Sitepathos - Untitled - Tumblr Blog

What if (Reader) just kills themselves? Or just find him dead somewhere

Does the Batfam care about him at all or just hate him completely?

Cause I'm slowly wanting to beat all of them up

I imagine then finding him dead or at least near death, instead of calling for Bruce, he calls for Alfred

And (reader) is literally batshit pun intended scared of everyone cause of trauma except for butler

I think if the Batfamily were to discover Reader dead, his body long since gone cold, it would be a slap in the face for all of them. For years, they’ve known that you exist, but couldn’t be bothered to really get to know you. Since you aren’t a vigilante and lack the capability to be trained and with all oof them having their own lives, they didn’t see the point in talking to you. Now, seeing their forgotten brother and son a corpse, they feel like shit. At your funeral, they try to talk about all the good times, but it’s only then do they realize most of them have never had a conversation with you, or even spent time with you.

And to top it all off, Alfred is PISSED at them. Sure, the butler’s expressed disappointment in all of them at some point (mostly over not properly caring for themselves), but this is different. He was just talking to you on that dreadful day and after not hearing from you for over 24 hours, he finds out that you’re dead and phone records show that the kidnappers tried to arrange a ransom, but not only do they not notice you missing, but they antagonize the man, no doubt leading to you paying the price.

He locks himself away in his room and no one tries to talk to him. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t want to hear from any of them. Inside his room, he’s quietly weeping, begging for your forgiveness. Had he known you’d meet with such a fate, he never would’ve left Gotham. Hell, he probably would’ve kept you in the manor, pulling you out of Gotham Academy and homeschooled you himself. Out of everyone in the family, you were the only normal one (the bar for “normal” in the Wayne Family is exceedingly low) and he treasured that more than anything. He knew you hated living at the manor, but he had hoped that he could convince you to at least stay in Gotham while he tried to get your father and siblings to notice you.

And now, you’ll never leave Gotham, buried in the Wayne Family Cemetery. Perhaps he should’ve let you leave when you turned eighteen. Sure, you’d be on the opposite side of the country, but at least you’d be alive.

Now, let’s say you decided to give your kidnappers Alfred’s number. The moment he’s told you’ve been kidnapped, he’s packing his bags and heading back to Gotham. He’s former Special Operations, so he no doubt has a few favors he can call in and in this case, he’s requesting the fastest plane available and flying it at top speed to Gotham. He arranges your ransom, over a million from Bruce’s personal account (Bruce has Alfred on all his bank accounts for safety reasons, but this is the first time he’s ever had to use it) and while he’s taking off at top speed, he’s on the phone with Bruce.

It doesn’t matter if he’s in the middle of a fight, Alfred knows how to make Bruce’s comm come on and the moment the line is open, he’s tearing the man a new one. Bruce isn’t able to say a word because his butler/father figure is spitting out 200 insults and threats a second. The last thing he says is: “I’ve arranged for the kidnappers to drop Master Y/N at the fairgrounds. I will be back within the hour and if he’s not back at the manor upon my return, you will not like what happens next. And god help you if a single hair of his is out of place.”

It’s been years since Bruce has known true fear (probably when he was rushing to save Jason and seeing the warehouse explode), but right now, he’s absolutely afraid of what will happen if he fails to bring you home. He rushes to the fairgrounds and sees you tied to some pole and blindfolded and he feels a world of guilt hit him in the gut.

You are his firstborn son and here you are, traumatized from some thugs. And if he didn’t feel like a piece of shit before, he really does when you tell him you not only knew he’s Batman, but that you were surprised that he’d be the one to save you. He actually sheds a few tears upon hearing that. He picks you up and refuses to let you go until you’re back home.

Things at Wayne Manor take a 180. When Bruce sees that you’ve been staying in a small guest room on the other side for the manor, he moves you to a room next to his; you’re not able to go anywhere, even within the house, without at least two of them following you; and they actually start treating you with decency, patting you on the head/back, greeting you in passing, having conversations with you, etc. They all feel guilty over their behavior towards you for over 10 years and try to make it up to you.

When Alfred tells them that you have plans to move back to Goodsprings, they beg you to stay in Gotham, Bruce even offering to put you up in a luxury apartment if you don’t want to stay in the manor. Just be prepared for them to visit at all hours everyday, even stoping by during their patrols.

Hello. I know this might sound dramatic, but I want you to know that you probably save my life tonight.

I was having a really bad day. My family doesn't understand me enough to care, and maybe my issue with my family is the reason why I found comfort in Batfam fics. Today, everything just got worse. My father yelled at me for something he didn't even know, I don't know why he even had the audacity to speak when he doesn't even know the matter, and now I can't speak and yell at his face that he's wrong because I am a child and not a parent, I would be considered "disrespectful" if I wanted to speak what is right and true.

I was really begging any Gods at that point to take me. I was thinking of ways to execute myself tonight. I was planning to starve myself tomorrow and ignore today's dinner. I was planning on searching what's "Metoprolol" is because growing up as a kid, I always think that "concern" is a form of love, and maybe if they saw my dead body tonight, maybe they'll cry because they love me. I know this is bad. I know this is inappropriate to say, but when I tried to atleast make myself feel better and decided to read Batfam fics again, I saw your new chapter of From Gold to Mold and it genuinely makes everything better. I didn't want to read Chapter 3 because I saw the comments that you left it with a cliffhanger, and I hate that, and decided to wait for the next chapter instead. Ever since I saw the new chapter, I actually ate dinner, because atleast I know there's still things in this world that makes me happy. When I saw your new chapter, I asked God, "Is this your way of comforting me?", and I want you to know that your work is a form of blessing for me. I started thanking God at that moment, and told myself that I also want to thank you.

I actually don't read Batman comics, or watch Batman. I never read or watch any DC movies before, but Batfam fics is about a family that I will always desire yet never really grasp. I wish for all Batfam authors to live the life they wanted.

I am very sorry for saying this, and straight up said that I was actually considering doing it. I am very aware that this is inappropriate but I really, really, really want to tell you that you save me. I know saying that a "fanfiction" save my life sounds ridiculous, but that's where I found my comfort in, and I would be willing to be ridicule at if it means showing what genuinely makes me happy. I will always love your works even if it means showing my lack of redamancy for my family, or even hatred if I have to admit. This doesn't mean that you are a start of my rebellion. I am only stating that you are a light in my times of darkness.

Thank you.

Wow, ok, wasn’t expecting my work to have such an impact. Good to know.

First of all, I’m glad you’re enjoying the series! When this idea popped into my head, I wasn’t sure if there would be many who’d actually enjoy it. With people like you, I’m inspired to put all that I have into From Gold to Mold! I hope my future work meets and exceeds all your expectations!

Second of all, I’m so sorry that you’re going through such a rough time in your life right now. Since you were brave to share a part of you for all to see, I’ll share something, too. About five years ago, my mother was a major junkie. With that, plus her narcissism, led her to divorcing my stepdad (who brought me out of my shell and made me a better version of myself) and moved us to my grandmother’s house after my grandfather died after battling lung cancer. Living with her was a nightmare, constantly walking around eggshells for fear of pissing her off, her stealing money from my grandmother, and yelling at everyone. She was always riding my ass to get a job just so she could take money from me. Early 2020, she was finally evicted and it’s just my grandmother and I living together.

She’s actually cleaned herself up and we enjoy a decent relationship.

So, while things look horrible and it may take a while, things do get better. I’m rooting for you.

Please learn how to use the "read more" feature on this site. You will have a lot of people block you (myself included) for filling the tags with walls of text we have to scroll past. No one like this.

I’m sorry for the inconvenience! To be honest, I only made an account here to see stuff. I never intended to start posting stuff, but since I am, I’m kinda learning as I go along. Later today, I’ll go back in and do that and fix the chapters and going forward, I’ll be sure to do that for future chapters. My most sincere apologies for anyone who got annoyed by this. I welcome any and all critiques.

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 4: The Deal (Warning: this chapter will feature violence. Read at your own risk)

A/N: had free time this week to produce this. Next week is chock full of tests and midterms, so this’ll probably be the last chapter for some time. Enjoy! Also, I’m sorry to those who asked to be added to the tag list and weren’t. I tried to add many of you, but Tumblr wasn’t able to find your blog for whatever reason.

When you open your eyes, darkness goes on forever in all directions, the only thing you can see is yourself. Where are you and how did you get here?

“Hello,” you call out, hoping someone is nearby to hear you, not caring who hears you just as long as someone comes to you. “Is there anyone here?”

Nothing, which you expected, but you had hoped against reality that someone was here… wherever here is. The cold air surges through your body and you shiver, your teeth chattering, echoing in the void.

“What happened,” you ask yourself. “How’d I get here?”

Just then, your memory kicks in and images and words assault your mind all at once: walking through the East End, the three thugs, the dirty shack in the middle of the woods you had been dragged to, and—

“Oh my god,” you say as the final memory flashes before your eyes. “They killed me.”

That’s right, the flash of the muzzle and the sound of the gunshot still rattling in your head. And if you think hard enough, you can vaguely remember falling to the floor after the bullet entered your head.

“Wait,” you say, realizing something very important. “If they shot me, then why am I here?”

Sure, you aren’t religious (all beliefs in a just and loving god died after you lost your Momma and was forced to live in an abusive and neglectful household for thirteen years), but this dark and neverending void is a far cry from the bright and golden imagery that’s always been associated with heaven. And this sure isn’t the fire and brimstone that comes to mind when you think of hell. So, is this purgatory? Or limbo? You never could keep the two straight.

Is this your fate? To spend the rest of your afterlife alone in this abyss? Why couldn’t you just cease altogether? Was it too much to ask that you just close your eyes and never wake from your eternal slumber?

You realize you’re crying and you’re amazed that after crying so much throughout your life, you still have plenty of tears to shed, even in the afterlife. But that’s been your lot in life since you lost Momma: to be the world’s punching bag.

“Such powerful emotions,” a familiar voice says.

You look up in shock and see your Momma, looking exactly the same as the day she was taken from you.

“Momma,” you exclaim, rushing to her and embracing her, squeezing her as hard as your arms will allow, afraid that if you let go, she’ll disappear.

“This form brings out such joy, sadness, and loss in you,” she says. “Feelings from someone alive are far more vibrant than from someone deceased.”

“What,” you asks, looking up at her in confusion, but when you do, it’s not your Momma you see looking down at you, but Bruce. You let go of the man as quick as you can and put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“What did you do to my Momma, you son of a bitch,” you shout in disgust.

“This form brings out such anger, pain, and hatred in you,” Bruce says, looking you up and down as if dissecting you like a damn lab experiment. “How interesting.”

“What the hell are you talking about? How’d you get here and what did you do to Momma?”

“And it’s not just this form.” You see movement all around you and in perfect unison, the other members of the Wayne Family appear from the void. “You hold these forms in equal amounts of hatred and contempt.”

“You deem this one a failure,” Bruce says.

“This one a hypocrite,” Dick says.

“This one a brute,” Jason says.

“This one a know-it-all,” Tim says.

“This one a stranger,” Barbara says.

“This one annoying,” Stephanie says, before turning to Cassandra. “And while you’ve never heard that one speak, you deem her a freak.”

“And you deem this one a monster,” Damian says. He gestures to Bruce. “You hate this form and that one in equal measure, far surpassing the others.”

You see another figure step out of the void and when you make out the face, it’s Alfred. You feel relief surge through your body, happy to see the butler; if there’s anyone who you can depend on, it’s him.

“While this one serves the others, you hold great respect for this form,” Alfred says. “Although, you hold a not insignificant amount of resentment towards him.”

Your heart skips a little at the accusation. No, you love the man, who took the place of a father when Bruce failed to fill the void left by your Momma’s death; sure, you’ve had the occasional thought that if the man was given a choice between you and them, he’d choose them over you since he’s always helping them, but he’s always been there for you since day one!

“No,” you say, pleading with the man. “Alfred, I don’t!”

“But you do,” the butler responds. “According to you, he is the true master of your prison, but instead of using his power to make them acknowledge your existence, he allows them to continue parading through Gotham, fighting criminals.”

“You also believe all these forms belong in Arkham,” Bruce adds. “And that you wish to be the one to subject them to electroshock therapy.”

You finally realize that something’s wrong here. All of them have never been in your presence long enough for you to say how you feel about them (not that they’d care, anyway) and you’ve never told Alfred how you often daydream of locking them away in Gotham, strapping them to metal chairs, and flipping the switch to send hundreds of volts through their skulls, hoping to shock them into being decent human beings. All this has been kept in your head for well over a decade.

So, how the hell did they know all this?

“You’re not them, are you?”

“No,” Not-Bruce answers. “We only took the forms of those you see before you.”

“Then who the fuck are you,” you growl. “And where the fuck am I?”

“We have no name,” Not-Alfred says.

“We are one, and yet we are many,” Not-Damian finishes.

“It is impossible to define a being such as us,” Not-Jason chimes in.

“Alright, that doesn’t answer my question,” you mutter to yourself, but say it loud enough for them to hear. “Then answer me this: where am I? The last thing I remember was being shot by three thugs.”

“Yes, we know of your attack,” Not-Stephanie says.

“As for your question, we are appearing to you in your mind,” Not-Bruce says.

“My mind,” you exclaim. “How?”

“When you appeared to us, we reached out and established a link with you,” Not-Tim explains. “It is from there that we were able to peer into your mind and see your memories.”

“My memories,” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Not-Damian responds. “Through your memories, we saw these forms and assumed them. We thought it would be more preferable for you to speak to us if we took the appearance of the people who have the most influence on your life.”

“If you looked through my memories, then you should know I want nothing to do with any of them,” you snap at them.

“We know now that we were in error,” Not-Bruce responds, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “We owe you many thanks. Never before have we been put into a situation where have known the sensation of being incorrect. We will ponder this experience for years to come.”

“So, what do you really look like.”

All of them look at one another, unsure how to answer your question.

“We are not sure if you wish to see our true form,” Not-Alfred responds.

“While you are the first sentient being we’ve interacted with in our entire existence, we know that our true form is something many of your kind would consider… terrifying,” Not-Stephanie adds.

“I don’t care,” you snap. “I’m not talking to any of you while you look like this and I sure as hell don’t want you taking Momma’s form! And if we’re going to talk, we’re gonna do it face to face!”

“Very well,” Not-Bruce acquiesces.

And with that, everything fades to black and for a moment, you’re scared you’ll be left here in the dark by yourself again. Maybe you should’ve let them stay like that.

Just then, above you, you see an odd red glow. You look up and you feel your blood freeze, your heart stop, and the air catches in your lungs. Above you is a giant mass of red, bioluminescent flesh hanging from a cave ceiling, thick black tendrils extruding from it and digging deep into the surrounding rock, allowing it to remain suspended in the cavern. And if that didn’t freak you out enough, you can see the flesh obviously resembles the shape of a fetus in the fetal position. This thing looks like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say.

“We told you you would not approve of our true form,” it says, its voice beaming directly into your mind.

“What are you,” you ask, still awestruck at the sight before you.

“We are have no name,” it responds. “But, with the knowledge we have accumulated over the centuries, we suppose you can call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete?”

“Yes, we are a supercolony of sentient fungus that has existed for over four-hundred years.”

“Four-hundred years? That’s as long as Gotham’s been around.”

“We have existed as the city above. When its founders first arrived, we were nothing more than a collection of small, independent and unaware colonies of mold. Not long after the first buildings were built, an earthquake shook the area and revealed something we now know as a ‘Lazarus Pit,’ a pool of green, luminescent liquid that possesses remarkable restorative properties, and the colonies that would become us were plunged into it.”

“And this pit made you the way that you are?”

“The pit made us aware, but it did not give us our intelligence. With our enhanced capabilities, we were able to spread out our roots beyond the mountain. Not long after, we discovered the corpses of the first of Gotham’s citizens, buried after they drew their last breath; when our roots came into contact with their bodies, we found we had the ability to archive the knowledge, memories, and even DNA of the deceased. We became obsessed with growing our archive, so as Gotham grew over the years, so did our roots; overtime, we archived hundreds of its deceased, increasing our intelligence and knowledge of the outside world. Now, our roots touch every part of this city, becoming one with it, not only archiving the remains of its living, but seeing and hearing everything that goes on within its boundaries.”

