When You Ship A Guy And A Girl: "Eww. Why Can't A Guy And A Girl Be Friends? They Are Besties, They Are

can i be 🦦 anon? also i have a request. transmasc jock!jack(ie) or transmasc jock! shaun(a) x cheerleader!fem where r teases them as she does cheer practice since their practice is at the same time

tmasc!jock!jack w/ fem!cheerleader reader thoughts

a/n: of course, welcome 🦦 anon! i wasn’t sure if you wanted both or either or but i figured on writing more thoughts on tmasc!jack(ie) since there isn’t much of him :) (sfw / a bit suggestive)

jack who’s on the football team at wiskayok. he’s honestly scared to join because he was barely transitioning - but shaun follows, along with van and nat as they join in support and are the top players on the team and he finds comfort in that. 

now, this guy cannot keep it hidden when he has a crush. maybe he’s been doting on you since sophomore year ever since you joined the cheer squad (maybe did or did not join fb because of you). the kind that day dreams whenever you’re not looking but snaps back into reality to not be seen as a creep. 

you catch him though, and it just furthers your interest. 

him thinking that you don’t actually know that he likes you but you do!

maybe the two of you aren’t close, yet, but that doesn’t stop you from making attempts to talk to him - with it just being casual talk. you’re smiling, probably asking about football and what he thought about that math quiz you both took but he’s just standing there making goo-goo eyes with you. 

admiring how your hair is tied up with a bow for cheer or how your eyes are so pretty or just the way the corners of your lips curve upwards. it’d be the littlest thing that gets him stuttering at first before he has to remind himself to stop acting like an idiot in front of you. 

when jack is on the field, he’s putting his all into every game, practice, or scrimmage - doesn’t matter which or how small it may seem. he’s a determined player who likes giving moral support to have everyone be on their a-game. BUT, ever since the gym got flooded with a bursted pipe - your squad had to start practicing outside on the field. and was he a mess. 

all of that focus was gone the moment the cheerleaders began warming up on the sidelines, and you made sure to position yourself directly in jack’s line of sight. stretching just a bit provocatively but with the full intention of grabbing jack’s attention - bending down to touch your toes which causes your uniform skirt to rise up and show your spandex shorts underneath. which you accomplished as he would trample over his feet or his catches for the ball would falter. 

“what the fuck jack?” nat would call out whenever jack would miss the ball for like the fifth time, almost hitting his face. 

walking up to him during breaks and you’re standing in front of him smirking whilst twirling a strand of your hair around your finger. “liked the show, taylor?” voice dripping with teasing sweetness. 

jack fumbled with his water bottle, “what, no- wait, i mean-” he stammered as he cleared his throat but you just giggled. “awh c’mon. our practice wasn’t that bad.” knowing full well you weren’t talking about the whole performance, but rather yourself.

oh but before games. you always make sure to catch up to him first before he gets on the field. wishing him luck and even winking at him that gets him blushing for the rest of the game. but when you wear his number for spirit days? he is over the moon. 

Not a Crush

not my gif

Jackie Taylor x fem!reader

Summary: despite what the entire team thinks, Jackie doesn’t have a crush on you. So why does it make her skin crawl when she sees a guy trying to flirt with you?

Warning(s): jealous!Jackie, possessive!Jackie, oblivious!reader, pre-crash!Jackie, Nat being a little shit, simp!Jackie

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist: tba

No matter how much the team teased her about it, Jackie Taylor did not have a crush on you.

Did she like your soft smile? Yes. Could she spend days on end listening to a recording of your cheerful and sweet laugh? Why, of course. Did her heart stop whenever you looked at her a second too long? Maybe, but it was only because she thought you were beautiful —in a platonic way.

She did not like you. She didn’t think of you every night before she went to bed. Nope. Not at all. And Nat could shove her own words up her ass, because she sure as hell wasn’t a simp for you.

Yeah, as if.

“Hey,” you waved your hand in the air as you walked towards the field. You had just changed into your football uniform, and looked around. “Is everyone ready for practice?”

“Yeah,” Nat said, stretching her arms. “We were waiting for you for like, I don’t know, ten minutes.”

“You’re the last one. You know what that means,” Van smirked at you, and if it wasn’t for Tai’s presence next to them, you would have walked over to smack them in the face.

“Gotta run for ten minutes around the field,” Lottie said in a singsong voice. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“I’m gonna get you, Matthews,” you threatened with mock anger.

“What’s going on?” Jackie, who had been talking to coach Ben about something, asked. Her smile grew a little bigger when she noticed you within the other team players, and you swear you heard Nat and Shauna giggle to each other.

“Y/N was last,” Nat said. “She has to run for ten minutes.”

“Okay, fine—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jackie said. Her voice, always soft and bright, was commanding. She wasn’t the Jackie who played around anymore, she was captain Jackie, and everyone in the team knew it.

“What?” Van asked, offended. They looked between the both of you, mouth ajar. “That’s not fair! It’s a tradition you started, Jackie. Last one has in the field during practice has to run while the others train. Y/N was the last one today.”

“Enough, Palmer,” Jackie gave them a stern look. “Y/N was late because of me.”

You gave her a surprised look, taken aback by her lie. You should not have been bewildered, though— Jackie always had your back no matter what, using her easy charm to cover up for your slip-ups

“Making out before practice?” Nat asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Jackie’s cheeks turned a bright red color, but she didn’t dare to look at you. Instead, she clapped her hands together a few times, and everyone around sobered up.

