heel.

She adjusted the basket on her hip to use her free arm to rub at her eyes, once she was gone you quickly shot a web at the door, pulling the door closed as quietly as possible.

Slowly you settled back down on the ground and walked to the desk, and with shaking hands you held a picture of…you? But it wasn’t.

You must’ve been in freshman year, that was the year your mother suggested you get braces. Cause in this picture they’re bright with your toothy smile. You wore a bright pink strawberry patterned cardigan with a cami white dress. And you were wrapped up in the arms of Miles. Two large smiles were on both of your faces.

“Aaron! You shouldn’t have…”

“No..” you pressed your body to the door slowly cracking the door open and looked through. Your eyes widened and you could feel your heart pick up at the sight of his uncle. He was alive? But if he was alive, that meant the prowler was rampant in Brooklyn.

You quickly ran to the window. And shook your head as you stepped out onto the fire escape. The streets were darker, more empty. And any one who was out looked like someone you would have put away in your universe.

“No…no..no!” you shot a web to the top of the building pulling yourself up to pace on the buildings ledge. “Miles, where are you! Come on, think!...”

That spider was meant for you and earth 42’s Miles. You were destined to be Spider-girl….He was a mistake. Now there’s an earth without a spiderman and a spider-girl.

You pushed your hood back slowly, shaking your head. There was no hero here. No spider man OR spider girl. Why would the universe kill you then if you were needed?

Slowly your head turned and your eyes widened beneath the mask. Your unmasked face plastered on a brick wall, next to, “Mr.Morales….” your breathing picked up, the eye of your mask widening as well.

Your head turned like a swivel till it landed on a spray painted billboard. Your mask and colors spray painted stood out high amongst the chaos. Like a SOS to the universe. Like you….were dead. You were killed in this universe.

“I need to find Miles! Where ... .where would he be…The academy right?” you paced back and forth pulling your hood up to shield yourself from the rain that begins to come down. Yet just when you were about to send yourself into the night sky a voice stopped you. A familiar voice that sets off your senses.

“Mi vida?” Your eyes widened and slowly you turned. You were faced with the prowler and on instinct you crouched low.

“What have you done! You killed him didn’t you!” Even if he wasn’t your Mr.Morlaes, even if you were still living. This Prowler was enough to make your blood boil.

“Amor no ... .listen” you quickly throw one of your orbs down, setting off a large explosion of thick bright pink smoke and shooting a web into his chest pulling him to you to knock him onto his knees and fight his gauntlets off of him. Only, he didn’t fight back as hard. He only deflected every punch and twist that you sent him.

Every punch and kick filled with an unexplainable rage as you knocked him around the building.

“Where is Miles! What have you done to his father!!!” your webs secured his arms and legs as you held him to your masked eyes.

“Amor….” you shook your head and pressed the side of his mask. And when it dissipated to reveals…him. Your bug, your,

“Miles…”

A sharp pain shot your head and you swayed, your hands released him. Your body dropped to the side.

It was dark and quiet now, Aaron, oh…why is he looking at you like that? What’s he saying to…Miles, but he’s not your Miles.

But your eyes are heavy, and the pain is so much. Too much. So you let your eyes rest shut, succumbing to the dull thud and dining in your ear.

It’s quiet when you wake up. Your body was wrapped in something soft and warm, the pitter of rain and echoes of thunder would have lulled you back to sleep.

But when your body pixelated and glitched throwing your body out of your comfort onto the floor you were wide awake grasping at the discarded blanket as you clench your eyes till your body settles.

You coughed into the silence.Your vision cleared as you took in where you were. Aaron’s old apartment. Only it was like some comic book villain lair. With plans and papers scattered and pinned to the wall and across a table.

The punching bag dangled in front of you from the couch you were laid on. You pressed your back to the couch, closing your eyes.

‘Let’s regroup, Miles was the prowler, you're dead here along with Miles’ dad and Uncle Aaron was alive.’ You held your wrists out cursing, no web shooters and they took the watch. That’s why you're glitching.

“How’s your head?” You flinched as the shadow in the kitchen shifted to Aaron who slowly walked to you, a glass of water in his hands as he eyes your crumpled form.

“I ain’t mean to go so hard. If I knew it was you.” he leaned forward holding the water for you. You hold it, but you keep Aaron’s gaze. He holds a hand out for you to grasp and let him pick you up to settle you back into the couch.

For a moment it felt like when you first met Miles’ uncle. How he psyched you out before smirking and questioning if you were the girl that got his nephews heads in the clouds.

And he does, he smirks like Aaron once did. “Nothing in it. I wouldn’t do anything to my niece.”

“I’m not though” your voice is hoarse.

“You aren’t” his smile slowly drops as he leaned back, “and at the same time you are just like her.”

“I'm not her. She’s dead. And you…” you shook your head looking down into the water.

“He’s what? Mi vida.” He steps from the inky blackness of the shadows while his uncle disappears.

All thats left is the silence as he stares down at you, and you take in how different Miles is here. It all makes sense.

Uncle Aaron and Mr.Morales were like Miles’ yin and yang. And Miles was that shred of goodness, of hope for Uncle Aaron. But without his father the balance tipped. Kingpin was surely alive and roped in this Miles. He was the Prowler.

“Miles…” and his eyes soften. You must have been gone a while in this universe. “ I have to…I need to get back. I’m not her. I don-”

“Back to him?” His brow raises and that cold look settles back in his eyes. You’d never seen such distaste in them before it struck a nerve. It sent ice into your veins as he stepped forward.

Your skin prickled in unease as he used the knuckle of his pointer to gentle cradle your chin and drink in your eyes.

“The one who took it all from me. He’s got it good, don’t he?” And your eyes lower. Because you can’t deny the hurt you feel for him.

This Miles should be the one keeping things safe on this earth. Should have a father. Should have a spider-girl by his side, to help, to love. But you need to explain it. How the Spot is the one to blame, not your Miles.

“Miles it isn’t his fault I promise. It was someone else. I can help you, we both can. But you have to let me go back home” you plead, trying to keep your voice steady as his gentle caresses halt. His head tilts.

A beat passes before he’s pinching your cheeks right and leaning forward just a breath away. His eyes pierce your soul and your heart begins to pound against your ribs.

The glass cup slips out your hand shattering into a million pieces just like your resolve.

And his fury is quiet, but you hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. “He stole my father, my life. He stole you from me. I don’t give a damn bout that fraud. Long as I got you back in my life, he’s safe.”

The threat lingers in the air and your heart drops to your stomach. Miles was smart. A genius. And for all you know he’d begun picking at the watch. If he could find a way to get to your Miles, he would have.

And something tells you that if he does, you wouldn’t be seeing him again. So you swallow what feels like cotton down your throat and try to stand firm.

But a tear is dripping down your cheek that he catches. He’s gentle again in cradling your cheek as his thumb catches the stream of tears.

“Things will be different. Better. I’ll be better for you mi corazon. I’ll keep you safe this time.”

#miles morales x spidergirl!reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales imagine #prowler!miles x reader #42!MilesMorales x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #Earth 42!Miles Morales x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 days

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the girl next door 20

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Not long after you close yourself in your room you hear the front door close. The house is silent but not calm. While you want everything to just go back the way it was, being alone with your mom doesn’t promise you peace. She never takes it well when she doesn’t get her way.

You have your table pulled up the bed, doodling random petals and stems, some connected and some not. The sunlight beams through the curtains and shines onto the paper as you scratch the graphite over it. You cup your chin as you bide your time, dreading the inevitable. You’ll have to face her again and you have a lot to atone for.

The rustle of leaves is underlined by the darting whistle of some distant bird. Along the edge of your vision, you sense movement and peer over at the window, expecting a flutter of wings. Instead, you see a shadow looming in Steve’s window, just across the gap between your houses. You don’t recognise that man; it must be the friend he mentioned.

You slide the table out and stand slowly, cautious as you try not to draw attention. The man has grey hair like Steve, he’s a little shorter by your measure, and built a bit broader. He turns to lean just beside the window and you carefully tug closed your curtain. You keep forgetting to do that although you can’t even remember opening it most times.

The noise of your movement draws your name from the front room. You huff and face the door. It’s time. You emerge and go to find your mother on her recliner. She stares despondently at the ceiling.

“Whatever you said to Steve...” she mutters.

“I didn’t...” you can’t even finish the lie. You didn’t say anything but you also don’t know everything you did around Steve.

“I don’t want to hear it. You reel it in,” she sits the chair up straight and winces at the jarring motion. “Whatever you’re up to, it stops now.”

You look at the floor, “sorry, mom.”

“Ugh, you’re useless, you know that? If you hadn’t been hanging around like some troll, he would’ve stayed,” she snarls. "If you weren't here, everything would be so much better."

“Mm, but I saw... his friend--”

“Oh, shut up and go away,” she snaps and reclines again. “Tomorrow, he’s taking me out. Away from you. You can stay and clean up your mess.”

You back away without another word. She’s only looking to argue. It will be good for her to get out. Somewhere that isn’t a hospital. And she’s right, this place could use another clean, and you could use the distraction.

🏡

As promised, your mother leaves with Steve. That she’s ready to leave the house before noon is a feat on its own, not to mention how she woke up before you. Still, you made her coffee for her and reminded her about her medicine. Those parts went as usual.

Alone, you feel lighter but not free. You sweep and mop and make sure all the dishes are done and away. You even make sure to use the old vacuum to clean up your mom’s recliners and the carpet in the front room. A spritz of freshener makes the air a little less stale.

You finish around one and go back to your room. You take out your pencils and set to work on a new picture. No more amaryllis; you’ve moved on to morning glories. It’s so beautiful how they open with the sun.

You use your colour pencils, some of them so short you can’t even sharpen them, to give dimension the broad petals. You lose yourself in the task, fingertips a medley of hues as you switch between shades and blending stick. You have your forehead in your hand, your shoulders hunched, and your eyes laser focused.

It’s only your name that breaks your reverie. You blink and sit up, the ache setting into your knuckles as they have a moment to rest. You door is open.

“Hey, sweetie,” Steve says, “we’re back.”

“Oh,” is all you can utter.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he has a hand on his hip. You wonder if he’s been there a while. “Not to intrude but... could I get a peek?”

You stare at him for a moment, confused. Then look down at the page. It’s mostly done, you guess. Doesn’t matter, really. There’s worse things to judge you about.

You set down the pencil and lift the book. He breaks the threshold of your room and crosses to look closer. He carefully puts his hand next to yours, silently asking permission to take it. You hand it over and he raises it closer to squint at the lines.

“This is beautiful,” he remarks, “you should think about my offer. We could go out and find some good scenery,” He suggests as he continues to examine your work, “and you shouldn’t be all bent over like that. You can always use my studio if you need--”

“I’m fine,” you shrug.

“For now, but one day that’s catch up to you. Trust me,” she offers the book back to you. “So... do you only draw flowers?”

You close the book and pack away the pencils.

“Mostly,” you answer.

“Wow, to be honest, I always found them challenging. No two flowers are alike, right? Every rose has different petals, every tulip a different number of stamens,” he says. “So how was your day?”

“Is my mom here?” You asks, ignoring his question.

“Yeah, she’s all tired out. She’s relaxing. Still early though,” he checks his watch, “you wanna come over for a swim?”

You’re flumoxed by the pace of his conversation. The constant pivoting has you off-balance. You’re wholly unready for any of it. Those hours alone have left you in an odd daze.

“Thanks, but uh, I don’t have a suit,” you say.

“You don’t?” He clucks, “well that’s too bad. You could just wear some shorts and tank or whatever. No one around to see.”

“It’s okay,” you rebuff again. “I’m still pretty tired.”

“Oh, of course, sweetie, maybe another time. Did you take another pill? I know they really get to you.”

“Erm, no.”

“You’re going to, right? You need to be consistent, you know? To see if it works.”

“Right, I know,” you murmur guiltily. You’d forgotten all about the boxes in the cupboard.

“Now, I’m only looking out for you. I mean, you take care of your mother, make sure she takes her meds, but what about you? Who’s looking after you, sweetheart?”

You hug yourself and stand. You untangle your arms from around you and push the table back to the corner. He might mean well but you’re just embarrassed. No one does care about you and you’re okay with that. You have to be, you can’t change it.

“It was rhetorical,” he says, “sweetie, I’m going to look after you. I promise.” He’s pauses as if waiting for an answer, “haven’t I?”

“Hmm,” you turn to him and push out your lower lip.

“Haven’t I taken care of you?” He asks.

You nod, “yes. Thank you...”

“You and your mom, right? That’s how it’s gonna be. The three of us.”

What he’s saying, the way he’s saying it, it’s making you uneasy. You tuck your lip under your teeth and let it pop back out. He tilts his head as his eye flicker eerily.

“Well, I’m going to stay the night to keep an eye on mom. She’s having a bad day. She did a lot so... I’ll get started on dinner and you take your medicine, okay?”

Your heart pounds in your ribcage. There’s something about his tone. He’s not asking, he’s telling. You look at him in your doorway, noting how he fills the whole thing. Thinking of how you couldn’t get past him or move him, even if you had the courage to try. You reach over to steady yourself with the table.

“Sure,” you agree softly.

“You’re not busy tomorrow?” He wonders.

You blink and shake your head, “n... no?”

“Good, we have a surprise for you,” he grins. “Big one.”

“Al--alright,” you resist as shiver.

“You should dress up nice, too. Maybe that cute little dress you got,” he taps on the doorframe and takes a step back, “I like that one.”

He winks and spins on his heel, leaving you in a queasy silence. A surprise? What could he possibly mean?

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #the girl next door #series #drabble #au #silverfox au #mcu #marvel #captain america

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sashiavi · 7 months

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𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 2023

#11•𝙿𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕•#11

𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚌 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ².⁸ᵏ

Diluc Ragnvindr was a Nobleman, drowning in unimaginable amounts of Mora, he was a bachelor, a businessman, a tycoon. He led a busy life, taking on a heavy wealth and a responsibility generationally entitled to him. Such a commodity often came in handy through the other aspects of his life - Paying off sketchy low-threat hooligans to bring him information, keep him in the loop of the criminal underworld. He was strict through both day and night, in the business world two dimensions apart. The Dark Knight Hero - Though he had a distaste for the kitschy name - was a monumental part of his life.

Diluc somehow landed himself in an elusive auction, held by an anonymous hierarchy - he had reason to believe they had connections to the Fatui, and may have research or documents or anything he could abuse to take them out. He sits on one of the many pews in the room, face skilfully hidden from the other patrons participating in the auction, some of which he personally recognised. Lawrence clan politicians, a few stray knights of favonious, breaking their vowed code of ethics, even a Kätzleinan he could vaguely recognise from the outskirts of Monstadt.

The auction drags on, completely uneventful, nothing he hadn't seen before - Delusions, Adepti relics, monster loot and stolen art. Not once had he lifted the wooden paddle in his hand, he was starting to think this auction was a real waste of his time. Until, an announcement piques his interest.

"Up next is an exclusive piece, an exotic pet all the way from Inazuma - Starting bid is Two Hundred Thousand Mora!" The Announcer chirps, moving across the stage performatively. What kind of animal would be worth such a high starting bid? A Kitsune? A rare fish? He doesn't have to ponder for very long. A large, cube object is wheeled onto the stage, covered by a thick, dark fabric. Whatever the creature was, it was under there. The Announcer dances across the stage, grabbing the fabric and tugging it off with a quick swipe, revealing the creature inside of the cage.

A young woman is revealed, nearly nude, clad in just enough fabric to be considered undergarments. She sits on the side of her needs, fingers clenched into her palms. The most noticeable feature on the girl is her large ears and tail - they were shaped like a Shiba's, or even a wolf's, round and fluffy and twitchy. Murmurs swim through the crowd, both in confusion and excitement. Diluc sits straight, they were auctioning off a person?

"This sweet, lovable thing is the best companion a Gentleman could ask for! Obedient and pliant, she will do just as you say, no matter how ludicrous it may be" the Announcer grins wickedly at his last line. Diluc felt a little ill, his moral compass spinning in every direction, surely he could.. He should do something? She'd be better off with him than any other slimy scum in the room. Without a second thought, his paddle raises into the air.

"Oo~ I see some interest in the crowd! C'mon folks! I like her and so should you!" His irritating voice booms through the venue. It's a vicious fight, the price attached to the girl goes up and up, reaching into a number many could never fathom. Diluc's heart races.