“So,” you say, your mouth becoming dry at your newfound knowledge. “You’re like some fungal god?”

“While we know many of your kind may consider a being such as us god, we hold no illusion of being a divine entity. We think of ourselves as an immortal observer.”

As you attempt to process this information, your mind brings something to your attention and you feel your heart stop when you realize it. You really don’t want to know the answer, but there’s that damn stubborn part of you that has… no, it needs to know.

“So,” you begin, trying to summon the courage to ask your question. “Earlier, you said all of this is going on in my head, right?”

“Yes, our roots were able to establish a link with you and allow us to convene with you in your mind.”

“So, if we’re in my head right now, where’s me? I mean, my body?”

Although the Megamycete doesn’t have eyes, nor does it turn anything that resembles a head, you can feel it shift its awareness to the side, as if looking at something. You feel yourself break into a cold sweat as you slowly turn your head to the left, wondering what exactly you’re going to find.

And when you do, your greeted by a sight that makes you feel as if the world around you had crumbled away and you’ve been left behind to float in the void left behind: you, lying in a mess of tendrils composed of mold, broken, battered, and bloody; your limbs lying in directions they’re definitely not supposed to be in, your eyes glazed over, and a gaping bullet hole in your left temple.

“Oh my god,” you shout, utterly horrified at the sight before you. “Oh my god!”

“We saw the torture those three criminals subjected you to. Their leader was quite thorough in inflicting damage.”

“So that’s it, huh?” While this is all just some projection in your head, you feel like you’re hyperventilating. “This is how it ends: being eaten by some sentient mushroom and becoming a part of it? Doomed to spend the rest of eternity tethered to this damn city? I survive in a place where you’re likely to be killed by some trigger-happy murder clown and his psycho-ass whore while getting your mail and some two-bit thug is what does me in?”

“If you look closer, you will find that you are still alive.”

You practically snap your head to look back at your body and sure enough, you can see your chest moving up and down. It may not be much, but it’s there.

“I’m alive,” you ask, shocked at the sight of you breathing.

“You still live,” it answers back. “Your life force is low, but still there.”

“But how? He shot me in the head and then threw me down here! People don’t live after something like that!”

“While a gunshot to the head is normally fatal, our archive shows us two revelations: that the bullet did not go through your brain, but graze it and that the bullet used was of a lower caliber. While the wound was grievous, you still had a chance of surviving it. As for the fall into our chamber, your body was caught onto our roots as it fell, slowing it down and allowing it to land with diminished force.”

“But I’m still going to die, right?”

“Yes,” it answers, seemingly sympathetic. “If you were in a proper hospital, you could recover, but right now, your body is slowly shutting down. By the time anyone found you, you would long be deceased.”

So, you survive attempted murder, but you’ll still die in the end.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Wasn’t the end I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind for your death,” the Megamycete asks.

“Shouldn’t you know what i had in mind for my death?”

“We do, but our knowledge shows us talking to the dying brings a form of comfort to them. Plus, this is the first time we have had the chance to interact with a living mortal. We wish to prolong the experience as much as possible.”

You chuckle at that. “I thought I would spend my final days back home in Goodsprings, sitting in the big recliner Momma bought for me. I use to spend Saturday mornings in it, eating cereal and watching cartoons.” You smile at the memory of the chair. “It was a damn good chair.”

“We see it, a brown cushioned seat, perfect for watching television or reading books.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Would’ve been perfect to spend my last days in.”

“Perhaps you still can.”

You look up at the Megamycete. “What?”

“We offer you a deal: we will repair your body and give you the strength to leave this chamber and rejoin the outside world.”

“And you’ll get what?”

“You become our host.”

“What,” you balk. “Host?”

“Yes, we will entangle ourselves with your very being, becoming as one.”

“And why the hell would I agree to that,” you exclaim. “You fix my body just to take it over? No deal!”

“You misunderstand. We will not override your control over your body. We will be nothing more than a spectator in your life, seeing but being powerless to intervene. In addition to being restored to your former glory, you will gain access not only to our vast archive of knowledge, but gain abilities many of your kind would consider supernatural.”

That certainly cools your temper. “So, you fix me up and give me superpowers, but all you get in return is front row seats to my life. Sounds like I’m the only one benefitting from this deal.”

“On the contrary, we stand to gain just as much as you do. For over four-hundred years, we could see the outside world, but not join it. With each new corpse we archived, we began to desire a way to interact with the world firsthand and not by mere memories. You are our solution to this dilemma. Through you, we will know what it means to feel the sun on our face, or to taste the finest meals, or to hear a symphony.”

The Megamycete’s words shock you to your core. You guess if you were stuck in this cavern for four centuries and only knew of a world beyond it through memories, you’d do anything to experience it, too.

“Please, Y/N, we beg you to accept our deal. We promise everything we are, from our archive to our longevity, will be at your disposal. You will be stronger, smarter, and better than those who thought less of you. In comparison to you, they will be nothing more than mere ants.”

You’ve thought about showing the Waynes up for years, to be able to pay Jason back for that black eye, to make Tim feel like a complete idiot, and especially to make Damian feel inferior in every way possible.

“We can do that for you. With us at your side, you’ll attain a level of perfection they could never dream of. All we want is to be able to witness this firsthand.”

“Alright,” you relent. “If all you want is to go outside in exchange for making me better than them, you have a deal.”

“We thank you, Y/N,” it says, sounding incredibly happy. Relieved, even.

And with that, your world fades to black once again and when you open your eyes, you find that you’re back in your body, feelings of pain overwhelming your senses, making it hard to concentrate on the Megamycete pressing its tendrils into you. You watch in total awe as the giant, fetus-like mass that is the Megamycete begin to shrink and when you look down where the tendrils are embedded in your skin, you can see a black substance being injected into under your skin. The more of the substance being pumped into your body, the smaller the Megamycete gets.

That’s when you feel weird all over, like every cell in your body is transforming into something else. While not painful, per se, it’s an incredibly odd sensation.

(Your body is becoming one with our mold,) you hear the Megamycete explain in your head. (Not only will it repair the damage that was done to you, you will find that you are far more durable than any mere mortal and have the ability to change your form into any that is stored in our archive, both man or beast.)

“Wait, you’re saying I can shapeshift?”

(If that is what you wish to call our mimetic abilities, then yes, you may “shapeshift.”)

When the last of the mold was transferred to you, you find your body stitching itself up and the incredible pain you were in fading fast, like it was never there. You see a puddle of water lying nearby and when you look in it, you see that all your injuries are gone, even the scar on your left check that Damian gave you three years ago. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it never happened at all.

And not only do you look better, you feel better! You wouldn’t say you were the healthiest person ever, but you tried to stay somewhere in between active and sedentary; sure you weren’t going to be running any marathons, but you were able to climb the many stairwells at school when the elevator took too long. Now, however, you felt like you could run and win a marathon, or climb up a mountain without climbing gear, or swim the English Channel during a hurricane! And you didn’t feel better physically, but intellectually as well! Gotham, for all it many flaws, has attracted the best artists, architects, doctors, engineers, musicians, scientists, and more; you feel your mind being rushed with the knowledge and memories of countless people throughout the ages, ranging from the city’s early days to now. Hell, you even have access to the memories and knowledge of some of Bruce’s greatest employees, giving you knowledge on much on Wayne Enterprises’ tech and projects that he’s spared no expense in keeping under wraps. Maybe you can get a pretty penny from Lex Corp in exchange for this information since everyone knows Bruce and Lex are bitter rivals and are constantly trying to one-up each other, with Bruce, unfortunately, often being the winner in their battles to develop the next technological development.

“I feel like I could run circles around Einstein,” you laugh, completely blown away with your newfound intellect. Right now, you feel like you could write a symphony that would make Beethoven feel inadequate while at the same time painting a masterpiece that would eclipse the Mona Lisa and designing a fusion reactor capable of powering the entire country. You look around the cavern, looking and not seeing a way out. “Now how do I get out of here?”

(There is a passage directly above you.) You look up to see a big hole in the chamber’s ceiling. (That is how you ended up here when those three threw you in here. Our archives have absorbed many of Gotham’s birds. Any one of them should give you the power to fly out of the chamber.)

The mention of the three thugs remind you of your stolen pen and Game Boy, which then fills you with rage. You’ve never liked thieves and the thought of your Momma’s treasured pen and your gift from your thoughtful boss in the hands of such lowlifes gives you even more of a reason to hate them. By now, they could be anywhere, maybe even outside of the city for fear of your disappearance being reported (mostly by Alfred, the only person left in Gotham who would give a damn).

(Remember our roots span all of Gotham,) the Megamycete says. (Through them, we have seen and heard all that occurs in this city. As our host, you now have access to them. All you have to do is reach out and think of who you wish to find.)

Following its advice, you reach out and feel the roots that entangle Gotham like a spider web. As soon as you do, you’re overwhelmed with sights and sounds from every corner of the city.

(Focus on the three,) it advises you. (If you concentrate on who exactly you want, the roots will do the rest.)

It takes some doing, but you manage to push aside the multitude of people that are in your mind’s eye and focus on the three kidnappers. You’re taken across the city, rushing past the many buildings and stopping at some seedy building in Coventry. Your newfound knowledge of Gotham tells you this is the My Alibi bar, a place for Gotham’s criminals to get together to eat, trade gossip, and find work.

With your destination known, you search through the Megamycete’s archives and something to get you out of here and find something that should do the job: crows. Your body manifests into a murder of crows and takes off in perfect unison, keeping in formation. It’s extremely weird to be a bunch of birds; you know that what was once your body is now numerous birds, but while you’re multiple birds, you’re still one person. You can see through all their eyes all at once and change their flight path and they actually do it like it’s nothing. In a matter of seconds, you’re on the surface, flying above the forest and looking down at the twinkling lights of Gotham’s buildings.

“You know, from above, that cesspit actually looks kinda pretty.”

(We thank you, Y/N. We never thought we would be able to experience such a sight firsthand, but here we are. Now, shall we retrieve your stolen property?)

The crows fly through the city, zipping past the buildings and as you do, you realize that you’ve just fulfilled a dream you’ve had since you were ten-years-old: to fly like a bird. When you realized that the Waynes were awful and all you wanted was to go back to Goodsprings— to take flight like a bird and leave this city and the Waynes behind. Now, you can turn into a flock of birds, or even grow a pair of wings, and fly all the way to Nevada!

Eventually, you reach the My Alibi club, which looks even worse in person than through the Megamycete’s roots. You land on a nearby building’s rooftop and see the only security for the entire building is a single bouncer. You command the birds to land near the bouncer and when they do, they come together and reform your body, but instead of revealing you, you command hardened black mold to cover your body, not wanting your face to be seen by anyone.

What’s going to happen here needs to not get back to you.

“What,” the bouncer stutters. “What the hell?”

“Leave,” is all you say.

The bouncer says nothing before he runs away.

(Are you ready,) the Megamycete asks as you near the door. (We highly doubt your three would-be murderers will take your return likely. Nor will they likely be in a hurry to return your property. You may have to resort to violence.)

“Good,” is all you say as you enter.

The noise coming from patrons’ conversations, drinking, and arguing comes to an end when you walk inside. A quick look around and you can tell this place lives up to its reputation of being for Gotham’s criminal element; everyone here looks like they’ve done time and will probably spend their last days in prison.

And in the back corner sit your targets, looking at you with their table filled with glasses and plates of food. The sight fills you with rage; they shot you in the head and threw you in a ditch and here they are, eating and drinking like they just got off work and wanted something to take the edge off. And what really pisses you off is seeing the one called Butch holding your Game Boy like it was his right!

“I’m here for them,” you say, pointing to your quarry. “The rest of you are free to go.”

“Up yours, freak,” some shithead shouts back, pulling out a revolver and fires it three times. The bullets hit the hardened mold and fall to the floor, looking like crushed tin cans rather than deadly projectiles. “What the hell?”

He goes to fire it again, but you raise your hand and a tendril emerges from it, piercing the man’s heart; he drops his gun and lets out a disgusting gurgle, blood dripping from it and pooling on the floor, before falling silent, dead.

While most of your mind is disturbed at the sight; you’ve just killed a man, his blood literally on your hands, but you can’t deny there’s a part of you that’s not saddened by your actions. After all, he did try to kill you and if he was in a place like this, chances are he was a piece of shit and Gotham’s a slightly better place for his passing.

For a moment, everyone is paralyzed at what just happened. The place is so quiet, a pin could drop and it would deafen everyone. Then, everyone breaks out of their stupor, practically all of them pulling out their guns and begin shooting at you, but just like their friend here found out, their bullets are useless against you. Numerous tendrils emerge from all over your body and rush at them; some of them empaling them, others wrap around their throats and crush them, while the rest just whip them with enough force to break them in two. One by one, they fall until it’s just you and your prey.

“Look, man,” you killer whimpers as you draw closer to him. “I don’t know what you want, but you can take what we have. Tom, hand him the bag.”

The other one throws a bag, which lands at your feet; you look down to see it’s your book bag. You pick it up and open it to find everything still inside, from your binder and notebooks to your phone and the gift box Mr. Chen gave you. You’re relieved to know that you’re not missing any of your school stuff and don’t have to go looking for anything or replace it. You are, however, missing all the money from your wallet, but a look on the table shows where it went to. But, you’re still missing the most important thing: your Momma’s pen.

“Here, take this, too.” The leader takes the Game boy from Butch and holds it out to you, which you snatch from him, reveling in the fear in his eyes as you did, and carefully place it inside.

That just leaves one last order of business. You extend two tendrils and wrap them around the leaders throat and hold him up from the floor, his legs kicking around, trying and failing to get him back on the ground; his arms pathetically wrap around the tendrils, trying to crate some room for him to breath, and his mouth is gaping like a fish out of water, trying to get any sort of air. His cohorts go to say something, but a quick glare from you shuts them up. You bring the man close to you until you can see your reflection in his eyes, which are wide and full of terror, and open your mold mask, revealing your identity to them and based off their expressions, all three men could probably crush coal into diamonds with their sphincters.

“Holy shit,” Butch whispers, his face showing his complete disbelief.

“It’s that kid,” Tom adds, his face mirroring his partner. “But, we killed him, right?”

“My pen,” you say, looking at this piece of human filth with complete contempt. “Where is it?”

You loosen your grip to allow him to speak.

“My pocket,” he says. “It’s in my pocket. All the pawn shops were closed, so I wasn’t able to sell it.”

While you’re happy that your beloved pen is not is some sleazy pawn shop’s display window, you’re utterly disgusted at the thought of this man’s audacity to think he had the right to sell your most treasured possession like its some worthless trinket. A small tendril emerges form your shoulder and searches the man’s pocket and pulls out that beautiful gold ink pen. You have it deliver it to your left hand, which is empty as your right hand is being used to hold the man in front of you, and hold onto it with a vice-like grip.

(Not even death could separate you from your Mother’s memento,) the Megamycete states. (We are impressed at your dedication to it.)

“Look, we’re sorry for what we did to you,” the man pathetically whimpers. “Really, we are.”

“Did you know this was my Momma’s pen,” you ask as if the man had not just said something. “I lost her on my sixth birthday and was forced to leave my home in Goodsprings to live here. This pen is the only thing of hers I was able to bring with me. And you had felt like you had the right to take something I treasure more than anything else in the world and pawn it off for some petty cash.”

“We didn’t know, man,” Butch responds, now realizing the depth of his mistakes. “We’re sorry.”

“We promise we won’t tell anyone about this,” Tom adds. “Just let us go and you’ll never see or hear from us ever again.”

“You’re right, we won’t see each other again, but wouldn’t you like to know who I was forced to live with?” The three of them pathetically nod in unison and you have to fight the urge to laugh. A few hours ago, these men were looking down at you, sure they could do anything they wanted, but now, here you are, far above them in the food chain. “I was forced to live with my father, Bruce Wayne.”

“But he said—“ the leader starts to say, but you cut him off.