“Divide yourself into two teams,” Jackie raised her voice. “Whoever team wins, gets to rest while the others run a lap.”

Everyone groaned, looking around to start to form the groups, trying to be as equitative as possible.

“Shauna, you’re captain of team green. Team blue is my team,” Jackie called, and the brown eyed woman nodded, wasting no time to craft the perfect team in her mind as she looked at everyone in the field.

“Okay, cool—”

“Y/N,” Jackie interrupted her best friend. “You’re on my team.”

“And in her heart,” whispered Nat.

Thankfully, neither Jackie nor you hear it.

If Jackie did not like you, she obviously also didn’t feel any ownership over you. She wasn’t jealous, she wasn’t possessive; there was no point in being those things, as you were both just two good friends.

But sometimes, someone would walk up to you and Jackie forgot her inner mantra, throwing it out the window of her mind. The person would smirk and lean in close, feigning they could not hear what you were saying, and Jackie would feel something dark and uncomfortable burning inside of her.

Sure, you weren’t hers, but that didn’t mean anyone had the right to talk to you, so obviously trying to flirt it was painful to observe.

They didn’t have the right because— because— well, because she said so.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jackie said, walking up to your locker. 

Her voice was high-pitched, and you turned to look at her. Anyone else would have thought nothing of her tone, but you knew her; it was the same voice she used when she wanted to be rude but knew she couldn’t.

“Hi, Jackie,” you said, completely forgetting about the man who was talking to you about the chemistry test you both had next week.

Jackie walked with purpose, and she stood in front of you. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her body. You sighed in relief; it was starting to get cold, and her warmth was welcomed.

The woman smiled when you rested your head on her shoulder, and big green eyes twinkling as she started the man down.

“What were you talking about?” she asked, even though she wasn’t interested in the least. She knew how men were— she suffered their unwanted advances on the daily. It was all an act to get you on their bed.

“Oh,” the man said, clearing his throat. “We were discussing the next chemistry exam—”

“Well, I hope you study hard. Bye.”

You barely had time to close your locker before Jackie was pulling you away from that man.

“Hey— Jackie,” you complained, pulling your books closer to your chest. “What was that for?”

“That boy is a womanizer,” Jackie said through gritted teeth. “He just wanted to get in your panties.”

“You think?” you asked, turning slightly to look at the boy, who was leaning against your locker and staring at you. When he saw you looking back, he smirked and waved. “I think he just wants help studying.”

“You’re too naïve,” the blonde said. “He has tried that same trick with half the school.”

“Really?” you whispered conspicuously. “I thought he was just being friendly.”

Jackie shook her head, leaning in to kiss the side of your head. Her arm was still around you, and it made you walk awkwardly. You still didn’t complain.

“Boys are never friendly just because, Y/N,” she said. “They only got one thing on their mind.”

“Kissing?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

Jackie’s laugh could be heard all around the halls, a melodic sound that carried you out of the building.

“Every year it gets colder earlier,” you complained, shivering slightly.

“Are you cold?” Jackie asked, finally pulling away. You almost moaned in complain at the lack of warmth on your side, but before you could voice your discomfort, a weight was placed on your shoulders.

You looked to your side to see Jackie’s team letterman jacket resting over you. You smiled, putting your books in one hand to put the sleeve on.

“Thank you,” you said, with genuine gratitude. Jackie shook her head, simply reaching over to grab your books so you fully put on the jacket.

“Wanna hang out in the field?” she asked. Once you had the jacket on, she wrapped her arm around your shoulders again, because she wanted to but most importantly, because she could.

“The one time we don’t have to train, and you still wanna go over there,” you rolled your eyes, but followed her steps when she changed course.

She laughed again, turning to look at you. With bright big eyes, and lips pulled into a tight smile, you thought no one would ever be as pretty as she was.

As you walked, Jackie peaked behind you and saw the same man, looking over with frowned eyes. As she heard you talking about your day, she raised her arm enough for everyone to see the back of your jacket, where Taylor stood proudly over her team number.

She’s wearing my jacket, not yours. Dipshit.

To say she was ecstatic at his scolf was an understatement.

Yeah, she thought, let everyone know she only wears my number. Let everyone know she’s mine.

That time, she didn’t try to correct herself.

“I think Jackie has a crush on me.”

Van, who was tying up their cleats, stopped suddenly.

“Uh?” they asked, blinking a few times.

“I—” you cleared your throat, your cheeks suddenly turning red. “I think she might like like me.”

“Oh, shit,” Van said, rubbing their face.

“Did— did I say something wrong?”

“Yes!” Van let go of the laces, irritated. “You weren’t supposed to find out until November. You just lost me ten bucks!” they groaned. “Thanks, buddy.”

“What?” you gave them a puzzling look. “Wait— you have bet on me?”

“No,” Van waved their hands around. “Not on you. On your inability to see what’s happening right in front of your face, to be exact.”

“Okay, rude,” you said. “I’m not that oblivious.”

“Oh, no. Of course not,” Van said. Their tone was laced with sarcasm. “You joined the team two years ago, and only now you have realized.”

“Wait, she has liked me for two years?” you asked in a whisper.

“Duh,” Van gave you a long look. “Jesus, you’re a lost cause.”

“Screw you.”

“What made you realize?” Van asked, with genuine curiosity. They put their feet back down on the ground, leaning over the bench to look at you.

“She, um—” you looked around, making sure no one else was in the changing room. Feeling guilty over spilling such deep secrets, you moved over and sat down next to Van, so no one else would hear. “She kind of lied, the other day. So I wouldn’t have to run around the field.”