"This thing is as handy as a pocket on your shirt~" God Diluc was sick of him. The battle is coming close, the number continues to grow. It comes down to him and some other Nobleman, a Lawrence clan big shot waving his paddle up into the air, he ought to report him sometime. Diluc had to do something, to save this poor girl. He raises his paddle high and shouts.

"Two Million!"

The crowd gasps, even the Announcer looks shocked. No one in their right mind would try to outbid him. And he was right.

After the event, Diluc is taken to see his 'prize'. The poor Puppy girl was still locked away in her cage, shivering from the cold metal. He sneers at the attendant, demanding the key to the lock and ushers them away, leaving him alone with her. The lock clicks open and the door creaks loudly, shrill rusted metal on metal squealing from the movement. Up close, he gets a better view of her and Archons, she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen - albeit a little roughed up - nothing a warm bubble bath and a touch of Adelinde's charm couldn't fix. He reaches his hand out to her, earning a whimper, the Puppy girl nearly throws herself at him. Diluc is taken aback, surely she was scared, or apprehensive to even look at a man. She presses a kiss into his jaw, soft on his 5 o'clock shadow.

"Master..?" Her eyes look up into his, glimmering with something - it seemed she wasn't all there. He shakes his head, awkwardly patting her crown before standing, prying her body off of him. He removes the thick heavy cloak off of his form and wraps it around her shoulders, clasping it just under her neck. She tilts her head, ears flopping to the side, eyes wide and curious.

"D..Diluc… Just call me Diluc" He tentatively pets her head.

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The sweet Puppy Girl adjusts to the Dawn Winery easily, tagging along with Adelinde during her daily chores around the estate. She keeps herself busy, doing all she can to help out. Diluc workshops a way to get the sweet girl back to Inazuma, though with the current lock down of the Electro nation, that proved to be a difficult feat.

Diluc pampers the girl in the meantime, giving her the tastiest treats and prettiest trinkets. Spending time with her, reading and learning about Mondstadt's history. He grows close with her, eating nearly every meal together, taking walks through the estate's gardens, and shopping in the markets of Mondstadt. To the outside eye they would seem to be a couple - not that Diluc particularly shut down the notion at all

The day turns to night, the Winery grows cool with the setting sun, candles light up the space. The Puppy girl feels restless, not at all matching the calmness of the night. A knock raps at Diluc's office door, with a short welcoming beckon it opens, revealing the girl. She pitters over to Diluc, her bare feet thudding against the floorboards of his office. She reaches up, looping her arms around his neck, stuffing her face into his chest. Her tail droops and sways in discomfort, she wobbles on her spot, standing on unbalanced tippy toes just to hug him.

"Hot.. Master Diluc.. 'm hot" The Puppy cries into his chest. She never dropped the 'Master' in his name, he doesn't think he hates it. Her skin did feel feverish, warm against his already blazing form. Diluc soothes a palm over the small of her back in an attempt to comfort the sweet girl in his arms.

"Hot how, are you ill?" He whispers.

"Hot in my head.. 'n down there" She squirms against him. Oh. It was only a matter of time he supposed, most hybrid races experienced secondary genders - She must be going into heat. Diluc grits his teeth together, eyes narrowing in thought, surely he should.. He didn't know what he should do. Call Adelinde? Albedo? Sucrose? Was she a canine? What is she? Diluc's thoughts are cut short when he feels a soft pressure on his neck.

He cranes his eyes down, finding the sweet Puppy Girl nuzzled into his neck, pressing into the beating pulse points under his skin. He swallows, his Adam's apple grazes her nose. She was scenting him, he was sure, imprinting on his skin. He fights a moan and ignores the soft swell of his cock in his trousers. He feels her tongue lick at his throat, small canines nip at his skin. His hands hover over her hips.

This was the exact thing he was trying to save her from, and here he was being a hypocrite. A dirty pervert no better than the other Noble scum in the city. He raises his hands, nearly pulling the poor Puppy Girl tighter into his chest, he doesn't, however. He releases a shaky breath, in an attempt to calm himself.

"Want you Master Diluc… Need you~" The Puppy Girl cooes softly into the skin of his neck. His brain was doing backflips, he was sure he was going to pass out. She is asking - He has no time for mental gymnastics, the Puppy Girl pulls him by the collar of his shirt, right in the direction of his master bedroom.

He falls into bed with her, the Puppy Girl snug in his lap, fluffy tail wagging happily. She noses and kisses at his neck, against his pulse points, nipping at the soft spots she imprinted her scent. Diluc's head fogs a little, unaccustomed to the shivery tingles her kisses shoot through his body. His length presses hard against the seam of his pants, it takes everything in him to not thrust up into the pretty Puppy in his lap. He doesn't have to, he muses, the girl straddles his hips, pressing her pussy into his clothed cock. He feels her arousal through his pants, Gods she wasn't wearing panties, his cock twitches hard into her. The Puppy Girl squirms in his lap, humping her puffy clit into his groin, hot slick easily soaking through his trousers.

"Feels ouchy, need it Master Diluc~" The Puppy Girl pulls from his neck, eyes bleary and wet as she looks down at him. She hiccups and humps his lap, face flushed and feverish, doing anything to fix the burning heat in her cunt. Diluc nearly growls, his palms grab at her soft ass cheeks, pulling her into a delicious pace. It didn't count - She could get what she needed without his thick cock nestled inside of her. He wasn't like those other Noblemen. He was just helping her. He couldn't deny how aroused she made him, her cute, dumb little head tilt. How she needed assistance for nearly every little thing. Archons and he was there to help her, help her bathe and eat and relieve herself in his lap.

The Puppy Girl keens in his lap, squeezing his hips with her thighs, tail wagging and ears pinned to her head. She digs her nails into his chest, biting at her lip as she grinds her puppy cunt on him. Diluc's pupils blow wide as she cums on him, hiccuping the prettiest little whines, pathetically humping his clothed cock. She messes in his lap, her creamy Puppy cunt drooling through his pants. She leans down, crying a kiss into his lips, begging for comfort. And he gives it to her, kissing back into her lips, rubbing his palms over her back.

Gods she was too cute to just stop here.

"More.. need more.. M-Master~ please, pleaseplease!" She cries, fat little tears trickle down her cheeks. The pretty Puppy Girl paws at his pants, rubbing over his hard cock, fumbling to undo the intricacies of his button. Diluc huffs a warm laugh, cupping her face with his hands, soothing his thumb over her cheeks.

"..'s okay Pup.. I'll look after you.." He meant it. Sincerely. Diluc easily pins the sweet girl to his soft mattress, slowly stripping the two of them. He pets at her puffy nipples and pretty clit. There was a pang of guilt at the back of his skull, easily washed away by how intimate and real the moment felt. This sweet Puppy coming to him for her own selfish reason, trained to please and yet she trusted him. The thought spurs him on, kissing firmly against her lips, becoming rougher with his hands, petting her heavily in all of her sensitive little places.

He slips his fat cock head between her slick folds, oozing with her creamy arousal, begging to have a Pup fucked into her. He feels the pang again, his brain screaming at him - this was a bad idea it said. Diluc couldn't care, she wanted this, it didn't count he wasn't like them, he was doing the right thing. He kisses at her eyelids, over her nose and to her lips. He dotes on the sweet Puppy in his arms, just popping the tip of his cock into her cunny, leaving sweet kisses to her face. If she weren't laying on her tail it would be wagging like mad. Her ears twitch every time he slips his thick head into her little cunt.

"Please make the ouchy go away Master~ need it bad" The sweet Puppy Girl whines, chin wobbling with pretty tears. How could he deny her when she asked so nicely.

He bottoms out in her Puppy cunt, heavy balls pressed into her ass, thick, fat tip kissing at her cervix. The sweet girl mewls, wrapping her legs around his hips nice and tight. Diluc groans, rocking his cock into her warm, gushy pussy, nice and slick from her heat.

"..'s good, good Master~ need it, need more of it, feels ouchy still!" The Puppy girl attempts to fuck back into his cock, rocking her hips up, tightening her legs. Diluc tuts in mock sympathy, steadying her hips, locking her down. He relishes in the soft cries of the sweet Puppy below him, squirming around, trying her best to relieve the ouchy feeling in her tummy.

"Settle Pup.. M-Master's gonna fix the ouchy.. M'kay?" He taunts at her, pulling his hips back and fucking her with one hard thrust. The sweet girl keens, nearly bursting through her bottom lip with her teeth. He grins, pushing his cock into her in slow, hard thrusts. He convinces himself it's to let her get used to him, yeah, going nice and slow for her. The sweet girl continues to whine, begging for more. Who was he to deny her?

He grips the underside of her knees, pushing them up, exposing her drooling folds wrapped around his thick cock. He pushes her into a pretty little mating press, just what a dumb Puppy needs. The pretty Puppy Girl whines into the air, clenching her sweet cunny around his length. Diluc growls, mounting her sweet puppy cunt with his cock, fucking into her at a delicious pace. Her creamy pussy gushes on his length, sucking him in greedily.

"..'s good Master! Master, Master, Master! Feels good- good in my- ah~" The Puppy girl babbles on his cock, crying stupidly as he fucks her good. The name spurs Diluc on, yeah, he was her master. Her big strong master there to coddle and kiss her and fuck her right when she needed it. His balls slap into her pretty ass as he fucks into her, his body clapping loudly into her skin. Gods everyone would know what they were up to, he hoped they could hear. Hear just how spoiled his pretty little Puppy was, how good he could make her feel, show them just how good of a master he was, taking care of his pet.

Diluc throws his head back with a growl, his thick bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat. He uses the bed as leverage, bouncing the pretty Pup back on his cock. The sweet girl continues to mewl and babble, praising her Master with the sweetest little words.

"Feels good! Feels- making the ouchy go away~ love you Master! Love you love you love youuu~" She cries, fucked stupid on his cock. Gods she was delusional and he loved it. He could feel her puppy cunt tightening on his length, squeezing at him deliciously. Her hot slick never stops oozing over his cock, making the prettiest mess all over his heavy balls. He shows a little mercy, bringing his thumb down to her swollen puffy clit, circling the sweet bud quickly. The Puppy girl keens, ears pinned back, pretty lips parted, sweet canines on display with her downturned smile.

The sweet Puppy looses it, squirting messily over his cock as he fucks her. Her pretty puppy cunt squirts with every heavy thrust he fucks into her, messing all over his front in pretty spurts. The Puppy girl cries and whines and sobs on his cock, her cunny milks him with her orgasm, pulsing and clenching hard on his length. He presses his cock so sweetly into her pussy, cumming thick, creamy ropes right into her little puffy hole. He marks her puppy cunt with his cum, making sure to fuck it deep into her aching cervix. He slows his pace, plugging the sweet Puppy up with his cock, making sure he'd bred her puppy cunt good with his cum.

"Feels better?" He coos, brushing any strays locks from the sweet girl's eyes. The Puppy girl tilts her head into his hand, nuzzling her nose right into his palm. She smiles dopily and peers up at him.

"Feels better.. thank you Master~" She says airily. She hums and wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a cuddle.

Diluc's brain tries to fire, attempts to berate him and tell him that what he did was wrong. He's too distracted however, by the pretty Puppy Girl in his arms.

Not a usual kinktober prompt bUt I wanted to let other genshin boys experience some puppy love 😔 since it's what I'm knOWN for hauhwua

This took a long time and I apologize my babies i so sorry </3

Also did you know that it takes 2 million Mora to ascend a character to lvl 90

alSO if you have any kinktober prompts & characters you wanna see I am very happy to try them - I've lowkey abandoned my list bahHshksks

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Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always Appreciated! Lmk If There Are Any Mistakes And Tell Me What You Think Hehe

♡KinkTober Taglist♡

@heath-sama @yejiswifex @hunnibunnix @bleh09 @madsw9 @py-schi @wizzardcatwithastick @shiningpaint-marbleheart @cherrytomato2 @i-am-silver @your-tears-taste-sweeter @kqzutcra @themusingsofmany @kaijubxnny @tericula

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#ʚ•*°SashiAvi's Kinktober°*•ɞ #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x y/n #afab reader #diluc x y/n #diluc smut #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc x you #hybrid reader #puppy girl reader #diluc x puppy girl #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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mokulule · 1 year

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The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 1

So figured I could show what else I am working on aside from Salt in the Bones with @clockwayswrites. I still blame Clock for this though, they are way too fun to brainstorm with, and I have too many WIPs already. Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

Danny was sick and tired of this city, this entire dimension in fact. And this vigilante family, or whatever they were, were more dogged in their pursuit of him than the GIW or his parents had ever been - all this for a few gizmos.

Danny rolled his eyes and ducked a kick from the most violent midget since Youngblood.

Seriously he was just trying to build a portal home, and it wasn’t like he was hurting anyone. He’d mostly stolen from villains anyway! And Wayne industries was like a multibillion dollar company, they shouldn’t miss a few scraps or prototypes. It would hardly put a dent in their budget.

Midget was back on his feet and had now drawn a freaking sword. Yeah, this was it, Danny needed to leave before bigger and battier arrived. He faked left but then spun right around the probably actual literal kid with the real sword, jumped to the railing and kicked off towards the next rooftop. Ignoring gravity’s pull for a just a couple of seconds was the only reason he landed safely on the other roof.

He felt a moment of worry that the kid would try following him and glanced back, but the child was fuming in safety on the other side, having lost that grappling gun thing he used earlier in the chase, it seemed Danny was safe for now. The kids mouth was moving, probably talking to more of the heroes.

He wasn’t gonna be safe for long, but Danny allowed himself a moment to breathe in relief. Suddenly his breath stuck coldly in his throat and he froze. Impossible! The shades of this city barely tickled his throat, he hadn’t met anything that would even halfway classify as a ghost to his senses. Urgency was like a cold hand around his throat, a desperate longing hummed in his core as he slowly spun trying to get a sense of where - he only managed to see a blur of red before a heavy weight knocked into him slamming him to the ground. The cold mist in his throat was pushed out in a pained oof, and his head bounced first on one thing then another, but that didn’t matter because his core was singing; close, not alone, hug!

Danny’s head spun, his whole body felt pained and smushed. A man, no a freaking tank, was laying on top of him. Body armor dug into his ribs, probably something there was bent or broken and he felt certain that ominous red helmet had left a mark where it hit his forehead. Also his hair felt a bit wet beneath him. Yet that didn’t matter because he was so overwhelmed, warm with hands and feet tingling from the humming joy in his chest. Hug! His core sang again.

Somewhere in the fog in his head he recognized this was no hug, but he hurt, his head was spinning, and he was not alone and he was happy and wasn’t that more important than a bit of pain? Oo o oO

Jason was unsure what was going on.

He’d managed to tackle the elusive thief Dick had so “creatively” nicknamed the Ghost for his ability to go invisible and the inability for them to land a decent hit on him. In fact if he hadn’t seen footage from previous run-ins with the man, Jason would have thought they wildly exaggerated his skills.

After all the man had frozen up strangely when Jason pulled himself onto the rooftop as he listened only with half an ear to the demon brat angrily grumbling in the comms, that he would have had him had he not been a coward who ran away all the time. Their thief was slowly turning around as if looking for something, the green glass of his goggles reflected in the moonlight and for a moment gave the illusion they were glowing.

Jason had not wasted a moment, got to his feet, crossed the distance in a mere three large steps before he crashed into the man - so, he’d halfway expected the man to move and therefore hadn’t prepared to soften another person’s landing. His helmet hit the shorter man’s forehead and his head rebounded and hit the roof with a sound that made Jason internally wince. The next moment there was a snapping sound and a gasp as the man’s ribcage was caught between the roof and Jason - he really wore no armor, just that thin hoodie. No matter what B said about the danger of the stolen items, Jason was really starting to doubt they had a budding super villain on hand.

He immediately made a move to get up, but stopped, a strange feeling of something overtaking him. It took a moment for him to discern because of the dichotomy, but it was… happiness? What the fuck, it wasn’t his emotions, that made no sense. The pits had only ever sent him rage and in rare moments gruesome satisfaction. This was joy, he felt almost like he was floating caught in a wave at the beach, weightless, happy, warm in the sun. He shook his head pushing the foreign emotions away like he would the pit and focused on his dazed perp.

