Thinking about yan Bruce taking reader to the rooftops of Gotham to watch fireworks for the Fourth of July...
He's in his batsuit, of course, as he carries you from building to building. You're terrified of falling hundreds of feet, naturally, so you cling to him like a baby koala. His usual scowl has transformed itself into a small smile. You hadn't ever held onto him like this before. You usually didn't want any physical contact with him. Normally, he had to tie you up or weigh you down with his bodyweight to get cuddles and he was relishing this.
By the time you both get the roof that he picked out for the best view, you're shaking like a traumatized Chihuahua. He doesn't mind. You're so scared that you let him sit you in his lap and wrap his cape around you like a blanket without a peep. He luxuriates in the feeling of holding you as he keeps his arms locked around you and enjoys the weight of you in his lap. He breathes in the smell of you as he keeps your head tucked under his chin and the rest of you pressed up against his chest.
You jump when the first firework explodes and hide your face in his chest. He knows it's a side effect of living in Gotham for too long. He used to feel bad about it before he realized that he could use it to his advantage. You're too cute for him not to take every opportunity to curl up with you.
"Aren't you going to look, sweetheart? I brought you out to see the fireworks, not just to listen to them." He murmurs teasingly before pressing a kiss to your temple.
He chuckles as he watches you desperately shake your head 'no' and gently begins rubbing circles into your back. He sighs happily and nuzzles into your hair as the fireworks light up your terrified face. He reaches into his utility belt and carefully grabs a handful of your favorite candies, then brings them up to your lips. There's nothing that he enjoys more than holding you and taking care of you so this is his personal slice of paradise.
"There you go, honey. It's a treat for the holiday and for behaving so well. You haven't tried to leave my side so you deserve to have your favorite." He hums approvingly as you begin to shakily eat from his hand.
He loves how sweetly you act towards him when you're afraid. He's going to have to scare you more often now.
If you don't mind could we get a batfamily pinning over, slightly neglected but sassy reader? The reader has long since given up on being the perfect daughter/sister for everyone and has started living life. Now everyone is shook because they didn't know the reader was an amazing person and now they all are starting to develop interesting feelings 😉 for her. The batfamily are pinning hard over the reader and they are having none of it.
Batfamily: Hey reader would like to spend your summer with your amazing family 😍🤩🥺
Reader: ....... Ewww no 🙂↔️ (walks out the door)
Batfamily: She could have thought about it a little more 💔
Anyway love you and your work 💕💋
lollll absolutely, i got u babes (i love u too <3) ALSO I GOT MY LAPTOP FIXEDDDD EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO GOD!!!! also sorry i took one million years but i hope this was what u were asking for!
tbh, i think reader being very antagonistic towards them would make some of them even hornier lmaooo like they love a good chase (all supes do tbh, it's their bread and butter so to speak)
cw // fauxcest/incest, mentions and implications of kidnapping/drugging, mentions of noncon (kissing), crossing boundaries, perverted brothers and fathers, (pls lmk if i missed anything)
"now that you're on summer break," bruce looks over to you, "you'll be coming with us for the trip in june."
your fork pauses mid-air; everyone eagerly turns to you, "the trip?" you set your fork down, sighing. "the "undercover mission" trip?"
bruce grimaces, "yes, but-"
"honestly, bruce, even if it was a regular family trip," you give the oldest two a pointed glare, "i can't go."
"what?" tim speaks up first, his eyebrows furrowed, "you don't have anything on your schedule."
you bite your cheek, fighting to snap at his blatant invasion of your privacy, "i got a job for the summer." you go back to your dinner, ignoring the huffs of protest.
"you don't need a job." bruce's voice cuts through the indignant chatter. "if you need money, (y/n)-"
"it's not for the money. i need work experience." you place your fork down, standing from the table.
"sit down. this conversation isn't over." bruce's voice is firm, but you couldn't find it within yourself to care.
"it's over to me."
patrol was quiet and cold that night, letting bruce ruminate on dinner. he hears quiet and heavy footsteps behind him, "we can just drug her and take her with," jason's voice is teasing, but he could sense that it wasn't completely a joke.
"no. she'll come around," batman keeps his voice low, "she's just upset with what happened last week."
jason makes a noise, "what happened last week?"
he feels another presense take their place next to jason, "b kissed-" her name almost slips from his mouth, and bruce glares, "-her and told her to drop out of college." dick's voice was on the edge of a laugh and bruce couldn't hold back a deep sigh.
jason cackles, "and you thought that was a good idea?"
oracle's voice filters into his ears, "hate to interrupt when you're making fun of b, but robin and red need you guys by the observatory."
