ok yall im out of school now! this was rushed so don't judge, when i write i just pour out whatever's in my head, that's why it's almost always rushed. i feel like if i don't write it, it'll disappeare! also to everyone hating in my asks, NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO READ MY WORK!!!! hating does nothing but discourage me and lower my already non-existent confidence in my writing. pls leave me alone, if you don't have anything nice to say; don't say anything. i LOVE all my positive asks and comments, they make my day. don't ruin it for me.
Prologue: hapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4: Chapter 5 Chapter 6:
Six months, that's how long it's been since Bruce exiled you to New York and left you alone once again. It's been 387 days since Tiffany Maverick pulled the rug from beneath your feet and ensnared your family in her web of lies and manipulation. For six months, your family ignored you, only Alfred sending you the occasional care package which you promptly threw in the garbage.
You wish Tiffany and Damian were as content with ignoring you as the rest of the family but unfortunately, they went out of their way to rub their closeness in your face by sending you pictures of family movie night, family game night, and the family attending their school events. It made you angry at first, before you saw how funny it was. A family of billionaires, a family of detectives, a family of vigilantes, sitting next to a spy; obliviously feeding her insider information. The Batman, sitting grinning ear to ear next to a girl who could be his downfall.
Surprisingly, boarding school was amazing. The boys were hot, though most arrogant and dumb, they were all loaded and into you. The girls idolized you from the moment you walked in, your word was law around here and the power felt amazing. You decided what was in and out, who was hot and who was not; a huge difference and change of pace from the years of bullying and ridicule at Gotham Prep.
The charm came with your new abilities, most likely. Sure, the first two months were fucking painful and exposed you to pain you didn't think was possible but it was a small price to pay. It was nothing for the power of being able to charm and flirt your way out of just about anything, being able to eject venom with the slightest trace of your fresh set of acrylics, being able to literally bite people with your fangs and have them enjoy it, sensing heat signatures and feeling emotions and eyes on you, having the ability to give literal bone-crushing hugs, and so many things you haven't even discovered.
Not to mention your random overnight makeover! Suddenly, your figure was to die for, perfect in all senses of the word. Your skin gleamed and shimmered in the light, long shed away were all the blemishes and scars. Your hair always shiny and your teeth always pearly white, albeit a bit sharp. You're the image of beauty.
Who cares about the price when the product was this good anyway?
Who needed familial love when everyone here worshipped you? That new view and utter hatred for the family is what convinced you to accept Ariele, your boarding school bff and roomie,'s offer to spend summer break with her family in the south of france. Of course, you wanted to go back to manor for a week before meeting her there. Alfred asked you to come and though you were angry at him, you missed the old man. You swore to yourself that you'd only stay the night, catch up with Alfred, and ignore your 'family' then promptly spend the summer half naked, tanning on a super yacht with your girls.
Little did you know that you'd never make it to france, in fact, you wouldn't even make it out the manor now that Tim discovered the truth and told the rest of the family.
Tim Drake noticed things. Small things. Minute details that other people might overlook. That's how he found the truth.
It started with the cooking. Tiffany had casually mentioned one evening that she’d found some old recipes in the manor’s archives, recipes that you had once written down, hoping to impress Damian with Arabic dinners and desserts. Tiffany had barely glanced at the handwritten notes before she had offered to make dinner that night—a perfect replica of your signature stuffed cabbage leaves, Malfoof, as you called it.
Tim had been there when it happened. He’d recognized it immediately. The dish was one of your favorites, one you had made for family dinners. It was too familiar, too precise for Tiffany, it lacked the usual love and effort.
Then came the awards. It was subtle at first, too. Tiffany casually dropping that she had “entered a local baking competition” and how much fun it had been to win. Tim had known that you had been the one to actually win that competition the year before, he remembered rolling his eyes as you foolishly tried to impress him. But when he checked the award Tiffany had won? It looked eerily similar to the one that you had earned. Tiffany didn’t even bother hiding her gloating as she showed it off, calling it “another step toward making Gotham proud.”
Tim’s stomach churned. It wasn’t a coincidence. Tiffany was stealing your life and he was the only one that saw it. Who knows what else she was stealing.
The pieces clicked into place when he found the old photo albums. Tiffany had been snooping around the library one afternoon, pulling out albums that had been tucked away in the back, ones that hadn’t been touched in years. They were full of memories of your achievements, pictures of family vacations, awards won for charity work and academic excellence. Baby photo's, old camera's, journals, even old clothes.It wasn’t just admiration. It was an obsession.