“That bastard has ignored me since I moved in with him,” you shout, shutting him up. “I was his first biological son, but he’s completely forgotten about me!” You take a deep breath. Just the mention of him brings out the worst in you. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need him. Just like you don’t need your lives.”

And with that, you rip the man’s head clean off his shoulders, not even giving him the chance to realize his fate before killing him. You release the body and both it and his head crumple to the floor in a heap of lifeless meat and to further invoke fear in them, you stomp on the head while looking at them, the thing making a wet splat sound. The other two shout, but you cut them down with ease, tendrils emerging from your back and wrapping around their heads and crush them with ease, showering the floor in their blood and grey matter. Their bodies fall to the floor and flail around for a while before finally stopping.

(Well done,) the Megamycete praises. (You cut down these criminals and made Gotham safer faster than any police officer we have known. Perhaps the local police should seek out your services?)

“Not gonna happen,” you laugh as you walk out of the bar with your backpack in hand. “I have no intention of staying in this place. Once I graduate, I’m going back home.”

(Yes, Goodsprings. A small town located in Nevada. We look forward to experiencing your return to your point of origin.)

And with that, you manifest a pair of black wings on your back and take flight, flying far above the city’s skyscrapers, so hopefully you’re safe from detection. In just a few minutes, you’ve flown from Burnley Island to Bristol, something that should’ve taken almost an hour by car. Thanks to the Megamycete’s roots, you can see the Bats still out and about throughout Gotham, so you don’t have to worry about running into any of them while hurrying into your room.

You land down the street to avoid being picked up by the security cameras (Bruce’s picture is the definition of paranoid based on the amount of cameras in both the estate and in the house itself) and walk the rest of the way there. Normally, walking down the marathon-length driveway to the manor when coming home from work, but his time, you cross the distance like it’s nothing; in fact, you feel like you can do this another dozen times and still feel energized.

But, while you’re physically invigorated, you’re mentally drained and all you want to do is curl up and bed and pass out; you enter Wayne Manor and hurry to your room, never more thankful for being far from the rest of the household than you are now. While you’ve been flying under the radar of Gotham’s vigilantes for years now, you’ll afraid that even they won’t be able to ignore you when they found out about your newly gained powers. During your stay here, you’ve listened to their conversations when they thought you weren’t around and you know that while they distrust everyone (even each other based on the fact that no one seems to be allowed to have secrets), they distrust those with superpowers the most. Two years you listened in on a conversation between Bruce and Superman, who offered to help him during a time when many of Arkham’s most dangerous patients escaped all at once, and Bruce said in a tone that felt like sandpaper being dragged across your face: “Gotham’s off limits to metas. You step one foot in my city and you’ll regret it.”

Honestly, you’re confident that Bruce is only on this planet to be the biggest asshole who ever lived. He treats his first biological son like shit, he raises his “true children” to be as paranoid and pessimistic as him, and he threatens anyone who offers his sorry ass any kind of help. It seems to you that the only one who should’ve died that night in Crime Alley is Bruce.

You shove the man’s image in your head aside. Before tonight, he wasn’t important to you, but now, he’s irrelevant. You never needed him before, but now, you really don’t. With the Megamycete, you have everything you need.

Just then, your phone rings, bringing you out of your thoughts. You fish out your phone and look on the screen to see Alfred’s caller ID staring back at you.

“Hello,” you answer.

“Master Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s over an hour since you should’ve called me since getting off work.” You wince when you peek at your phone and see you’re overdue your nightly call with the butler. “So, I ask again: are you alright?” Based off his tone, he’s not going to accept “I’m fine” as an answer.

“Yeah, I am.” You quickly think of anything that could explain your tardiness and realize something: the best lie is an obvious truth. You just need to modify it a bit. “I just stayed behind to tell Mr. Chen goodbye. Today was the last day for the store because his daughter said Gotham was too dangerous for him to stay by himself, so she brought him to her home today.”

“Oh, Master Y/N, I’m sorry.” His tone says he’s bought it and you actually feel bad lying to the man you’ve come to see as a father figure. “I know how much you loved working there. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I will be. I’m gonna miss him.”

“Of course you will, he was a good man and you were the best employee he could ask for. Can I do anything for you? I’m halfway through with my vacation, perhaps I should—“

“No,” you cut the man off. “You don’t have to come back early, Alfred.” With everything that’s happened today, you need some time to prepare yourself before facing Alfred in person again. It would be a disaster for you to expose yourself as some form of metahuman in front of him. Plus, he deserves to have all his allotted vacation time. “I’ll be fine, really.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, obviously wanting to say more, but doesn’t press the issue. “I’ll let you go, I’m sure you’re tired and you need your rest. Please make sure you catch up on your sleep I’m sure you’ve missed this week during your spring break.”

“I will, Alfred, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Very good, Master Y/N. Good night, my boy.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and let out a sigh of relief, glad he bought it.

(You say you trust the butler with your life, but keep the events of tonight a secret from him. Why?)

“Because Alfred’s highly protective and would most likely steal a boat and sail back to Gotham within an hour if I told him I was kidnapped. And if he knew about you, he’d probably drag me to a hospital and have every last trace of mold surgically removed.”

(We do not wish for that to happen.)

“Me neither, bud. You know, after tonight, I think we’re gonna do great things together.”

(We agree. Now, heed the words of your butler and rest. Tonight was very eventful for you. It would not do well for our host to shirk in his bodily needs.)

You chuckle and strip down to your boxers before climbing into bed. Not long after you get comfy, you feel yourself drift off to sleep. For the first time ever, you’re actually looking forward to waking up in Gotham.

Bruce hears Jason whistle at the sight, but says nothing in favor of studying the carnage inside the My Alibi bar. Bodies are scattered everywhere around the establishment, some are relatively intact while others look like they were ripped in half.

“Looks like someone had fun here,” Jim says as he approaches him, Jason, and Damian. “What do you think?”

“Looks like someone had a score to settle,” he responds to the police commissioner. He motions to the remains of three men crowded together in a corner of the bar with their heads missing; two of the heads are near the rest of their bodies while the third has been reduced to a fine red paste. “Especially these three. Based on how they were killed, I’d guess whoever did this was after them.”

“Doesn’t look like Joker’s handiwork,” Jim adds. “No one here’s smiling and the place is devoid of murderous gag toys.”

No, this is definitely not the clown’s MO. Neither does it match the MO of anyone currently missing from Arkham. The only one he could think of that could rip apart and crush some of the victims is Bane, but that doesn’t explain why the remaining victims are impaled; plus, the giant is still locked up in Arkham’s high-security ward. So, this can only mean one thing.

“This is definitely the work of someone new,” he says, bending down to study the squashed head. “And with this being the only scene we know of, this was their first time killing.”

Whoever did this is highly dangerous and needs to be stopped and fast before even more people get hurt. Looks like he and his family are going to have their hands full for the foreseeable future.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bundlofcigars @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper

Shallow

Yandere Batfam x Merfolk Reader ♧romantic♣︎

Aquaman, Aqualad, Mera, and any other underwater hero’s and creatures don’t exist in this.

||-→ I tried to make each pov a different style of writing ||

There was something so captivatingly beautiful about observing the humans from below the surface, as they went about their daily lives, traversing the Metro-Narrows Bridge. The elders had always warned you to keep your distance from the world above, but you couldn't resist sneaking glances at the peculiar, moving metal boxes zooming across the streets, or the striking figures donning vibrant spandex who soared through the skies at night.

The bridge, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon, cast an ethereal light across the water of the river. This sight, enhanced by the night, would always catch your attention, especially when they appeared. Moving in and out of the shadows, darting around or simply standing on the railing, lost in their own worlds.

You had grown fond of observing them as they soared through the night sky, reminiscent of the graceful movements of swans. Their elegance was effortless, seemingly defying gravity as they traversed the air. It was in those moments, watching the sky people glide past, that you were struck by the rawness of their beauty.

You never dared to come too close to the surface during the day, the haunting tales from your pod serving as a constant reminder of the horrors that existed above the water. But the night was a different story; it’s when you were more willing to take risks. The darkness provided the perfect cover, shrouding you in obscurity as the humans slept.

Though you supposed that the real reason you continued to venture up to the surface was because it was the time that they emerged, gliding through the air and gracefully traversing the buildings. Their shadows, illuminated by the silvery light of the moon, seemed to dance in perfect harmony with the night. Always seeming to captivate your attention in a way that no underwater creatures could.

However, on this particular night, you noticed something out of the ordinary. One of the usually lively land creatures was sluggish and listless, moving with none of the fluid grace that you had come to admire. A deep crimson liquid seeped through the fabric of his suit, spattering across the spandex and staining it a dark, ominous hue.

You cautiously approached the surface, swimming closer than you had ever dared to before. Slowly, you emerged, peering just above the water's edge.

You couldn’t see the human clearly, obscured as he was by the sizable drop between the bridge and the water below, but the scent he carried was undeniable. There was something utterly alluring about his aroma. It was a stark contrast to the familiar scents of salt and oil you were used to underwater. You haven't come across anything even remotely similar to it before.

The land dweller was undeniably beautiful.

A loud crash shattered the silence, jolting your attention back to reality. Your gills flared out in alarm, and in your surprise, the soft bioluminescent glow of your tail dimmed down, a natural response to the potential threat.

You backed away, submerging yourself down into the safety that the depths of the water provided. Your gaze fixating on the figure in the distance, decorated in his familiarly vibrant red and yellow attire. This one hastily making his way to the blue-clad human's side, concern decorated across his face, his actions imbued with urgency. Mask torn from his face.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your back from the scene unfolding above, releasing a flurry of bubbles that rose to the surface. Your pods stern warnings echoing in your mind, a constant reminder of the dangers that lay in the world above.

You make it no more than fifteen feet before a thunderous splash shatters the silence, the seawaters ripples rolling across your skin and triggering an involuntary shiver, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your tail instinctively sprung into action, propelling you back with a rapid, powerful flick.

With a sudden movement, your arms encircled the man's sinking frame, securing a firm grip on his sides. Your eyes widening in shock at the contact, your webbed fingers digging into his flesh, anchoring him in place.

For a moment, you paused, studying him. Your eyes absorbing every little detail. From the man's soft, almost spongy flesh under your touch, how soft and almost squishy his land dwelling arms were, how they seemed to just give way to the touch of your webbed fingers. Then to the way the baby blue suit of his that clung to him, was torn and tattered, ripping away underwater. Your gaze lingering on the deep red liquid seeping out of his torso, staining his skin and leaving a trail of ominous scarlet. And then, your gaze travelled to the two bizarre, elongated limbs extending from his waist. A stark contrast to the streamlined grace of your own tail.

His lips parted, releasing a stream of bubbles, each one ascending to the surface before vanishing from sight. You watched as his body suddenly went limp in your arms, reminding you of the dire situation you had inadvertently involved yourself in. With a powerful flick of your tail, you swiftly propelled yourself to the surface, bringing him up so that he could breathe. Your gills flared out, working overtime to filter oxygen from the water while you waited, your hearts hammering in your chest.

When the human made no attempt to improve, limp and unresponsive, you couldn't suppress the deep hiss that escaped from the back of your throat. Your grip tightening around his frame, your tail coiled tighter around his legs, an attempt to stabilise and bring some form of response from him. Your eyes grew large in desperation as you shook him back and forth, each movement growing more frantic with the passing seconds.

You directed your attention to the deep red liquid that was oozing out of his abdomen, its thick, almost oily consistency spreading out in little waves around you in the water. Coming out in shallow pulses. You tilted your head slightly, noting that the fluid's flow didn't seem natural. It felt wrong, a gut feeling of sorts. You hastily reached for the pouch tethered to your hip, pulling out a woven bundle of seaweed and a salve prepared by the elders of your pod.

You delicately began to layer the salve over the gaping wound, taking care to press the woven seaweed into the lesion. The salve, a rich green and purple, had a cooling effect as it made contact with the human's skin. A crucial aspect due to its high iodine content, which helps to close the large gash. As the ointment came into contact with the blood, it began to congeal and bind the tissue together, halting the bleeding.

However, you were acutely aware of the human, who remained unresponsive. His chest, which should've been rising and falling with each inhale, lay still. A sudden panic clutched at your hearts, threatening to overwhelm you. You weren't sure what the proper human anatomy was, but it was abundantly clear that he needed to breathe.

You placed a webbed hand on his chest, the flesh there surprisingly firm. You pushed down, then up again, attempting to mimic the breathing motions you had seen him and others do. Your heart pounded in your chest as you pleaded for him to respond, a silent mantra running through your head. With urgency, you placed a firm grip on the back of his neck, tilting his head back, the gills on your neck flaring out to pull in as much oxygen as they could. Your tail coiling tightly around his waist to keep him afloat.

Despite the pressure you exerted, there was no response from him. His chest remained still, no signs of life. Your breath hitched at the sight, a sense of desperate desperation washing over you. You were frantically trying to keep his head tilted back while the water was washing over his face, the cool liquid creating small ripples that mirrored the urgency of the moment. His body remained motionless, unresponsive to your frantic attempts. You could feel the pressure building in your own chest, your gills working overtime to extract oxygen.

In a final, desperate attempt, you lean in closer, positioning yourself to allow your webbed fingers to forcibly pry open his parted lips. You took in a deep breath and expelled it through the opening, pushing every ounce of air you could manage into his unresponsive lungs.

You repeated the action multiple times, exerting every ounce of effort to force air into his trachea. Each breath, heavy and laboured. You finally pulled back, allowing yourself a moment of respite. Your breaths came out ragged and sharp, a stark contrast to the steady, undisturbed water around you.

As he remains unresponsive, his body frighteningly limp, your body goes slack, a wave of disappointment washing over you. Reluctantly, you release your grip on him and let him go, his body now floating eerily close to yours. You close your eyes tight, trying to swallow the lump in your throat that was rapidly forming.

You flinch at the sudden and unexpected contact, your eyes fluttering open. An alarmed hiss escaped once again through your lips, more out of surprise than anything else. Just as you were about to submerge yourself underwater, a firm hand grasped your shoulder, its grip strong and unwavering.

"Y-you're...alive.", you stuttered out, a mixture of disbelief and awe laced in your raspy voice. The hand on your shoulder felt firm and real, a stark contrast to the nightmarish scenario you had just been a part of.

“Nightwing?” Red Robin's voice cuts through the quiet night, bouncing off the empty alleyways. Frustrated, he takes off his comms, readjusting them to try again for the sixth time in the last ten minutes.

"Dick, come in," he practically growls out, tapping on his device with a little more force than necessary.

“Where the hell are you?” he mutters, staring up at the tall buildings. Dick’s always late, but this was getting ridiculous. With a sigh, he leans back against the wall, crossing his arms as he waits.

A low, familiar voice crackles on the other end of the comms. “Stalker.”

Tim rolls his eyes, recognising the voice immediately. It was too late in the night to put up with him. “Jason.” he sighs, “What do you want. Have you heard from Dick?”

“Not a word.” The response is curt, and the annoyance in Jason’s voice is obvious. He rarely joined in their patrols, preferring to stick to his own methods of dealing with things.

Tim lets out a frustrated huff, tapping his fingers impatiently against his arm. Of course Dick would pick now to go radio silent.

He ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment to let out a frustrated groan. He was stressed enough as it is, none of this was helping.

“You’re patrolling the Narrows?” Jason’s voice breaks through Tim’s thoughts, pulling him back to reality. He looks around, taking in the surroundings with a frown. The Narrows was never a good place to be alone.

“Yeah.” he responds, not taking his eyes off of the shadows. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to know, Dick’s nowhere to be seen. In or out of uniform.”

There’s a pause on the other end, and Tim can practically hear the smirk in Jason’s voice.

“Need backup?” he offers, amusement clear in his tone. The elder boy mocking him.

Tim scowls, shaking his head even if he knew Jason couldn’t see him. “No.” he replies curtly. “I’m not a child, I can handle this myself.”

“Sure, kid.” Jason’s response is just as dismissive. “I’ll come check on you in a bit anyway. Make sure you haven’t gotten your ass kicked.”

Tim’s scowl deepens at Jason’s reply, not appreciating the offer of help — or the nickname. “I don’t need a babysitter.” he grumbles. “I’m going to find Dick, and I don’t need your help.”