“She always lies,” Van scoffed.

“Jackie never lies,” you said, firmly. You gave the redhead a look, one that would have been threatening if it wasn’t coming from you. “She’s an honest person.”

Van chuckled. “She will lie to save your ass,” they said. “Because she’s the fattest crush on you.”

“Fuck,” you whispered.

After practice a week later, instead of going back to the changing room with the rest of the team, you grabbed Jackie and pulled at her hand, forcing her to move toward the bleachers. She went willingly, allowing you to take her wherever it was that you wanted her to be.

She would walk through fire if it meant holding your hand.

In a platonic way, of course.

“Jackie,” you said in a serious tone. You took a deep breath, and stared into big green eyes who looked back with passion. “We need to talk.”

She frowned her eyebrows, quickly picking up on your mood swing. “What’s wrong?” she asked, moving closer.

Jackie’s hand rested on your waist when she saw you starting to pull away. She hated it; hated whenever there was distance between the two of you. She wanted you close to her always, holding your hand and laughing with you.

“I think— I think you might be interested in someone.”

Jackie gave you a puzzling look. Her, being into someone? Not a chance.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” She asked, as confused as she has ever been.

“Don’t make me say it, please,” you moaned, like a petulant toddler. “This is embarrassing.”

“Well, I can’t read your mind, can I?”

You looked away from her, incapable of looking into her eyes as you spoke.

“I think I might like someone, too.”

Jackie froze at your words. Her jaw dropped, eyes open so wide it looked like they might jump out of their sockets.

“You…” she gave a bewildered look. “You like someone?”

You nodded, and her hand tightened on your waist, as if she needed some support to keep her from falling over.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, closing her eyes. You gave her a concerned look.

“Jackie—”

“Is it that boy from the locker? The one who kept trying to flirt with you?”

“No. It’s—” you cleared your throat. “It’s not a boy.”

“Oh, no,” Jackie blinked away the white spots that were starting to form on her vision. “Nat? Tai? Or—” she gasped, looking at you accusingly. “Don’t tell me it’s Shauna.”

“Why would it be— No! It’s not Shauna.”

“It’s not?” she gave you a look. “Thank god.”

“It’s you,” you whispered.

“Me?” Jackie asked, trying to make sure she had heard you properly. “You like me. Me.”

“Yeah. I like you, Jackie.”

She leaned in close to you, looking at your lips. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for her kiss. Instead, you felt her weight over you, literally on you.

“Jackie? Oh my god!”

Safe to say, it took the Yellowjackets over a month to get over the little spectacle you and coach Ben had pulled off when Jackie fainted.

You had wanted to keep it a secret, of course— Class Queen and captain of the football team, fainting because a girl had confessed their feelings to her? The rumor would be too juicy. But you also couldn’t control yourself when Jackie fell on top of you, eyes closed and mouth open, and it took you approximately ten seconds to take all the information in before you were screaming for help.

The help came in the form of Ben, who had come over running. He frantically looked at the team captain, laying on the grass as you fanned her with your hand, and he ran back inside to get Bill’s help.

It didn’t take long for the girls to come out of the changing room, and soon enough they pulled the pieces together; your conversation with Van they had told the entire team (which had led to Tai waving around fifteen ten dollar bills around the showers), your nervous attitude over practice, the tension they had felt before they left the two of you alone…

“Holy shit,” Nat said, smirking as you tried to wake Jackie up. “She fainted. She actually fainted.”

The story soon spread, faster and more explosive than gunpowder around fire. Soon enough, Jackie Taylor’s untaintable reputation got washed away by the new knowledge that she was a hopeless romantic.

Two months later, people would still whisper about Jackie whenever she walked down the corridors of Wiskayok High School.

“You think you will still be Class Queen after… what happened?” you asked, taking notice of how many students were staring at the two of you.

“Of course,” she smiled that charming smile you loved so much. “I’m Jackie Taylor, baby. This highschool would be nothing without me.”

“You’re too full of it,” you rolled your eyes.

She wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you in close to her. She kissed your cheek, smiling.

“It doesn’t bother you?” you asked once you reached your locker. “Y’know, everyone still talking about it?”

“Let them talk. They aren’t mean, anyways,” Jackie said, raising her shoulders. You gave her a look; she would never notice just how many people thought ill of her. She thought too kindly of the world, but that made it two of you. “As long as it makes them talk about how you’re my girlfriend, I don’t care.”

You put the books you no longer needed back into your locker, and once you closed it, she pressed you against it.

When her lips pressed against yours, you stopped worrying about the whispers and the teasing from the team; Jackie was right.

Let them talk.

The children are dead

pt 2 of Damien x Ghoul.sib reader

──► as the two siblings grow ever so closer bonded by the cold love of their 'adopted' family and the monstrosity of their past , life throws them another unyielding cruelty that breaks them both entirely.

Tw : major character death , child neglect , revenge

Edit ty for 42 likes !!

part 1 , part 3

I'm done dreaming.

ACT I

It was late December , the air around the manor was grim and chilly , nothing but haunting and a grim reminder that life was harsh and would never be easy. Damien clenches his fingers within his gloves as he attempts to soak up what little warmth he had.

Bruce and his other siblings stood before him in the patio , discussing events pertaining to last night's stake out. Damien tunes out their annoying , scratchy voices, but his eyes trained to every other possible corner of the room searching for them.

The grandfather ticks by, and the conversation turns dull , he had to hold himself exactly ten times from clawing Dick's eyes out whenever he'd call him a demon spwan or ask him who he's planning to kill. He's at his bloody wits until he see y/n's figure limping in.