He saw her dig through and read every one of your old entries, saw her stare at pictures and attempt to manuever her body how you stood, but what really creeped him out was when she started tracing over your handwriting.
Tim couldn’t let it go. This was insane. It was almost as if Tiffany wanted to wear your skin.
It wasn’t that he wanted to make Tiffany an enemy or villainize her, quite the opposite actually, he'd been ignoring her strange behavior and smell for a year now because of how fond he was of her. But this? This was crossing a line. She wasn’t just trying to fit in anymore, this was dangerous.
He now suspected there was more to Tiffany than just her obsession with your life and after putting the pieces together, it was becoming clear: Tiffany was playing a much deeper game. She wasn’t just trying to steal your identity, she was stealing information, too.
Tim’s investigative skills had been honed through years of being the tech guy of the Batfamily, and when something felt off, he didn’t ignore it. Not anymore, he started tracking small anomalies—times when Tiffany’s presence seemed too convenient, moments when crucial data about Gotham’s underworld went missing from the Batcomputer, or when confidential mission details were leaked through channels Tim knew the Batfamily didn’t use. Times when the Joker seemed to know the family's course of action and times when villains knew Duke's plans.
That’s when it clicked.
Tiffany wasn’t just trying to fit in with the family. She was spying. Her affections with the family were a cover for something darker. She had been gathering intelligence for a shadowy organization, feeding them vital information about their operations. This was bigger than him—this was a full-blown infiltration. Tiffany was working for someone else, someone dangerous.
Tiffany’s betrayal ran deep, and her spying wasn’t just about information anymore; it was personal. She had been stealing pieces of your life, your successes, your talents , your family. She had slowly taken everything that you had worked for and twisted it into her own false narrative. It was sickening.
Tim couldn’t stand it anymore. He had dug through encrypted files, tracked hidden transmissions, and pieced together cryptic conversations. Tiffany wasn’t just trying to steal your identity for the sake of becoming the perfect family member. No. She was mimicking your cooking and baking skills, down to the awards she had won for those very talents. She had been trying to erase you and replace you with a manufactured version of herself.
It was almost too much for Tim to handle. But there was something even worse lurking beneath the surface: the deeper he dug, the more it became clear that Tiffany wasn’t just feeding information to criminals. She had been feeding off your spirit, your presence and she had nearly replaced you entirely.
Now he just needed to tell the other.
The tension in the Batcave could be cut with a knife as Tim stood before Bruce, Dick, Jason, Damian, Duke, Cass, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred, ready to show them what he had discovered.
“I’ve been tracking Tiffany’s movements for the last few days,” Tim began, his voice low but sharp. “And I found something that’s... unsettling.”
Bruce, who had been scanning a mission report, looked up with interest. Dick turned to Tim, a puzzled expression on his face. Alfred stepped forward, his usual composed demeanor now replaced with a rare concern. Even Damian looked confused.
“What did you find, Master Tim?” Alfred asked, his tone calm, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.
Tim didn’t hesitate. He clicked a button on the computer, and the large screen behind him flickered to life. A series of encrypted files appeared—mission logs, surveillance footage, and even intercepted communications. The Batcave was suffocating in its silence as Tim presented the evidence to Bruce, Dick, Jason, Alfred, and the others. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and every new image, every new file, felt like a punch in the gut.
There was a long silence as everyone processed the information. Bruce’s usual stoic expression faltered for a moment, and Dick clenched his fists. The weight of the revelation was hitting hard, but it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt. It was that someone in their midst had been pulling the strings behind their backs for a year.
The data was damning. It was all there, proof that Tiffany had been copying your recipes, your designs, your machines, even stealing the culinary awards that you had earned over the years. And on top of that, she had been siphoning critical Batfamily intel to an unknown organisation. The information was so sensitive, it could have jeopardized every single one of them.
“Do you see it now?” Tim’s voice was quieter, but his anger was unmistakable. He flicked the last file onto the screen. Tiffany’s false accomplishments, stolen directly from you. The stolen recipes. The mission intel sent out from the Batcomputer under her watch. “All of us have been blind to it.”
“About a month ago,” Tim said, “I found an odd encryption pattern in the Batcomputer—something I’ve never seen before. When I decrypted it, I found a set of mission details. Ones that shouldn’t have left the system. I traced the origin back to Tiffany.”