There was something wet glistening in his unruly black hair.

“Fuck,” Jason muttered, thankfully too low for the helmet to project, but loud enough that he got a breathless but insistent “report” back from Bruce where he was clearly hurrying toward their destination.

“I knocked the Ghost down, he’s bleeding from a head wound,” he muttered at his comms as he pulled the goggles up to get a look his eyes to check for signs of concussion, but immediately froze. The goggles, he’d thought it was a trick of the light earlier, but no, his eyes were glowing - bright and green and just a shade lighter than the Lazarus pits. A shudder ran cold down his back. Somehow the foreign emotions were coming from him, Jason was sure of it, but it explained absolutely nothing! Unrestrained joy? Was this some kind of shock response?

More footsteps landed on the roof and Jason didn’t need to look to know it was Bruce with the Brat along for the ride. He finally remembered he’d been trying to get off the other man at some point.

Oo o oO

No, no, no, Danny’s core protested when the other ghost moved away, and he clutched onto what he could grab, which he dazedly recognized as a very nicely muscled arm. The other arm, because human shaped ghosts have two arms (good job Danny), supported Danny by holding onto one of his arms and that was good. Getting upright gave him the worst moment of vertigo, and his breath whooshed out of him. His legs were like jello and didn’t support him, but that didn’t matter, because his new friend had a good firm grip, could probably even hold him up entirely without Danny clutching his arm, good friend, mine. He butted his head into his chest because that was what he could reach and just leaned there. His core hummed so happily he felt like he’d almost shake apart.

Friend.

Mine

Good friend

…

Why no response?…

Hello? Danny was confused, why wasn’t he getting a response. Also why did his head and chest hurt so bad?

“Tt, what is the matter with him?”

The question, delivered in a haughty voice was like a bucket of ice water on his senses. He gasped and pushed away from where he’d been nuzzling some guy’s chest! Alarmed, he stumbled, but dodged the hands reaching for him, to support him, to catch him, he wasn’t sure. There was the big bat and the midget and the tank in the red helmet; the guy who felt like a ghost and he just wanted nothing more than to go back to him, and- Danny shuddered taking another step back, his face was hot and flaming red right now. This was, this was- he couldn’t-

Hiding his powers be damned; he sunk through the roof.

So embarrassing! He closed his eyes fighting tears as he sank down down down, all the way into the ground where they for sure couldn’t follow him. All the while his insides screamed, because he didn’t want to be lonely anymore. Fuck, he just wanted to go home.

He was so sick and tired of this city.

So... yeah hope you enjoyed this, now I can reveal why I blame Clock, they said and I quote "Danny, like a cat with catnip suddenly" and now Danny is a cat, what can you do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Jason's gonna have to lure this feral ghost in slowly with food and hugs.

edited with link to the next part:next Masterpost where you can subscribe: link

#dead on main #dp x dc #Jason is catnip to Danny #Missed connections #cause that's a shorter tag for this story than the title #long title is long but it makes sense #because danny is in a another dimension and missing his friends and family back home #angst #cw depression

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astroboots · 9 months

Text

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #14

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You try to move on after the Universe has been saved.

Word count: 4,700

Warning: Angst

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

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You're standing in the middle of your old apartment.

The same apartment that had a helicopter crash into it and left nothing but rubble, ash and melted cement in its wake. Except now it's restored, like nothing ever happened.

Your rickety dining table sits in the middle of the room, propped up by a hardcover book to make up for the fact that one leg is crooked. Your tiny double bed with your lumpy mattress is pushed up against the wall. The usual piles of clean and dirty laundry indiscriminately mixed together sits unattended on top of the unmade covers.

You don't understand.

Why is it all back to normal?

You shake your head, snapping yourself out of it.

Miguel… You need to get back to him and you don't have time for this right now.

"Lyla," you summon. A warm ping vibrates against your inner wrist as Lyla appears. "Take me back to the void."

Lyla shakes her head firmly. "I'm sorry I can't do that."

"What do you mean? Of course you can, you've brought us there twice. You did it when Miguel commanded you."

She peers up at you through her pink heart-shaped glasses, with a solemn look in her holographic eyes.

"The first time was a miscalculation. The second was to eliminate the continued threat to your life."

Her words stop you cold. 'Continued threat...' Is she referring to Miguel?

"Lyla, please. Stop messing around. Take me back to Miguel."

Lyla's eyes go blank, no longer the flippant expression you are so used to seeing.

"Request denied. My programming does not allow me to expose you to danger."

"He's going to die if we don't do something Lyla!" You shout at her.

There is a tremor in your hand. Your nerves are shot, exhausted and tired from everything that has happened in the last 24 hours and you can feel the tears pushing up against your throat.

"Isn't it part of your protocol to protect him?!"

"I was built to protect you. My primary directive is to make sure you're safe above all else. That is my purpose."

She recites the words as if she's reading from a manual. It's flat and emotionless in a way you've never known Lyla to be before. Like the line is hardwired into the very core of her basic coding. There are no funny jokes. No sass.

"Lyla, please," you beg.

She doesn't answer you. That same impassive expression as before is still on her face.

"Lyla..." you try again.

You scramble to think of your options. To devise a plan B. But to your horror, you can’t think of anything.

What are you meant to do? You’re not a super genius who can build source code out of thin air that can break the laws of physics. You have no superpowers. No magic that allows you to travel to other dimensions.

The only thing you know how to do is file claim insurance applications. You’re useless.

There's nothing to be done.

It's over.

Your legs give in from the oppressive weight of your realization. You slump to the floor, unable to hold yourself together as the hard wooden floor hits your knees. You fold in two, hunched over the floor and you let the ache inside your chest break and pour over and you cry.

When you come to some time later, you find yourself curled up on the floor. You don't know how long you must've been crying for. But it must’ve been long enough for you to have cried yourself to exhaustion and slipped into unconsciousness.

Turning onto your back, you stare up at the ceiling, shivering from the cold breeze of the evening coming through the window.

Your limbs are cramping from exhaustion. You're dehydrated. Mouth dry and eyes crusted with dried tears. There's a deep-seated headache burrowing into your skull. It's a struggle for you to get up from the floor into a seated position, as you properly take in your surroundings.

At first glance, this version of your apartment looks identical to yours, but on closer inspection there are some stark differences.

By the window, there are black out curtains hanging from the ceiling to allow for sleep-ins during daylight hours.

On your bed, amongst the mountain piles of laundry strewn haphazardly, there are items you don’t recognize. Oversized hoodies that are big enough to fit a bear. Male sweatpants. Socks so big they look like they're Christmas stockings.

Walking over to the kitchen area, there's a distinct lack of coffee. It's been replaced by expired Reese's Peanut Butter cups, milk duds, and Hershey bars that fill every corner of your kitchen cupboards to the brim, stuffed haphazardly on the upper shelves that you could never reach. They have even made their way into your nightstand and stuffed and hidden between books on the bookshelf.

Lyla doesn't even have to tell you where you are. You already know.

This is your home. In your other self's dimension. It belongs to Miguel's nena.

Miguel sent you here, the closest universe he knew of that was identical to yours, so that you could live out your days in safety, without him.

Fucking idiot.

This is not what you wanted.

Days pass.

It's an odd and empty existence, you've beaten the impossible odds and won against the universe itself and made it out alive. Yet you're not sure that anything about this truly qualifies as a victory.

For all you know, the world that is your home may have been destroyed.

After all that's what Stark said: there is no guarantee that just because you left, everything would go back to normal.

And who are you to argue with the (second) smartest man on earth?

There's no way of you knowing what the outcome was, and Lyla refuses to transport you out of this current dimension.

You spend most of your days curled into a ball in bed unable to summon the strength to keep yourself upright or awake for more than an hour at a time, haunted by the knowledge that your escape from your death might have doomed trillions to theirs.

In the hours in between, when that inescapable guilt doesn't eat into your mind, the only thing you are left with is replaying the moments of your life in the past three months.

It flits through your closed eyes like an old film reel and in every one of those moments, Miguel is there, reminding you of what you have now lost.

You feel hollowed out, scraped out and empty like there's nothing inside. The only time you manage to feel anything that resembles an emotion is when you clutch onto whatever piece of oversized clothing that once belonged to Miguel. The only physical trace you have to prove to yourself that he existed and it's not just some fantastical made up story in your mind.

Miguel once told you that anyone who gets lost in the void gets erased. Their very existence scrubbed from the records of the world. Does the fact that you can still remember him mean that he's still there? And if so, how much longer will you be able to mourn him before he's faded entirely in that space. Before your very memory of him and the love you have that sits inside you with nowhere to go is gone too?

Nothing about this feels like a happy ending.

In the first few days, you don't leave the house. You tell yourself that it's better that way. Now that Miguel is no longer here, the idea of walking out in into open streets in broad daylight seems strange to you.

Lyla tries to tempt you with exotic holidays.

“Bali, India! The world is your oyster, we can fly out first class tonight and do an Eat Pray Love for as long as you want to!” Lyla’s voice sings in your ear. "Thailand is lovely this time of the year, barely any tycoons."

Most of the time, you ignore her presence, burying your head into the pillow, pathetically hugging onto one of the oversized shirts that’s been left behind.

Everytime you hope to catch a whiff of the remnant traces of Miguel’s presence there. But there’s nothing. It just smells of stale detergent.

After surviving the end of the world, a lot of things that used to be important seems meaningless to you now.

Alive as you may be, there’s no real purpose for you carved out in this dimension. You don't go to work in the mornings, because the you of this universe died years ago. Showing up at your office at the Chrysler building would likely induce heart attacks amongst your old co-workers.

You could scour Careerbuilder for job ads, but there's a sour pit in your stomach that hugs tightly around your guts everytime you think of the prospect of having to speak to job recruiters.

You don't think you have it in you to lie to some stranger at an interview and pretend that being in front of a white screen poring over excel sheets 8 hours a day is the way you want to spend the rest of your life until you hit retirement.

Besides, rent is not an issue anymore. Nor is money when Lyla is there to take care of you and act as your digital sugar momma. A standing order for any and all bills needed to maintain this home had already been set up long before you arrived.

You feel sorry for Lyla. She's been programmed to take care of your mental and physical well being and you know she is at wit's end with your listless behavior.

She pulls out all the stops. Lyla orders take out for you, delivered right to your door to try to get you to eat. If she had a physical body, you think she would hold you down and force feed you.

But something is wrong with you, because even though every dish is your favorite, rounded up from your favorite restaurants in the city, for the first time in your life since you were born, you no longer have much of an appetite.

You usually only manage mouthfuls just to keep Lyla from constantly nagging, before you shove the take-out box back into the fridge and then crawl back into bed.

Everything tastes bland and grey. Everything around you seems to have lost its color and shine. Was the world around you always this dull?

On the fifth day, there is a familiar baby-pink box with Gladis' logo printed on the lid arriving at your doorstep.

“Surprise!” Lyla announces. “It’s your favorite! I ordered the luxury box with the elderflower lemon flavors, as well as the lychee-raspberry jello!”

You sit down by the table, staring at the beautifully adorned cupcakes in the box. Spirals of white and pink frosting with petals of edible flowers. There's freshly cut strawberries and blackberries and chocolate shavings on op.

Picking one up, you cram the whole cupcake into your mouth, trying to cling onto the memory of that first time when the flavor of lemon zest bursting on your tongue had made you squeal with happiness.

That doesn't happen.

This time, as the sugar hits the top of your mouth, all you can think about is how much you miss him. How things will never be the same without him.

How you'll never get to have him sit next to you, smiling softly as he watches you eat. That you'll never get to see him demolish a cupcake in one bite and leave frosting on his nose.

It doesn't feel the same, you just feel hollow. Wetness spills across your cheeks, and snot clogs your nose and throat. You must look like a looney, ugly crying with your mouth stuffed full of cupcake, barely swallowing.

After that Lyla doesn’t order them for you anymore.

It's morning you think, judging from the bright sun pouring in from the blinds.

Lyla is buzzing near your ear where you've taken off the watch and placed it on the pillow next to you for company.

"You need to get out of the house. You're turning into a social recluse. It's not a good look," she says, as she peers down at you over her pink-tinted glasses.

"How about I get a date for you? Have a fab night out on the town? I have a roller-dex of the top bachelors in New York. I'm happy to hack into their calendar!"

You ignore her, burying your face deeper into the pillow, hugging Miguel's worn hoodie tighter to your chest. You pull the cover over your head, but you can still hear her babble on through the thin separation of fabric.

"What's your type? Oscar Isaac? He’s hot– No, no you're right he's happily married and we don’t wanna be homewreckers here. What about Lenny Kravitz? Doesn't get cooler than Kravitz and he’s long divorced."

"Lyla stop," you groan, poking your head back up above the covers. You just want quiet. Just want to stay here cocooned in this space that is the closest you'll ever get to Miguel for as long as you can remember him, until that too is taken away from you.

"I'm fine. I don't need a date."

"You're not fine though. You've only eaten a box of cupcakes in the last week. You haven't showered and you look like a mess. Your hair is greasier than the BP oil spill off the gulf of Mexico. My purpose is to keep you safe, and that includes your mental and emotional levels, which are... " she stops, throwing up some diagnostics boxes in floating holograms, then makes a face. "Yikes."

She’s doing this on purpose. Talking incessantly, so that she can nag you into doing what she wants. Suddenly you gain newfound sympathy for Miguel. You used to think it was funny when she nagged him and got on his nerves, but now that you're on the end of it, you see how he must’ve suffered when Lyla was in one of these moods with him.

"Will you stop if I step out of the house for a walk," you offer as an olive branch, hoping for a little peace and quiet.

"How long of a walk?"

"Five."

"Minutes?!" Lyla screeches with outrage. "The general recommendation is 150 minutes of weekly exercise, I'm going to need at least an hour's walk from you boss-girl."

"Twenty minutes."

"Forty!"

"Half an hour, or I'm going back to bed and wearing earplugs."

Lyla grins. "Deal".

The streets here look the same as the ones in your dimension, down to the Bodega owned by the old Korean couple around the corner. This version of earth is identical to yours in almost every way you know of.

Except in this New York, instead of Matthew Ellis, a man named Biden who is apparently over 100 years old (give or take a few years) is president.

In this reality, Leonardo Di Caprio apparently won an Oscar, while Amy Adams still hasn't, which is nuts to you.

The Avengers also don't seem to exist here. Though Superheroes still seem prevalent. A group of misfits that refers to themselves as the Fantastic Four seems to dominate the news cycle more often than not.

Ahead of you, the street splits into two paths and you take a corner into the smaller street that you know should cut through to a dog park.

But it doesn’t. Instead of green grass fields and park benches, you end up in a small narrow dead end of a street. Somehow you're lost. Shit. You should've paid more attention.

Looking up, you turn your head left and right to try to make sense of where you could be. You’re just about to pull up google maps, when the flickering light of the one sole streetlamp illuminating this alley catches your attention.

You're 12 blocks from Chinatown, but you recognize this alley even though it shouldn't be here.

From a distance, you spot the familiar red stall. The same small rickety table. The same red cloth draped on top. The same old lady with her abnormally large shiny head, comically large sunglasses and white-blue robe. The same giant sign spelling out: Fortune teller.

Only this time, there's only one folding chair set up in front of it.

She takes one look at you, as you sit down with a look of familiarity in her milky-white eyes.

"Your bad luck is gone," she says.

You should be more surprised that the scam fortune teller from another dimension seemingly remembers the conversation you had with her other self. But it doesn't. You've learned by now that nothing is as it seems.

Random near death accidents are not just due to bad luck. A superhero that repeatedly saves you isn’t just doing it out of sheer goodwill and duty. A starmap is not just a starmap, and you’re willing to bet your life that this fortune teller is not just a fortune teller.

“Who are you?” you ask her.

“Is that of importance to you?”

“Yes.”

She takes off her sunglasses and stares directly into your eyes. Without the obstruction of dark tinted lenses, you can see that it's not glaucoma causing the whiteness in her pupils. In her eyes, there are galaxies, millions of tiny dots of glowing stars, endless and mesmerizing as you stare back into them.

"My name is Ulana. I’m a Watcher. My role is to observe the Multiverse from the Nexus of all realities.”

There’s no longer that harmless demeanor and friendly smile that makes you drop your guard. She holds herself with reverence as she speaks, with the aura of the divine.