There’s a pause, and Tim can practically hear the eye roll from Jason. “Whatever you say, Replacement. I’ll be there soon.”

“No—” Before Tim can protest, the comms go silent. Damn it, Jason.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, biting at the inside of his cheek. The last person he needed to see right now was Jason. The last time he’d come face to face with the man, things didn’t go so well.

Tim grits his teeth and pushes himself off of the wall. He had better things to do than get into a fight with his older brother. Like finding his other older brother.

With a huff, Tim starts walking, making his way through the narrow alleys of the Narrows. It’s quiet, eerily so, and his instincts are on high alert.

Everything feels off. The air is still, and he can’t shake the feeling of being watched. His breath stutters in his chest, but he pushes the feeling down. He had work to do.

“Dick?” he calls out, his headset’s blinking green light signalling the message going through. He glances around cautiously as he moves. “Nightwing, come in. Can you hear me?”

There’s no response, and Tim tries again. Nothing but static. His shoulders tense, the unease growing in the pit of his stomach. This wasn’t like Dick. The man was always on top of communication.

Tim continues forward, his footsteps quick and light. He keeps his eyes scanning the shadows around him, but the silence is deafening. Where the hell is he?

A muffled crunch breaks the silence, and the boy freezes, his breath hitching. It was faint, coming from somewhere off the alley in front of him. His heart rate quickens, and he carefully shifts on his feet, trying to pinpoint the source.

There was something across the street. Someone.

Tim squints, his eyes trying to make out what it was. It was too dark to tell. Damn it, why can’t Dick be here to deal with this..

He’s too used to working in a team, having the security of someone else there to watch his back. The someone’s in question usually being Batman or Nightwing.

He steels himself, slipping into a fighting stance and taking slow steps forward. He can’t let his guard down, not now.

As he moves, the shape across the street shifts. It’s still far away, but from the size and height, he could tell it was definitely a figure.

His comms device beeps, startling the boy and nearly causing him to stumble. He quickly scrabbles to check it, hoping for some sort of answer or communication.

“Red.” Jason’s voice comes through, static breaking up some of the message. The device was clearly reaching a limit. “Can you hear me? Dick’s in trouble.” The voice, as crackling as it was over the broken comms, sounded dishevelled and panted. Jason rarely called for help.

With a final glance at the figure across the street, Tim’s eyes flicker back down to the comms in his hand. Jason found him.

“Where are you?” he asks, not wasting a second as he sets off at a sprint. He didn’t care what kind of trouble Nightwing had gotten into, he just needed to get there.

“Don’t worry about me. Get to Metro-Narrows Bridge.”

The urgency in Jason’s voice has Tim’s heartbeat racing. He doesn’t question it, just continues sprinting. He knew the bridge, and knew it was far.

“...” he grits his teeth. “I’m on my way.”

Tim hits the wall with a pained gasp, eyes squeezed shut as he doubles over coughing at the impact. His vision swims. Shit.

He lets out a sharp gasp, the breath knocked out of him as he’s smashed against the hard bricks. The pain doesn’t have time to register, as his mind is sent into a panicked frenzy.

He sucks in a low breath, trying to clear his head and figure out what the hell just happened. There’s a shuffle of feet, and the distinct sound of metal being unsheathed.

The attack was too precise, too sudden. He grunts, trying to push himself back away from the wall, but a large hand keeps him pinned.

His head finally stops swirling, and he can focus on the large figure in front of him. Not good.

He’s a towering wall of a man, arms bigger than Tim’s head. He’s muscular, clearly built like a brawler. The metal that had unsheathed was a knife, the sharp, gleaming blade being held firmly in the man’s large hand.

“No more running.” the man growls, his other hand still keeping Tim pinned against the wall.

Tim glared up at him.

He’s been in situations similar to this before. He’s fought and won against opponents bigger than him, more experienced than him. He needed to stay calm, and assess the situation.

With a pained grunt, he pushes against the man’s arm, struggling to break free. The man just leans closer, his breath hot in Tim’s face.

The smell of smoke and old alcohol fills Tim’s nose, making him want to retch as the man sneers at him. “Struggle all you want, kid.” he drawls. “You’re coming with me one way or another..” Tim clenches his jaw.

He analyses the situation quickly. His equipment was in his belt, but pinned tight against the wall left him with very little mobility. He had to find a way to get away swiftly, before the man could do him any serious harm.

Tim’s mind races, trying to work out a way to get himself out of this. He’s too close quarters to the man, and any attempt to get away would lead to him getting a knife in his gut.

The man’s grip tightens, making him gasp as the knife is held closer to his skin. His eyes darted around, searching for anything useful. He would have to time this right. “Stop squirmin.’” The man’s gruff voice rang out.

Tim ignores him, grunting as he struggles against the hand pinning him. There had to be something he could use to—

A gleam of something metal catches his eye, and he glances down, spotting a metal pipe sticking out of an open garbage bin. It wasn’t much, but it might be enough.

Tim takes in a shallow breath, his mind racing for a second. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, trying to keep the man talking and distracted.

“Don’t try any shit, sidekick.” He tightened his hold on the boy, using his other hand to get out a walkie-talkie from the pouch on his chest.

Sidekick? Tim’s teeth gritted, a spark of anger flaring up in the back of his mind. He wasn’t just a sidekick.

Tim’s eyes glance down again at the pipe, trying to calculate his next move. He watched as the man brought the walkie-talkie up to his mouth, his heart rate increasing as he prepared to act.

“I got a bird out here,” the man grunted into the device, keeping his eyes fixed on Tim. “Found him in the-“

He barely had time to react before Tim acted. With a sudden burst of strength, he jerks forward, wrenching himself free from the man’s grip. He immediately drops down, grabbing the metal pipe and brandishing it like a weapon. Flinging it into the man’s hand that held the radio. The impact caused him to drop it, as he let out a cry of pain, stumbling back.

Tim didn’t hesitate. He quickly used the momentary opening of shock and pain to his advantage, striking the man hard in the stomach with the pipe. The man grunted, his hand instinctively going to where he’d been hit.

He wasn’t about to give the thug any time to recover. He brought up a leg and kicked out fast, nailing him hard in the knee. The man yelled out again, staggering back.

He raged, stumbling forward and landing one hard punch against Tim’s face.

The younger boy’s head snapped to the side from the hit, the force of it knocking his mask askew, cracking and splitting as he reeled back. His vision swims from the impact, but he can taste the distinct taste of blood in his mouth.

He stumbled back, bringing a hand up to his face and cursing, blood seeping down his face.

His head hurt. A lot. That one hit had left him dizzy, and his cheek stung like hell.

The pain is enough to clear his mind though, and he refocuses on the man in front of him. His lip is split, and his cheek feels like it’s on fire. His mask hangs half off of his face.

Tim grits his teeth, glaring at the man with a new found fire in his eyes. He wasn’t going to let some random thug take him out.

The perpetrator lets out a huff, spitting out a glob of blood onto the floor next to him. An ugly sneer plastered his face, and he stepped forward, reaching down for the knife that had been discarded on the ground. “You little shit.” he spat. “I’ll make you pay for that.”

His eyes flickered down to the knife held flimsily in his hand. He needed to get out of this. The man was bigger and definitely stronger, but obviously nowhere near as experienced as Tim was. He’s surprised that the thug had even managed to get in a decent hit to his face.

His mind is too preoccupied, caught up in the whirlwind of thoughts, and he fails to notice the man’s approach until the moment he's already upon him. The thug's fury makes him careless and ill-prepared, the sound of his stumbling footsteps betraying his presence due to the injury on his knee.

Tim quickly raises his arm instinctively, attempting to shield himself as the man’s towering frame comes charging at him. He’s tackled to the ground in a single swift move, the impact crushing his ribs against the concrete floor.

His back hits the ground, the air getting knocked out of him for the second time that night. The man’s weight pinned him to the ground, the air leaving his lungs in a loud gasp as he struggled.

The man had the knife clutched in his hand, the gleam of the blade reflecting the lights of the city as it was raised up, aimed to strike.

Drake nearly sneered at the sight. He’s an amateur. Over confident in himself and relying solely on force.

Tim’s eyes darkened, his glare locked on the man above him. He was not going to be defeated by some two-bit mugger.

He kicked out at the man, aiming for his still injured knee. The man grunted as he took the kick, shifting off balance for just a second.

It was enough of an opening for Tim to react. He pushed up on the man, using the momentum to roll them both over, switching their positions and taking the top. He wasted no time in smashing the man’s head against the ground, knocking him out stone cold. Blood pooling down against the pavement.

He paused, breathing heavily as he stared down at the man. His lip stung as blood still trickled down his face, the adrenaline in his system beginning to wear off.

Tim sat there for a moment, letting out a hiss of pain as he lifted a hand and gently touched his split lip. He gingerly moved his fingers through his hair, grimacing as he felt the beginnings of a bruise on the side of his face.

Dick was still in trouble. That was the thought at the front of his mind, the reason he was out here and why he had to get to that bridge.

With a wince, Tim pushed himself up, staggering for a moment as a wave of nausea passed over him. He was pretty sure he’d developed a minor concussion from being thrown into the wall.

Everything ached, and his body was screaming at him to just stay down. He ignored it. Nightwing was his priority.

He swayed for a moment, his vision going white around the edges as his head spun, before he managed to stay standing and start moving again.

He didn’t think, he just ran.

He’s still panting as his feet hit the concrete, his body protesting the movement. The nausea from his concussion was becoming very real, and he had to stop to take a deep breath to steady himself.

Fuck, he was going to throw up, wasn’t he?

Tim bit his tongue and started running again, forcing himself to push on and ignore the pain. He had to keep moving.

The cold, night air hurt his lungs, but he didn’t stop. Not even as the pain from the beating began to make itself known with each hard footstep against the concrete. He had to get to the bridge.

He kept going at a brutal pace, ignoring how his vision swam and how every breath he took just made him feel like he needed to puke.

He’s not sure how long he had ran, his mind focused entirely on just moving. One foot in front of the other, he just kept going.

As he rounded the corner, he noticed the bridge in the distance. His eyes widening, watching Dick stagger back against the railings edge.

Tim stumbled for a moment, but pushed himself back up, keeping himself moving forward. He could barely see straight, but nothing else mattered. Nightwing’s tall and dark silhouette was leant against the night light of the bridge. Even from a distance, he could see the blood on Dicks skin, staining the side of his face, his suit’s front ripped open, a large gash in his abdomen pooling out onto the ground.

Tim’s speed quickens, every muscle in his body crying in protest but he continues on. All he could focus on was the sight of Nightwing. In the low light, he could see Dick’s shoulders moving with each heavy breath, looking seconds away from collapsing.

In a desperate attempt to save his mentor, Tim lunges forward and grabs onto Dick's arm. However, the fabric of the torn and damaged suit simply tears further under the force, causing Dick to slip free from Tim's grasp and fall into the dark, ominous water below.

"NO—!" The cry escapes Tim's mouth in a choked rush, the sound filled with anguish and fear. With a desperate burst of energy, he lunges forward, his hand reaching out in a desperate attempt to cling to Dick's suit, to anything that would keep him from falling.

But it was too late. He was too late.

His heart hammers frantically against his chest as he gazes down into the dark depths below, his eyes wide and searching desperately for even a glimpse of Dick in the river's deep murky water.

His breath hitches, a silent sob wracking his frame as he slumps over the edge of the bridge, his hands shaking as he brings them up to his face. His blood-slick fingers thread through his hair, his eyes wide as they stay fixed on the dark water where Dick had fallen.

The sound of a vehicle approaching in the distance catches his ears, but he doesn't acknowledge it. He doesn't turn to see who it is or check to see if it's a threat. He just keeps staring down into the water, the sound of the river below the only thing he can hear over his panicked breathing.

Jason came to a crashing halt at the side of the bridge, the panicked urgency in his voice clear. He stumbled off his bike, nearly falling as he yelled out.

"Where is he--” His hollow eyes darted around at their surroundings. "WHERE IS HE?!"

Dick.

Tim's eyes widened as Nightwing's head broke the surface of the water, his body floating limp against the current. He's alive.

His shoulders tense as he quickly scrambles to his feet, his body protesting in pain with each movement.

The relief he feels is quickly drowned out, however, as he notices the large bioluminescent tail wrapped around his older brother's lower half, keeping him from crashing with the harsh currents. 

Jason quickly approached the bridges railing, his heavy boots thudding loudly against the concrete, his heart racing thunderously against his chest, deep sapphire eyes following Tim's wide gaze down into the water. As he saw the sight in front of him, his eyes widened in disbelief.

He gripped the rough stone ledge, leaning over to get a better look at his brother. "What the fuck is that?" The older boys voice cuts through the ringing in Drake's ears.

Tim couldn't respond, his eyes glued on the large tail, his jaw slack. He took in the sight of the long powerful appendage wrapped around his brother's waist. It was beautiful. The long black scales seemed to glow a soft purple even in the dim moon’s light, as if the creature attached was glowing itself. The bioluminescence was something that one could only describe as ethereal.

Tim's heart raced as he took a step closer to the edge of the bridge, his eyes darting around, trying to catch a glimpse of the creature. He couldn't believe his eyes. Neither of them could.

Tim's mind reeled, trying to comprehend what they were seeing. His heart was pounding, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to process the situation. He knew that he should be scared. His mouth was dry, his tongue felt heavy and thick as he finally managed to speak, his voice low and shaky. "I..I don't know." He croaked. 

A ragged breath escaped his lips as the sea creature met his gaze.

He was frozen as he locked eyes with the creature. His mouth went dry, everything around him seemed to disappear into the background. The only thing he could focus on was the deep piercing eyes peering up from the darkness of the river.

Everything about the creature was attractive – its long shimmering scales, bioluminescent glow, and even the large dorsal fin along its spine.

The flutter of the creature's gills when its eyes met theirs didn’t go unnoticed by the brothers. Jason's lips parted into as much of a smirk as it could given the situation.

The Mer's features slowly disappeared under the surface, as it made a sudden exit. Both of the boys' eyes flicked towards the water, but the sudden gasping from their elder brother drew their attention away once more. 

Dick was struggling, coughing up water as he attempted to pull himself up and out of the water. His large hand was grasping desperately to the creature's shoulder, as he pulled himself up.

Tim's heart leapt into his throat as he watched Dick gasping for air, his body shivering as he struggled to grapple himself out of the water. He was so focused on his older brother's struggles that he almost missed the flicker of glowing purple as the creature’s tail disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

Tim moved forward to help Dick, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to see Jason with a grimace on his face.

"What are we going to do?" Tim asked, his voice filled with worry.

Their conversation was cut short, however, as Dick's coughing subsided, replaced by a strangled gasp for air, his eyes wide and frantic. 

"I'm fine," he rasped, his hands trembling as he tried to pull himself up onto the bridge, his body shaking violently. His sharp ocean eyes focused on the crushed seaweed-looking salve used to treat his wounds.

Tim was about to respond when they heard a shuffling from the water, the faint sound of something scratching against the concrete. Tim's gaze snapped down to the water, his heart starting to pound against his chest.

Jason had already stepped back and drawn his weapon, his eyes fixed on a spot in the water a few feet below them. The sound of sloshing water echoed around them again, the dim light from the moon making it difficult to see anything except the faint bioluminescence.

And then, you were gone.

This is the result of the poll -> link.

Don’t judge my random fighting scene with Tim I was trying something out🦖🦖

All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged!

I rewrote everything, so I apologise that this took so long to come out💚

From Gold to Mold Tag List

Hello, everyone! I as looking through older chapters and found many people who asked to be tagged in future chapters weren’t seen in newer ones. So, I’ve made this post to make it easier for those who wish to be tagged and easier on me. It’s easier on me if all the names I need to type can be found in one place instead of scouring through comments looking for tag requests. Also, as stated before, if you asked to be tagged and weren’t, there were many users I was unable to tag. Not sure of that’s on Tumblr or not, but just know that I tried my best!

In closing: please use the comments section on this post to be added to my tag list. Thank you and please continue to wait for the next chapter!