Damien pushes back his chair and immediately launches himself towards them. They didn't have to convey words as his eyes already gave away how bloody worried he was with them. He can hear Bruce and the others calling him back, but he can't give a bloody damn about them right now.

He watches as y/n's bloody form lean against the doorframe as they slide to the ground like a limp leaf . Damien kneels with them and place his hand on their bleeding stomach - it was a big gash like a vicious creature took a bite out of them.

" Oh my God, we need to get them to a doctor-" he could hear Stephanie say from behind him, and Damien has never unsheathed his sword any faster . " Shut the fuck up and leave them alone " he growled.

The last time y/n went to a doctor , the medicine they used on them caused them to turn into a ghoul for three days straight - for three days his precious sibling was forced to be driven to insanity as their ghoulish form fought with what little human control they had left to suppress themselves from consuming humans.

His poor sibling wore ghoulish scratch marks on their arms and cheeks for months after their attempt at manhandking themseleves . He can see in the distance Tim opening his big trap to give his unwanted opinion, and Damien sneered at him . His sibling couldn't heal from their medication in his own world , hell - no medication could heal them , they had to hope to God they regenerated fast enough.

" Fuck off Drake " he sneered before crouching before y/n once again.

" What happened ?" He questioned them as he pressed him hand onto their wound to stop the wound from gushing even more blood. " Ran into another ghoul - no - he was an investigator from my world that kills ghouls like me - the undefeated ghoul investigator , Arima," they explained through coughing fits.

Damien stilled. He now knew the gravity of how extremely grim the situation became , the white reaper of his siblings' universe has come to end their demise . He remembered y/n talking about him , about how Arima possessed superhuman strength and his immense 'hatred for ghouls' lead the man to kill hundreds if not thousands of ghouls in his 18 years of occupation.

Y/n gave him a small smile . " I'll be okay," they reassured him . Damien just held them as he ignored the outside world.

Oh, how he wished he didn't believe them that night .

ACT II

January 6th , the night was quiet, and still , the moon casted its opulence across the streets of Gotham. A simply routine was instilled tonight , everyone had a simple stake out tonight .

It was the first night in years Damien and y/n hadn't been with each other on a mission for years - something he'd live to regret later . He found it suspicious, but Bruce insisted he needed to join him tonight to test him out as Robin and y/n had persistently encouraged him to go.

So here he was following Bruce from rooftop to rooftop as they stalked some of Joker's henchmen . For the last hour or so , Damien had checked in on y/n , and they reported they were doing okay and had just arrested some petty thrives for the night.

The hour was coming to an end , and so far, everyone but y/n reported in . Damien grew anxious , and y/n was always a timely person, so for them to be late was entirely unheard of.

Bruce reassured him that they were fine but that didn't stop the nagging feeling in his stomach and it's not like Bruce ever cared about your existence to begin with - only cared you did what you had to do and the thought of it pissed him off.

Damien was now finishing up wrapping up his grappling hook when y/n's frantic voice buzzed through his intercom . " Help me - he's - come quick " came their frantic voice through the static. Damien felt dread weighing like lead through his veins as he clutched onto his own intercom.

" Y/n are you okay ? Where are you ?" He asked frantically but was only left with static. Damien immediately began to leave when Bruce stopped him.

" Damien y/n isn't important right now we have more important things to worry about " Bruce or rather batman says and he held his son by the shoulder . Damien harshly yanked it off . " Leave me the fuck alone - I am going to them and you aren't stopping me " He yells as he grappled off the roof.

Batman calls after him, but Damien ignores him as he grapples his way to the other side of Gotham city . His heart beats heavy in his chest as he appraches your last known location only to see the building left in ruin.

Blood splatters were everywhere, and ruins were left anew . " Y/N !!!!" He shouted as he grappled around the area , eyes frantically looking for your figure . He begs , prays to whatever God out there that you're safe as he continued further as he observes more buildings left to ruins.

Ruble covered the area as far as the eye can see , not a living soul in sight. Damien kept calling your name out , tears practically falling down his face as he continued searching.

Minutes ticked by dreadfully until he finally spots you. Your bloody figure lays there in a bed of red spider lillies. Damien lets out an ear, piercing scream at the sight . With shaky legs and arms, he approaches your figure . Your figure layed still as a gentle breeze blow, causing the spider lillies to brush up against your form like a warm blanket .

Damien holds your form with shaky hands as he keeps repeating no's over and over. Your dead brown human eye stared at him , soulless and unmoving while your beautiful red eye had a jaggery, long sword piercing right through it . Your right arm and both your legs were missing , but still - in the moonlight , you looked calm.

Damien grew quiet as he layed his head on your chest , no longer can he selfishly listen to your heartbeat and relish in the familiar love you bestowed upon him. No longer would he be able to share a laugh with you , your pain , your burdens , your bitter coffees to your exhilarating training.

He would no longer have any of those as now you lay dead , robbed from his safe embrace because life was too cruel and unforgiving and had to take away the one good thing he had his life.

He no longer felt angry at the world. No, he felt awake and mad . Be prepared , Gotham , for tonight two children died and your long awaited recogning is comming with nothing but cold , bitter , unforgiving blood shed.

A crow in the distance let out a war cry as Damien kisses your forehead one last time before the spider lillies cover your form one last time , shadong your innocence from the raging hell Damien is about to bestow upon the world.. A gentle breeze blows, and Damien unsheathes his sword, ready to bring destruction and ruin to the world.

dreaming world

prepare to be

awaken.