“Does that mean you are able to observe every reality in this moment?” you ask.

“Yes.”

The image of your New York with its pink cracked sky and the chaos you left it in crowds your vision.

"Can you tell me what happened to my old world after I left? Is it still there?"

"Your old home is intact and safe."

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you had been holding all this time.

Thank god.

Relieved tears spill from your cheeks. Somehow you haven't single-handedly caused the destruction and death of whole worlds and countless lives.

Even if you can never go back there, that place will always be your home, and your chest warms at the thought that even without you it will always still be there.

You take a moment to gather yourself, to wipe the errant tears that are welling up with the back of your hand.

Then you take a deep calming breath before you ask her the question that has been plaguing your mind since you arrived in this reality.

"Is Miguel still alive in the void?" you ask her.

"Your husband is still alive. But he doesn't have much time left. He's fading."

Your fingers curl into fists on top of your knees, "How do I save him?"

"I couldn't tell you.” She shakes her head sadly. "My kind is not allowed to intervene. We are only meant to observe the ongoings of the universes. I've already meddled too much.”

Ducking down, she reaches under her desk, sorting through the pile of junk paper, before she leans back up over the table.

"This is the only help I can give you," she says, reaching over to place something into your hands.

You look down to see a familiar bright yellow Star Map.

"He'll be home this time," she tells you.

You're standing on the doorsteps of the old brownstone on 177A Bleecker Street, staring up at the old ornate wooden front doors.

Unlike last time you were here, there's no hesitation in you anymore. It doesn't matter that you've come alone with no other superhero to validate your mad and fantastical story about the Cosmos that was out to kill you.

You don't care if Strange thinks you're a random crazy from the streets.

If he doesn't believe you, then you'll make him believe you. If he tries to have you hauled out, you'll kick and drag and scream at the top of your lungs, and chain yourself to his front door if that's what it takes.

You bring your hand to the door knocker and tap it three times. Then you wait.

Nothing.

Didn't the fortune teller say he was going to be home this time?

Goddamnit, was she a scam after all? What kind of name is Ulana for a celestial being anyhow? Did you end up wasting another ten dollars?

You grit your teeth and step forward again, grabbing the door knocker to pound it down against the front door, even harder this time and you don’t stop at one or two, you keep slamming it down fervently.

Mid-knock, the door creaks, swinging open, as an exasperated voice greets you.

"Yes, yes, yes. I'm coming. There's no need to knock that aggressively, I'm not going to come to the door any fast–"

He stops mid-sentence as he looks at you. For a man you've never met, Dr. Strange's eyes go wide at the sight of you standing on his doorsteps. His eyes are filled with the disbelief of a man who's seen a ghost.

"You're alive," he says.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable,” Strange says as he hurriedly pulls out a chair by the old oak table in his dining room.

“I’ll make us some tea,” he says.

He waves his cape with a dramatic flare in the empty space, and from a distance you hear a small click, before you realize that he must’ve used magic to put on the kettle.

For someone that’s supposed to be a sorcerer, you don’t know why the hell he bothers having a kettle. Seems a bit redundant, couldn’t he just use magic to instantly heat water?

You sit down as instructed, hands folded in your lap as you try not to fidget.

There’s a prolonged and uncomfortable silence as you both wait for the water to boil.

Strange opens then closes his mouth, as if he’s unsure of who should speak first. In the end though, he doesn’t say anything at all, he just drums his fingers impatiently on the wooden surface as he smiles politely but awkwardly at you. Across the room, the water starts simmering to a boil.

This wasn’t what you had expected. You had counted on him to try to kick you out and you having to make a passionate plea for him to listen to you. Instead he’d opened the door and insisted on inviting you in and now the two of you are drowning in a sea of uncomfortable silence.

There’s a tinny whistle from the kettle, and Strange darts up from the chair, as if the interruption was a godsend. He rushes over to pick it up, before walking back to the table with it at a much slower pace.

Then he stands next to you, tilting the snout of the kettle into your small tea cup.

Strange stares intently at your face as he pours the boiling water into the cup. So focused on you that he doesn't pay any attention to the level of the hot water, until it spills over the rim and onto the table surface below. Then he seemingly snaps himself out of it.

"Shit! Sorry," Strange begins. He wipes up the spillage with his robe, even though there are perfectly good paper towels behind him, even though he could’ve just used magic to make it vanish in the blink of an eye.

"You look exactly like her," he says, then he stops himself.

Strange considers the statement and does a curt little nod at himself as if berating himself for how stupid that comment sounded. "Which of course you do. You are her, just… from another dimension."

From your time with Miguel, you’ve been able to glean from his childish rants about the man’s “ugly” and “useless” and “impractical” cape that there’s a hostility there towards Strange that goes beyond just Miguel being Miguel.

Judging from the guilt in this man’s eyes as he looks at you from across the table, you can guess that there is a complicated history between Strange and Miguel and you.

“Did you know me?” you ask.

“Yeah, we were friends. Good friends,” Strange corrects himself. Then a sadness seeps into his eyes as he stops wiping the table and pulls back his robe close to his body. “Although I supposed I wasn’t a great friend to you near the end of things.”

He places the cup down on the table in front of you, the rising steam wafts through the air, smelling of mint and honey as he drags out the chair and sits himself next to you.

"Why don't you tell me everything from the start," Strange asks you.

So you do. You tell him of that first day when you fell out of the Chrysler building and was saved by Miguel. Tell him about how Miguel saved you again and again and how you tried to trap him with cookies and how you fell out of the Chrysler building a second time on purpose, which makes Strange laugh that sounds fond and warm.

You tell him of the void, the fortune teller, the Avengers and everything in between, and how despite surviving all of that Miguel had exiled himself to the void and sent you here by yourself, with each event you tell him his eyes grow sadder.

When you're done, Strange nods solemnly. He picks up his cup and takes a small sip of his tea to buy himself time to gather his thoughts. Then he finally speaks again. "What can I do to help?"

"Miguel is still in the void. I need your help to send me there so I can get him back."

Strange frowns, then goes entirely quiet as he stares out of the window in deliberation. It takes several moments before he speaks again.

"The void is a dangerous place, stay too long and you will be erased from existence. If you go in you may not be able to find your way out and I wouldn’t be able to help you from here."

“That’s fine, I just need your help to get there” you say.

He sets down his cup as he continues. "I can’t in good conscience send you back out there. I've already broken my promise to keep you safe once."

Frustration brims in your chest. As flattered as you are over Strange’s concern over your safety, you bristle at the fact that there seems to be none extended to Miguel’s. Every second you spend here is another second wasted.

“Miguel is there. If I don’t save him, he’s going to be erased from existence.”

That doesn’t seem to move the doctor in the slightest.

“For Miguel, his own life is a small price to pay in exchange for yours. He’d sacrifice the whole world for you to live.”

“That’s not a choice for him to make.”

Strange scratches his thumb over his bearded jaw, as if he's trying to figure out how to solve a puzzle, before speaking again.

"Right now with Miguel gone, the volatile cosmic energy surrounding you is stabilized. The version of you in this universe died and is viewing your presence as an equivalent exchange. You could stay here. You'd be safe. Miguel would've known that. That's probably why he sent you here.”

"I don't want to stay here if Miguel isn't here," you counter.

Leaning back in his chair, Strange up at the ceiling in deep thought.

"It's risky, if I sent you there, you may not even be able to find him. He might not even have his physical shape anymore, he’s been there too long by now."

His head ducks back down as he looks at your face, observing you for long moments.

You don't know what it is he sees, but a small amused smile quirks at his lip as he shakes his head again.

"But... I think you already know the risks and nothing I can say will dissuade you will it?" he says.

You nod.

It's not that you've stopped being scared of the void. It's not that the very thought of it doesn't fill your stomach with a cold dread. It's that Miguel is there, and there is no risk you're not willing to take to have the chance to see him again.

You square your chest and confidence swells inside you with your answer.

"Send me there."

~ Next Issue

Credit and Dedication: We're almost there guys! Next issue is going to be the final one. Thanks to everyone who has been with me on this ride! I cannot wait to share the final conclusion with you all.

Special thank you (as always) go out to my bestie: @thirstworldproblemss who is a big reason this story even lifted off the ground in the first place.

Big BIG BIGGEST thanks to my muse @guruan who has gifted me with so much inspiration be it thirsty twitter art of our favorite rude spider or her own insanely gorgeous art. Have you seen this heartbreaking beauty?!

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fi #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse #marvel mcu #marvel #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderverse fanfiction

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luveline · 10 months

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hi Jade! I had a Miguel request but I apologize that it’s rather vague. Could you do Miguel comforting/dealing w how to comfort r when she’s genuinely afraid of something? I figure he’d be a little lost until he snaps into how much he cares! <3 love u

hope this is okay, thank u for requesting!! ♥

cw drug mention

Miguel watches you from the corner of his eye, uneasy. Arms stretched out in front of you to avoid walking into walls in the dim lighting, you follow the beam of his flashlight through the dark laboratory you'd wanted to investigate one precarious step at a time. The air smells of water-logged wood, rotting and stagnant.

You're not his protege, but Miguel decided to take you under his wing (his claw? his web?) because you have good ideas, and he needs all the help he can get if he's going to save everyone, everywhere. He's also fucking tired and he's agitated with you for bringing him to some derelict building in a dimension that doesn't have spiders, let alone Spider People.

"Why did you need this thing?" he asks.

"Already told you."

"Tell me again."

If Miguel thinks he's a man of little words, you talk even less. "Spider adjacent creatures create a chemical similar to what you're injecting now, but less volatile."

He doesn't remember you telling him that before. He doesn't stutter, the only evidence of his surprise a waver of the light beam.

"And you'll, what? Synthesise for me?" he asks.

"It could be gentler. Maybe give you a sense of normalcy."

Normalcy. He hasn't felt normal in a long time.

He snaps into the quiet, "This is a waste of time, I don't need something gentler, what I need is to be back at the lab fixing your communicator."

"It'll be like methadone," you say, stepping over a puddle of water with no apparent source. It must be seeping upward.

He's lucky he didn't just get 'methadone' and nothing else thrown at him. Miguel fixes the flashlight up the oncoming stairs as you start to ascend, lightly chastened. Methadone is a drug intended to assist in heroin dependency. It has its own cons, but in lots of cases, it can help the user stop using the original drug. He assumes you're suggesting that whatever drug he synthesises from the 'spider adjacent creature' will help him wean off of the injections (unlikely), or maybe repair some damaged DNA (complicated but not favourable right now).

"It'll be safer," you say, walking into the room toward an upturned lab bench. "You can make something with it. I know you can."

"I have to do it?" he asks, stopped in the doorway.

"You're the geneticist. It's really quiet."

The lack of changing cadence to your voice doesn't catch up with him until you're turning back toward him, your nervous expression lit by the torch. One second you're looking at him for reassurance, and the next you're falling through the floor, wood splintering up in a wave as the boards crack.

You scream. As loud of a sound as Miguel has ever heard from you, your arms slam forward to catch onto the edge of the hole your feet created. Miguel doesn't immediately move, aware that his weight over the weakened floor will damage the integrity further, but you beg him, shrill, "Miguel," you say, your voice strangled, "help me!"

Your arms scrabble for purchase, you're pleading through sobs, "I don't want to fall–"

He snaps his torch to his shoulder and flips forward. He grabs your arms, rolling across the shattered flooring to the opposite end of the room, releasing you as the weight of your bodies lands. You oof and roll out of his arms.

He's quick to get on his feet. Miguel hardly felt it. You flinch away from him and hold out your arms, a sleuce of maroon blood spilling down your side from under your arm. "Don't! Miguel, don't concentrate our weight!"

"You're crying," he says.

"Stop moving!" you yell.

"Alright!" he yells back, moving back toward a load-bearing pillar. "Calm down, estúpida! I'm not going to let you fall."

"You can't come over here, the floor's gonna break again."

"It won't break."

"It's going to break!"

You breathe harshly, staring at the hole you'd made. He understands why you were scared. The fall was sudden, and if you'd managed to slide through the hole you would have snapped your legs, perhaps your spine. Super healing doesn't negate pain.

"Lyla?" he asks.

She appears from his watch, in pyjamas with her hair held back by a white bunny-eared headband. "I was taking my fake nap. What do you want?"

"I want a filter that accounts for a building's structural integrity," he says.

"That's impossible without blueprints and– Hey, woah, what happened to Y/N?" she asks, keying in on your frantic panting.

"Tell me how to get from here to there without breaking through the floor," he says, snaps, incensed by your panicked breathing.

Lyla thankfully doesn't argue, nor does she make him beg. His heart pounds at the sight of you where you're shaking, certain you're a moment from falling again, your hands clamped uselessly to an outlet fixture on the wall.

A blue path lights up Miguel's UI. It directs him with blinking arrows on how to reach you. Miguel follows along, and, wanting to carry you or at the very least wipe your wet cheeks, he lifts you onto your feet and walks you back to the door, directing you over stress points, hand held taut in his. The floor groans and sags dangerously underfoot, but it doesn't collapse again.

You should've been wearing your suit, he thinks. You're an idiot. You came out here wanting to find something for him when you should've been directing your efforts to the cause of the strike force and the whole Society, but you wasted time, and now you're injured. You should've been wearing your fucking web shooters–

You try uselessly to bury your hands in his suit, your face dropped to his chest. You sob quietly, your shoulders shaking. "I'm sorry," you say, borderline hysterical.

Miguel brings his hand to your shoulder awkwardly. You might have made a mistake, but you're kind. You're more than a brilliant mind, you're a person, with fear and want intertwined. You clearly hadn't liked the dark but you'd braved it for him knowing the chemical here in the labs could improve his quality of life. He shouldn't think about you so meanly. You couldn't have known about the floor.

"What are you sorry for?" he asks with a sigh.

His awkwardness comes across as reluctance. You stiffen under his hand.

"I thought I was gonna fall," you say weakly, sniffling against his chest.

Miguel starts to rub a slow shape into your back. It feels wrong to hear and see you cry, his quiet cariño, who haunts his laboratory offering little in the way of words but always a smile if you have it to give. "It's okay," he says, ducking his head to talk into your hair. He remembers how to do this. "Don't cry. I would've caught you."

Miguel would've followed you down and wrapped you up to take the brunt of it without thinking, he knows that.

Your arms wrap around his sides. "When you didn't come get me I thought you were gonna let me fall," you confess, with a wet laugh as if to say, How silly am I?

Insanely silly.

Miguel pats your back in a steadying thump, thump, thump. "Are you kidding? You think something like that would happen on my watch?"

You shudder and give a little cough. He's surprised you didn't throw up, you'd wound yourself that tightly. Miguel pushes you away to make sure you aren't about to yak on him, and to check your face over for injury. He moves down to your neck, your bloodied side.

"We need to go home," he says, holding your arm up away from the wound in as tender a grasp as he's capable of.

"I didn't find the adendiam."

"Forget about it," he says. "We're going home. You're hurt."

Miguel would pull you through the portal kicking and screaming if he had to, but luckily, you don't make a fuss.

—

It's admittedly a blow to your ego to have cried in Miguel's arms. You don't know what to say or how to look at him now, miserable as he wipes down your skin with an iodine solution. His touch lingers: his hand on your shoulder, his reassuring hug less than an hour before like a cobweb on your skin.

He passes you a change of clothes, a simple white shirt for moments like this. There's no need or want for a hospital gown.

You pull it on, wincing at the soreness despite your quick healing and the nanotechnology that stitched your mean cut. You've deep bruises everywhere, especially under your arms where you caught yourself.

You haven't managed to stop shaking, curled forward with a disposable bedpan in your hands. The smell of iodine makes you nauseous.

Miguel audibly huffs. You can't face his disappointed glare.

"Sorry, Miguel," you say. "I… wanted to do something to help you."

"That was your first mistake. I don't need help."

You wince and go rigid, clinging to your bedpan for dear life and cursing yourself for being an idiot as he'd lamented, when a weight shifts on the examination table. A blue bedecked thigh spread out next to your own.

"Second mistake, thinking I'd leave you to fall. Third, thinking you owe me an apology."

"Any more?" you ask weakly.

Your waist grows hot under the touch of a hand. Miguel wraps his arm around you gently. "No. Nothing else."

Miguel pulls you in for a half hug.