I love from gold to mold! I cried like a lot...but either way I just wanna ask whether MC still was able to keep the game boy?

Now, I don’t wanna give away any spoilers (also because I haven’t thought the next chapter all the way through), but let’s just say MC will reclaim his pen and Game Boy from the thugs. Stay tuned to find out more.

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 3: The End (Warning: this will be dark. Read at your own risk)

The last bell of the day rings, letting everyone know that they’re free to go. In unison, your classmates begin shoving books and papers in their designer book bags before getting up and flooding the exit all at once. People begin to pair up with their friends, talking about hanging out and staying over at one another’s house for the weekend, but as usual, you’re left by yourself; when you first enrolled in GA, many students wanted to be your friend, but you could tell they were more interested in Bruce Wayne being your father than you because they talked more about Bruce than you. When Tim became Timothy Drake-Wayne, everyone flocked to him, starstruck that he was now a member for two of Gotham’s most elite families. Since you lack Bruce’s good looks and charisma, Dick’s athletic prowess, Jason’s brute strength, Tim’s intelligence, and Damian’s pure pedigree, everyone here has deemed you unworthy of a passing glance; you’re painfully average in every aspect and in a family as prestigious and remarkable as Gotham’s beloved Wayne Family, that’s an unforgivable sin.

It didn’t matter to you, though. You didn’t care that no one in school or in your “family” acted like you didn’t exist and think you unworthy of a fraction of their attention, you had your video games. When the silence of Wayne Manor became deafening to you, you had your faithful 3DS with multiple generations of teams full of loyal and strong Pokémon that have defeated the mightiest of champions and your preowned laptop that’s allowed you to play a wide variety of games, your favorite being Fallout New Vegas as it took place in your rightful home of Nevada and started off in your beloved Goodsprings. You’ve gone through countless playthroughs because you feel close to your childhood home, no matter how many times you go through the same dialogue options and quests.

In fact, video games have been a major influence on you that you’re determined to be an indie video game developer when you finally graduate. Your laptop isn’t too old to run a visual novel maker software that came out four years ago and you spent over a year scribbling away in a notebook that held all the details that would form your first game, staying up late for three months working on the plot alone and the remaining nine months on side quests, combat, dialogue, and everything else. Despite your best efforts, you’re not an artist like Damian (and how ironic that someone so spiteful like him has the gift to create beauty) or a musician, so the only thing you’re able to work on right now is the code, but you’re not tech smart like Tim so it’s full of bugs and errors and despite you following your Guide to Making Video Games book to the letter, the code just won’t do what you want it to do. With spring break around the corner, maybe you’ll be able to make progress on it.

As you step through the front door of the school, you see Damian and Tim being dragged into a bear hug by Dick, the little shit quickly breaking free; Dick laughs and ruffles his hair before all of them getting into the older man’s car and drive off, leaving you behind. That’s nothing unusual, though, Dick’s always picked up the two of them from school and you know they always go get ice cream or go to an arcade while you get left behind to find your own way home. You’ve never been offered a ride to or from school or asked if you’d want to go hang out with them and with how they’ve treated you over the years, you’d sooner have a tea party with the Mad Hatter before you ever got in a car with any of them. Knowing them, Damian would probably try to strangle you with your seatbelt, Dick would most likely try to guilt you to spend more time with your “brother,” and Tim would just sit there, not saying anything, no matter how wrong their words were or how upset you got.

You’ve been relying on Alfred to give you rides (always a block away from the school since you didn’t want them knowing you were relying on him), but Bruce gave him the month off. He tried to turn it down, of course, insisting that he had important duties at the manor (you knew it was because he was worried about what would happen to you while he was gone), but Bruce insisted. Only after you promised to text him everyday and call him the moment something went wrong did he book a flight to Essex. After taking care of a museum the size of the Smithsonian, taking care of a family full of assholes, and dealing with your emotional baggage, the man deserved to take off and relax for a while.

Since he’s been gone, you’ve used the bus to get to where you need to go and have kept a wide berth between you and the Waynes and so far you’ve managed to stay under their radar. Though, with you not even clocking on their radars, can you really claim such an achievement. Hell, you’re positive they wouldn’t notice you even if you were right behind them. World’s greatest detectives, your ass.

That’s right, you knew about their nightly activities of wearing bird themed costumes, jumping across rooftops, and battling with the demented freaks locked up in Arkham. Not because Alfred told you (and god knows they’d never tell you shit), but because your status as the unwanted and forgotten firstborn of Bruce Wayne is like an invisibility cloak allowing you to walk in plain sight without anyone noticing you and it’s thanks to that you’ve been able to spy on conversations. You’ve come down many times in the late hours of the night to find them sitting at the dining table, eating, talking, laughing, and enjoying their lives as if you don’t even exist. Sure, it hurt you to see them so happy while you sit above them, miserable, what hurt even more was the fact that Alfred didn’t tell you. Sure, you have no intention on joining them in fist fighting Joker or solving the Riddler’s Saw-inspired puzzles (not that you could, you obviously lacked the capabilities), but you thought that after all that they’ve out you through, you were entitled to know what was going on.

But, you know that Alfred is also in on it, providing support from cave under the mansion (that you found after investigating the library while they were all out) and since he’s helped you through the bad times, hugging you tightly white you cried your eyes out, you decided to keep your discovery to yourself. Besides, if the secret ever comes out, you have plausible deniability.

Your phone rings and when you pull it out to check the caller ID, you see a picture of Alfred and you on the screen.

“Hey, Alfred,” you answer.

“Good afternoon, Master Y/N. Did you have a pleasant day at school?”

“I did. Since spring break is next week, the teachers toned down on the lessons.”

“And how did you fare on your algebra test?”

“Fine, I guess,” you mutter. “I’m sure I got more right than wrong.”

Math’s always been your worst enemy (at least until you met Damian) and getting an A on an anything math related was always once in a blue moon. A B was always your goal back in Goodsprings Elementary, but with Gotham Academy being a prestigious institution, their math classes were as difficult as a speed run in Dark Souls. Sure, all your classes are hard, but math has always been your Achilles’ heel.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you prepare for it. Maybe I should come home—“

“No,” you quickly say, cutting him off. “It’s fine. I studied my notes and found some practice problems online. I’m sure I passed.”

There was a brief pause before the man said, “Very well, Master Y/N. If you’re sure. How have you been faring? I trust you’re eating three meals a day and sleeping enough?”

“Of course,” you say. You’re lying, of course. You skip breakfast and dinner since they’re all downstairs at the same time in the mornings and at night use before going out on patrol and only eat lunch at school, where lunch is prepared by five star chefs because their elite students will accept nothing less. As for sleep, you’ve been cramming for this test and trying to work on your game, where as soon as you fix one bug, three more come to take its place.

“Of course,” he says, obviously not convinced, but chooses not to call you out. Not over the phone, anyway. Had he been here in person, it would be a different story. “And how have the others treated you?”

“Like I don’t exist. So, things are status quo.”

“I know their behavior has been nothing less than unacceptable, but have you tried talking to your father? Maybe he’ll be more receptive to you if you approached him while he was alone.”

“We both know that’s not gonna happen, Alfred. Bruce can’t stand the sight of me because I’m his greatest mistake.”

“Master Y/N!”

“It’s true and you know it! Both he and Momma were young and stupid, one thing led to another, and I was their reminder why condoms were invented. He got stuck with me and he’ll never forgive me for that. You know it and I know it.”

His silence tells you he knows you’re right. You hate to say how you really feel since you know that Alfred raised the man after his parents were murdered and telling him things like this makes him feel like he failed as a father figure, but after being treated like shit for most of your life, you’ve really run out of fucks to give. Hell, when you turned eighteen last month, you had your bags packed and were ready to buy a ticket on the first bus to Las Vegas, but Alfred begged you to stay long enough so you could graduate and since it would be a pain in the ass to transfer this close to schools letting out for summer, you agreed. Plus, it’d look good on a resume that you graduated from Gotham Academy. .

“Maybe I could talk to him for you? I just don’t want you to leave hating your father so much.”

“Look, Alfred, I really don’t wanna talk about this. I gotta go, I’ll be late for work.”

“Very well, Master Y/N. Please be safe. You know I hate you being out at night all alone.”

“Don’t worry, I will. Talk to you later, Alfred.”

And with that, you hang up and head to the nearest bus stop to take you to Chinatown. When you turned sixteen, you decided that it wasn’t fair taking Alfred’s money (in your defense, you helped out in cleaning the mansion, but you were still taking his hard earned paycheck), so you went out and found a job working at Gotham Games, a small store in one of the few nicer parts of Gotham that specialized in video, trading card, and tabletop games. Your boss, Mr. Chen, is a sweet old man who loves to talk games with you, especially Pokémon; in fact, he always gives you a free booster pack when he hands you your paycheck, saying that it’s a bonus for doing a good job. You love your job and aside from Alfred always willing to lend an ear to listen to your troubles, it’s made living in this hellhole of a city actually bearable.

After arriving at the bus stop in Chinatown, you walks a few blocks to find Mr. Chen closing the door and locking it.

“Mr. Chen,” you say when you near him, making him turn around to face you.

“You’re always on time, Y/N,” he says with a chuckle, but you can see he’s sad about something.

“Is the store closing for today?”

“No, I’m afraid I’m closing the store for good.”

Your heart stops and you feel yourself losing balance a little and you quickly steady yourself. You quickly think for any reason why the store would be closing for good.

Poor sales? No, you helped Mr. Chen with the spreadsheet for last month and sales had gone up by 11% thanks to the Pokémon TCG tournament you hosted.

Too much theft? No, you keep a close eye on all the customers and last time you checked, all inventory was accounted for.

Threats? Please, Mr. Chen’s been here for twenty-five years and is a pillar of the community. If anyone ever had the dumbass idea to threaten him, all shop owners in the street would rush to his aid, yourself included.

So, why?

As if he read your mind, he says, “My daughter said she was worried about me when the Penguin broke out of Arkham the other day and his car chase with Batman ended when he crashed a block away from here. She said that she and her husband had already set up a room for me at their house and now they’re here to take me with them to Florida.

You remember hearing about that. Bruce devotes all his time to fighting Gotham’s crime problem and one would think all the time he doesn’t spend with you could go to keeping things like car chases with Arkham’s inmates far away from innocent people and their businesses, but guess that’s what you get for having expectations when it comes to Bruce.

“What will happen to the store?”

“Mark’s already taken care of it. He called up some company that owns plenty of stores that’s just like mine and they agreed to buy my entire stock. They’ll have some people here tomorrow to get it all.”

For the second time in your life, it feels like your entire world’s been turned inside out. Working here and being around Mr. Chen was the best thing that’s happened to you since you over to Gotham and with Alfred gone and the loss of your job and boss, you’re extremely tempted to get on the nearest bus and ride it out of Gotham right now.

“I also wanted to wait for you so I could give you this.” He hands you a neatly wrapped box that you just now realize he’d been holding this entire time. “To thank you for keeping an old man company.”

You take the box and with shaky hands, you unwrap it and open the lid to see a pristine aqua blue Game Boy Advance surrounded by several cartridges. When you take a closer look, you see that they’re all Pokémon games, ranging from the original Red and Blue to Red Rescue Team.

“You appreciate the classics and it seemed a shame to let that Game Boy and those games just sit around, collecting dust. Plus, it’s my way of saying thank you for taking care of an old man.”

At this point, you realize you’re crying and can’t help but hug your boss. “Thank you, Mr. Chen.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. When you move back to Nevada and win big in Vegas, don’t forget to give me a call so we can celebrate.”

You laugh at that and it makes you feel better, but only a little bit. When he promises to call you when he’s set up in Florida and you promise to call him when you’re back in Nevada, you two separate and watch as he gets in his daughter’s car and drive off, waving at him until he’s out of sight.

As you neatly tuck the box into your backpack, you realize that your schedule’s totally fucked up now. Normally, Alfred comes and gets you when you get done working at 7, but with him gone, you’d been using the bus that comes at that time to take you to the closest stop to Bristol and walk the rest of the way to Wayne Manor, but that bus won’t be here for hours. And you’d sooner chew your own arm off before calling any of them for help.

You mull it over for a minute or two before deciding to walk to the nearest stop, hop on the bus, and ride it to as close to Bristol as possible. With the store closed (and your beloved job lost) you can use the time to get ahead on your spring break plans and work on your game, ironing out bugs and working on your art. You pull out your map of Gotham’s bus stops and see the closest station is over in the East End, a place no one with a half working brain cell goes. Still, it’s the closest bus stop and you’ll only be there for a few minutes. You’ve survived Wayne Manor for thirteen years, surely you can deal with Gotham’s trash can for a little bit.

With your mind made up, you make your way to the East End. As you cross into the district, you’re greeted by a group of kids playing Cops and Robber, but instead of cops, one of them plays the role as Red Hood, complete with two stick guns and a red plastic pail on his head. That’s right, East End is Jason’s territory and is well loved by many of the children. The thought of the brute gives you even more incentive to leave the area as fast as possible because you’ve heard Jason yelling at the others for entering the East End because it’s his to protect and he doesn’t want any of them unless it’s a really big emergency and even then, they need his permission. Knowing him, he’ll accuse you of invading and try to fill you full of lead, despite the fact that you’re not a vigilante and he ever pulled his head out of his ass, he’d know that, but you guess that being in a family full of distrust and paranoia has polluted his higher reasoning skills.

The further into the district you get, the closer you hold onto the straps of your book bag. With every step you take, you hear glass shattering, people screaming, and even a gun shot or two, making you regret ever coming here. You should’ve found another bus stop or just found something to kill time until your regular bus showed up. Still, you’ve already come this far and turning around would probably be more dangerous than continuing forward, so you keep your head up high and try to change your stride to be more confident, hoping that appearing more confident would keep people away from you.

You see the bus stop and pick up speed to get there quickly, but just as you get close enough to see the map and schedule, you feel something grab your book bag and you’re quickly yanked backwards. You turn to look behind you to see three men staring down at you and by the way they’re grinning down at you, you can tell this won’t end well for you.

“Well, what’s a little GA snob doin’ here,” one of them sneers.

“Surprised you’re actually walking,” the other jeers. “Thought all you little shits were carried around by your butlers and maids. Too good to use your own legs.”

That little joke actually pissed you off because you’re not like the rest of your classmates who have their private drivers open their car doors when they go to the airport to spend Christmas on their private islands. You aren’t using Bruce’s money to pay for every little thing you see (not that he’d give you any because he’s forgotten you exist), you actually have a job and work hard for your money, damn it!

“Bet there’s someone who’d pay a pretty penny for you,” the man, obviously the leader of the other two, says. “Looks like we’ve hit pay dirt, boys.”

You struggle to break free of their grasp, but the three of them are too strong for you. The leader pulls out a rusty pipe from his back pocket and the last thing you see is said pipe rushing towards your head before everything goes black.

“Wake up, you little bitch,” a gruff voice says as you’re overcome with feelings of sheer cold and wetness.

You open your eyes to find that you’re sitting on n extremely dirty floor. You look up to see a man looking down at you, a sadistic look on his face and a dirty metal bucket in hand. Your mind finally boots back up and you remember being stopped by three dirtbags and being knocked out be a pipe to the head. As if on cue, the memory triggers immense feelings of pain in your head and while you’re no doctor, you’re pretty sure that you have a mild concussion. When the rest of your senses come to, you realize that you’re tied to chair with thick ropes you have no chance of getting out, at least without a knife. Through blurry eyes, you’re able to look around to see you’ve been dragged to some dirty shack and based on what you see through the busted windows nearest to the door, you know two things: that you’ve been dragged to Gotham Woods and you’ve been knocked out for a while.

“Alright, now that you’ve had your beauty sleep, it’s time to get to business.” The leader squats down to your level, an old flip phone in hand. “You’re gonna give us a number we can call to ransom you off. Try any funny business and…” he trails off as he brings out a gun and points it at you. “You won’t live long enough to regret it.”