"understood." he motions to his annoying sons, "let's go."
you're trying to fall asleep when dick decides that it's his turn to annoy you. "you asleep?" his voice is light, but you know better. you don't respond, curling into your thick comforter. "if you're cold, we can cuddle..."
you roll your eyes, groaning as you turn towards him, "what do you want, dick?"
"i just wanna talk," he invites himself to sit on your bed, hand squeezing your covered ankle, "we- i want you on the summer trip." you stare at him, unmoved by his subtle confession. he blinks, a trace of annoyance crossing his face, "little bird..." there's a playful tilt to his voice and you feel his cold hand graze your leg.
you yank your leg away, sitting up with a scowl, "don't call me that." dick jolts, his eyes wide, "you have lost every right to call me that, asshole."
his heart skips a beat, seeing the furious anger on your face, and he can't help but tease you more. "come on, birdie-" your hand flies towards his face, and he catches it before it connects with his cheek. you try to pull it back, but dick holds tight, pressing a kiss to your palm. his pupils were wide as he peeked at you through your fingers.
you feel a shiver of disgust crawl down your back, "fucking psycho," you seethe, almost spitting with repulsion, "get the hell out of my room."
"no dice." dick leans against the doorway, an annoyed smile gracing his face, "your turn." jason moves, letting him into the apartment.
jay scoffs, "i'm not getting involved in this bullshit." dick raises an eyebrow and jason sighs, "i'm sure you'd like it if she hated me too."
"you busy?" jason opens the door slightly, peeking into your room. a smile tugs at your lips as you see the large man, hesitantly, enter your room.
"a little," you motion towards your laptop, "you need something, jay?" he hesitates, fidgeting as he thinks between your bed and your desk. you bite your lap, holding in a chuckle, watching as he awkwardly loiters.
he sighs, finally making a decision, and choosing to kneel in front of you, "will you listen to me without getting upset?" jason tilts his head, a small smile on his face.
you feel an twinge of discomfort, knowing what he's going to ask, but nod anyway.
"it would be nice if you came with on the trip," you take a breath, rolling your eyes. he continues, "i know you don't want to, but-" he smiles, "- i wanna spend time with you, you know?"
"jason-"
"we missed out on so much together," he gives you a sad smile, placing his hand on your knee, "can you imagine?" his thumb rubs your knee, gentle and firm, "the warm sand between our toes, splashing each other-" he swallows, the look crossing his face, "-wearing cute little swimsuits..." his fingers trace your leg, slowly making their way up.
you snort, "no thanks."
his eyebrows furrow, "what?"
you slap his hand away from your knee, "no. thanks."
"but- (y/n)-" his hand cups your cheek.
"i know what you're trying to do, jay-" you push his hand away, "-and it won't work because i don't care. i don't want to play happy family with you people." jason frowns, scar wrinkling. "if you want to hang out later, let me know, but don't bring up this vacation bullshit again."
"looks like we both struck out." nightwing's laugh echos through the comms.
red hood sighs, irritated, "so, my original plan is fine now, right? or are we waiting for everyone else to give it a try."
bruce hesitates, conflicted. he swallows the guilt in his throat and hums, "fine." the line goes dead and he sits in the silence. alfred raises an eyebrow, waiting for what was weighing on his mind, "she'll forgive me, right?" bruce's voice was quiet, "she has to understand that we love her..." alfred doesn't respond. "...she has to..."
alfred purses his lips as he feels a sense of pity, though unsure who it was for, "give her time, master bruce."
bruce nods, wilting into his chair, "she'll love it... she'll love me."
Part two to the (willfully) kidnapped!reader. I hope yall enjoy.
John thought you’d put up more of a fight, especially when you found yourself without your phone (which Kyle had taken the liberty of turning off and cancelling with your provider “Yes, she needs to cancel her plan… No, she doesn’t want an upgrade. Can you please just cancel the plan?”)
Everyone expected a different outcome. Maybe you screamed and flailed and fought them. What they didn’t expect was to wake up to you cooking them eggs and biscuits and gravy.
“Oh! I was wondering who… brought me on this forced vacation,” You dance around their actual crime, not wanting to give it that title.
They all look at you like you grew an extra head. Most people would be freaking out or trying to find a way to escape. But you seem to have the windows open and letting in fresh air while you check on your American biscuits, the sausage gravy bubbling on the stove.
“Are you… okay?” Kyle walked forward, a hand outstretched and an arm open. He was always the best at disarming people… He was who they usually sent to get in with their target.
