╰┈➤ posting my works for the sake of discussion and improvement but my writings are ultimately self-indulgent and just a hobby. Probably won't be taking requests but feel free to send ideas or any questions!
Don't Wait For The Tide Just To Dip Both Your Feet In
༄.° Batfam x Reader inspired by villainess isekai stories
1.4k words
╰﹒synopsis: you wake from an unfortunate accident to find that you're now in the DC universe, a member of the Wayne family no less. The only issue is that you hardly know your own family, and they don't seem all that eager to let you into their lives.
⟢ parts 1 , 2 (➷), tbd ⊹ ࣪ ˖
The drive to the manor is silent, just as you can recall every drive in recent years being. There was a time when you could look to the left and see Tim sitting there, usually on his phone or looking out the window on the drive to school. Even then you never spoke, the car filled with an oppressive silence. Not that you would have had much to talk about anyways. The boy was only a year older than you but you doubt you ever had anything in common. Not that you’d know, he kept to himself so you did too. Nowadays he’s moved on to bigger and better things, even after dropping out. He seems to have taken interest in Wayne Enterprises and has some kind of position there from what you’ve heard discussed over the breakfast table.
As of this year, Tim’s seat has been taken by your newest brother Damian. You remember the first time you had rode together, you stared resolutely out the window and felt his glare burning the back of your head the whole way. He seems to have gotten with the program, though, and will usually mind his own business so long as you don’t look his way. Or move. Or breathe too loudly. And he still has that angry pout on his face every day no matter what you do. You wonder if he’s heard about your fainting spell yet, rich kids do like to gossip. You’d know, you’re one of them.
When you arrive at Wayne Manor you don’t get out of the car right away. Instead, you find Alfred’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and tell him that you’re going to take it easy tonight and will likely be asleep before dinner time. You leave before he can respond.
You walk through the looming halls on auto-pilot, feet carrying you over plush carpet and waxed hardwood floors. The whole time you’re still trying to sort your thoughts, your two lives converging into one has muddled your memories of both. Did your preference for peonies over roses come from this world? Have you ever played tennis in the other world? Luckily, you’d just given yourself the whole night to figure it all out. If Alfred respects your wishes for some time alone, that is.
Opening your bedroom door has you almost surprised by what you see. It’s silly that you wake up in this room everyday but you still have to relearn it all. It’s more like …reminding yourself of it actually. You know this room, a part of you has just forgotten it is all. Or maybe that part never knew in the first place? Philosophising over it isn’t helping right now so instead you close the door behind you and sit at your desk, grabbing a blank notebook from the drawer.
You’d sat at this desk for hours upon hours these past few weeks studying your midterm material. Now you’re studying your own life. Lives. You start with the basics, one page for each life’s base information. Where you live, your age, your job or education level. Then you block out what a typical day looks like for you in each life. One thing is for sure, here you were busy. Poring over your schedule for a day attending classes at Gotham Central, you reflected on everything you were used to doing in a single day. School may have started at 8:30 AM but you were typically up at 6. Your lunch hour was typically used up by tennis club (of which you were manager and star player) where you would not only play but also assist your fellow members. The school day ended at 3:00 but you always stayed behind for an extra hour and a half, if not for Model UN conferences then for use of the library to study. It’s already overwhelming and you haven’t even gotten to your after-school routine which included (even more!) studying, exercising usually along with some yoga (as if a game of tennis wasn’t enough), and your own personal hobbies reading and annotating books along with journaling and watercolour painting. And how could you forget your bi-weekly piano practice every Tuesday and Thursday. Add in some very complicated skin and hair care routines and an everything shower every two days and it’s a surprise you haven’t passed out sooner.
You’re interrupted from frantically looking at both lists of daily activities, comparing your lives, by a knock at your door. Startled, you spring up and open it to see Alfred with a silver tray in his hands.
“Young madam, I’ve brought you some tea and a small serving of tonight’s dinner. Only eat what you can but please, try not to neglect your health any longer.”
Ah. That’s… really nice of him actually. “Thank you very much Alfred, you didn’t need to do this.” You say with some hesitance, genuinely touched that he’d be so considerate after your quick dismissal of him in the car.
“Nonsense,” he shakes his head, his lips don’t so much as twitch but you can clearly see the smile in his eyes “it would be irresponsible to let you collapse into bed without a good meal in you. This should be light enough to not upset your stomach for the time being. You may leave your dishes outside the room and I will collect them tomorrow morning.”
You try for a smile, though it comes out a little strained, and take the tray from him. Mumbling your thanks once more and closing the door behind you with one foot. You place it on the bed as you clear your desk and close the notebook you’ve been steadily filling with conflicting accounts of your lived experiences. Ugh this is so weird. You settle in to enjoy the meal anyway. At least you’re financially supported here, as miserable as you are in every other aspect of your life you don’t have to worry about money for now. And if your father is Batman then you’re surely safe from the inordinate number or supervillains. At least you hope you are.