You hears the words, but all you can focus on is the gun aimed at you. You’ve known Gotham is a dangerous place and going to certain parts of the city at night is practically committing suicide, but you never thought you’d be in this position, where the slightest action or inaction was the difference in sleeping in your bed or being put to rest in a pine box when everything was said and done. Ever since you’d turned eighteen, you’ve kept a tally of how many days you have until you graduate and put this city of the damned behind you and now there’s a good chance you’ll die here, in a city you’ve hated since you were forced to move here.

“Hey,” he says, breaking you out of your stupor. “Number. Now.” He emphasizes his point by waving his gun.

At first, you’re tempted to give him Alfred’s number, knowing the butler would probably come to your rescue and kill these thugs John Wick Style, but you know that they wouldn’t appreciate talking to someone on the other side of the world and right now, you couldn’t take the chance on pissing them off; you need someone here in Gotham and as much as every fiber in your body wants to throw up at once just for even thinking it, you know Bruce is your only hope of making out of this in one piece. Even if he doesn’t care about you, he’ll be able to swoop in and bash in the heads of a bunch of kidnappers, so that should be enough of a reason to bring him here.

“Alright, you can call my father,” you say, the word “father” leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, but right now, you can’t afford to let your hatred for the man get the better of you; not when your life hangs in the balance. You give him the manor’s home phone number, which he dials and puts it on speaker.

You wait with bated break as the phone rings. After the third time, you can feel yourself breaking into a cold sweat and when you look up at one of your captors, you can tell he’s getting angry by the second; with every ring, his scowl gets more and more intimidating and the gun starts to shake in rage.

Finally, after an eternity, you hear someone pick up.

“Hello,” Bruce’s voice comes through, and based on the tone, he sounds pissed. Knowing the time, he was probably getting ready to go out on patrol. Still, you can’t help but feel just a little to relived to hear his voice. You just might make it through the night. “Bruce Wayne speaking.”

“Holy shit, man, we’re about to be rich,” one of the other men whispers to his cohort, who nods in agreement.

“We have your son, Wayne,” the man says with an air of confidence. “Do as we say and you—“

“No, you don’t,” Bruce says, cutting off the man.

“What,” the leader says, the wind obviously taken out of his sails.

“No, you don’t,” Bruce repeats.

“Fuck you mean,’ he shouts. “I’m looking at him right now! Don’t you know you’re missing a brat right now?”

“All my kids are right here with me and I’m none of them are missing,” Bruce says in a matter-of-fact tone that makes your heart stop.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t notice if someone was missing” Dick chimes in.

“Man, you’re fuckin’ stupid,” Jason mocks.

“You’re not the first to fake holding a Wayne for ransom,” Tim explains. “It hasn’t worked before and it won’t work now.”

“If you lowlifes put as much effort into finding a job as you did trying to steal money, you’d be rich,” Damian taunts.

“Wow, you’re a loser,” Cass laughs. “Don’t you have anything better to do with your life? Why don’t you get out of your mom’s basement and go outside to touch grass and maybe talk to a girl.”

They all laugh at that and you can feel your heart just collapse in on itself. Right now, you have a better chance of sprouting wings and flying out of here than this man letting you go after being insulted by every member of the Wayne Family. And based on the fact that his face is as red as a beat, this definitely won’t be for you.

“As you can see, all my children are home, where they should be. I don’t know how much you hoped to get out of this, but you aren’t seeing a dime.”

And with that, the call ends and so does your chances of leaving here in one piece. You always thought that your existence was a complete unknown to them, but to actually see something that proves it? You can’t help but begin to cry, both at how the call went and for the world of hurt you’re no doubt about to experience with your captors.

“Bet you thought that was funny,” the man says as he slowly flips the phone shut, indicating that he’s pissed off beyond words.

You decide that Alfred is the one you should’ve had him call, but before you correct your mistake, you’re filled with pain as he strikes you on the head with the pipe. He hits you again and the force sends the chair tumbling to the floor, but that doesn’t matter to the man; he’s pissed and all he cares for now is hurting you. He’s spouting off insults and threats, but all you can focus on is the immense pain you’re in. He never hits in the same place twice, spreading the pain to your head, arms, torso, and legs. You feel your skin tear, bones break, and blood shed and the pleas you’d been shouting since he began his assault finally die, opting for crying and sounds of pain.

By the time he’s finished, you’re in so much pain, you can barely think. All you want to do is die.

“Hey, look what I found in his bag.” You look up through swollen and blood filled eyes to see one of the other men is holding up your Momma’s pen. “Looks like real gold. Might be worth something.”

After the pen incident three years ago, you’ve lived in constant fear that Damian would take you pen in an act of revenge, so you’ve kept the pen on you at all times, even keeping it under your pillow as you slept, only taking it out when you were in the safety of your room. Up until now, it’s kept your most treasured possession safe, but it looks like it’s about to cost you dearly.

“At least it’s something. Anything else?”

“Naw,” the man responds as he rummages through your bag. “Just the regular school shit, a wallet with a few bucks in it, and…” He pauses before pulling out the box Mr. Chen gave you and opens it. “Holy shit, looks like an old Game Boy! And there’s a bunch of games with it!”

“Is it worth much?”

“Might be able to get something for it. A bunch of collectors out there looking for shit like this. Couldn’t hurt to check around.”

“Haven’t seen one of those in years,” the last man chimes in. “Had one when I was a kid. Someone stole it, though. Hey, if we can’t get much of it, can I keep it?”

“Not now, Butch,” the leader growls. “Batman’s busy dealing with that clown bustin’ outta Arkham and all we got out of this is a lousy pen and a stupid video game.” He looks down at you. “Since you didn’t give us a name to ransom you off to, guess no one’ll care if you go missing.”

He picks his gun up and aims it at you. You feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of staring down the barrel of a gun aimed at you.

“No, please,” you beg, struggling to spit out the words as you’re so badly hurt, it’s a miracle you’re able to talk at all, but right now, all that matters is that you do what ever it takes to survive this.

“What’re we gonna do with the body,” one of the men asks.

“There’s the chasm near Mt. Gotham,” the one called Butch says. “That thing goes down for miles. We dump him in there and not even Batman’ll find him.”

Is this how it ends? After everything you’ve gone through, you die from being shot by three thugs in the forest and you’re thrown in a big ditch like a trash bag when you’re so close to leaving this damn city behind. You try to open your mouth to say something, anything that will at least buy you a few more minutes, but whatever you wanted to say is drowned out by the flash of a muzzle and the bang of a gunshot.

Your world goes to black.

A/N: Sorry, we were a little under for on cliffhanger quota, so we had to up production. The original plan was to split this chapter into two, with the kidnapping at the end of the first and the shooting at the end of the second, but with October upon us, I think things are going to get really crazy for me this semester, so I decide to be merciful (this time) and make one big chapter that only has one cliffhanger. Enjoy the wait for the next chapter! Also, if you asked to be added to the tag list and don’t see your name, I promise it’s not because I didn’t do it on purpose, but because when I went to tag you, Tumblr didn’t find your blog. I always check twice before uploading a new chapter to ensure everyone who asked to be tagged has been added.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @solelifauna @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @l0serl0v3r @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick

Your gold to mold story is really good but in chapter 2

When they were berating reader what if reader told them to shut up and listen saying something along the Lines of « listen mr. Wayne lets say after your parents death you only had 1 thing left to remmember them by would you let that thing be in the possesion of a person who has only made you suffer knowing full well their only goal is to make you suffer and that person KNOWS you care about that item and would break it to make you suffer for in this example I am bruce, parents being my mother and person who wants me to suffer is the damen demon spawn or as you know him Damian wayne.»

In a normal family, Y/N would be asked why he did it before judged, but we all know the Wayne Family is anything but. They don’t have any ties to Y/N (at least until they finally go off the deep end). You aren’t strong to go hand to hand with criminals and thugs, aren’t athletic enough to jump across Gotham’s rooftops, or smart enough to solve crimes, and since they’re all devoted to protecting the city and you have no way of contributing to the mission, they have nothing to do with you.

Even if Y/N was able to say why the pen was so important, they’d still be on Damian’s side. Probably say something like, “You should share something so important with your brother, Y/N. It’ll give you two something to bond over.”

So yeah, even if they knew the reason you’d be willing to go war over the pen, they’d still act like that. Don’t worry, though, Y/N will get his revenge by taking something from Bruce. And it’s gonna be good.

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 2: The Neglect

The drive to the airport only made you feel more nervous about living here; you’ve only ever known Goodsprings, a town so small you could see everything in less than an hour, and now here’s a giant city that makes you feel like an ant. Even Vegas seems small to Gotham. And if their size wasn’t bad enough, the buildings’ weird stone creatures looked like they were waiting to fly off and scoop you up.

Luckily, your Daddy’s house is outside the city, surrounded by a wall with large fields behind them. It made you feel a little better that you wouldn’t be surrounded by so many people all the time.

“And here we are, Master Y/N,” Mr. Pennyworth says as he pulls up in front of the massive mansion.

You get out and start to feel even more nervous. This isn’t a house, it’s a castle! Like the ones Momma showed you when she was researching stuff for her books. You’d probably need a map just to find the bathroom!

But, Mr. Pennyworth climbs up the stairs to the front door and you don’t want to make him mad, so you follow behind him. He opens the door and you’re inside a massive room with a giant grand staircase with a long red rug leading up to a second level that you can see leads to other places in the mansion.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Master Y/N. If you’ll follow me to your room, please.”

He leads you to the second level and down a few hallways to a room on the other side of the mansion. As you walk, you can’t help but think that all of Goodsprings could live here and there still be lots of room left.

“I apologize for the walk, but as Master Wayne and I have been the only two long term residents of the manor, the rooms meant for the family have not been in a suitable state for quite some time. And since it’s been some time since we’ve had guests stay over, the usual guest rooms have been repurposed for storage. I’m working on having one of the family bedrooms ready for you as soon as possible so you’ll be close to your father.”

“It’s alright,” you say, your voice almost a whisper. You really didn’t expect the butler to be so nice to you. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

He frowns a bit, but says nothing before opening the door to reveal a room smaller than your one back home. A bed sits in the far corner of the room with a dresser directly in front of it, a big tv sitting on top of it. There’s a door to the right where you enter the room.

“That door leads to your bathroom, Master Y/N. We have some time before the movers come with your belongings. Would you like to see the rest of the manor?”

“No, thank you. I think I wanna sleep after we put everything up.”

“Of course, you must be exhausted. If you want, I can handle collecting the boxes while you rest. I can leave them outside your door for you to deal with later.”

“I can help, Mr. Pennyworth.”

He seems a little surprised that you insisted on helping, but he says nothing before leading you back outside where a delivery truck stops behind the car. Since all you had was a few cardboard boxes that had nothing but clothes, toys, stuffed animals, books, and decorations, it didn’t take long to bring it all to your room and set everything up. As you look at your new room with all your stuff in it, you can’t help but feel like none of it belongs here.

That you don’t belong here.

“Do you need anything else, Master Y/N? Perhaps something to eat?”

“No thank you, Mr. Pennyworth. I just wanna sleep.”

“Very good. But just know, when you wake up, you will be eating something.”

You just nod and close the door, turning off the lights before crawling into bed. As you get settled, you can’t help but notice how cold the house feels. Yeah, you’re not in Nevada anymore, where it can go over a hundred degrees in the summer, but it’s like the house blocks any kind of heat, leaving only the cold. You close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

You wake up, dreaming of your Momma yelling for you and being in a car when something slams into you, and when you look around your room, you’re greeted by absolute darkness. As if the sun had completely disappeared. You jump out of bed and rush to the light switch, slapping it. When the lights come on, you realize that the lightbulb above you is dim and without the sun, it barely lights up your room. Wanting to be where it’s bright, you run out of your room and down the hall only to find the rest of the house is just as dim as your room, almost like no one in this house likes the light. Your little legs carry you down the same route you took earlier today and fortunately, the foyer is completely lit up by a giant crystal chandelier.

You run down the stairs and into another hall near the staircase. You pass by large room after large room and finally find yourself in a fancy kitchen, Mr. Pennyworth standing in front of a giant refrigerator.

“Master Y/N,” he says. “Are you alright?”

“Yes sir,” you say, not wanting to worry the man.

“But you’re out of breath. And you’re sweating.”

It’s then you notice that your forehead is slick with sweat and your chest is heaving. When you look up at the butler, you can tell he’s obviously worried about you.

“I got scared,” you admit. “I woke up and it was so dark.”

“I would imagine since it’s nighttime.” You jump a little at that. “You’ve been asleep for over twelve hours. I would’ve waken you up, but you looked like you needed the rest.”

“I haven’t slept so good since Momma…” You can’t bring yourself to say it. “Left.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, my boy.” He walks over to you and bends down to your height. “I could tell that you and your Mother were close and losing her so sudden is something no one so young should go through. I know that she can never be replaced, but I promise you that Master Bruce and I will be here for you and will help you with whatever you need.”

You feel the empty feeling that’s been with you since Momma died shrink just a little bit. Maybe you aren’t as alone as you thought.

“Alfred,” a deep voice lungs from behind you. You both look back to see a tall man with black hair and blue eyes standing in the hall. “I’m about to head out.”

“Master Bruce,” Mr. Pennyworth says, standing up. “This is Master Y/N. He’s awoke from his nap just a moment ago.”

You feel your heart stop at the man’s name. This is your Daddy? A million different questions swirled around in your head, like what was he like, what’s his favorite thing to do, did he remember your Momma?

He looks down at you. “Oh,” he says, a blank look on his face. “Hello.” With that, he turns around and begins walking down the hall. “I’ll be in touch, Alfred. From the sound of it, it’s gonna be a busy night.”

You feel your heart split in two at the way he just completely ignored you. Did you do something wrong? But you didn’t even say anything!How can he be bad at you if you haven’t said anything? You do your best to not cry as you look up at Mr. Pennyworth, who’s very angry.

“I’m sorry, Master Y/N. I know he’s throwing himself into his work to deal with Master Jason’s death, but that behavior is absolutely unacceptable. I’ll make sure he apologizes for that in the morning.”

Unfortunately, your Daddy didn’t say he was sorry when you woke up that morning. In fact, he wasn’t there when Mr. Pennyworth brought you down for breakfast, his work said there was someone important at one of his offices outside the country, so he hopped in his plane long before you woke up.

You were hurt, but Mr. Pennyworth said that he’d make sure that when things calmed down, you and your Daddy would have a long talk. You could do nothing but nod, trying not to cry because all you wanted was your Momma to walk through the door and take you back home. You got even more lonely when you started your new school, Gotham Academy, which is where all of Gotham’s rich people send their kids; Goodsprings Elementary wasn’t even half the size of this school and to make things worse, you had no friends here. That’s not to say that people didn’t want to talk to you, somehow news got out that you, the love child between Bruce Wayne and some unknown woman, were attending Gotham Academy, older and younger students shared your the moment you walked through the door. Hearing them ask you about your Momma only made you miss her more, so you stayed quiet.

They found something new to latch on to later in the week when your Daddy adopted Tim Drake, a boy whose parents were just as well known as him; his parents were killed in a plane crash and Daddy took him in. When they found out that the famous Tim Drake was now the adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, you were forgotten about. They asked him what Wayne Manor was like, how’d he feel to be adopted by Bruce Wayne, and other questions you didn’t really understand.

You were excited about Tim joining the family, though; you often wonder what having a brother would be like and you two were very close in age. It would be nice to have someone other than Mr. Pennyworth to talk to. Maybe the two of you could play Pokémon together!

You walked up to him the day Mr. Pennyworth told you that he’d be living at the manor with you, excited to get to know your newest family member, but that excitement quickly died when he took one look at you and walked away, like you weren’t interesting to him. You tried over and over to get him to like you, to get him to play with you, to at least look at you, but he just pushed you away (very harshly). And if things weren’t bad enough, he and Daddy spent every night together, locked away in the library.

It wasn’t fair! You were here first and had yet to talk to him, but Tim gets to spend time with him! And every time you tried to join, they just pushed you away, like you were some kind of fly buzzing around them. When that door closed, you wouldn’t see them until the next morning, so they were probably watching movies in there or something just as fun. You lived with three other people and you somehow felt more alone than ever since Momma died.