You lean in to his side. He's solid beside you, and he starts to talk. He tells you about Rapture, the first time, and the mistakes he made after it. How scared he was in few words but an honest admission, his arm never moving from where it curls around you, holding you close. "We all have things that scare us," he says. "But you can't let them stop you from moving forward."

"How do you stop the fear?" you ask.

"No, you can't. You need to keep going. I wasn't going to let you fall, and I won't, but you need to be able to pull yourself up. I can't… lose you to fear."

You look up at the side of his face. He's looking down at the floor, not bashful or nervous but determined. His brow is set, and when he turns his gaze to you, it doesn't soften.

"I can't lose you," he says. "I won't."

You stare as he wraps you in a hug, your wide eyes looking over his shoulder in shock, your hands moving weakly behind his back to reciprocate. He drops his face into your neck.

After a moment, you close your eyes and lean in.

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olsenmyolsen · 3 months

Text

Giving My Heart To You

Happy Valentine's Day!

master list

dark master list

MCU (Female Sorceress Reader X The Scarlet Witch)

Summary: It's Valentine's Day, and what better way to spend than with someone trying to kill you.

Word Count: 2.7K

Content: Scarlet Milf, Darkhold, Death, but it works out(?)

It's February 14th, 2024.

You have been watching the witch formally known as Wanda Maximoff for the last few months.

You first took notice of her at the same time an old acquaintance of yours did. But she beat you to the punch, and then the hex and WestView happened.

Now you see who she is becoming or, better yet, what she is now.

The Avenger is gone.

The Scarlet Witch remains.

As you hold a leather-bound book close to your chest, you pray to your goddess that this works. That you can save the witch from herself. You know what she plans to do, and you feel for her. You don't blame her. She's been through enough, but you just know that the outcome of her future could happen differently.

So, as your bare feet step into the symbol you've made on the ground surrounded by candles and shrines from your past, are you ready to do what you NEED to do.

You're going to give your heart to the scarlet witch.

And if this spell works, the darkness in her will leave so she can find her children without killing a child.

You've done it once before, three hundred years ago for you in a different dimension. The spell worked, but the light power within sent you tumbling through the cosmos until you landed here.

Anyways, three hundred years later, you're prepared to do it again.

So, as your green dress brushes against the dirt on the floor do, you levitate the book away from your chest and start lifting your arms as you whisper the spell.

Your pink lips touch as your heart begins to glow. You lift your right arm and flick three fingers back before grabbing onto the air and pulling. You lift your head towards the sky as you feel the glow surrounding your body. It lifts you.

It's working.

But you're not alone, and you sense it too late.

A force hits you that sends your body to the floor as your book goes flying and your candles blow out. The white glow stops as she speaks up.

"Who are you?"

Your eyes go wide when you hear her voice. The accent is something you've always fallen for.

You close your eyes and bring yourself up to your knees.

"I asked you a question." The Scarlet Witch sneers as she takes a step closer to you. Now, standing behind your body.

You open your eyes and turn your head to face her.

The first thing you notice are her black fingertips. As your eyes move upward, you see how her suit has been cracked and turned black.

Finally, you lift your white eyes to her.

Your mouth falls open as you see her face—high cheekbones. Green eyes. Pillowy red lips with a face softer than wool.

She looks just like your Wanda.

"Your eyes are white." The Witch says to you as she begins walking around you. Her boots kicking away the symbol on the ground. You can't help but watch with your hands on your knees.

"Are you ever going to speak?" She says when she looks at you. Stopping next to your book. "My name is Y/N Y/L/N." The Witch hums as she looks you up and down. Her eyes roaming over the part of your dress that leaves more to be desired.

"Why am I in your book?" A red glow surrounds your book and lifts it to the woman across from you. "You wouldn't believe me." You shake your head. You know how this song and dance plays. "The Darkhold won't let you listen."

The Scarlet Witch tilts her head. "How do you know about the Darkhold?" Without giving you a second to answer, you find yourself being lifted and thrown several feet away—your body landing and tumbling. Thankfully, your magic cushioned the blow as you put your legs out and dug them into the dirt until you turned and stood up, surprising the Witch.

She watched your green dress turn into a suit similar to the one she wore.

Before the Darkhold showed her the truth.

You lifted your hands up as you prepared to defend yourself.

"You want to kill me and take it, don't you?" The Witch strutted towards you. "No." You shook your head as your eyes lifted to her face. "I want to help." A red ball of magic formed in the hands of the Witch. "I have all of the help I need." She threw the red ball towards you and another.

White shields extended themselves from your outstretched hands as you blocked her attacks. However, this didn't stop her as she started shooting lines of magic towards you. You effortlessly duck and dodge, but you know she won't stop.

You needed to get her to see what you knew to be true.

So, as you made counter moves and an effort not to fight back, you worked your way closer and closer to her. Until you found yourself close enough, and that's when the glow of your powers surrounded your body, and in a flash, you disappeared.

With the Witches arms raised, she looked around. You were gone, but she could sense you. The Darkhold was whispering to her that you were still present.

And just like what happened to you, Wanda sensed you when it was too late.

Your right arm wrapped itself around the waist of The Witch, making both of your mouths fall open at the touch, but you remained focused as you lifted her left hand with your powers to the side of your head.

She needed to see your memories.

At first, it was you and Wanda running away from chores and the labor forced upon you by others in your village.

Young adults trying to figure out who you were.

Slowly, it morphed into stolen kisses and nights of passion as Wanda's mouth worked it way across your body.

Followed by dates with a gold ring and the trials and burning of other witches... it became the final straw. The two of you knew you had to run away.

So you did.

But somewhere along the path, when you didn't realize it, your mind had succumbed to Wanda and her whisperings.

Your fiancée became more possessive. Not only of you but of the children Wanda grew inside of her.

Like magic, they were brought into your world. You and Wanda raised your boys with love and care for several years.

But what you didn't know wouldn't hurt you, right?

You thought the same thing about Wanda. You were certain the book was with her.

You needed to save Billy and Tommy... but...

The night it happened, you were on your knees. Bound by red magic as Wanda's black fingertips ran through your hair. Scratching your head.

"You're so good to me." She spoke in a hushed Sokovain tone. "So why do you disobey me?" Wanda moved her hands downward and pulled. Making you cry out as she yanked you to the floor.

She scoffed.

You looked up to her as she conjured the Darkhold into the air. "You're going to leave me. Betray me." She spoke as if she knew what she was talking about.

You shook your head. "I'm trying to save them. They need their mom." You cried out as a red line of magic wrapped around your throat.

Wanda smiled with a roll of her eyes. "Oh, please. We both know I could squeeze a lot harder, and you'll be fine." Wanda's attention left you as she grabbed your book. "The Darkhold was right. I am in here." She ripped the pages of The Scarlet Witch out.

They softly landed next to you.

Tears in your eyes as you read the spell one last time.

"Wanda, please..." Your voice was weak. She closed your book and let it disappear. "Please?" She tightened her jaw when your eyes looked at her. "You want to take MY children away from me?!"

That's when you knew she was officially gone.

Ours became Mine.

Plus, she didn't even remember...

You swallowed the hurt in your throat and let your heart quietly break before mustering up the courage to speak.

"Wanda..." That was the last time you said her name. "Billy and Tommy..." Your lips wobbled as you gently cried. "They're already gone..."

The Scarlet Witch froze. You took the opportunity to catch your breath and lift your hand to touch the red magic around your arm. "You're not supposed to know that..." She spoke before using her magic to pull you to her feet. Bringing you inches away from her face. "Their death isn't your fault." The Witch gritted her teeth, but for a split second, you saw her eyes soften as your words reached her.

The red around your wrist turned white and allowed your arms to break free of the hold she had on you. The Witch, in shock, dropped you and watched as you landed on your feet across the room.

Ready for combat.

"You're not going to stop me! I am their mother, and I am the only one who can save them! I need them."

The Darkhold had control. You knew that. But seeing your wife scream at you as tears ran down her face would always hurt.

But she was going to go take someone else's Billy and Tommy. She was going to kill you if she had to.

So you knew what needed to be done.

"I love you, and I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to do this." You looked into her green eyes and let out a white glow as The Scarlet Witch threw her hex bolts at you.

But in the end, it worked.

When the moment struck, you let your power course its way through your heart until it became too much, and it latched itself onto the next living thing.

Wanda Maximoff.

Within an instant, Wanda and her old memories came back. Her copy of the Darkhold destroyed.

But you were gone.

A copy of your leather-bound book fell in front of your wife. It opened to a chapter on multiversal travel. A study you had been working on since becoming aware of the Darkhold's influence.

Written in black ink at the top of the page was your writings: "Find our boys. The ones who need a mother. The ones who need you, Wanda. And don't worry about me. Just don't ever forget. I love you."

The Scarlet Witch fell to the ground in front of you as you panted from the memory.

You watched her wrap her hands into fists as she let out a muffled cry. "You're showing me lies!" She screamed out in denial as you caught your breath and stumbled. The memory taking it out of you.

It was your first time reliving it since it happened.

"I'm not lying, and you know it." The Witch shook her head and turned around, falling onto the side of her body—tears in her eyes. "You know about the other versions of you. You know about this one. I'm not lying to you. So don't lie to yourself." You spoke with a bite to your words as you could never forget YOUR Wanda. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh. "I'm trying to help you. Please let me."

You opened your eyes to see The Witch right herself onto her knees. For the first time, she looked defeated. Ashamed. Her head hung low. She was vulnerable.

Carefully, you took steps towards her and lifted your right hand to her face. She flinched, and it pained you to see. "Wanda..." The name quietly left your lips.

She looked up.

"I can't fight the Darkhold much longer." You nodded. "You can find them without killing America Chavez. Take my book when I'm gone." Wanda looked around and nodded as she sniffled.

You wiped a tear from her cheek and pulled your hand back as you once again let your heart glow white. The spell leaving your lips as your body lifts itself upward.

Wanda watches in awe of you, but at the moment, she blinks, and her burnt copy of the Darkhold falls in front of her as white sparkles flow through the air.

Once again, you gave your heart to Wanda Maximoff.

Once again, you were sent tumbling through the cosmos. Between universes and reaches unknown. You flew until you came crashing down within a shield of your magic on an old barn.

A dozen sheep looked at you before scattering away as you stood up. You turned back and saw the pile of hay and grass you landed on. "Sorry." You spoke to the sheep as you gingerly moved past them through the open barn doors.

You looked around and found yourself in an apple orchard.

To your left, there was a two-story house not far. You cracked your neck and began walking towards it.

As you got closer, only then did you see how worn out your green dress was. How destroyed it had gotten when your armor took hits- "Stop right there!"

That voice. You knew that voice.

"Lift your head!" The voice commanded, and only then did you notice the red wisps surrounding you.

Your breath hitched as you complied.

You did as you were told. You slowly lifted your head to find not one but three people looking at you.

Three Maximoffs. Wanda, Billy, and Tommy.

"Y/N..." Wanda lowered her arm, and the magic around you disappeared. Her mouth dropped before she recovered. But her lips shook as her eyes watered.

You tilted your head as the emotional toll started taking you over. "Wanda... My Wanda..." You stammered and felt yourself about to become a blubbering mess.

Was it her?

"Mom, don't!" The twins tried to hold their mother back as she took a step towards you. "It's alright." She whispered to them as she started walking down the porch steps.

You took a step back as you started to cry. Afraid of the false hope this could. It had been so long. "Is it you?" You asked, making Wanda chuckle. "Is it you?" She asked back.

You bite back a laugh as you choked on a cry. "I asked you first." You said. Wanda nodded.

From thin air, your leather-bound book appeared, and the pages turned to your writings at the top of the page.

You put a hand over your eyes as you fell to the ground and began to cry.

You found your way back.

In an instance, Wanda was wrapping you up in a hug as she cried as well. Wanda, overwhelmed, reached down and pulled your chin upwards to crash her lips onto yours.

You kissed her back and melted into the arms of your wife.

"How long has it been?" You asked through sobs. "Five years," Wanda said as her lips found the side of your face again. "For me, it's been three hundred." Wanda frowned and felt her heart shattered.

She couldn't believe it.

The twins carefully took steps off the porch and to the spot where their mom held a woman in a green dress. "Mom..." Billy spoke up, making the two of you turn your heads. "They look the same." You whispered. "I found them a year ago," Wanda whispered back.

"Who is this?" Tommy looked worried, and rightfully so.

Wanda smiled at you before looking to your sons. "Boys, you remember how I came into your lives?" The twins nodded at the memory of your Wanda being there for them when their Wanda died of cancer. "You found us when we needed you," Billy spoke up.

You brushed away a tear as you watched Wanda fill her role as Mom once again.

"Well, this is my wife Y/N Y/L/N. She, like me, was a mother to our boys, and she saved me when all was dark." The twins seem to be following along. "How come she wasn't with you then?" Tommy asked.

You placed a hand on Wanda's arm and scooted away from her. Closer to the boys. "Because..." You started. "My magic sent me away, and I'll explain when you're older..." Tommy rolled his eyes while Billy looked excited. "It took me a while to get back. But I knew I would come back. Do you know why?" You sniffled at the sight of your sons.

Tommy shook his head while Billy asked: "Why?"

You looked back to Wanda before looking at the twins again. "Because, like your mother, the both of you have my heart. And I will always find my way back to the ones I love."

dividers by @/benkeibear & @/firefly-graphics

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detectivemarvelingcomics · 3 months

Text

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 15]

Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Slight Body Horror, Gore, Graphic Depictions of Monstrous Attacks, Gun Use, Weapon Use, Some Talks About Traumatic Incidents, CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 11.3K

(15/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

Notes: FINALLY SHE'S OUTTTTTTT i'm so sorry for the long wait, loves, I just couldn't for the life of me be satisfied with it until now

Disclaimer: This series is originally by@fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

2005

Your hand was gripped tightly around your mother’s finger. She was one of a few people you’d ever met growing up and, for the longest time, she was the only one you needed. With you on her right hand and with a backpack filled with your things on her left, she knocked rang the doorbell. When there was no response, she rang it again and continued to do so until it finally opened. An older man stood at the door.

“Pardon me, madam, how may I… assist you?” He hesitates slightly. Your mother moves to the side and gently pulls you toward him and there was a spark of realization on his features.

“I need to talk to Bruce Wayne,” she says. The old man looks behind her before opening the door wider.

“Master Bruce will meet you soon,” the old man says after guiding you both to the foyer. Your mother helps you onto the couch before sitting next to you.

“Mom? Where are we? You tugged at her coat and she folds her hands over her lap.

“A safe place,” she says. You looked around.

“Are we moving here?” Your mother looks away for a moment.

“Yes,” she had a tone about her voice. She was lying. One of the first things she taught you was how to tell someone was lying, she always said it was important because of where you lived, and one of the things you had since noticed is that your mother lied alot, especially recently. You’d been noticing it more often now, she’d always look away from you when she lied and that was how you knew. The both of you have been moving around a lot, staying with different people and checking into different motels, it’s been awhile since you’d stayed somewhere longer than a few days. Every time you would move, your mother would say the same thing: “The monsters found us, we have to move before they get here.” And you, afraid of the monsters, would help her pack as quickly as you could and climb into a taxi next to her.

Your mother lied a lot. And nearly every time it was a lie, and only some times was it the truth. Even her being your mother was a lie. But she takes care of you, and if that didn’t make her your mother you didn’t know what did. You’re not supposed to know this. She only told you one night when you woke up after a nightmare and came to her. She was holding a glass filled with a deep red liquid, and she refused to look at you all night. She looked over at you, laughed, and told you that you looked just like your mother and “may she rest in peace.” You don’t think she knows she told you, so you kept quiet.

“What are our three rules, (Y/N)?” She asks. You look at your hands.

“Listen before entering, look in hiding spaces, and don’t overstay our welcome.”

“Very good.”

Before the conversation could continue, the older man returned.

“Master Bruce will see you in his study.”

“Alright, watch her, please,” Selina puts her hand on your shoulder and you hold onto her hand.

“You’re leaving me?” You looked up at her.

“I’ll be right back,” she rubs the top of your head, “where is it?”

“Up the stairs and five doors down.”

“Sure.” Your mother ascends the stairs, and you remained on the couch. The older man sits next to you.

“If I may, what’s your name?” He asks. You look at him and look away slowly.

“My mom says not to talk to strangers,” you muttered.