“Yeah, I’m great. Woke up warm for the first time in months, and there’s actually food in the fridge, not just mustard and mayonnaise. And you have actual butter! I have bread rising in the bowl, cause I noticed you were low. You guys should really keep a sourdough starter. It’s cheaper than buying bread. A little time-consuming, but cheaper,” You rattle off, looking in amazement at the warm cabin in the middle of the British woods. This is so much better than your crappy apartment.
“You… you didn’t have heat?” John looks surprised, his brows furrowed, “All U.K. apartment buildings are supposed to have some form of heat, especially for the cold months.”
“Oh, my building was a ‘historical site’ so they had that excuse to not update anything. And they had radiators, which is way more unreliable than your central heating. A consistent, nice 22 degrees (about 72 degrees Fahrenheit)? It’s so nice. I never want to leave. And you have proper food! Oh!” You seemed to not think it was such a big deal to them that your living conditions were… about as shitty as they come for an apartment.
“Historical site? When was it built?” Simon asks, confused as to what that would entail.
“Well, a relatively new one. Built in the 1940s, so all the electricity was wrapped in paper and there was no central heat. We had plumbing but we’ve had indoor plumbing since the time of the Romans, ya know? I had an outlet catch fire once! Literally smoldering in the wall. And my landlord said it was my toaster!” You laugh, “Can you believe it!” You laugh and continue to make breakfast.
“1940s? Isn’t that…?”
“Yeah. Single pane windows, radiators, rusted plumbing by now, and paper wrapped electric wiring, cause they hadn’t figured out a better insulator at the time,” John murmurs to one of his men who asked the question, “It checks out.”
“How did we not know about it?”
“I have no idea.”
“Oh! And my landlord wanted to charge me a hundred dollars more, just to move me into a shittier apartment with just painted subflooring! No real flooring! Insane…” You continue ranting, taking the biscuits out the oven and starting to plate them, pouring the thick gravy over it.
All the men just look at each other and nod, seeing you move around their kitchen like it's your own.
She’ll do good here. We made the right choice.
Author’s Cup of Tea: Sorry this is so short! I do think that willfully kidnapped!reader could continue, but I’m going to leave that up to you guys. If you want to see more of this reader, send in requests with willfully kidnapped in the ask! I am always taking requests!
Have a good day/night!
Taglist!:
@uraeus56
@thedepreed94
@kat2460
@muraaaaaa
@hadassery
@whitetiger846
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Warnings: Suicidal ideation, Implied kidnapping, Death (not reader), Invasion of privacy, Invasion of personal space, Reader suffers from depression.
Additional Notes/Author Notes: This was a thought helped brought to life by the ever delightful @after-witch. Their one detail made everything come together.
Forgive my absence; it will happen again.
It was cold.
A penetrating chill, exacerbated by the moisture in the air, it clung to you. Seeping through skin, muscle, and sinew as it tried its best to worm its way into your bones. Warmth was fleeting, brought on only by puffs of breath and the occasional tremble of your body. You pressed your lips against your fingers in search of more.
You wanted to leave. Not just the room - dank, wretched place that it was - but in general. Leave this… place, leave this city, leave this world-
“You’re doing it again.”
The sing-song words, teasing in their lilt, cut through the silence and brought you back to yourself.
You shifted on the concrete, limbs somewhat numb from sitting cross-legged for too long.
“Sorry.” You murmured, but you both knew you didn’t mean it.
Mahito waved off the apology, lying back against his chair. It was an old, ugly thing - the kind one would find at the end of a driveway. The fabric, which had once been cream-coloured, was now brown, worn, and tattered with neglect.
It stunk of cat urine and dry rot.
Mahito sat sideways with his legs slung over one of the armrests. He wore a pair of black-framed glasses, much too large for his face, that kept sliding down his nose whenever he moved his head. He pushed them back into place, all the while looking at you expectantly.
Animosity sharply curled in your chest from the look before retreating into a dull bitterness. “What?”
“You never answered my question.” Despite the air of theatrical professionalism, you could still hear, still feel, the pout in his voice.
“I didn’t think I needed to.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m talking to you.”
Mahito’s smile stretched wide with that, making the dried flecks of blood splattered across his face crack and flake under the strain.
“That you are.~" He pushed the glasses up again. “But I do think it’s important for us to verbalize how we feel, don’t you?”
Your silence hung in the air.
“Don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So…?”
“No, I’m not feeling better.”
Mahito nodded along and made a note of your answer in the notebook on his lap. The glasses slid down his face again.
You looked away from him, unable to bear it for long, but he didn’t mind. On the contrary, moments like this delighted him. It wasn’t like he tried to hide that fact, even with the act he was putting on.