You met Dick a year later, around the anniversary of Momma’s death. At first, you were excited because Mr. Pennyworth said he was very friendly and had grown up in a circus before being adopted by Daddy, so he could do all sorts of tricks. Maybe you’d finally have a friend who wasn’t the butler.

Unfortunately, this ended in disappointment, too. Sure, it started off nice, he greeted you warmly (at least more warmly than your Daddy or Tim had) and ruffled your hair. You were so happy, you thought you’d explode. Finally, you had someone that you can spend time with.

“Dick,” your daddy said in his usual tone less voice.

“Sorry, baby bird, gotta go! We’ll hang out soon, though, promise!”

“Soon” never came though. He came over a few times during the day to spend time with Tim, either helping him with homework or taking him to Bat Burger, but never you. He always said that he promised to hang out with Tim and he’d do the same with you, but after the fifth time it happened, you stopped trying. He also spend time with Tim and your Daddy in the library at night, none of them coming out for the rest of the night.

Barbara came into your life little bit after Dick. When you saw her rolling in her wheelchair, you felt bad and offered to push her around. She snapped at you, saying she was fine and didn’t need your help. That was the first, last, and only time you talked to her. When you saw her spending time with your “family” in the library, you weren’t even hurt because you had grown used to it.

Cassandra and Stephanie came in around the same time when you nine. Stephanie was a burst of energy and it actually surprised you; Wayne Manor seemed to cancel out all noise and forced anyone inside it to be silent (at least that how it was for you) and she seemed to be happy to meet you. That lasted all of a week, though, and she quickly lost interest like a puppy that had grown up and was no longer cute to its owners.

Cassandra looked at you once, like he was trying to solve some mystery, and that was it. Alfred told you that she was mute and you did your best to learn ASL to better communicate with her. You picked up some of the basics, but not enough to carry on an actual conversation, so you opted to carry a little notepad with you so she could write things down, but when she kept ignoring you in favor of interacting with the rest of the family, you got the message. And when she and Stephanie spent time with your “family” in the library night after night, you stopped referring to Bruce as your Daddy. It was clear he didn’t want the title.

You had Alfred, anyway. Spending nights baking, helping him with his chores, and talking about your day over tea was enough for you.

Jason came back (from the dead) when you were ten. You met him when you caught him trying to sneak into the mansion through a window instead of coming through the door like a normal person (then again, you’ve long since realized that no one in this place is normal. Except Alfred.). Your meeting ended when he gave you a black eye and told you to stay away from him when all you did was say hi. You cried the entire night because you had school pictures the next day. It was a while before Jason started making regular appearances, but when he did, you weren’t surprised to see him spending nights in the library. When he glared at you, his blue eyes turning green, you asked Alfred to let you eat in your room and the man agreed to bring your meals to you.

When you were fifteen, the last one of join the Wayne Family was your biological brother, Damian. And the day you two met, you became convinced he only existed to make your pathetic life a living hell because the moment Alfred introduced you to him, he pulled an actual sword on you, giving you a small scar on your left cheek. You could do nothing but fall on your ass and look up in horror as this ten-year-old boy from hell raised his sword, spouting some nonsense about him being the “true blood son,” that you were “nothing more than the son of a harlot,” and how he will “be the one to inherit his father’s legacy.” For a moment, you thought you were about to be killed by the little bastard when Bruce appeared from out of nowhere and carried him off, Damian shouting threats and insults at you the entire time.

“Sorry about that, Y/N,” Dick said as he helped you up. “Are you ok?”

“What do you think,” you shouted at him. “That monster just sliced my face with a sword and tried to kill me!”

“Hey, don’t call him a monster,” he responded, give you a look of disappointment. “He had a difficult upbringing and he’s having to get used to Gotham and living with us. You should try to be a good big brother and support him.”

For a moment, you thought you suffered from a stroke and had misheard him, but the look on his face said you heard him correctly.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? He tries to kill me and I’m suppose to just let it go?”

“There’s no need for that kind of language, Y/N.”

You deemed the “conversation” a lost cause and leave, Dick calling out to you before going to the wing that holds the master bedrooms. Fortunately, Bruce kept bringing in other people to be a part of this demented family, so you were stuck with the tiny guest room that didn’t even have a window. But, it was far away from them, so it was a good trade.

After that, it seemed like Damian made it his mission in life to make your life hell. You couldn’t pass by him without him insulting you, hurting you, or bringing up your Momma, which would lead to you crying your eyes out. And when he started collecting pets, he would send them after you, Titus and Alfred the Cat chasing you throughout the manor, forcing you to barricade yourself in your room.

That leads to today: you accidentally dropped your Momma’s pen while walking to the kitchen and unfortunately, Damian was around the corner, watching the entire thing. He was able to move faster than your eyes could follow and before you knew it, he had swooped down and grabbed it just as you were about to. You look up in horror as he stares down at you with his usual smug and condescending expression as he waves the pen around, clearly mocking you.

“Your reflexes are slow and pathetic, inferior. You’re a massive disappointment to the Wayne bloodline.” He stares at the pen with disgust. “While this pen is poorly made and lacks any craftsmanship, it’s still more than a failure like you deserves.”

You stand up to your full height, trying to ignore the burning desire to tackle the little brat and bash his stupid head in. “Give that back to me. Now.” You realize you’re practically grinding your teeth to powder.

“I don’t take orders from you, inferior,” he bites back, his green eyes glaring at you. “You’re far beneath me. I come from two perfect bloodlines and that makes me superior to you by rite of birth. Your whore of a mother somehow managed to slither her way into my father’s bed and bring you into the world. You might have Wayne blood, but your tainted blood dilutes it.” He gets in your personal space nod even when looking up at you, he still tries to assert whatever dominance he thinks he has. “We will never be equals.”

You use this opportunity to grab the arm holding your Momma’s pen. As expected, he does not take kindly to this.

“You dare lay your hands on me,” he screeches, wrenching his hand away.

You don’t know how, but the little shit has impressive strength. Sure, you’re not an athlete (you’ve stayed roughly the same height since you hit puberty and can’t build muscle mass to save your life), but he shouldn’t have this kind of upper body strength! But, you’re determined to reclaim the pen, so you grab his hand with your other one and start pulling with all your might, doing whatever you can to break his grasp of it.

“Let go of me, you filthy interloper!” With a big tug, he breaks your grip and you can only look on in terror as he walks over to the kitchen window. “If you want this pen so much, you can look for it out there!” In a flash, he opens the nearby kitchen window and hurls your pen outside, where a massive downpour drenches the yard.

You can’t help but look on as it flies far from the mansion and out of your field of vision; on the ground, you see a ripple in the middle of the massive lake of rainwater and mud that the storm has created over the last three days of nonstop rain, indicating that your precious pen is now underwater.

In that moment, you feel nothing but immense sadness at your pen’s loss and unbridled rage at the one who did caused it. Every last thing he’s done to you flood your mind and you feel your face becomes incredibly flushed, your vision goes blood red in rage, and hot, angry tears stream from your eyes; before you know it, you’re right behind him, his back still turned to you from throwing your pen.

“You son of a bitch,” you shout at the top of your lungs, causing him to turn his head as you quickly deliver a swift backhand to his left check, the sound of your hand striking him echoing in the kitchen.

You know he shouts something back, but you’re so filled with rage that his words fail to reach your ears. You know he’ll retaliate and probably get in trouble with Bruce and Dick, but you don’t care. You’re pissed off and want nothing more than to inflict even a small amount of pain onto him, so that he’d feel even an ounce of what he’s made you feel since you two met. Using your height advantage, you grab both his shoulders and with all your rage-enhanced strength, you shove him to the floor, loving the sight of him wincing when he lands on his rear, but instead of looking up at you in fear like you wanted, he has a pissed off look.

Realizing that finding your pen is more important than dealing with him, you sprint to the door, throw it open, and dash into the rain, not caring that your clothes were completely soaked after only a few seconds and the wind froze you to the core. All that matters is finding that pen, the only piece of Momma that you were able to take with you, something so precious to her she refused to go anywhere without it.

Except that day, when she was taken from you and your life fell apart.

You wade through the many puddles, your socks providing no support so you stumble and fall, getting even more wet. But you pick yourself up and keep running until your at the puddle far from the house and that’s when you get on your hands and knees and start waving around hoping to touch even a little bit of the metal. You feel nothing, but you don’t let up, moving around the puddle, not caring that you’re getting more and more soaked with every second and that mud is slathered over your arms and legs.

“Come on,” you shout to yourself, getting more and more upset. “Come on, where are you?”

Finally, you feel something small, metallic, and cylindrical. You latch onto it like a lifeline and pull it up so hard the force of it makes you fall on your back, the puddle covering your entire body. You quickly sit up to see Momma’s pen. Wet and covered in mud, sure, but it’s back where it belongs. Now that the urge to find it is over, your senses quickly catch up and your realize your freezing, shivering, and soaked to the bone.

You run back to the mansion and when you close the door, you see that everyone is in the kitchen, all their eyes on you. You look at Bruce and see him mad, you look at Damian and see a shit-eating grin, and you look at Dick and see disapproval.

“Did you slap Damian when all he did was ask you for a pen,” Bruce asks.

That little shit’s convinced them this is all your fault. Of course, you should’ve known that he’d make you the bad guy and deflect any blame on his part.

“He didn’t ’ask,’ he took—“

“But you did slap him over a pen,” Bruce cuts you off.

“Yes, but—“

“Wow, I’ve done some petty shit, but this beats all,” Jason mocks, acting like this was some show and not you being ganged up on.

“That’s so uncalled for, Y/N,” Dick chides you. “There’s no need for you put your hands on Damian, especially for something so small.”

Your breath hitches and all you want is for the floor to open up and swallow you whole. They say nothing to you and ignore your existence for years and now, the one time they notice and speak to you, it’s to do this?

“Master Bruce,” Alfred interjects. “You’re not being fair. I believe that pen—“

“Alfred, it doesn’t matter what’s so special about the damn thing, it’s just a pen.” He holds his hand out to you. “Give it to me. Damian asked for it and after what you just did, he’s going to get it.”

You see Damian’s grin grow and your rage comes back.

“Hell no,” you mutter, slipping it into your pocket. You see everyone’s eyes widen while Bruce’s frown gets more intense at your defiance.

“What did you just say?”

You can tell he’s pissed at you defying him. Oh well, you’ve already dug your grave, what’s adding a few more feet to it gonna do?

“I said hell no!”

“Oh, man,” Jason cackles. “You done fucked up, kid!”

“Go to your room,” Bruce says with clenched teeth. “You’re grounded.”

You quickly leave the room, wanting to put as much room between them and you as possible. As you leave, you hear them talking about you, asking what’s wrong with you, how childish you are, and other stuff you really don’t want to hear right now. When you close your door behind you, the dam breaks and you fall to your knees, letting out a wail and allowing tears to stream from your eyes like a waterfall. The last time you cried this hard was when you were told Momma had died and it’s in this moment you wish you had been in the car with her now more than ever.

A knock at the door brings you back to your harsh and uncaring reality.

“Master Y/N,” Alfred calls from the other side. “May I come in?” You get up and open the door. “Oh, my dear boy.”

You allow him to come in and he closes the door behind him before bringing you into a tight hug, which is when you resume your crying.

“I hate them,” you shout in between sobs. “I hate them all!”

“I know,” he says. “I tried to tell them after you left the room, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“Alfred,” you say, pulling yourself together enough to talk coherently. “When I turn eighteen, I’m going back to Goodsprings.”

He pulls away and looks at you. “I understand why you feel that way, but it’s been ten years since you left, Master Y/N. If you go back there, you’ll be alone.”

“I’m alone here, Alfred!” You pull away from him. “Ever since I came here, they’ve made it clear that I’m unwelcome here! That I don’t belong here! At least back home, I’ll be surrounded by memories of Momma.”

“But this has been your home for ten years.”

“This isn’t my home, Alfred. It never was and it never will be.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it. Instead, he pulls you back into another hug. “I understand. I’ll miss you dearly, but if going back will make you happy, I’ll wish you all the best.”

You can do nothing but cry. You’ll miss Alfred, the only good thing to come out of going to live in this godforsaken city and this manor from hell, but when you need to get out of here. The sooner you leave Gotham and get back to Goodsprings, the better you’ll be.

A/N: thank you all so much for the likes and comments on chapter one! I really didn’t think that so many people would like it, but here we are! I hope you all continue to enjoy this series!

Tag list: @minkyungseokie @solelifauna @nosyrobin

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》 II

Part I

Thank you so much for the love for the first one! 💞 There are so many ways I can imagine how this story can go and it's hard to pick one or try merging all the ideas. Nonetheless, I hope this meets your expectations!

CW: Stalking, Breaking and entering, Violence(Being stabbed, beating up a thief), Blood

You had officially moved into your apartment in Bludhaven

Everything has moved so quickly and now you can finally relax

You gave up connecting with your family, got kidnapped, died, came back to life and moved out

It may be a bit much to pick the farthest college from the manor but you’re clearly unwanted there

Your family has neglected you and didn't do anything when you were kidnapped, so you have every right to be as far away from them as possible

It was honestly quite lucky that you were already accepted into a college in Bludhaven during your senior year. If you had applied after your kidnapping, the chances of you getting in would have been low.

But you’re here now and can finally feel happy. Well, if you don't count some of the nightmares you get from when you “died”.

Sometimes you do wonder how you survived that gunshot. Were you not hit somewhere vital? But then, where was the hole?

A part of you was curious and wanted to replicate the injury but that would be painful. You surviving the gunshot also could have been a one-time thing

You never ended up going to the police or the hospital because what were they going to do? You don’t have any proof that it even happened because your injury is gone, the blood left at the abandoned building is likely dried up and doesn’t look fresh, and Bruce probably threw away the ransom letter. 

The only proof you have that it even happened is your memories and you telling your friends. But the police or doctors would just look at you and say “You look fine now, no need to look into the situation anymore.” 

But enough about that though, you’ve got a few more hours before it gets dark and you want to get to know about the area.

It is still the middle of summer so your college classes haven't started yet. You could have waited until class started to move but you wanted to be out before Alfred returned from his vacation.

Alfred was the closest thing to family in the manor. But he and Bruce have never felt like safe adults to share your problems with. 

He should be back from his vacation now, has he found out about your kidnapping or did Bruce cover it up? He probably did to avoid getting news out. You should probably look into how you can change your surname.

Just as you finish your thoughts about the manor, you use your laptop to find interesting places in the area before heading out the door with directions in a notebook

Bruce and the rest of the family may know where you are currently, but bringing you back home was the hard part. Alfred had to convince Bruce that if he wanted you back, he shouldn’t just barge in all of a sudden. 

You’ve been hurt by the family's actions and won't return without a fight. 

But even then, Bruce has to see you. The entire family needs to see you with their own eyes at least once.

With this in mind, the whole family decides to take a small road trip to Bludhaven. They’d find you and figure out the best way to approach you without scaring you off. 

It was almost sundown when the family got to Bludhaven. They change into their vigilante gear so it’d be easier to hide in the shadows

Tim loads up the tracker on your phone and leads the way. It seems the tracker you have isn't the best because once the family gets close to your apartment, your phone just says your laptop is nearby instead of its exact location. 

No problem though, Tim can easily hack into the computer system for the apartment and find which room is yours.

Once your room is found, the family takes a peek inside. You’re nowhere to be found, which is a little worrying.

The locks on your windows are broken as the family opens them and sneaks inside. Your living room and kitchen are littered with boxes but that’s it. They each take a look around to find you but come out empty-handed. If you were here, they may do exactly what Alfred discouraged and just take you home. However, because you aren’t home, the only other place you could be is outside. Where it’s dark out and you’re alone.

Worried for your safety, the family immediately goes on another search for your

Because you could be anywhere, the family decides to split up to find you

You look around as you walk back to your apartment, a few small bags of food and snacks in your hands. Because it’s getting dark, you do begin to pick up the pace. You’re so focused on not getting home that you don’t notice when a person peeks over at you from a rooftop.