“A very good principle,” he says. “My name is Alfred.” You puffed your cheeks.

“(Y/N)… (Y/N) Kyle…” you answered.

“(Y/N), that’s a lovely name,” he says. He grabs a box from the table. “Do you like sweets, (Y/N)?” He opens the box and your eyes widen at the chocolates inside. You nodded your head and picked a chocolate, but you hesitated before eating it.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know if my mom will be happy if I eat this, mister,” you placed the chocolate back. “She says I shouldn’t eat things from other people…”

“Another good principle,” Alfred takes a chocolate and eats it. “As safe as it is delicious,” he says. With a small smile, you grab the chocolate again and eat it, tasting the sweetness all over your mouth and savoring it as long as you could.

“(Y/N)?” Your mother’s voice drew you away from the box. She descended the stairs and, next to her, was a man with a stern expression on his face. You folded your hands on your lap and looked down. Soon, the man crouched in front of you. “Introduce yourself to her first, she knows not to talk to strangers.”

“Hello, I’m Bruce Wayne,” he says. You squeeze your hands together and your mother sits next to you.

“(Y/N), my dear, this is your father,” your mother introduces you. “You’ve been asking to meet him, remember?” You nodded your head. The man looks at your mother for a brief moment before turning back to you. “Why don’t you say hello?” She asks. You’re silent for a moment.

“Where have you been?” You asked him. The man doesn’t answer.

“He’s been very busy, he couldn’t say hello until now,” she answers for him.

“Why?” You look at your mother.

“I… I’ll tell you when you’re older,” she says. You puffed your cheeks and frowned.

“You have to be nice to him, alright? You’ll be staying here from now on.”

“Just me?”

“Just you.”

“Where will you go?” You looked around.

“Back to the apartment, for now,” she says.

“I don’t want you to leave, though,” you frowned. Your mother sighs and Bruce looks at her.

“(Y/N), do you remember when we first started moving? When the monsters came into our home and destroyed your toys?” She asks. You nodded. “Then you understand why you have to stay here,” she says. You did, kind of.

“But what will I do if there’s a stranger in our bed again?” Though you whispered, it was understood by everyone in the room. That was terrifying, seeing someone you didn’t know just waiting in a place you thought was safe. Selina only shared a quick look with Bruce. “Or… what if I get sick from eating again?” You asked her. You felt terrible that day, nonstop throwing up, nothing was kept down, and you think it was the first time you’d seen your mother cry.

“(Y/N), it’s not safe for you to be with me, but here? You will always be safe,” she says. Tears welled up in your eyes. “Your father will keep you safer than I ever could,” she says.

“But… I don’t know these people,” you said between sniffles.

“You will soon, there’s no one you can trust more than these two,” she rubs your back gently and you wrap your arms around her.

“Even you?” You asked against her coat.

“Especially me,” she responds.

“You have to come visit, okay?”

“Of course,” she holds onto you securely.

“You can stay tonight,” the man says. “It’ll be better for (Y/N), I think,” he says. You held onto your mother tighter.

“… I can’t,” she says. And you turned to her, your expression filled with despair.

“You’re leaving me?” The person you had known your whole life, who took care of you, and who raised you… was leaving you.

“Just for now, (Y/N), you have to trust me, okay?” She stands up and you stood up too, holding onto her legs tighter than you ever have. “(Y/N), let go, have I ever lied to you?” Yes, so many times.

“No,” you lied back.

“It’s only temporary, (Y/N).”

“But… Mom!” Tears streamed down your face. She couldn’t leave you. She took a deep breath. “You can’t leave! I’m so scared!” Your voice pierced the stillness of the manor, and everyone stopped. “What if… what if there’s monsters, what if they get me?!” You hid your face in her thigh. She slowly pulled away from you just enough to crouch to your level.

“They won’t, dear, not here. It’s okay to be afraid,” she coos, “but you have to remember that there are people who will protect you.”

“That’s you, right?”

“Of course,” she sighs, “me, and your dad,” she says. Your glance narrowed at her, and you leaned into her ear to whisper.

“Is he really my dad?” Your voice was so quiet that it strained. You could feel your mother tense as she turned her head to look at you. You couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Yes, he is,” she says. “I never forget a face,” she quickly adds.

“Do you promise?”

“I swear it.” She wasn’t lying. She looks up at Bruce now. “There’s no one who will keep you safer than him,” she says while standing up. “Be good, (Y/N).” You didn’t look at her. “Take care of her, please.”

“We will see to it that young Miss Kyle is watched over,” Alfred responds. Your mother holds you to her one more time, wiping the tears from your face and pulling her scarf off, she folds it neatly and hands it to you, which you accept with shaking hands.

“We will see each other again, (Y/N),” she says. “You’re (Y/N) Wayne now, do you understand me?” You could only nod.

“Okay,” you shut your eyes and gripped the scarf. And when you opened them again, your mother was gone, and you were standing in a large room with a bed bigger than you’d ever seen and ceilings taller than you’d known. Your father was nowhere to be seen.

“Until we prepare a better room for you, this will have to do,” Alfred says. You looked around, then you approached the closet, opening it slowly and deeming it empty. The curtains were flushed to the wall and were safe, the desk was open enough for you to know that there would be no way for it to be an effective hiding spot, and that left one more place.

But you couldn’t check there.

“Mr. Alfred?”

“Just Alfred is fine, young miss.”

“Could you check under the bed for me?” Alfred only nodded before walking over to it and lifting the comforter. His head touches the ground, seemingly scanning the underside of the bed for a few moments before standing up again.

“No monsters.”

“Promise?”

“I swear it,” he nods and walks to the door. “Just call if you need anything.”

Then he’s gone too.

It’s cold in here.

2022

“So, what’s the verdict, Drake?” Marion looks over the clipboard Tim was writing on.

“It’s smarter than we thought,” Tim says, “it’s displayed critical thinking, problem solving, and memorization, all the three signifiers of high intelligence,” he looks at the daemon. It’s been two weeks since he and Jason had arrived and, while the progress on finding out how to return home has been slow, it’s been moving forward at the very least. Until then, the hardest part was integrating into this new society as if they’d always been apart of it to avoid suspicion.

Tim, at the very least, had a puzzle to keep him busy.

The daemon looked at him and huffed silently.

“You’re crazy, Drake,” Inigo says, “giving the thing a bath.”

“Sure, yeah, but I still have my head on and we can’t study it with spears in its back,” he shrugs. The beast seems to keep its eye on Tim while he circled it, though it made no moves. “How’s research on the tags?”

“Drawing no significant leads,” Marion sighs. “Nico, when does the Captain return?” Inigo huffs.

“Tomorrow, apparently,” he says, “I know she’s been losing her mind in bed.”

“She has tried to escape a few times,” Tim laughs.

“You would know, huh? She do that often when you were growing up together?” Marion asks.

“Oh plenty,” Tim laughs, “and I genuinely couldn’t tell if our dad knew or not, I mean, he had to! It’s not like she was slick about it, Jason and I always caught her,” he laughs.

“You two ever do anything about it?” Inigo asks.

“Nah, just helped her out,” Tim shrugs.

“Rebel kid turned soldier is a pipeline that should be studied,” Inigo shuts the lever as soon as the daemon was back in its cage. The sound of heavy locks moving into place echoed in the chamber.

“I’m going to go check on her, pretty sure she’s already tried to leave,” Tim hangs his lab coat over a chair and raises his hand and Marion dismisses him.

“Good work today, Drake, tell the Captain we said hello- Oh! And before I forget, hand this to her too,” she says while shoving a sealed box in his hands. “It’s fragile. Be careful with it and, I’m sure you know, Captain’s eyes only.” Tim nods and enters the elevator. He looks down at the box. It was wrapped various times in twine and nailed shut with the words ‘FRAGILE’ stamped on top of it. Sure, he trusted you, there must be some ground breaking item in here that would help with the monster outbreak, but he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling at the back of his head. He turned the box slowly and looked at the label on the side.

Project βαV. Confidential. Tim’s brows furrow for a moment before taking a deep breath. He’s the one to talk, right? About secrets? He wonders what really went through your head those years ago. There were always things he just couldn’t tell you, things he’s always wanted to, but in the interest of your safety he always decided not to. Him and his siblings, they were always talking amongst themselves about things with the league or with Gotham’s underground and you were just there. If Cass wasn't there then no one would have taken the time to explain things to you.

Meanwhile, you laid in bed and stared at the clock next to you. Two weeks of bedrest, the audacity of these people. A lot can happen in two weeks and with you not active who knows what kind of emergencies have happened without you knowing. Sure, the Brigade kept you relatively up to date and you knew for a fact that Aldryn couldn’t keep a secret from you, but the anxiety that came from sitting still is one you weren’t comfortable with.

“This is so ridiculous,” you muttered.

“Almost as ridiculous as you not reattaching,” Carter laughs next to you. You looked under your hospital gown, still seeing the healing bite wound across your chest. At least it was still together, is your immediate thought. You sat up in bed and looked at the folder on the stand next to you.

“Think it’s anything I should be concerned about?” You ask while rifling through its contents. Field reports, updates on monitored areas, practical scores, all what you expected.

“Are you asking if you suddenly having a normal human body is concerning?”

“And it wasn’t before?”

“Well…” Carter shrugs. “What do you think, (Y/N)?”

“Hm,” you shake your head. “I’m just wondering why it’s failing now of all the times.”

“Think it might have something to do with Alex’s assignment?”

“Probably,” you muttered. “I never once considered distance to be a hinderance, or more accurately it’s never been an issue, but with him as acting Captain I should’ve taken it into account,” you muttered.

“And what does he have to do with your ability?” You both look up and see Damian at the doorway. You sighed.

“I had to tell you eventually,” you gestured for him to sit next to you and, once he did, you took another deep breath. “It was during a monster hunt dispatch. I had done plenty of them before, the three of us together were known as the best when it came down to it, but this one was different. It was a rank builder dispatch, if we completed the mission to its fullest extent then we’d get promoted. And everything went well until the monster we were hunting cornered us,” you started to explain.

“Real quick, everything was not well,” Carter cuts in. “I almost lost a leg.”

“This is isn’t about you,” you held a hand up, but your small smile contradicted your tone. “Either way I almost died again, but for whatever reason the royal family insisted I be kept alive. As a result of some forbidden magic, boom, reattachment with the side effect of telekinesis with one specific person,” you shrugged.

“That person being Alex, I assume,” Damian hums.

“Yeah, there’s nothing other than that, though. It’s related to some powerful magic thing that I guess Alex has been studying for some time now,” you tapped your finger against the bedding. “It’s been like this for, what, two years now?” You looked at Carter, who nodded.

“Give or take,” he shrugs.

“So that ability you told me about,” Damian starts the thought.

“Is different from my reattachment, yes,” you finished his thought, “but I don’t like using it.”

“Left her with a nasty nickname,” Carter says.

“I hate that shit, it pisses me off every time I hear it,” you rolled your eyes, and they settled on the door right as you heard a knock. “It’s open.”

“Hey, (Y/N),” Tim walks in with a paper bag in hand. “Carter, Damian,” he acknowledges the other two, “I got you lunch! To celebrate your freedom from a hospital room,” Tim hands it to you and you pulled out the burger.

“Finally, real food,” you could’ve praised Tim right then and there.

“You’re not really going to jump right back in, right?” Carter asks. “You just recovered.”

“I loathe to think about what I missed while in exile.”

“Oh, relax, you were on bedrest.”

“How’s the daemon, Tim? Any leads?” You switched the subject before you could get the migraine.

“Nothing conclusive, just theories,” Tim grabs another chair. “Marion says ‘hi’ by the way,” he says. You looked at Carter and Damian.

“There’s our cue, come on, Damian, I’ll walk with you,” Carter nudges his head toward the door and Damian groans and looks at you.

“Just go with him, Dami.”

“I can keep secrets, you know.”

“I know,” you gestured for him to follow Carter anyway and he huffed before closing the door behind him. After a short while, Tim spoke again.

“Are you 100% sure that they used to be humans, (Y/N)?”

“Positive. One of the ones we fought even spoke, Tim,” you said.

“Okay, okay, yeah, I tried crossreferencing some fur samples with the missing person’s data base here but nothing, no registered sample matches it,” Tim shakes his head. “So… I was thinking,” he pauses.

“Maybe he’s like us?” You whispered.

“Yeah, dropped off here after some traumatic event, but someone got to him first,” Tim leans on his knees now, head propped up by the palm of his hand.

“Let’s talk about it when Alex comes back. I sent him off to do some investigating on some movements we heard in the distant areas, so he’s been monitoring their movements for two weeks now,” you pushed the sheets down and opened the closet next to you before pulling out your uniform.

“Before I forget,” Tim hands you the box. “From Marion.” You looked at it for a moment before opening it. Inside was a smaller box, also wrapped twenty fold in twine. You said nothing while you packed it into your belt. You pulled out the small note inside of it.

You’re insane, Captain. Whatever you’re planning on using this on I hope you realize what it can do. And for god’s sake, don’t you dare use it on yourself. - Marion

You crumpled the note in your hand and tossed it in the trash.

“What is it, (Y/N)?” Tim asks.

“A last resort,” you shrugged. “I’ve been working on it for some time, I was hoping it would be a good pinch tactic if it came down to it, and with these monsters all over the place I’m starting to think it’s time I expidited its production,” you explained. “It’s nothing crazy, you don’t need to worry yourself about it.”

“If you say so, (Y/N),” Tim clears his throat. He didn’t believe you. But, then again, he wouldn’t exactly approve of what was against your hip right now anyway.

Your senior thesis project, you remembered enough of it to continue it here and perfect it, or make it as close to better as whatever crude version of it you had in Gotham. You and Marion were working on it together for almost a year now with various trials and errors, but if she’s giving you this one then this is the closest you’ll get for now.

“Let’s do some field work, Tim, grab Jason and Damian on the way. The Brigaders are spread out right now so I’m going to have to settle for the family trip.”

2006

“Dad?!” Your voice seemed to echo throughout the manor, bouncing on every which wall before you couldn’t hear it anymore. You’d been living at the manor for a few months now, slowly getting accustomed to the new environment while Alfred helped you anytime a camera would flash at your face. Slowly, bit by bit, you got more accustomed to the man your mother claimed was your father, you learned from him, about him, and through him. He was quiet, you noticed, didn’t smile often and didn’t tend to stick around the house for too long either. Most of your days was spent with Alfred, the butler, who often took you outside the manor and taught you a few things you’d have to know. Like the cameras. You hated those. They got in front of your face, blinded you with their lights, and deafened you with their shutters, but Alfred taught you a way to look through them. It was so simple that you were amazed when he told you.

Look straight at the person taking the picture. And suddenly the cameras weren’t scary anymore. The cameras that followed your father around, they never seemed to cease. He was so different from your mother who ducked out of sight and warned you about them, and that constant line of thoughts was always playing on repeat in your head.

You had already wandered the vast extent of it and you’d almost say that you knew it like the back of your hand, amazingly enough.

The only thing you didn’t know was where your dad went during the night, but Alfred always insisted he went to work. Life must be so hard for a CEO.

Alfred told you that you could be like that too someday, if you so wanted.

The manor was larger than you could ever dream of. Despite you having internally mapped the place, there always seemed to be something new if you had the energy to seek it out. But it seemed too big for three people, let alone you. Your echoing voice was just a reminder of the lack of… anyone, really.

Not to mention, it was always so cold. You shivered slightly, rubbing your arms up and down for warmth.

“Dad?” You called for him again and still, nothing. You wanted to ask him to turn the fire on, and you hadn’t seen Alfred all day. You peered over the railing, looking at the ground floor below. “Oh,” you spotted your scarf hanging on one of the light fixtures attached to the wall next to the railing. Perfect timing. Your mom gave it to you before she left your first night here, it was just a small thing of hers that she wanted you to keep, and you thought you’d lost it after tying it to the end of stick and playing baton with it. Looks like you just flung it over the edge at one point. You stood as close to the rail as you could, reaching your small arms through the poles to grab at the fabric, but each time you got closer to it it seemed to move further. You looked behind you, pulling the chair to the edge and climbing ontop of it. You held onto the rail with one hand and, with the other, you made a grab at the scarf, feeling it’s soft material in your hands. “Yes!” You grinned. Then you felt your hand slip down the rail. Then you were falling. Clutching onto the scarf in your hands like it would do something.