Part 3, anyone ?

Shattered Bonds

English is not my native language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

The Wayne Manor loomed like a cathedral of shadows, its gothic spires clawing at the Gotham sky. Inside, chandeliers cast fractured light across mahogany panels, but the warmth of their glow never reached you. You were a ghost in your own home, a forgotten daughter of the Bat, tethered to a family that saw you only in glimpses. As Damian Wayne’s twin, you’d once shared his world—two children forged in the crucible of the League of Assassins, bound by blood and secrets. But where Damian’s fire burned bright, commanding attention, you were the ember, quiet and overlooked, your warmth reserved for those who cared to notice.

No one did. Not anymore.

The neglect had been a slow poison, seeping through the years. Bruce, your father, was a monolith, his eyes forever fixed on Gotham’s underbelly, his rare words to you clipped and utilitarian. Dick’s smiles were fleeting, Jason’s rough affection sporadic, Tim’s focus consumed by screens and cases. Even Alfred, with his gentle offerings of tea and concern, couldn’t bridge the chasm between you and the others. Damian, your mirror, your twin, had grown cold, his loyalty now a blade turned outward, never inward. You’d learned to live with it, to swallow the ache of being unseen. But then came Lila, and the ache became a wound.

Lila arrived a year ago, a waif with haunted eyes and a trembling lip, plucked from Gotham’s streets by Bruce’s boundless need to save. You saw yourself in her at first—a girl adrift, hungry for belonging. You spent nights by her side, listening to her whispered fears, bandaging her scraped knees, teaching her to navigate the manor’s labyrinthine halls. You thought you were building something—a sister, a friend. But Lila was no lost soul. She was a predator, and you were her prey.

Her lies began as whispers, soft and insidious. “Y/N pushed me down the stairs,” she’d sob to Damian, her voice quivering with rehearsed fragility. The accusation landed like a stone, and your twin’s emerald eyes—once your anchor—flashed with doubt. “Y/N mocked me during training,” she’d confide to Dick, who’d ruffle her hair and shoot you a disappointed glance. She told Tim you’d sabotaged her schoolwork, Jason that you’d sneered at her weakness, Bruce that you were consumed by jealousy. Each lie was a brushstroke, painting you as the villain in a story you hadn’t written.

The manor turned against you. Family dinners became tribunals, your every word dissected, your silences condemned. “You need to be better, Y/N,” Bruce would say, his voice heavy with the weight of a city he couldn’t save. “We’re a team.” But you weren’t a team. You were the scapegoat, the shadow cast by Lila’s light.

Behind closed doors, her mask fell. In the dim corridors, where the manor’s grandeur faded to gloom, Lila’s cruelty was a blade. She’d shove you against the wall, her nails biting into your arms. “You’re nothing here,” she’d hiss, her breath hot against your ear. “They all love me more.” She’d pinch your skin until it bloomed purple, leaving bruises you hid beneath oversized sweaters. Once, she poured ink into your schoolbag, ruining your textbooks, then wept to the family that you’d done it to frame her. The lie stuck, and your protests were met with sighs and eye-rolls.

School, once a refuge, became a battlefield. Lila’s whispers spread like wildfire through Gotham Academy’s polished halls. “Y/N’s a liar,” she’d murmur to your classmates. “A whore who thinks she’s a Wayne but’s just a mistake.” The words were venom, and they worked. Notes appeared in your locker—crude insults, threats. Girls shoved you in the halls, their laughter a chorus of malice. Boys whispered behind your back, their gazes sharp with disdain. You were ostracized, a pariah in a world you’d once navigated with quiet pride.

You fought to be heard. You went to Damian first, your twin, the boy who’d once shared your heartbeat in the womb. In his room, surrounded by his sketches and swords, you bared your soul. “She’s lying, Dami,” you pleaded, rolling up your sleeve to show the bruises Lila’s fingers had left. “She’s hurting me.” His gaze lingered on the marks, but his jaw tightened, and he turned away. “Lila wouldn’t do that,” he said, voice low and final. “You’re just upset she’s fitting in better than you.” The words were a knife, twisting deep. Your twin, your other half, had chosen her.

You tried Bruce next, standing in his study as rain lashed the windows. The Batcomputer hummed behind him, its glow casting his face in cold blue. You poured out everything—Lila’s lies, her cruelty, the bruises, the bullying at school. “I’m not making this up,” you said, voice trembling but steady. “She’s turning everyone against me.” Bruce listened, but his eyes drifted to the screens, to Gotham’s endless demands. “You need to work this out with her,” he said, as if your pain were a minor dispute. “I don’t have time for petty squabbles.” *Petty.* The word was a sledgehammer, shattering what little hope you’d clung to.

The others were no better. Dick tried to mediate, sitting you and Lila down like children fighting over toys. But her tears flowed on cue, and his sympathy tilted her way. “Y/N, you’ve got to meet her halfway,” he said, oblivious to the bruises beneath your sleeves. Jason laughed it off, slinging an arm around you that felt more like pity than support. “You’re tougher than this, kid. Don’t let her get to you.” Tim, ever the detective, analyzed your claims but found no “concrete evidence” to back them. “Lila’s stories check out,” he said, as if your pain were a case to be solved. Alfred alone saw the truth, his eyes soft as he pressed a warm mug into your hands. “You are enough, Miss Y/N,” he murmured. But his kindness couldn’t undo the family’s verdict.