Alfred's face tightened as he took in the footage on the screen. It was a recording of Tiffany accessing classified Batfamily data, tapping into their most sensitive files.
“She’s been stealing information,” Tim continued, his voice gaining intensity. “Every single time she’s interacted with the Batcomputer, she’s been sending that data out to an unknown address. I can't track where it's coming from, it's too advanced; even for me.
“Impossible,” Bruce muttered, but his eyes were narrowing in disbelief. “Why would she—?”
“Because she’s a spy,” Tim interrupted, “and it gets worse. She’s been feeding them everything. Our weaknesses, our next moves, our schedules. She’s not just a mole in the manor. She’s been working against us this whole time. She's why so many missions have failed.Tim’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just the family’s accomplishments she’s been stealing. She’s been getting close to each of us, using our trust. She knows things, personal things, and she’s been leaking that information. She’s been feeding it to the highest bidder, giving Gotham’s worst players a playbook for taking us down.”
Dick’s face twisted with disbelief. “She was pretending to be (y/n), taking her accomplishments as her own, but—” He trailed off, his voice faltering. “How could we have let this happen? How did we not notice?”
Jason’s voice cut through the heavy silence, rough and sharp, like a crack of thunder. He stepped forward, fists clenched. “I should’ve known. She’s been playing everyone, pretending like she’s all sweet and innocent, but she was using all of us.” Jason’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back at Tim, his face a mask of fury. “She lied to me. She’s been lying to all of us. And she’s been trying to replace her.” His hand slammed onto the table, and the anger in his voice was unmistakable. “She doesn’t belong here. We trusted her. We all trusted her.” Jason’s anger bubbled over. This betrayal, the way Tiffany had wormed her way into their lives, made him see red
He couldn’t keep it in any longer. “I should’ve known,” Jason spat, pacing in circles, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “I let her get close to me. I let her in, we all did! And now look at this. She’s been pretending to be everything she’s not. She’s been trying to take her place, her rightful place in this family!”
Alfred, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat, his voice filled with quiet but growing fury. “I should have seen it,” he muttered, his gaze darkening. “I was too lenient with her. I allowed her to slip through the cracks, to play at being part of this family. I should have known better.” His usually calm demeanor was cracking, and the regret in his voice was palpable.
Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line as the weight of Tim’s words sank in. His eyes hardened as he stared at the screen, disappointment creeping into his features. Tiffany had been their guest, their supposed family, and this whole time, she had been playing them all. You had tried to warn them.
Duke, who had been standing quietly at the back of the room, spoke up. His voice was low but steady.
“I knew something was off,” Duke said, his eyes fixed on the screen. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, but... she’d been acting weird around me. Always asking questions—asking about the family, the missions, everything. I thought I was paranoid.”
Damian had always been fiercely protective of what he considered his, no one could ever doubt that. He mocked you, saw you as his pathetic bastard older sister, he had wanted to hurt you. But now, as the reality of Tiffany’s betrayal settled in, something darker began to take root inside him. He remember your unconditional love for him, how you took everything he said did to you with grace and compassion. He remembered how good you were to him. He noticed that everything he thought he loved about Tiffany was what she stole from you. His eyes burned with rage as he thought about how Tiffany had wormed her way into the family and his heart, how she’d stolen your accomplishments, and how she’d attempted to erase his sibling from the very fabric of their world.
She was trying to replace her. That thought alone made his fists tighten, nails biting into his palms.
It had been a long time since Damian had felt this kind of protective rage. He was the blood of the Wayne family, the one who deserved to be at the center of it all, but you; his blood sibling, his equal, had always been ignored, undervalued ridiculed and neglected. And now Tiffany, a mere interloper, had dared to manipulate and tear him away from you.
Damian watched the family, his gaze flicking to each of them as they tried to process the betrayal. The anger from his family was palpable, but there was something else there too: possessiveness. Protectiveness. regret. They weren’t just angry at Tiffany for what she had done to you, they were furious at themselves for pushing you away and leaving you alone and unprotected in New York.
You were his responsibility, his blood, and no one; not even Tiffany, was going to steal you away from him. He had always wanted to prove his superiority to the others, but now that wasn’t his focus. His attention was fixed solely on bringing you back to him, where you belonged.
Cass, who had been silently observing, nodded. Her face was unreadable, but the tension in her jaw told Tim that she, too, had been sensing something wrong for weeks.