Come to think of it, in nearly every continuity the Wayne family is plagued by misfortune with many characters meeting tragic ends. Not even the children under Bruce’s care are safe, there have been countless stories in which the Robins or other allies of his have faced death and hardship. Is staying in this house really as safe as you thought or are you really just tempting fate? Maybe the best thing you could do is to renounce the family name entirely and move on to greener pastures. The only thing is, what could be better than being a billionaire?
Of course, your safety is paramount so you should still leave no matter what but…well… you’re kind of used to the lavish lifestyle you’re granted here. And sure in that other world you had been happy with an average middle-class life but you have to admit that it’s nice to live in excess. Hmm. Well, you’re a good student. And with the connections you can make from your name alone, you could surely get somewhere with just a little effort. If your father can support whatever lavish and needless luxuries you’ve asked for in your time here, he can surely pay for your university tuition. He might even jump at the chance just to get you out of his manor faster.
What is going to make you a lot of money though? Doctor is an obvious choice and the costs of med school would be no problem with your father’s wealth. The hours are intense, though, and with the amount of evil scientists in this world, you can’t be sure that you could avoid organisations like Cadmus entirely. No, you need to work for something just where you can decide yourself whether you can afford getting involved. Well actually when thinking about it like that, being a lawyer might work. It’s just, sure, you literally work on the side of justice! And you can always decide yourself whether to take on a case, meaning you could outright refuse to get involved with anything fishy. That way you can avoid anything like a Harvey Dent situation. A coward’s way out? Absolutely. But you never claimed to be brave so what’s the harm.
What’s even better is that lawyers are sorely needed in this world. A world where aliens attacking is normal and giant kaiju battles happen every other week. Yeah, you’d for sure have your pick of the litter when it came to cases. Dinner largely forgotten (you’d already finished most of it anyways, hopefully Alfred won’t be upset), you pull your laptop from your schoolbag and begin looking at law programs, excited for your future and motivated by selfish desire.
Thank you so much for the support on the first chapter! I really didn't expect to get so much attention for this story since it feels kind of niche to me and very self-indulgent hehe
I did want to ask if you, as a reader, prefer this story remains first person or if you like to read multiple perspectives. I figured it'd be best to continue writing solely from MC's perspective and leave the thoughts / opinions of other characters up to reader interpretation but please let me know if you find that boring.
Multiple Character Perspectives?
No thank you / I prefer to interpret their motivations myself
Yes please / I want to know how you imagine the characters feel, Luci
Voting ended onAug 22, 2025
The poll will be available for one week as that seems to be around the time I can post new chapters, this information will only be used for chapter four and upwards though as chapter three is already planned out.
Once again, thank you for the support, I greatly appreciate any comments / reblogs / likes as it's very motivating! I still encourage all interaction as I want to know what you think and value your critiques.
༄.° Batfam x Reader inspired by villainess isekai stories
1.5k words
╰﹒synopsis: you wake from an unfortunate accident to find that you're now in the DC universe, a member of the Wayne family no less. The only issue is that you hardly know your own family, and they don't seem all that eager to let you into their lives.
⟢ parts 1 (➷), 2 , tbd ⊹ ࣪ ˖
At 11:00 AM, a girl hands in her completed midterm exam, the last of the semester, and quietly steps out into the hallway. As she closes the classroom door behind her, she begins to sway on her feet, these past three weeks of vigorous studying finally catching up to her. The adrenaline of the exam fades as she takes slow, uneven steps through the school halls, feet dragging behind as her arms reach out to steady her against the looming pillars of the private academy. It doesn’t do her any good, however, and she tilts forward, vision going black before she even reaches the floor. The other students loitering in the hall are startled by the inelegant crash and befuddled as to how the impenetrable and perfect daughter of Bruce Wayne could be felled by a midterm of all things.
You aren’t sure what wakes you up between the uncomfortable, rubbery bed or the cold air blasting down on you from the overhead ceiling fan but the splitting headache you’re sporting is your best guess so far. You recognize this room as the nurses office which, logically, you know is in your school. The thing is, you can distinctly recall that you do not belong in Gotham Central Academy and a small but scary part of you believes that this place does not exist at all. That’s utterly ridiculous, you tell yourself, you have lived here your whole life after all. Haven’t you?
Feeling the chaotic flush of panic crawling up your throat, you take a breath and think. By gathering your thoughts you can find what your brain is really trying to tell you right now. You know Gotham is real because you were born here, raised here, and have lived here for 16 years. By that logic this school must also be real since you’ve spent over two years under its roof. Well, school years that is. And you know that you are real because there is no way the pain in your head can be imagined. Why does Gotham not sound like a real place?
Sure, maybe you wouldn’t choose to live here if you had your pick but your mother lived here and your father does too. Although that father of yours doesn’t seem to be living a life remotely linked with your own. No, Bruce Wayne is an eccentric billionaire who can’t seem to buy any time for his daughter.
Wait a minute…
Bruce Wayne, huh? That’s Batman’s secret identity isn’t it? One of the most famous comic characters of all time! How could you forget that?