Lila’s final act came at a family dinner, the table laden with crystal and silver, the air thick with unspoken tensions. She “accidentally” knocked a glass of red wine onto your dress, the stain spreading like blood. Before you could speak, she burst into tears, claiming you’d threatened her for being clumsy. The room stilled, eyes pinning you in place. Damian’s gaze was ice, Bruce’s disappointment a tangible weight. Dick frowned, Jason smirked, Tim looked away. “I didn’t do anything,” you whispered, but your voice was a ghost, drowned by Lila’s sobs. You stood, chair scraping the floor, and fled to your room.

That night, you made your choice. The manor was no longer home—it was a cage, and you were done begging for freedom. In the silence of your room, you packed a duffel bag—clothes, a photo of you and Damian as children, a knife Talia had given you years ago. You wrote a letter, your pen shaking but your resolve ironclad:

*Father,*

Fuck off, I don't care.

*With love, the girl you don't care about*

You left the letter on Bruce’s desk, slipped out through a servants’ entrance, and vanished into Gotham’s rain-soaked night.

The journey to Talia’s compound was a blur of buses, planes, and forged documents. When you arrived, the desert sun burned away the last of Gotham’s chill. Talia waited at the gates, her presence commanding, her eyes sharp but soft as they took you in. “My child,” she said, her voice a balm. She drew you into her arms, and for the first time in years, you didn’t feel invisible. “You’ve carried too much.” She didn’t ask for explanations, didn’t need them. Talia saw the weight in your shoulders, the shadows beneath your eyes, and she understood.

In Gotham, your absence went unnoticed at first. The Batfamily was consumed—patrols, cases, Lila’s endless dramas. But when Alfred found your letter, the manor erupted. Bruce read it in his study, the words blurring as his hands trembled. He’d failed you, his daughter, and the realization was a fist to his chest. Damian, summoned by Alfred’s urgent call, stared at the letter, your handwriting searing into his mind. He remembered your bruises, your pleas, and a crack formed in his certainty. Dick cursed himself, replaying every moment he’d dismissed you. Jason punched a wall, rage masking his guilt. Tim scoured security footage, desperate for a trace of you, but Talia’s network was a fortress, every lead a dead end.

Lila sensed the shift, her grip on the family faltering. She doubled down, weaving new tales, but without you as the scapegoat, her lies frayed. Damian, haunted by your absence, began to question. He revisited your room, finding a hidden journal you’d kept—pages of Lila’s cruelty, your pain, your pleas for help. His heart twisted, guilt replacing his doubt. Tim, ever methodical, dug into Lila’s past, unearthing inconsistencies—a foster home that didn’t exist, a story that didn’t add up. The truth emerged, slow but relentless, and Lila’s house of cards collapsed.

But it was too late. You were gone, and the Batfamily’s regret couldn’t bring you back. With Talia, you trained under the desert sun, your body growing stronger, your mind sharper. You learned to wield your mother’s blades, to command her operatives, to reclaim the fire you’d buried under years of neglect. You weren’t the scared girl who’d fled the manor. You were Talia al Ghul’s daughter, forged in pain and tempered by choice.

One night, as you stood on a balcony overlooking the endless dunes, Talia joined you. “You are whole again,” she said, her voice proud. You nodded, the weight of Gotham lifting. The Batfamily would always be a part of you—Bruce’s strength, Damian’s fire, the others’ fleeting warmth—but they no longer defined you. You’d chosen yourself, your mother, your truth. And in the desert’s vast silence, you were free.

And now, in the silence of the night, with your eyes fixed on the endless desert, the ghosts of your past begin to fade, one by one. Somewhere in the mansion you once called home, the echoes of your cries still linger—but they no longer define you. You spent a lifetime waiting to be heard… but now, in the quiet, you’ve finally found your voice. You are no longer someone’s shadow. Not a twin’s echo. Not a forgotten daughter. Not a casualty of someone else’s lies. Now, there is only you. And this time, the pain didn’t break you—it forged you anew. When you look back, there will still be memories laced with love, no matter how broken. Maybe, one day… someone will truly see you. But until then, as the desert winds whisper your name, you’ll no longer seek validation in the darkness. Because in the end, the moment you stopped fighting for them, you finally won for yourself.

How did it happen?

GHOSTS OF THE PAST

(Batfam x neglected hero reader)

a bird longs for freedom, just like me.

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

CHAPTERS

0 → Prologue

I → ghosts

II –> Poison

III → Spider

IV → Mask [1] and [2]

V → Bats

VI → Thunder [1] and [2]

VII → Rain

[....]

OTHERS

memes

[1] and [2]

Scenarios

sweets~

Christmas special

[Name] design!

Fanfic in progress, new chapters will be added soon!

prompt hc 43. with jackie taylor x transmasc reader 🙏😁

okay reader has top surgery btw :3

“c’mon get in with me! it’ll be fun!” your girlfriend squealed in the bathtub, the bubbles almost spilling out the top. brushing your teeth, you just shook your head and chuckled at her. jackie knows you’ll give into her begging eventually, so she keeps nagging you (and it finally works!)

you spat into the sink and started to undress, your shirt coming off first. you felt jackie’s eyes on you. “you’re staring.” you slipped off your boxers. “i can’t help it.”

jackie giggled when you finally sat down in the warm soapy water, immediately putting bubbles on your face and head. she began staring at you again, except the smile on her face was bigger. “what?”

“you’re so handsome.” her hands went down to your flat, bubbly chest. you giggled softly, trying to play off you getting flustered by splashing her. “y/n, stoppp!” she shrieked playfully as you flailed your arms in the water like a dolphin. by the time you stopped, jackie already had a pout on her face. “you’re mean.”