Steph, ever the sharp observer, had her arms crossed over her chest, her usual sarcasm now tempered with a cold seriousness. “I knew she wasn’t perfect, but this? This is next-level crazy. Are you sure bout this Time?” She leaned forward, her voice suddenly harder.
Barbra was too shocked to say anything. This was not how today was supposed to go.
Alfred glanced toward Bruce. “Master Bruce,” he said softly, “the level of infiltration, this is something I never anticipated. We should have seen the signs.”
Bruce’s expression was steely. “We were too distracted, too willing to accept her presence as part of the family. We let our guard down.”
“That’s not just her fault,” Dick interjected. “We’ve all been too trusting. Especially with everything that happened with (y/n).” His voice hardened as he glanced at the screen again, eyes flicking to Tim. “What now? What do we do about it?”
Tim stepped forward, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I’ve already notified our allies. The information she’s passed is enough to give this organization an upper hand in Gotham, maybe beyond. She hasn't revealed our identities but she might soon. we can’t let her get away with it. She’s been playing us this whole time.”
Steph threw her hands up in exasperation. “So what, we just let her go? She’s been lying to us, manipulating us for months! ?”
Tim’s eyes were cold, calculating. “We’ll have to trap her. Use the information she’s already stolen to set her up. Once we confront her, we’ll make sure she doesn’t get away.”
Bruce’s fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw set in stone. He had failed [Y/N]—he had failed his child. The weight of that was too much for him to bear. “This ends now. We’re going to fix this.”
Ok yall since apparently 8 ppl think my work is absoulte shit and and SURE i knew how they felt this is pretty rushed and i feel like it sucks! anyway!! i hope at least some people enjoy <33 send in nice aks and questions and ideas pls. its so fun answering them. yall are mind readers and are so creative!! lmk if there's any typos bc I copy-pasted half of it from my notes app. yeah i did write half of this when i was supposed to be in class, and??? Next chapter Tiffany gets confronted, reader comes home, Batfam start groveling and regretting their actions, sort of on their way to yandere-ism and make reader move back to gotham to be closer to "family"
bro got the ao3 curse even though we’re on tumblr💀💀
bro ik i could not believe my eyes. tell me why i was laying in the road and i just got up bc of how embarrassed i was and i fainted LMAO
like if i start writing on ao3, i'm dead fr. like wtf is my life?
Ik if reader starts to fuck and kiss boys, girls, batfam will know it... Like they have listening devices to control reders's life in France. Sorry, my English isn't good
No!! you’re english is really good! i’m so sorry but this doesn’t happen! the way they find out is wayyyy more delicious
y’all i’m so so mad. i wrote two chapter of IBLD and one chapter of Older AND TUMBLR GLITCHED AND DELETED THEM AS I WAS POSTING THIS. THIS IS LITERALLY MY 13 REASON WHY. IM GONNA KMS THIS WAS LITERALLY MY FINAL STRAW. 😭😭😭
Also now that i’m done yelling, 690 followers is INSANE i cannot believe this y’all are awesome! i love you all!! a new chapter of something new is coming out tonight so stay tuned 💕🫶💕
“thirty year olds writing fanfic is weird…” I hate to be the one to break this to you friend. but your favourite manga was literally written by a forty year old man
Prologue
ya'll, I cannot sleep with my arm in this stupid cast, so i started rereading "the great Gatsby" (my comfort book) and i got this idea. i know, i know, i have 3 unfinished fics buttttttt i'm injured and this is my blog and i have free will so i'm writing this. This is yandere romantic batboys and bruce x reader. BUT set in the roaring 20's. Send in asks, requests, ideas, and just what you think about this! Likes, comments, reblogs and asks are encouraged and keep me going! Love yall <333. This is written in 1st person, reader is recalling events in her journal. This is a rough draft for the prologue! Sorry if it doesnt make sense, i'm high off pain meds writing this bc i'm BORED.
The first time I saw Jason Todd, he was nothing to me Just another boy in my father’s estate, covered in dirt, hands rough from labor, his bruised knuckles proof of a fight he hadn’t won. His blue eyes were sharp, full of something wild, something untamed, something that made you bristle, the kind of fire you knew to stay away from, even at 12 years old.
The first time I spoke to Jason Todd, two years after I saw him, I thought he was filth.
He was a boy covered in dirt, his hands stained with mud and the smell of horses, his knuckles raw from a fight he clearly hadn’t won. His face was sharp, bruised, skinny and too wild for someone who worked under my father’s name. He was nothing, just another street rat lucky enough to be given work in my father’s stables, another nameless stray that old Mr. Wilkes had dragged in from the gutters of Gotham. He smelled like sweat, hay, and something sharp, something angry.