Wait Batman? The vigilante that’s been prowling Gotham’s streets after dark for the past decade? Why would your father be–
You shoot up in the bed, eyes wide and hands shaking as you bring them to your chest. This place isn’t real after all! Or at least, it’s not real everywhere. You’ve somehow been to both a world where it is real and one where it wasn’t, having lived completely different lives in both. It takes you very nearly fainting again to recall why you’re sitting on this crappy bed in the first place, and from there it all comes rushing back.
In this world where the unreal has been made real, you are Bruce Wayne’s biological daughter. In this world you are not so happy about this fact. In this world you live anyway, finding ways to spend your time that don’t revolve around your complicated family dynamic.
This world … kind of sucks.
In another world, one where you had time to spend reading stories and imagining other worlds, you were happy. Sure, you weren’t the daughter of a billionaire and you didn’t go to a fancy private school. But you had many small joys that you miss already, just sitting in this cold nurse’s office on a lumpy bed.
Here, even with all of those wonderful things, you were miserable, you feel miserable right now. Well. In this very moment you feel more pathetic than anything else, shaking and halfway to tears from your own reminiscing, but the point still stands! You had everything you could possibly want at your fingertips, just one swipe from daddy’s card away. But you were still missing what you needed, what you know you will always need. You had no real family. No friends either. Maybe you weren’t Mrs. Popular in the other world but you still had human connection. You still felt valued and understood.
You really can’t remember the last time you felt like that here. Loved, that is. Maybe some of that is on you, this you. After the death of your mother, you pushed anyone away no matter who they were. You just wanted to be alone with your grief. You were so little then but still so stubborn. You remember meeting your father, your older brother too. Their unimpressed faces are burned into your memory. Your father’s sorrowful gaze that seemed to see right past you, Dick’s forced smile that looked much more like a grimace. They made for a shoddy welcoming committee.
Years later you know why. They had lost someone too, a little boy. Their hearts were filled with woe, leaving no room for you. But as a child you can recall coming to a conclusion right there and then, “this is not my family”. Your young mind could not bear mourning anymore, not your mother whose memory must be treasured, nor your relationship with your father which never really had a chance. Instead you convinced yourself that pretending that these men could replace her would be an affront to the love she freely gave. Naive, maybe, but you were 11.
Locking yourself away, you pretended not to care that Richard was never home or that your father was never in his own mansion or that you suddenly had another older brother. Somewhere between you deciding that family wasn’t for you and Bruce healing from the death of his son, Timothy Drake had inserted himself into the picture. Not that you were ever made aware, not by your own father anyways. You had simply run into him one day. He didn’t bother introducing himself but you learned about him after badgering Alfred. You should have known that he was your father’s new pet project, though, he brushed you off just like Bruce would’ve.
The family has only grown since then, and you’ve even been graciously remembered during introductions. Sometimes. You still had to hound poor Alfred for any information beyond their names as you refuse to actually ask them to their faces. If they can’t come right out and introduce themselves to you without the others facilitating the interaction (or pestering them to do so in the first place), then you would show them nothing but bored indifference in return.
Jesus, you sound stuck-up even to yourself.
This whole multiverse convergence thing seems to have given you some perspective. In this world, you’d shut yourself off and refused any form of love. Although, material love was something you had accepted. Your only interactions with your father in recent years only seem to be requests for money or gifts. Classic rich girl stereotype. Whatever. Bruce seemed to be happy enough to buy your cooperation so far, only enabling you to seek reassurance in the money he spent. You were essentially taught to associate his care for you with material purchases. Were you Pavlov’d into being the classic rich girl stereotype?
No matter the cause, your previous attitudes only seem embarrassing to you now. Maybe in this world being so wasteful didn’t come back to bite you but in that other world, you had learned the importance of frugality. Comics were expensive after all and reading new issues online simply doesn’t compare to holding the pages between your fingers.
Comics… right. You really are in another world right now. Well, you’ve always lived here. A part of you has at least. Still, as someone fairly well-versed in the Batman lore you are certain there has never been a character like yourself. You kind of wish there was. You’d probably hate her guts but it’d be nice to know what you’re supposed to do right now.
The door swings open as the nurse steps inside, someone trailing behind her.
“I see you’re awake now, Ms Wayne. Your driver has arrived to take you home for the day.”
Right. That’s Alfred. And he’s come to your school to drive you home. Because you passed out after writing your final midterm.
“Right.” You begin, cringing at both your uneven voice and ineloquent response. “Thank you very much.”
You grab your schoolbag from beside the bed as you stand and sling the straps over your shoulders, ignoring the hand Alfred holds out to take it. You avoid his eyes, already knowing that he’s sporting that discerning raised brow, and simply follow him out the door and through the school. It’s weird. You’ve walked these halls many times before but it also feels new to you. You’re getting sick of the deja vu already.
I had a lot of fun planning / writing this so far! will probably continue it but I encourage any comments as I'm not used to sharing my projects like this...