“what if i wash your hair to make up for it?”

“and give me a cuddle.”

“you got yourself a deal, babe.”

Her Heartbeat's Wednesday: You just adopted the path of being down bad, I've lived my life being down bad for my pookie Y/n.

- Poor baby۶ৎ

BATFAM X NEGLECTED READER.

IMP: Sucide, child neglection, torture.

You were an orphan adopted by a wealthy man who later turned out to be Batman, yes you were full of joy and excitement. Who wouldn't be? To be apart of the Wayne family and to save people... That was every child dream.

They made you feel loved and wanted and you got addicted to that feeling... Because you've never felt so great before. You crave attention and validation, they're the one who introduced you to that feeling in the first place.

But as time past so did their affection and attention. Their adoration began to fade slowly and you cling onto the feeling with all your might but that was not enough. Nothing was enough.

Damian got introduced to the family, a new image for the picture. He was rude and opposite of you yet everybody love him... And you began to fade into the background.

Everybody love Damian, it doesn't matter if he was respectful or not... He didn't have to try so hard to have the spotlight unlike you, he didn't crave the light as much as you did but he still got it.

Your title of being Robin was rip from you.

It didn't even take a year for you to be replaced.

You felt like a baby who was being taught to walk and the moment another baby comes they completely let go of your hand. It was cruel and painful, you weren't ready to face the word yet.

You couldn't do anything, they were your family by paper whether you liked it or not.

Here you were sitting on the edge of a building letting the rain soaked your entire body.

Today you had a big fight with Bruce. It was a nasty fight that ended in him slapping you across the face...

It started out simple, you were jealous- envious of Damian... Because everytime he did even something as simple as putting back a book your achievements get hidden away. Not to mention on how his grade were much better than yours when he didn't even try.

You didn't even sleep a wink and he still was ahead of you and worst of them all everyone saw you as a slacker... It was not fair, you spent hour's and hours trying to be good at something but somebody in the family managed to be better.

You were tired of trying so you gave up, that day Damian was just straight up bullying you.

"You do realised blood like yours have no place in here? I suggest you take the easy way and leave... it'll be the trash taking itself out "

His word sting especially today... He did everything in his power to seperate you from the rest of the family and it was working.

Without any warning you threw a book at him and it hit him square in the face. It was a moment of anger you apologise profusely...

It's just... Damian always picked on you, called you names, ruin your birthday and... He took everybody away from you... Today was just a bad day in general because you overheard Alfred talking to Bruce about you.

Calling you difficult and how he wondered how you became such failure compared to your oh so perfect siblings.

You've been weeping for hours you can't stop yourself... It's been so long, it's been years. For year's you have been logging for your family to love you, the same people who took you by choice.

It was unfair, they hook you up to make you feel like you matter in reality you never matter, you were just a substitute.

You've tried, you definitely did tried... Why would someone who doesn't even want you in the first play choose you? Out of all the kid's in the orphanage they took you, they knew the responsibility... They took you as an accessory not as a person.

"Dammit..." you curse under your breath, your entire body was trembling, breath hot and messy... You couldn't stop the hiccup even when you cover your own mouth with your hands.

Every bad memories was surfacing, how everybody saw you as a spoiled child even tho they had it better than you could ever wish for. How everybody saw you as a headache.

You look pathetic, the same hero who saved people was now in need of help.

Before you could even finish crying you felt somebody hands on your body and before you could fight back a piece of febric was forcefully place on your nose. As you panicked you accidentally sniff the intoxicating smell.

It didn't take long for your body to react and shut down, you stumble on the ground laying there, your eyes bagan to shut themselves and before you could utter a word you saw the chilling smile of Joker.

When you woke up you were tied up, an old television infront of you... And the haunting figure of the man who have done this.

"What do you want?" You asked without hesitation, ignoring the throbbing pain of your head.

"Oh, simple... Just enjoy the show"

With that said he turn on the television with a press as he walk behind you and stood there, he gently place his cold hand's on your shoulder.

The video began to play, it was inside the manor during christmas... Everybody but you were present.

"As much as I like her... She's too full of herself. Oh and don't forget the 'Barbara is this great?' 'barbara can we please talk' blah blah blah... it's getting annoying- already is annoying"

"Oh definitely! She ruin the mood... That's why we... the best members of the family do thing's in secret"

"She asked me to kept this diary of her's a secret and God she's a crybaby... I've read the whole thing and I cannot stop laughing"

"Oh! C'mon this is a great tea! let's read it!"

"Isn't that invading her privacy?"

"... She's not here"

With that they began to read your personal diary where you wrote down your whole feelings. Your heart ache as they began to laugh at every word, you've given that Diary to Dick because you trusted him the most...

Another tape began to play. It was the previous gala...

It started out normal until they began to mock you... A desperate girl who would do anything for validation.

Each tape was about your own family mocking and talking behind your back... Calling you a desperate baby and how you need to grow up.

You've been crying hysterically.

You've never done anything in your life to hurt them it was the complete opposite... you praise and complement them but they were so willing to use your name for entertainment.

It hurt that none of your supposed family even like you...

"Nobody... love me? Why?"

"It's because you're just not supposed to be loved" Joker replied still smiling.

"I tried so hard.. but nobody care about me... Im not even a person to them..."

"Im a good student, im polite... I should be loved! it's unfair... I just wanted to be loved "

Life was cruel, it will always be towards you. It took your parents and left you stranded, the system wasn't great it took advantage of those who were vulnerable... Suddenly your life turned around to be loved and just to be betrayed by the same people who you called family.