I was fourteen years old and wore pearls around my throat, a silk dress with delicate lace at the sleeves. My father’s estate stretched over rolling green fields, our mansion standing tall like something out of a dream. My mother’s hands were soft, her perfume sweet, and I had never known hunger or want. My world was a world of glittering lights and expensive champagne, of high society and grand parties, of people who smiled with their teeth but whispered behind painted fans.
Jason Todd did not belong in my world.
Yet, somehow, he slipped in like a stain on silk.
We met on the back steps of the estate, where the stable boys cut through to the gardens. I was waiting for my automobile when he nearly ran into me, boots dragging dust over my polished shoes.
Jason Todd? He was filth beneath my shoes.
Or at least, that’s what I told myself.
Because the first time I met him, he nearly ran into me.
He didn’t bow like other servants did, he didn’t apologize profusely and beg for forgiveness.
He barely even looked at me before muttering, “Watch it,” like I was in his way.
I had never been spoken to like that in my life.
I hated him immediately.
I took a startled step back, wrinkling my nose at the smell of sweat, hay, and horse.
The nerve.
I straightened my back like Daddy told me to when I wanted to look serious and I tilted my chin up as I stared down at him. "Excuse me?"
Jason smirked, slow and lazy, eyes glinting with amusement. "Did I stutter?"
I had never wanted to slap someone so badly.
Instead, I remember turning and walked away, forgetting my plans of going into town, heels clicking sharply against the stone, vowing to never look at him again and to hate him forever, no matter how handsome he was,.
That vow didn’t last long, especially when he took off his shirt.
Jason was everywhere.
I saw him at the stables, his shirtless back slick with sweat, muscles shifting under tanned skin as he worked. I saw him sneaking apples from the kitchen, disappearing into the trees, laughter on his lips. I saw him in the streets, fists flying, always coming back with fresh bruises, always alive in a way no one else was.
And then, you heard about him.
"That stable boy got into another fight," the maids whispered. "Damn near killed the other boy, apparently the other kid got smart about his lady."
At the time, I thought the strange burning feeling in my gut was disgust at even hearing Jason's name. Now I know, what I felt was pure jealousy, not knowing the 'lady' Jason nearly killed a boy over was me.
"He’s trouble," my mother warned when I asked about him at dinner. "Keep away from him, sweetheart."
"He won’t last long here," my mother sighed. "That kind of boy never does, no matter how much of a soft spot your father has for him."
My father pitied Jason, told me I oughta be nicer to him like I am to the other workers (he would regret that statement soon.)
He had no one. No mother, no father, no family, nothing but the clothes on his back and determination. He had what my father called "the look of a man who'd rather die than fail" and my father respected that.
But Jason did last.
I hated him.
Hated the way he smirked at me from across the gardens, like he knew something I didn’t.
I hated the way he never bowed, never apologized, never treated me like the others did.
I hated that when I was alone, when my father’s friends spoke about marrying me off to the sons of their business partners, I thought of Jason Todd instead.
The first conversation I had with Jason Todd was after I had fought with my father.
It was about marriage. About duty. About a boy I didn’t love.
I ran into the garden dramatically ignoring my father's desperate calls, pearls at my throat, tears in my eyes.
And Jason was already there.
Sprawled under an oak tree, cigarette between his lips, watching me like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life.
"You rich girls cry over the dumbest shit," he muttered.
I whipped around. "What did you just say to me?" How dare he speak to me like I was any other girl, like this wasn't my home, like he didn't work for my father.
Jason pushed himself up, boots kicking up dirt as he smirked. "You ever go to bed hungry?"
My breath caught. He had a point, you were privileged.
"Ever steal to survive?" His voice was low, teasing, sharp. "Ever wake up in the morning and wonder if you’ll still have a roof over your head by sundown?"
I didn’t answer, for the first time in years I felt something close to shame.
Jason tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with resentment. "Didn’t think so, princess."
I hated him. He made me feel childish. He humbled me. He burst my perfect bubble.
And I loved him for it.
I loved him for making you feel something real.
And that was the beginning of everything.
I loved Jason Todd.
I loved him when he me you out of the house at midnight and made me ride my horse bareback through the fields.
I loved him when he knocked the rich boy who called me a tease's teeth out.