“(Y/N)!” Your dad’s voice was beneath you and in moments he caught you. “What were you doing up there?!” His voice was laced with concern. You held the scarf up and he let out a sigh of relief before shaking his head. “That was very dangerous, next time let me or Alfred know you need help,” he says, placing you down gently.

“Sorry, dad,” you looked at ground.

“It’s okay, you know now not to do that though, right?” He asks. You nodded. “Why were you doing something like that anyway?” He looks up, spotting your makeshift stool.

“I was cold,” you muttered. He sighs above you, then takes your scarf and wraps it around you, securing it well enough to stay on.

“That’s it?” You nodded. “In that case, I’ll turn the fireplace on for you,” he walks off and you followed close behind him, watching the backs of his heels to be sure you didn’t tread on them on accident, and finally you were in the office watching him throw logs into the fireplace.

You’d never seen a real one before, and the wood felt rough under your touch.

“Careful,” your father says. Your hands fly off the log and he tosses the last one in before throwing a match inside. You feel him hold your shoulder and push you behind him only slightly before you heard the crackle of fire. You watched it spark to life before engulfing the pile, and you found yourself flinching back at the suddeness of it. Then, near immediately, warmth. “Don’t stand too close to it, you might burn yourself.”

“Okay.”

“You can stay here as long as you want,” he says. You watched him walk back to his desk, his face growing stern as he read through whatever on his computer. You crossed your legs and sat on the ground, reaching toward the fire with open palms to feel it more. “Here, sit on this here, the ground’s cold. And if you need it I brought a blanket,” he left both items next to you. You didn’t even notice him leave, he didn’t make a single sound. You pulled the ottoman toward you and sat down on it instead while holding the blanket in your hands. It was soft to touch, softer than any motel bed you’d slept on, but not as soft as the scarf around you.

You didn’t want to get it dirty.

2022

“Captain Wayne?” Bruce’s eyebrow arched and the child nodded enthusiastically.

“Yessir! Our little village is usually one of the Brigade’s stops on their way to their campaigns. We’re lucky to even get a glimpse of the captain!” The child grins. “If you stick around long enough you’ll be able to catch a look too.” They ran off after that.

“Constantine,” Bruce called him over, but the man was too preoccupied on the phone to do say much.

“Liverpool! Where the hell are you, lad? You sent me the wrong bloody address!” He shouts. “You’ll be here? What in the blazes does that even mean? Fine, fine, I’ll hold you to it, but I don’t remember when you got so bold to make to teacher wait here.” Constantine hung up the phone and turned back around. “What?”

“What are the odds of running into different vesions of ourselves here?” Dick asks.

“Not impossible, I’ll give you that,” Constantine shrugs. “But pretty unlikely too,” he adds after. “Why?” Just then, a newspaper flies into Constantine’s face and when he peeled it off he quickly read the headline. “Oh…” he mutters and hands it over to the boys.

“In the wake of daemon attacks Captain Wayne says the Brigade has it handled during hospital stay,” Dick reads the opening sentence. “Doesn’t sound like they have it handled.”

“And that’s why I got called here, probably,” he shrugs.

“Constantine,” a new voice enters the conversation.

“Liverpool!” Constantine spreads his arms wide with an even wider grin. “Look at you, lad, Zee says hi, by the way.”

“She here?” Alex leans over to look behind him, but instead makes eye contact with Dick. “Oh no…”

“What?” Constantine looks behind him.

“Alex?!” Dick’s jaw was nearly on the floor.

“Long time no see, Mr. Wayne,” Alex greets Bruce first.

“Alexander,” Bruce clears his throat uncomfortably. Alex’s hand rests on his chest for a moment before he relaxes again.

“We have a bit of a monster problem,” Alex says quietly. “Let’s go somewhere private,” he nudges inside of one of the homes and the men follow him. “Take a seat anywhere, this is the Knighthood’s outpost,” he says.

“Little shabby,” Constantine wipes the dust off the table.

“Our treasurer got eaten by a daemon,” Alex saids chidingly. He tosses a circular device on the table and a hologram appears from it, displaying a monster they had never before seen. “This is just one variant of them, we have this one in captivity right now and it’s being studied. But it’s traits greatly differ from others we’ve encountered,” he says.

“And how many is that?” Bruce asks.

“Enough,”Alex grimaces. “We haven’t been able to track where they come from, they’ve been found all over the continent razing villages to the ground and taking out whole squadrons. At first we were able to keep it under wraps but recently it happened too close to the capital, now the media’s all over it,” Alex shakes his head.

“Shocking you kept these nightmares out of the public eye for so long,” Constantine mumbles while he leans forward to take a closer look. “Either way these things are new to me,” he says.

“You haven’t the slightest idea on what it is? Science is hardly working on this thing, I was so sure it was magic,” Alex continues.

“It would help me more if I saw it up close,” Constantine says.

“If my theory’s right then you will soon,” Alex says quietly. Constantine straightens.

“What do you mean by that?” He asks gravely. Alex changes the hologram.

“If this pattern of attacks is to be followed then this is the next village they’re going to attack,” he says quietly. Dick steps up.

“What’s the plan then?”

“Wait until the captain gets here,” Alex responds, “our elite squad is spread out right now, but they’re ready to respond to an emergency. Our captain is on the way right now so we’ll discuss it once enough people are here, but I’d say we have a night to prepare. Once I get the manpower I’ll start evacuations, I’ve already sent notice of it to the headwoman so everyone should be preparing now,” Alex reports, his hand over his heart before he beats on it a few times.

“And what should we do?” Constantine asks.

“Help? Watch? Whichever comes naturally,” Alex shrugs.

“Any briefing at all? Weak points? Strengths? Things to avoid?” Dick pressures him.

“Before, yeah, but the daemons have become so specialized that our original modus operandi doesn’t work anymore. It’s like they all mutated overnight,” Alex shakes his head. “This whole monster problem has gotten out of hand, and from the pressure coming from the royal family the entire knighthood is on a tight schedule, and we’re running out of manpower fast, I don’t think we can sustain things by blind fighting anymore, but our strategies are always upended when a new daemon comes in. Just two weeks ago we had one that controlled the weather, for christ’s sake, it almost ripped the captain in half when another daemon suddenly learned empathy and saved us all,” Alex holds a hand to his head now.

“So, you’re desperate,” Constantine says.

“Extremely,” Alex shakes his head. “Onto other matters, why the entourage?”

“I figured a little extra manpower couldn’t hurt,” Constantine shrugs. “Why?”

“Well…” Alex whistles, but is cut off by the sudden roar outside.

2008

You are awoken suddenly by the crash of glass on your floor, and the shock of it all was enough to make you scream. You held onto your blanket, clutching it tight within your hands as you crawled toward the edge of your bed, and in an instant you gasped.

And so did Dick.

“This isn’t my room,” he says between pants. You were quick to rush out of the safety of your covers and to his side. He was covered in bruises and shallow cuts, probably more from the glass than anything else, whatever happened to him. But… you could help. Your mom used to come home with bruises too, she’s walked you through how to help her and what to use, you just wondered if there were any in the manor. Or even Alfred, you could call him for help.

“What happened to you?! Who did this?! I can help you,” you brushed the glass off of him and winced when it cut your hand only slightly.

“Whoa! Careful there, (Y/N),” he takes your hands now, observing the cut.

“What about you?” You pulled your hands out of his grasp and reached over to him, but he caught your hands again instead.

“I’m fine, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he struggles to stand up and you tried to help him, but he got up himself. You drew your hands back, clasping them in front of you instead. “I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he says. You looked at him now.

“You’re… you’re Robin?” You asked him. You looked at your walls, crude drawings of the boy wonder littered it. You idolized him, Robin, the sidekick to the dark caped crusader all the boys at school raved about, and there you were, becoming a fan of the boy who helped him.

And here Dick was, someone you considered your older brother after two years of living together, beaten up and wearing the iconic insignia.

“It’s… it’s just a costume, (Y/N),” he says. You shook your head and stood up.

“You’re going to lie to me too?” You looked away from him. Everyone lied to you. And you thought at least he wouldn’t.

“I…” he rubs his arm, wincing slightly. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry,” he says. “I was just playing around with a few friends and we got out of hand, don’t tell Bruce, please.”

“Okay,” you shook your head again, grabbing your blanket that had fallen next to the bed and climbing back on top of it. Dick wiped his face of whatever dirt got on it and looked at you. You pulled your blanket up and over your head.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats. You should’ve known. And maybe a part of you did know. When you saw the videos of Robin doing amazing acrobatic feats, the very same Dick would show you, maybe you did know. And when you would tell Dick how much you liked Robin, when you’d show him the drawings, you wondered what he was thinking.

You wondered if your dad knew.

So here you were, eating breakfast with the both of them. Dick across from you, your dad at the head of the table, and you. It had been a few days since the incident, and neither your nor Dick brought it up. Now, though, you can hear him entering his room early in the morning, his room which was right next to yours, and now you check every morning if he was in there.

“So, (Y/N), I hear you have a test today,” Bruce breaks through the silence.

“Yeah,” you nodded, playing with your eggs.

“What’s it on?”

“Spelling,” you mumbled.

“You’re good at that.”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Is there something on your mind?” He asks, his eyes sliding to you. You looked up from your eggs and glanced at Dick before looking at him.

“Nope,” you shook your head and chugged down the rest of your milk. “I have to go to the bathroom.” You placed it on the table and folded your hands on your lap.

“You haven’t finished your breakfast.”

“I’m full.”

“(Y/N).”

“And I really need to pee.”

“Okay, go ahead, you’re excused,” he says. You rushed off before you could let the cat out of the bag. You’re lying to your dad, great. Not telling is also lying, your mother always said, but it had to be a little better than just… completely lying, right? Plus, you didn’t want Dick to get in trouble, how many times has he helped you out? You could help him out, even if you were a little mad at him. You hid behind the wall, wanting to catch any conversation they have. “Dick.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s good that the two of you get along well, but I hope you know she’s still my daughter,” Bruce says.

“I know.”

“So you understand that I know you two are hiding something, right?” He says. You held your breath and peeked over the wall, his back was still turned to you. “Which is fine, I suspected you two would eventually, as long as it doesn’t hurt her or interrupt that business, it’s fine,” he says. Dick nods, catching your glance only quickly before clearing his throat. Did he know too? Your dad? That Dick was Robin?

“It’s neither of those, sir, I promise,” he looks at the clock on the wall, “and we should probably get going to school too,” he says.

“You’re right, I’ll see you both at home later,” Bruce stands up first and Dick follows. You rushed to the foyer before your dad could catch you eavesdropping and you hauled your book bag up from the floor.

“Whoa, what do you have in there?” Dick walks up behind you and opens the door for you.

“So… many… books,” you threw it into the back seat of the car.

“For school?”

“For fun,” you sighed. You pulled one out and handed it to him.

“American Girl?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Uh… sure, okay,” he shrugs. “Why don’t we keep them in here for now and you can just carry one,” he pulls the stack out of your bag except for one and you reached over and grabbed another.

“Just in case I finish that one,” you say.

“Fair enough,” he shrugs. The car slows to a start and Dick glances at the closed window that separated the two of you from the chauffer. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For?”

“For keeping my secret,” he says quietly.

“Yeah…”

“I’m sorry I lied to you, I just got scared,” he says.

“I know, I would’ve been scared too,” you nodded. You played with the handle on your bag. “But if you ever need help… just ask, okay?”

“I should be saying that to you,” he nudges your softly and you smiled.

“Just don’t get hurt too bad, okay? And… and you have to tell me the coolest stories,” your eyes shone.

“What? You still like Robin even though you know I’m him?” He scoffs.

“Are you kidding? I like him even more now!” You defended. “I always thought you were cool, but now you’re even cooler,” your voice was filled with awe.

“Yeah, yeah, you think everything I do is cool,” Dick laughs.

In the front, meanwhile, Bruce seemed to let out a sigh of relief, prompting Alfred to chuckle.

“God, I was so worried it was something worse,” he says.

“As I’ve told you before, Master Bruce, they’re as thick as thieves, those two,” Alfred says. “Although, you don’t think this will become a problem in the future?”

“What? Her knowing Dick’s Robin?”

“Precisely.”

“As long as she doesn’t get into danger,” he says, “there’s no harm from it.”

“But you worked so hard to separate her from the Batman, and here she is with a direct line to him now.”

“Dick knows what he’s doing,” Bruce sighs, “plus, maybe it’s safer for her to know.”

“And will you ever tell her?”

“Eventually, if she hasn’t figured it out already.”

“Do you think she will?”

“She’s a sharp girl. Selena raised her well.”

“I worry about what she had to go through before she came to us,” Alfred looks into the monitor near him, watching Dick tell a story with exaggerated hand movements and you being more engaged in it than he’s ever seen. “She looks happier now.”

“I hope she is,” Bruce doesn’t look up from his phone. Alfred steals a quick glance at it and spots the American Girl dolls on his screen. Alfred couldn’t stop the satisfied chuckle this time.

2022

“Oh we are so fucked,” Jason’s hands drop to his sides when he saw the fires.

“Shit… they’re earlier than we predicted,” you shot a quick text to the other Brigade members. “And we might have another issue on our hands too,” you watched the daemon freeze over the landscape.

“What, the mutants?” Tim shudders.

“No, them,” you nodded forward, spotting Dick electrocute a smaller daemon.

“Shit,” Damien grumbles.

“Shit,” Jason scoffs.

“What’s the plan, (Y/N)?” Tim asks.

“Uh… don’t die,” you shake your head, “and get any survivors out. I’ll rendezous with Alex first and figure out a better plan from there,” you drew your rapier and scanned the field. One, two, three… four of them.

“Captain?” Your earpiece crackled and you pressed down on it.

“Alex, give me a run down,” you watched your brothers each tackle a different daemon.

“One with ice, one normal one, two with super strength, and one with wings.”

“One with wings?” Your face contorted into one of confusion. Until something grabbed you and left you airborne.

“(Y/N)!” Jason called after you.

“Oh fuck,” you grabbed onto the daemon’s claws that dug into your shoulders. Your breathing quickened, the air growing thinner the higher up you got, and you swallowed your thoughts down and reverted to plain instinct. It roared above you and you pulled yourself up and onto its back, looping the rapier around it’s neck and locking it in place with your arm in an attempt to strangle the bird-like monster. Ignoring the stinging pain in your shoulders, the daemon flapped erratically until it took a nosedive, and you held your place as best you could with the wind blowing against you, all you could do was brace for impact. As soon as the bird hit the ground, the earth around it caved in, you felt the shock run through your bones and you felt the fragments inside of your body before they ultimately, painfully, reconnected to each other, and you stood up, dragging your rapier with you and smoothening down your hair. The bird twitched under you and you dug your sword into its heart, pulling the tag from its neck. CH-95. You staggered back, feeling the crunch in your bones and holding back the wince. You never get used to it.

“Just a second!” You held your hand out, catching your breath. This is wrong. Alex was practically right next to you, you should be reattaching with ease, but you weren’t. You were just surviving.

“(Y/N)? Jesus, fuck, holy shit,” Dick let out a string of curses while he helped you up, but he quickly slowed his movements as soon as he had felt the jelly that was your arm. “God, why the hell did Jason bring you here?” He muttered under his breath and you stopped.

“Excuse me?” You looked up at him and pulled your wrist from his grasp, standing up tall and closing your hand into a fist once it had finally finished mending together. You stretched out your fingers now, making sure the mobility was just right. “Like you know what’s going on,” you told him.

“(Y/N) you’re not trained for combat, this is dangerous, hell, one of them just grabbed you and launched you in the sky,” Dick shouts. “Get out before you get hurt,” he eyes your arm, a quick look of confusion danced over his features when he saw it balled into a fist once more.

“Did you not just see how I killed this thing?! What the hell do you think I’ve been doing for three years?! Don’t tell me you bought my bull shit story about that lab! Obviously I was making myself fucking useful!” You didn’t know why you felt the need to argue, now was not the best time to be doing this. “I should be asking you why you’re here!” Maybe it was because you felt like you had something to prove.