He often described to you how the air around you would thrum with melancholy. It was black, thick, and heavy as it oozed from you. If he had to compare it to something, molasses came closest, but such comparisons weren’t necessary - you felt - when you could see it too. At least right now, you could.
There was also the matter of your face. Filled with such sadness, yet nothing at the same time, while you would stare vacantly in whatever direction your head was tilted.
Mahito had never seen someone so beautifully miserable.
Another smile wormed its way across his face. “Do you think it’s because nobody has noticed yet?~”
You looked back at him with that same blank, despondent expression. “What?”
Mahito huffed and snapped the notebook shut, gesturing at the steaming lump of flesh and bone in the corner of the room with it.
“You told them you didn’t think anyone would notice if you were gone.” He clarified, annoyed. “Do you think it’s because you were right?”
A pang went through your chest, twisting around your heart, and you regretted looking. The disgust was there, of course - the fear and horror upon the visual reminder of what had become of another human being - but it was a short-lived kind of despair. A deeper kind still clung to your soul, one you physically had to swallow down, but such efforts didn’t mean much around Mahito.
He tilted his head when you didn’t answer him.
“Well??”
“Yes.” Your voice was hitched with unshed tears, and you made a point to look at him again. “And you made sure of that.”
The accusatory, sorrowful yet hateful tone you had made Mahito giggle.
“Come now, what use were they anyway?” He waved his hand at the pile once again. “You never even met them in person.”
“That doesn’t matter!” You snapped suddenly. “At least they would have noticed!”
Mahito hummed, disbelieving. He reopened the book - huffing when the pages stuck together from the blood - and skimmed through the notes your online therapist kept about you. A part of you still had the energy to feel violated.
“I’m not so sure.” He said with that stupid, overly professional tone. “Remember, it’s important not to project our expectations onto others-”
“Fuck you.”
Mahito snickered. Those words held no bite; they were as watery as your eyes were.
“Now, now, remember that abusive language can result in a session being cut short.~” He made a note in the book of the two tears that rolled down your cheeks when you looked away from him. “What are you feeling at this moment?”
“You know damn well-”
Mahito tutted disapprovingly. “Nah ah ah, we need to verbalize, remember?~”
Exasperation filled your otherwise dejected face, and he couldn’t get enough of it. When you finally looked at him again, he wordlessly urged you to share.
“I want to fucking die, is that what you want me to say??”
Mahito leaned back against the chair as you spoke, readjusting the glasses while taking in every waver, every trembling word.
“Ever since I met you, I can’t fucking stand it here. You-”
“You wanted that before we met.” Mahito grinned at you. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to see me.”
“Fucking whatever.” You spat, looking disparagingly at the ground again. This time, Mahito didn’t like that.
He slid off the chair and onto the bare concrete to join you, invading your space and twisting his body disjointedly so his face was directly in front of yours.
“Such tears.” Mahito cooed as he saw the droplets hanging from your lashes. They’d undoubtedly hit his face if they fell, but he didn’t mind. “But I want to know, is it as bad as it was when we met?”
“Please shut up-”
“Like everything was too heavy.” Mahito’s voice became a dramatic mimic of yours from when you had described it to your therapist. “Suffocating. Like swimming in an open ocean with weights attached to your ankles?”
Your attempt to look away from him was thwarted by both of Mahito’s hands gripping both sides of your skull - forcing you to stare into piercing blue and grey.
“Is it as bad?” He asked again - urging.
“No.” You managed to reply. Voice barely above a whisper. “It’s worse.”
A smile curled at Mahito’s lips again, and one of his thumbs swiped across your cheek - the cold touch succeeding in making its way deeper than bone.
Hello! I love your stories! What if the reader came back to Cullen and August with severe PTSD and trauma? For example, how would they handle a reader who hates to be touched in any way due to their trauma or if the reader cannot handle loud noises like yelling? Would they force the reader to still have cuddles with them or would they give them space?
I got a few similar asks to this, so I'll just answer them all with this one!
They'd both handle it pretty differently, but the biggest similarity is they'd both really be trying their hardest.
Cullen would be better at understanding your boundaries, and would gently remind August to give you more space, even though he wants to hold you just as much as his husband.
Where he'd struggle, is yelling. Typically he's an overall easy-going guy, but I think his worry for you would cause his stress to skyrocket sometimes, and he'd lash out when you flinch from him or refuse to eat.
It's not something he'd do to hurt you, and he'd always feel beyond guilty about it each time.