I loved him when he threw pebbles at my window on the third floor and scaled the walls to my balcony.
I loved him when he kissed me for the first time at 14 under the summer stars, hands gripping my waist, mouth desperate against mine.
"You’re my Jason, my Jaybird," I whispered against his lips. Corny, but nothing felt better to say, especially when I saw his face.
Jason smiled like I had given him the whole damn world.
And he? He was my whole world.
When Jason was seventeen and I was fifteen, he walked into my father’s grand house, dressed in his best suit, nervous but determined and proud, his hands clean for once, his boots polished.
He asked my father for my hand in marriage. He asked my father for my hand and I thought he would say yes. Daddy always thought he was a hard worker, called him a real good sport.
He stood before my father and said, “I love her, sir. I’ll make her happy. Give me a chance. I ain't got much now, but one day I will. I'll give her what she's got and more.”
My father just laughed.
“Boy,” he said, shaking his head, “she’s not meant for men like you.”
Jason left that night, whispering a promise against my skin.
"I’ll come back for you, I'll be great. Be a man like how your daddy wants, rich and proper, he'll have to say yes."
I waited, god knows I did.
I wrote letters to the last address he gave me every single day.
For five years. Till I turned twenty. I never looked at another man, I had my Jason.
I waited for him to reply, fought off suitors and pressure from my mother. I waited for a reply, that he was coming soon, that he missed me.
I waited.
And my Jaybird never came back.
My father loved me.
He regretted turning Jason away five years later, when I still refused to marry. He never forced me to marry, not even when the years passed and my suitors grew frustrated with my refusals.
He saw my misery, my longing and admitted, “I should’ve said yes. I should’ve let you have him.”
He thought my Jason was a passing infatuation, he wondered what people would say about his daughter marrying the stable boy.
He wished he saw my love for Jason sooner.
But love wasn’t enough to keep the debt collectors away.
I knew something was wrong when my father began to look stressed, when my parents began to argue, and when I heard my mother cry herself to sleep after selling her favorite pearls.
My father was going to loose everything all at once.
The steel business wasn't what it used to be.
And then suddenly, Bruce Wayne arrived like a knight in shining armor.
He was older than me, 18 years my senior. Refined, powerful, and dangerously charming.
And most importantly, rich. He was exactly what I needed to stop my family's fall from grace.
Bruce courted me like a gentleman.
He sent roses every morning, took me to the finest restaurants, whispered in my ear about a future where I would never want for anything again.
He was patient.
He never forced me to love him.
He only asked for one thing.
"Let me take care of you."
I kept Bruce waiting for three months. All I could do was think of Jason. I knew he was not returning, that he either was dead or found some other pretty girl to make promises to.
I told myself love was not enough to fill an empty stomach and keep my parents happy like they did for me.
I told myself that Jason Todd was not coming back to save me, yet each morning I woke up waiting for a letter or pebbles thrown at my window.
After four months of courting, I decided.
And at twenty, I became Mrs. Bruce Wayne.
Jason Todd never sent me a single letter, but I still dreamed of my Jaybird even as I looked at the massive ring on my finger.
OKKKKK SO WHAT YA'LL THINK??? CONTINUE OR DELETE??? FLOP OR BOP? SEND IN ASKS!!!! I MISS YALL! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ROMANCE W JASON AND BRUCE. I REALLY LIKE THIS AU!!!! WHAT DO YALL THINK IS GONNA HAPPEN? SORRU IF IT SUCKS OR DOESNT MAKE SENSE, I'M SO HIGH BRO.
BE NICE PLEASE, I'M IN PAIN! THIS IS NOT EDITED OR PROOF READ.
Daemon is Aemond's crush or a person who he's inspired by, and you can't convince me otherwise! If they weren't enemies, they would be an unstoppable duo. I believe Aemond would be Daemon's favorite nephew.
All the pics are from Pinterest.
Damien: * stops sending pictures of him and Tiffany having “family time” together to reader*
reader: LMAO guess he finally found out!
nah fr LMAO
Imagine the reader from bet on losing dogs fic meets Tony stark and adopts him as their new dad and then they meet peter✨❤️
broooo another AU i was thinking of writing!! its so so so good but it's not the direction I have planedddddd <3
"reader having acrylic nails that somehow release venom tbh" baller concept
THANK YOUUUU I was literally so proud of myself for coming up with it like i was kicking my feet n shit. glad that someone else thinks its cool <3