“I’m here to bring all of you back home!” Dick shouts. “And instead, somehow, Bruce and I get roped into this monster business and I definitely wasn’t expecting to see the four of you here,” he says. He looks over to the side, seeing Jason and Tim bring one of them down. “You especially, you’re a civilian, (Y/N), get somewhere safe,” he says. You took a deep breath. He wouldn’t know. He doesn’t know the shit you’ve been through, and you had to be fair towards him because of that. But god is he pissing you off, you didn’t even know how you tolerated this behavior before you died and you definitely don’t want to deal with his holier-than-thou-I’m-the-best-leader attitude now.

“I don’t have the time or the fucking patience to deal with you right now, Dick,” you shook your head.

“Captain!” Alex’s voice was loud and you tore your attention away from Dick who was rambling again about how you shouldn’t be here. Alex tosses you your rifle, something that probably fell from your figure when you were unceremoniously turned into an aircraft. One thing you learned quick, even before the transmigration, was how to tune out sounds you didn’t want to hear. So, just as easily as usual, you loaded the rifle and aimed it toward the daemon that Jason and Damian were struggling with and you took the shot. The bullet pierced through it’s head and the beast as stunned long enough for the two to finish it off.

“Thanks, (Y/N)!” Jason shot you a thumbs up and you rolled your eyes while slinging the rifle behind you. You turned back to Dick, no words were exchanged, but the silent conversation was enough for you to figure out what he was thinking. He was pissed. But so were you, so… where did that leave you?

“Got a plan, Lex?” You looked over to Alex.

“I’m going for the ice one, don’t think we can have the newer two on it,” Alex was already running off, joining Constantine in his struggle while Jason had pushed the remnants of a wall off of a few survivors.

“Move over!” You had turned back to Dick to settle the argument, but when you saw the daemon fast approaching you shoved him out of the way instead, and you very nearly got caught in its rampage by just a hair. You ran toward it now, you couldn’t let it run amok any longer with the possibility of heavy civilian casualties, but the stinging pain from your steps was making it hard to focus on anything other than that.

“Help!” The shrill voices of survivors always found a way to be louder than others, and you turned to them quickly, seeing the children hidden behind the broken wooden foundations. Could you even get to them on time in this state? Everyone else is too far to get to them.

And for god’s sake, don’t you dare use it on yourself. Marion’s note appeared in your head. But you’d always meant to use it on yourself, you just couldn’t find the right formula, you couldn’t nail the correct combination that wouldn’t end up with you combusting after taking it. Until now, you fed it to the test specimen and told Marion to keep a close eye on it and, after two months of controlled dosages, the specimen was still alive. But you understood why she was afraid, she was a woman of science and she knew that its boundaries shouldn’t be tested. But you’ve seen it work before, and you knew you could make it better. Hell, you have a degree in this. You have to put it to work at least once, right?

Fuck it. You ripped the package open and pulled out the green vial.

Tim, meanwhile, was the one in shock. βαV, that was the name written on that package, and seeing its effects put two and two together. Bane and Venom.

You never got over that, did you?

“(Y/N)!” He shouted out, not from the recognition, rather, the daemon that had appeared behind you. No time, you moved as far as you could from the monster as it crashed into the wall previously behind you, but it was enough for Tim to run over to you. “Is that-”

“Safe, probably,” you inverted it in your hand. “Safer if I take it than if anyone else did.

“You can’t!” Tim makes a move to take it and you unscrewed the lid, holding it close to your mouth while keeping your sights on him.

“Why not?” You eyed the monster stepping out of the broken building.

“You…” Why couldn’t you? Tim was at a loss. Everything he’s seen, everything he’s observed, pointed to you being the most reasonable choice to drink it especially in this situation. But it just didn’t sit right with him. He held you in this amazing regard, this near unattainable standard that never could’ve been realistic in any universe, one that not even you could uphold. “I never thought that you’d think like him,” Tim mutters. You didn’t answer, instead opting to drink the down quickly.

The world around you rang as you took heavy steps toward the daemon that had regained it’s footing, and as soon as it noticed you it charged with its maw near unhinged, and you caught the daemon’s open jaws between your hands, your hands that were traced with green veins that were clear even through the blur at the edges of your eyes. You took deep breaths, the world around your shifted in and out of focus as if echoing just like the sounds of the battlefield, and once your vision somewhat stabilized you pushed further and ripped the daemon’s jaw in half. You tossed it’s mandible to the side and used your foot to roll it over on its back and you pulled the tag off. DP-82. Your breaths only deepened and you felt your heart rate quicken, like your heart was going to burst out of your chest from the adrenaline. Your hands were shaking, or was that your vision shaking? You felt the venom run through your veins with a burning sensation, threatening to rip your skin open with each pump of your heart. This is insanity, you could barely form a coherent thought.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to take this so suddenly. Or at least, not all of it.

“Shit…” your teeth grinded against each other and you held your head in your hands, trying to get past the searing headache. You could feel your own searing blood run down either side of your face, and whether that was from the daemon or from yourself it was unclear. Then you felt two hands over yours pull them away from your head, and you looked up.

“(Y/N), take deep breaths,” Bruce says. One hand goes to his belt and pulls out a small vial, and he places it in your hands. “Take it.”

“Not yet,” you shake your head, would it even work? Your vision focusing on the daemon who was sprinting toward the both of you. You pushed the vial in your pocket and you pushed him aside, taking heavy steps toward the daemon before slicing your rapier once it got close enough. And the wound it left was so deep it fell back and you climbed on top of it, stabbing the beast repeatedly and even breaking the tag that was on it. In two pieces it landed on the floor with a simple DT-82 engraved on it. That’s four down. You looked around and spotted the ice daemon cornered by Alex. Readjusting your grip on your rapier with a rotate of the hilt around your palm, you charged forward and stopped only when the daemon had the thought to protect it’s frontside with a slate of ice.

Intelligence? Tim had mentioned it but you were wary to believe him considering the data came from the outlier in the basement.

Either way, this one was going to be harder to get rid of. Such was clear when you held your rapier above you to block the blow, instead feeling your boots sinking into the ground. You pushed through and powered the daemon’s fist off of the blade and you surged forward, redirecting the rapier into a crack between the ice armor the monster adorned, and just as fast you were pushed back. You wiped the fluid from your lips and took heavy breaths.

“Hey, Captain,” Constantine caught wind of the situation easily, “try using that rifle of yours against the ice plate, I have an idea,” he says. You nodded, pulling your rifle forward again and aiming it at the intended spot, but your hands wobbled slightly with the dizzying effect that was controlling you. You squinted your eyes, doing your best to make sense of the monster that was now appearing double. Then, you felt your hands stabilize, and you realized that Alex was holding the rifle steady. You aimed it as best as you could and took the shot, the bullet landing on one side of the plate, then you took more successive rounds until it was seconds away from shattering. You could just barely make out the magic circle that appeared on top of it until it pushed into the daemon and left it screaming while it ripped off its own skin. “Now’s your chance!” He shouts. You grabbed your rapier and sprinted forward, the double vision coming back together as you got closer and, with a push of your hand, the daemon’s thrashing stilled until it was no more. You pulled on the tags around it’s neck: CS-03. You pulled the second vial from your pocket, the top had broken off but there was still a sufficient amount of liquid inside of it, enough to drink anyway. And slowly you regained your senses, and slowly you became more aware of the shouts around you, but they all mixed and garbled into one incoherent noise underneath the ringing.

“Thank you, Captain Wayne!” The townspeople, whoever was left, had arrived again, all expressing their thanks in some way and, as you had found out later, due to Damien and Dick’s due diligence the number of casualties were greatly reduced compared to the previous attacks.

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?” Alex’s voice rang in your head. “It’s a mess in here.”

“It’s a mess out there. What does my mind look like?”

“Fractured.” His voice was an echo.

“Can you fix it?”

“It’ll fix on its own. Give the antidote time to work.” You nodded your head absently while holding it with one hand. Dick was saying something to you, but you couldn’t hear him. Jason grabbed his shoulder and now it was clear they were arguing but their shouts were incoherent to you. Tim was talking to you now, waving his hands in front of you with his brows knit together while Damian was speaking to your father.

You looked at him.

Your father. Why was he here?

Surely, not for you.

He was looking at you too, walking over slowly and looking into your eyes with a discerning glance. You’d be able to read their lips if not for the blur and the shakiness.

“Get me to Marion.”

“Certainly. Eve’s just arrived.” Speaking of, the woman ran up to you, unceremoniously pushing the boys out of the way as her hands cupped your face and moved it around gently. He seemed to ask what had happened to you, the proximity making her voice somewhat clear. Her hand waves next to her and a portal opens up as she guides you into it and, once again, you found yourself in a hospital room.

“Now this is just bullshit.” You thought to yourself.

“How is it your thoughts are louder at a distance?” You looked down, your hand still over your heart.

“Fuck. Keep me updated on what they do.”

“Sleep well, Cap.”

“I’m killing that Doctor if he puts me on bedrest again.”

“I await the headline.”

“What were those two arguing about?” You said nothing while Eve sat you down on the bed, seemingly calling for help.

“Dick and Jason?”

“Were there others arguing?”

“Not… Necessarily. They were talking about you, of course. I don’t think Dick understands the whole situation yet, they’re explaining it to him now.”

“Great. Maybe I will sleep.”

“Can you blame him? The last you he knew was…”

“Weak?”

“Different.” You pulled your hand off of your chest just as the Doctor entered with Marion in tow. Marion hands you a vial and you drink it, ever so slowly the world quieted down and stabilized.

“How do you feel, (Y/N)?” Eve asks.

“Like I’m human again,” you shook your head.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” Marion shouts and your winced. “Did I not leave clear instructions to not use it on yourself? You’re insane, (Y/N), I don’t care if you can reattach, this is your basic biology we’re talking about now. If one calculation was off in our work you could have been like that forever, do you understand?”

“Of course, I understand, I fucking made it,” you grimaced. Marion frowns and slumps her shoulders.

“You talk to her, Dr. Bronte. She’ll listen to you,” Marion grumbles on her way out of the room.

“You know she’s just worried,” Dr. Bronte’s words were obscured by his mask.

Samuel Wyach Bronte was a strange man, brilliant, but strange. He sports a full face mask, a result of a chemical explosion that had occured years prior to your advancement into the role of Captain, leaving only the blue of his eyes clear. He was a tower of a man, standing straight with discipline and holding an air of composure around him. He had been your primary care physician since you started and will probably continue to do so as long as you continued to rip your body apart in combat. But his medical prowess is unmatched, he’s a leader in his field and has since garnered a strong legacy. There is no one more capable of treating your conditions than he is, at the very least.

“But this… this is reckless even for you,” he says, observing your arms. “You have burst blood vessels all along it,” he points at the small patches of red. “What exactly did you take?”

“It’s confidential, and a work in progress still, I wasn’t anticipating those side effects,” you looked at your blistering hands. “You’re not imprisoning me again, are you?”

“Well, that depends on your reattachment.”

“Eve, get Alex over here,” you muttered.

“Right away,” she waves her hand again and the portal opens wide, Alex looks over his shoulder.

“Oh, hello,” he says. Clearly, you just interrupted a conversation he was having with Dick and your dad. “Having trouble?” He asks. Dr. Bronte finds a way to sit up straighter upon seeing the crowd. Alex steps through the portal. “Until next time, Mr. Wayne,” Alex nods his head and Eve shuts the portal.

2014

When you found out that your dad was Batman, you were as over the moon as you were when you found out Dick was Robin. Your dad is a superhero, who wouldn’t be surprised at that? You had heard stories about how the caped crusader was unstoppable, how he kept Gotham safe from the night prowlers, and you were so proud of him, you were so proud to be his daughter.

But slowly you saw the toll it took on him. You saw the toll it took on you. On your brothers, on your sisters, and on this whole family. As you got older you realized the truth behind the mantle and the weight it carried.

But it was probably one event that truly spelled that out for you, the truth of what your dad did at night and its consequences. And when you came home that night, you had no idea there was someone else waiting there. Sure, there was the occasional photographer that somehow got past the front gate but, good god, never did they make it under your bed.

So when you walked into your room, ready for a night’s rest but not before sitting at the edge of your bed to type out a quick text to your then partner, you never could have expected a hand to tap at your ankle. When was the last time you were scared to look under there? Years ago. You jumped away quickly, your back pressed against the door while your shaking hands attempted to open it, and before the intruder had the chance to crawl out from under you had already begun your descent down the stairs, and then further into the cave. It was late, you knew that at least Alfred had to be down in the cave at the very least if not your dad, you never would’ve expected to see someone you’d only seen on the news.

Bane. He said nothing, you said nothing, the only difference now is that aside from your racing heart you felt your fear in your bones. He was terrifying, more so than you could’ve ever imagined even from the pictures and the case studies you had seen. The tubes filled with that dangerous green liquid drained into him quickly with every movement he made, and with every passing second it was clear to you that he was getting stronger. Then he took a step toward you, you took a step back, and this repeated until he was close enough to lunge at you. You were shaking. They were never supposed to get this close, they were never supposed to make it to the manor. This was supposed to be a safe place. What was he going to do to you? You thought back to the stranger under your bed. What would he have done to you? What was he going to do to your father now that he’s seen you? Your mind was in a frenzy and you stumbled, you fell frozen in fear, your legs that had taken you so far were rendered near useless. And this time even the batarang that flew at Bane’s head wasn’t enough to calm you.

“Go!” Your dad’s voice echoed. He was tired, you could tell. This was the first time you’d seen him in weeks after the entirety of Arkham broke out. You couldn’t move. “I said go! Call for help!” You stumbled to your feet, grabbing the comm while you ran out of the cave. Your hands were shaking, you couldn’t see clearly, but you pressed the first contact that was there.

“Bruce? What’s going on?” His voice, as always, was your beacon of hope.

“Dick!” You were out of breath, his name was the only thing that came out despite the jumble of words that plagued your mind.

“(Y/N)?” A new and more concerned tone was clear. “Why are you using the comm?”

“It’s dad, he… you need to come to the cave now!”

“I— What’s going on?”

“I… dammit,” the words weren’t forming. “Bane!” You finally shouted out. You were at the front gate of the manor now, it was as far as your mind could take you, whatever response Dick had said was unknown to you except that he hung up right after and you, still afraid, slid down the side of the column and onto the floor.

You ran. You ran. You should’ve stayed behind, you should’ve helped somehow, anyhow, you’re the daughter of the Batman, for Christ’s sake, why aren’t you doing anything other than holding your head between your hands and trying to control the fear? Would Dick even get there on time? Did your dad have everything handled?

“(Y/N)?” Tim’s voice was distant, and even though you knew he was in front of you, he seemed miles away. “Hey, come on, deep breaths, what happened?” He was trying to pull you back into reality. He grabbed onto your shoulder, squeezing it gently until you felt your breaths steady, and once you had come to your senses, Tim pushed you into the bushes, his hands over your mouth and one finger over his, then he looked over his shoulder. You stood in a tense silence, crouched behind the shrubs and unable to hear the reason why Tim had pushed you in here in the first place. Finally, he pulled you out of the hiding spot and, with no hesitation, you ran back to the cave with Tim close behind. Your mouth felt dry, the words still couldn’t come up while you stared at Dick and your dad.

You often tried not to think about how close death was to this family, very rarely did it take one of you, but never did it leave without leaving a mark.

If only you were stronger.

You thought about that for nights on end, you lost sleep over it even. Stronger, what did it mean? You weren’t an acrobat like Dick, you weren’t strong like Jason, and you weren’t smart like Tim. Everything you had ever owned was because your father had handed it to you. If only there was a snap solution to this, a quick way to become useful.

It had only crossed your mind once. Bane’s Venom, that is. Seeing it work inperson was grotesque, horrific actually.

But… maybe if you could…

You dismissed the thought.

Yet when you saw a vial of it in the cave once, many years after your father had healed and you had gotten older.

Well, how bad can it be?

You took it and took a quick look at it, just going over the basic chemistry of it all one day in your university’s lab long after hours, and it was fascinating. A drop of it had killed a mouse, yet Bane nearly overdoses on it every time he uses it and he’s fine.

If you could change it just enough to avoid the body horror, just enough to avoid the blind rage that came with it, you could very well have a type of a super soldier serum.

You could be stronger. You could help your family. You wouldn’t have to run all the time and get out of their way, you could be one of them, standing at their sides, a true member of what you have heard referred to as the Batfamily.

Then your father would have to acknowledge you.

…

Right?

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