"Dammit, don't look at me like I'm gonna hit you! I'd never, why can't you get that through your head?! Do you know how much it hurts to see your kid, who you love more than anything, looking at you as if you're a monster?!?" *pause* "Wait, no, no, sweetie, I'm sorry--"
Meanwhile, August would be best in terms of calming Cullen down and reacting to your panic attacks, and any other trauma-related issue that may happen, but of course he'd still be extremely overbearing.
He'd cry and unintentionally make you feel guilty each time you look at him in fear, hide from him, flinch from him, etc. He'd basically break down each time, but would always speak gently to you regardless.
His biggest struggle would come in terms of respecting your boundaries. He'd constantly be trying to hold you, kiss your forehead, pet your hair, anything.
And each time, he'd act heartbroken if you express not wanting that.
I think he'd never force cuddles, but he would plead and continue unintentionally manipulating you.
"Please, I just want to hold my baby again... it's been so long since I've gotten to. You're breaking your Papa's heart..."
Sibling Squabbles | Yandere!Superman and Jon x Teen!Reader
“Jon, please get out the way.” You demanded in an even tone.
The younger boy didn’t budge from his spot in front of the door. His gaze held firm and he shook his head, “Dad said you couldn’t leave.”
“Clark doesn’t hold authority over me.” You reminded him matter of factly, “He’s not my father and I’m not your sister.”
Jon frowned deeply at your words, “Dad said you’d have a hard time-“
“Move, Jon!” You demanded again, louder.
You moved up to him, trying to shuffle past him with your backpack filled with a few essentials.
“Where would you even go?! You were homeless before this!”
“And? At least I wasn’t stuck in some house with creepy men!” You rebutted angrily, grabbing for the doorknob.
Jon grabbed your wrist, gripping it tight, “I’m not creepy! And neither is my dad! Take that back!” He knew that his dad told him to be gentle with you since you were still settling down but you were going too far.
“No! I mean it! You’re creepy!” You repeated sharply, trying to wrestle your wrist from Jon’s grip. “Ugh! It’s no wonder your mom left-!”
A sickening crack sounded from your wrist and you saw it crinkle in a way it wasn’t supposed to then a horrible pain that left you screaming from both the shock of what happened and the pain.
Jon stood frozen, breathing uneven.
He looked from your crumpled arm to your snotty face.
He hadn’t meant to hurt you. His father had warned him plenty of times to use his powers for good and here he was hurting you because you said something hurtful.
“I-I’m- (Y/N), I’m so-!” He reached out to you and you jerked back violently with a yelp.
“Stay the fuck away from me!” You snapped, opening the door with your good hand and running out towards the trail that led to the city.
Jon decided it best that he not follow you.
He knew you wouldn’t escape now anyhow. You were far too hurt and in too much shock to get far enough. And no one would allow a young teen like you to walk around with a broken arm if you did make it to the city.
The next time he saw you, which was a day later, his father had brought you back home with a blue cast on your arm.
You looked exhausted, pissed off, and every other negative emotion that people could feel.
Clark had you both in the living room and glanced at the two of you sternly. He looked at you first with an expectant gaze.
“(Y/N), apologize to your brother.” He said, arms crossed.
You kept your gaze on the cast for a moment.
A deep breath in, “Sorry.”
“You can do better than that.” Clark wasn’t one that took apologies lightly. You had to put your full heart into it. “Remember what we talked about at the doctor’s.”
Another deep breath, “Sorry for saying stuff about your mother.” You gritted out, “And about you… I didn’t mean it.” Your voice was incredibly monotone but Clark knew that was the best they were going to get from you right now.
He knew there’d be plenty more altercations in the future to teach you how to apologize properly and honestly.
He turned to Jon, “Be more careful in the future,” He reminded him simply, “And apologize to your sister.”
Jon’s lip wobbled as he gazed at you and you wished great harm upon him. How dare he act like he was the one that had been victimized? Like he was innocent?
How dare Clark make you apologize first when Jon had hurt you? Now you were stuck in a cast and had been set back.
“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I won’t do that ever again and I forgive you.” He gave you a teary smile, “I know you’re having a hard time and I should’ve kept my anger in check.”
Clark smiled warmly, “Try to keep the sibling squabble to a minimum, okay, you two?” He patted you both on the head.
He then stood up and made his way to the kitchen, “Who wants breakfast?” He asked, tying an apron around his person, “I’m thinking waffles, eggs and bacon!”
Jon licked his lips, “I’ll have some! Can I help?!” He asked excitedly, running after his father.
“Of course you can, Jon.” You heard Clark answer from the kitchen, “(Y/N), come join us.”
God you hated them with every fiber of your being.