"I deserve to be loved!... I just want my family to love me"

It was true you were just a baby at heart. You were impulsive and would jump at any opportunity to be acknowledged by your family...

Even Alfred doesn't like you, he barely even pick you up from school, made food you do not like and lectured you if you don't eat...Force eating was not fun.

Just like a baby you needed to be nurtured and cared for... Everybody got that except you.

Joker let you off free no torture atleast not physically.

"Dad... could we talk please?"

you asked outside the his office... You were desperately, your mind was being polluted and you need your father.

"Im busy"

Right, too busy saving everybody's else and watching you rot...

"Please... I need you"

you plead, you didn't want to face the truth... it scares you. Life was too hard on you.

"Im busy, go disturb Richard"

Disturb? right your whole existence was just to disturb everybody else from having a great time.

With that said you began to search for Richard...

Instead you bump into Jason his face was still plastered with the same old frown.

Jason used to adore you calling you his favourite infront of everybody else but now... He doesn't even recognise you or he pretend not to.

"Jay... could you please listen to me, life is really hard and today I enco-"

"Listen up princess"

he began, looking down at your small frame.

"Life is hard, everybody had it hard... Not everything is about you and unlike you, we don't bitch around... We deal with it"

Your hand's began to tremble, he was suffocating and scary especially when he's pissed off.

"We're not spoiled like you. This is why the rest of the family Don't like being around you... You always complain like a baby"

Before he could say more you left. You went straight to the library just to saw the rest cuddling together watching some movie.

"Excuse me?"

"Go away... we're having a family moment"

Damian spoke, the couch was facing the other side of the wall and they didn't even looked at you.

"Yeah... you're ruining the mood here"

"Can you get some popcorn tho?"

Right to them you were just a baby... spoiled to the core nothing more.

Your mind was polluted and your heart was aching badly, the word joker told you began to surface.

You walked towards the open window, the wire of the lamp cling onto your ankle... Without a thought you leap.

If the word doesn't want you why must you keep suffering?.

This is such a bad one im sorry.

Ghost in the Shell

Negleted male reader x batfamily chapter 1

Probably bad English ⚠️

Prologue - cap 2

Y un montón de orgullo argentino la puta madre >:)

You certainly always were weird, a weird boy and then a weird man

You were born from one night between a respectable and loving woman like your mother and...Bruce.Then you lost the most important woman in your life and your home as a child.

Then you grew up with your father and your family

You were so excited to make them happy, but it was all in vain.His false promises only brought sad hopes to the child.

You naively believed his words without thinking that they were lies or insults

You stayed alone so as not to suffer the consequences of such a beautiful life that could only have been a dream For the child who found comfort in his computer and later considered it his home

Considering the internet as your place, just for being yourself, and then evolving over the years, bringing happiness to millons of persons and hiding invisible shortcomings and pains.

From your first videos as a child to your last as a young adult who inspired others with his parodies, sketches and his accordion, native to your beautiful Argentina and inherited from your mother

Only to begin your own mourning after finishing your shift in the kitchen where you worked and passing away

You were young, still studying and working for a better future for yourself as a Latino only to die with two gunshots to the chest, lying on the floor of an alley

And that was your story so far. Locked inside the same technology that accompanied you in life in one way or another

You possessed your computer,ridiculous as it sounds,Only able to see your own room and what you considered almost your home

According to a Gotham website that recorded deaths, you had died a few days ago.You were successfully registered in the database as t/n and recognized by your family

No one has entered your room since then and for now you have only been doing your same daily routine on the internet, without your work, your few friends and studies of course, trying to understand yourself

Only Alfred came in, bringing with him some personal pain for the loss, you hid from him pretending to be turned off by fear..

The man meticulously dusted the objects in the unopened room while you stood in pure silence with your...Monitor? Face? Off

He walked around the room, stopping after a few steps to see somethings like it was a musem Posters,figures from series or games that Alfred din't know, drawings full of your unique creativity, your old sheets, the stickers of candy promos on the window and other places stuck

Your room seemed almost trapped in time and you loved it that way

Finally, the two great exhibits of "your museum" were your beautiful, and beautiful accordion..or how you like to call it,acordeón o Gardelito Demonstrating your people's characteristic love for your country

It was a beautiful old accordion painted black with a "fileteado" Showing your light blue and white flag with a sun in the center with all its pride

The brightness of the instrument made it charming to anyone and captivated the old butler who looked with interest at its keys

The old man's wrinkled hand landed on the keyboard, about to touch a key, then closed slightly and moved away, welcoming him to the latest exhibit: an old computer

Your old computer

And you

So many years sitting at the same table in front of an old blue chair entertaining one of Wayne's sons..

Only to be seen empty and sad without her partner in the silence of the room

It wasn't the most shocking image the butler had ever seen, but it provoked...a feeling of regret and pain

For the absence of someone Alfred knew deserved a chance

You know...I was thinking about ABA and Paracelsus role swap.. Paracelsus getting addicted to the unique components of ABA's blood and seemingly wanting more initially hating that but then...starts to slip into this fantasy of twisted love and despite what he says secretly doesn't want to leave ABA's side.

ABA who doesn't question it because clearly the weapons seems to know more about people. ABA who tries her best to talk her way out of fights to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. ABA who doesn't fully understand what Paracelsus is rambling about at times but goes with it to keep the weapon preoccupied.

I just think we need more of that.