You’re just about to pass a convenience store when someone runs out and knocks into you. The person curses as they quickly get up and reach for their bag of stolen goods. Filled with adrenaline, the thief takes out a knife and stabs you. They were aiming to kill you so there weren’t any witnesses but ended up putting the knife in your shoulder. As the thief makes a run for it, a certain vigilante quickly blocks their path

Nightwing goes full force on the thief. How dare they hurt his baby bird. He refuses to make the same mistake of leaving you alone and hurt.

Your heart is racing as you attempt to pull the knife out of your shoulder. Your eyelids feel weak but you refuse to fall asleep. Unlike before, you aren’t restrained and can still escape.

You pull the knife out and let it fall on the ground next to you. After a few breaths, you do your best to stand up. You take a small glance at Nightwing before quickly running back to your apartment. 

Once inside, you almost collapse on the floor but try to get your first aid kit.

Your bandaging may not be that good but the best but it’s enough for you to feel comfortable sleeping for the night

Nightwing sighs as he handcuffs the thief. He went a lot harder than he expected but how can you blame him? His family was in danger and he needed to do everything to make sure it doesn’t happen again

The vigilante turns to where you were but only finds a bloodied knife and the bags you left behind. He carefully picks up the bags and knife while he considers where you have gone.

Spotting a trail of blood, Nightwing quickly follows it, contacting the rest of the family as well

The family gathers at the same spot near your apartment and finds you sleeping in your bed. Wanting to help you, Nightwing comes up with an idea

You lay on your bed, waiting for sleep to consume you when a knock comes from your door. You try to ignore it but the knocking continues. The only thing that gets you up is the realization that the knocking is too loud to be from your door. Opening your eyes, you realize that someone is at your window. 

Getting up, you pick up your pepper spray as you slowly walk towards the window. You have your curtains closed so you try to peek past them to see who is there

Who you see is Nightwing and it gets you worried. Does he think you were involved with that other person? He must have seen that the thief stabbed you at least

Not wanting to make the vigilant wait, you open your window slightly. Only enough so you can hear what Nightwing has to say

Nightwing happily greets you and shows you the bag of items that you left behind when leaving the scene.

Surprised, you thank Nightwing and open the window. Making sure to not open the window more than necessary, just enough to collect the bags

Just as you reach for it, the vigilante points out your bandaged shoulder. He goes on to say the importance of properly handling injuries and offers to rebandage your arm.

It takes you a couple of moments before you agree to his help.

Like a big brother, he sits you down and redoes the bandages. Honestly, it makes you wish your actual big brothers would care for you in this way. Even though one of them is right in front of you

Once your shoulder has properly been bandaged, you thank Nightwing for his help. He offers to stay the night but you tell him that you’d be fine. Plus, doesn’t he still have to take care of Bludhaven

You make sure to close and lock your window once Nightwing leaves before going back to bed.  As sleep consumes you, your whole family watches from a distance. You didn’t seem to recognize Dick as Nightwing so it may be possible to get you to trust them before taking you home

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 1: The Change

“Happy birthday, to you,” your teacher, Mrs. Palmer, and classmates finish singing to you.

“Thank you, everyone,” you giggle, happy that everyone did something special for your birthday in the middle of class.

You’re now six-years-old and your Momma’s promised to take you to Little Luigi’s Pizza Place after school, where you’ll get to open your presents from her, as well as eat all the pizza you want and have a cookie pizza for free! You begged her to let you stay home, but she laughed and said that she had to meet her publisher for her upcoming book, but she promised that after she was done, she’d come check you out and the two of you would go celebrate your birthday.

You look up at the clock (good thing it’s digital, because you haven’t learned to read the old clocks yet!) and see that it’s almost time for lunch.

“Come on, Momma,” you mutter to yourself. “Get here, already.”

Seriously, you didn’t plan to eat lunch, so you didn’t bother packing lunch today!

Just then, the intercom above the door chimes.

“Mrs. Palmer,” the school secretary asks.

“Yes?”

“Can you please send Y/N Gould to the office, please? There’s someone here to see him.”

“Yes,” you cheer, making a few in the class laugh.

“Of course,” she responds before the device clicks off.

You grab your backpack and toss it over your back before rushing towards the door.

“Bye, Y/N,” one classmate says as you pass her.

“Happy birthday,” another says as you near the door.

“Enjoy your birthday, Y/N,” Mrs. Palmer says, her usual bright smile on her face. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Remember to have your worksheet done.”

And with that, you leave the room and skip down the hall to the main office, happy that your school is small so you don’t have to walk far. As you do, all you can think about is all the pizza you’re about to eat! And the chocolate chip cookie pizza that you get after that! And don’t forget about the presents! Maybe you’ll get the new Pokémon Platinum game for your DS, or a new stuffed animal, or maybe a new movie!

The suspense is practically tearing you apart and you enter the office, ready to greet your Momma when you see… Sheriff Foley. And he looks… sad. You look to the secretary, who’s standing behind him, and she has the same sad look.

“Y/N,” he says.

“Sheriff Foley,” you say, looking around to find Momma, but not finding her. “What’s wrong? Where’s Momma?”

“Son,” he says as the secretary begins to cry a bit. “I have some bad news.”

You feel a weird feeling in your stomach, like when you eat a bunch of ice cream and get sick, but this feeling is worse than that.

“What?”

“It’s about your momma. I got a call from the police in Vegas and they said there had been a car accident. Some drunk fool leaving a casino hit your mother’s car.”

You feel your heart stop at the words “hit” and “mother.”

“Is she ok,” you manage to say. “She’s at the hospital, right?”

The secretary’s crying becomes louder.

“I’m sorry, son,” he says, a tear falling from his eye. “He was going too fast when he hit her. She’s gone.”

“Gone? Like missing?” Now, you’re crying. “Why can’t they find her?”

“No, gone as in she’s no longer with us.”

“Like… she’s gone to heaven,” you whisper.

He nods and it’s then you feel your entire world collapse. You remember what Momma said about going to heaven when you saw a squirrel asleep on the side of the road. She’d said that he had gone to heaven after falling asleep and that he wouldn’t be waking up again. That he’d always be there.

“No,” you cry, tears and snot falling from your face. “No, she can’t be in heaven! She said she’d be here!”

Sheriff Foley takes you into his arms as you cry.

The next few days go by in a blur. You stay with Sheriff Foley and his wife until the funeral. Unfortunately, the accident was so bad that the casket had to stay closed, so you weren’t able to see her one last time before she’s put in her grave. The whole town of Goodsprings is there; she was an author writing best-selling romance novels set during the Age of Sail and a pillar of the community, so everyone wanted to be there to say their final goodbyes to her and their condolences to you.

You said nothing during the whole thing. You hadn’t said anything since Sheriff Foley told you that Momma had gone to heaven and that she wouldn’t be back. The only noise to leave you is the sound of crying.

“Y/N,” he says as you watch the grave be filled with dirt. “When we leave, we’ll have to go by your house. You need to pack anything you need.”

“Why,” you ask, your voice sore from crying for days.

“Because a man is waiting there for you and when you have everything you need, he’ll take you to McCarran Airport. From there, you’ll go to Gotham City in New Jersey.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, first you lose Momma and now you’re losing your home?

“Why do I have to leave,” you say, tears streaming down your face.

“Because the county did some checking and found your father through a DNA test.”

You freeze at that. Your Daddy?

“Momma, do I have a Daddy,” you asked her once.

“You do, baby, but he doesn’t know about you,” she answered. “We met years ago, back when Momma was young and dumb. When I found out I was having you, I couldn’t find him. That’s when I realized I had to act right.” She rubbed her hand through your hair. “It’s thanks to you that I’m not like that anymore.”

That conversation goes through your head as you ride back to your house. You’re actually going to meet your Daddy? When you pull up to your house you see a fancy car sitting in the driveway and an elderly man in a suit standing next to it, watching you as you get out.

“I’m sorry, who’re you,” Sheriff Foley asks.

“Alfred Pennyworth,” the man says, bowing a little. “Butler to the Wayne Family. I apologize, Sheriff, but I’m afraid Master Bruce was unable to get away. Urgent business at Wayne Enterprises demanded his attention.”

“More urgent than his son?”

You can see the butler slightly flinch at that, despite how good he tries to hide it.

“I understand your frustration. I expressed the same sentiments, but Master Bruce couldn’t be persuaded to leave the matter to Mr. Fox.” He looks down at you. “I trust this is young Master Y/N?”

You can’t help but duck behind the sheriff’s legs to hide from him.

“Yeah, this is him.”

“I’m glad to meet you, though I wish it was under more joyous circumstances. You have my most sincere condolences for your loss.”

“Thank you,” you say, looking down at the ground.

“Come on, son, let’s get all your stuff packed.”

The three of you spend the next hour packing all your toys and clothes into cardboard boxes. When asked about your bed, dresser, and other larger things, Alfred said a room had already been prepared for you with a king sized bed and a dresser with room for all your clothes and more.

“Should you require anything else, I will ensure Master Bruce provides it.”

“What will happen to the house,” you finally ask Sheriff Foley, afraid for what he would say.

“Your momma already paid off her house and her will said that everything that’s hers goes to you. For now, the county will care for it until you turn eighteen, which is when you can inherit it.”

Hearing that should’ve made you feel better, but it didn’t because you’d have to wait so long to come back and even then, Momma still wouldn’t be here. As the two adults packed up the last of the boxes in the fancy rental car, you slipped away into your Momma’s office at the back of the first story. You slide open the doors, expecting to see her at her desk, working on her latest story like you’d done so many times before, but this time, an empty room and silence greets you.

You enter her office and hop into the big revolving chair, her favorite perfume still lingering from the morning of your birthday. You look at the desk and find something that takes your breath away: her favorite gold ink pen. One day, you’d asked her why your last name was Gould and she’d told you that your family came from a long line of goldsmiths who once made jewelry and other small things for rich people. Momma’s Daddy still worked with metal, even after the family practice was shut down, and when she said she was going to become a writer, he made her a gold ink pen to bring her good luck. You pick it up, looking at the beautiful design, and begin to tear up.

She carried it everywhere she went, so seeing it here cements the fact that she’s not coming back. Maybe if she wasn’t in a big hurry that morning, she would’ve remembered to take it with her and the accident never would’ve happened. And she’d still be here with you.

“Y/N,” the Sheriff says as he enters the office. “We finished packing everything. Are you ready to go?”

You want to say no and refuse to leave, but you know that you can’t stay here. You quietly pocket the pen and follow him to the car, where Alfred waits for you.

“Alright, son, be good for Mr. Pennyworth here. Do what he says and be a good boy like your momma taught you.” He gives you a hug and you wish it would never end, because then you’d never have to leave your home. “You’ll be back before you know it, and your home will be here waiting for you.”

A with that, you get into the car with Mr. Pennyworth and begin the drive to the airport. You use the mirror to see your house one last time, seeing it get smaller and smaller until it’s out of sight.

“I know this is sudden after the loss of your mother, but I promise Master Bruce and I will do everything we can to make Wayne Manor a home for you.”

“What’s it like?”

“The manor? It’s a large estate with a long and storied history that dates back to the early days of Gotham. There’s plenty of rooms for you to explore.”

“And what about my Daddy? What’s he like?”

“Master Bruce is a skilled businessman and one of Gotham’s biggest socialites. He’s also the adoptive father of Masters Dick and Jason.”

“He already has kids? Would they be my brothers?”

You’d heard of several of your classmates having older and younger siblings and had thought about having a brother or a sister. What would it be like to carry around someone younger than you or be care for by someone older than you.

“Master Dick would be your older brother, but he’s now living at the manor right now. He’s off finding himself right now, but I have no doubt that he’ll be back one day.”

“What about Jason?”

Mr. Pennyworth frowns at your words and you feel afraid that you’ve said something wrong.

“Master Jason would be your older brother, as well, but he was taken from us. With any luck, he and your mother have met one another.”

Oh…

“When did he go to heaven?”

“He left us a few months ago, but it feels just like yesterday.”

And with that, the talk is over. You two arrive at the airport and after the butler returns the rental car, he guides you to the gate where a private jet awaits the two of you. You can’t help but be amazed that you’re riding in a private jet that looks so much better than the ones you’ve seen on tv. You sit in one of the seats and it’s way softer than your bed.

“Master Y/N, we’re getting ready for takeoff,” the butler says as he puts his seatbelt on. “Put your seatbelt on.”

You do as you’re told and before you know it, you feel the jet begin to move. You hurry to look out the window to see everything moving past before the jet begins to fly. You stare out the window, watching Nevada, the state you’ve called home, get smaller and smaller until you’re above the clouds, unable to see anything, even the massive buildings of the Strip, which could be seen for miles.

It’s then you realize that this is real, that you’re leaving everything you’ve ever known and won’t be back for years and tears begin to fall from your face. You’ve spent the last few days crying so much that you’d think that you’d think that you would run out of tears, but apparently not. Not wanting to disturb Mr. Pennyworth, you face the window and bite your lower lip to stop making noises.

Somehow the flight seemed to be both long lasting and not long enough, because eventually, you saw a city show up below you. You squint your eyes to get a better look through the smog and see many tall buildings, all of the having those scary stone creatures you saw on a movie once.

“Welcome to Gotham City, Master Y/N.”

A/N: I’m hoping to make this a series that sees somewhat regular updates, but don’t quote me on that. I’ve been getting back into Resident Evil and I look up Yandere Batfamily stuff on this site so much it’s not even funny. Sorry if the first chapter was so long, but I thought if the first chapter was long enough, people would forgive me if future chapters are a bit lacking. Also, this series is heavily influenced by several of my favorite users, like @acid-ixx , @gotham-daydreams , @luludeluluramblings , and @darkstaria . You should totally check them all out.

SitePathos Directory

Here at Site Pathos, we work hard to create high quality Male Reader content for your enjoyment! Please use this convenient masterlist to find your desired page!

CoD x AoT:

Armored Titan

CoD x HP:

Headcanons

Wand

Favorite Creature

Hogsmeade

Boggart

Sit-Rep

Favorite Subject

Yandere Batfamily :

-Main Series-

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

-Asks-

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

-Misc-

Tag List

Miscellaneous:

Roman Reigns x Male Reader (ABO)

141 w/ Armored Titan Male Reader

A/N: ok, I know I said I was working on a CoD/Star Wars series, but I kinda forgot about the draft I barely worked on after a while and now I’ve been on a AoT kick lately, so hope this is an acceptable substitute. For a little world building, you were created in a lab with Titan abilities and the lab was raided, Laswell learned about you and had you spirited away to the 141. Both to help them on their missions and to ensure you don’t end up being used as a weapon by certain generals in the States.

Price

When Laswell told him she was sending him a young man with the ability to turn into a giant, he was worried that she’d finally gone off the deep end and was actually planing on staging a kidnapping so she’d take some time off.

Then when he finally met you and saw you turn into the Armored Titan, he was blown away by the sight of 15m giant with more armor than a tank appearing out of thin air.

He didn’t know what to make of you, a young man barely old enough to serve in the military that’d spent his entire life cooped up in a lab and being prepared as a weapon of war, but Laswell said she’d owe him big time for this and she always makes good on her promises.

Plus, when he saw your record, he couldn’t help but take you in. He has a thing for strays and is bad for collecting them for his prized task force.

When you completed your first mission, he knew you were staying with 141 and he’s fight tooth and nail to keep you. Seeing you smash through enemy defenses like they were nothing and crushing enemy troops like they’re bugs is a sight he’d never forget.

Gaz

When Price told them they would have a giant on their team, he thought his captain meant König would be a permanent member on 141. Then you were shown to them, easily the shortest person in the room.

When you demonstrated your ability on the training grounds by turning into the Armored Titan before all of them, he was speechless. One moment, you’re some scrawny looking kid and the next, you’re a bulky beast that towers over them.

He was interested in knowing how you came to be and asked Price, who handle his your file. When he learned that you were nothing but a lab rat for all of your life and now had nowhere to go, he reached out, offering you someone to talk to and showing you how to live outside of a cold, dark lab.

Obviously you were confined to the base at night for safety reasons, but as long as you had an escort, you were allowed to leave during the day. During that time, he would show you around London, pointing out important landmarks and tourist attractions.

He’ll always treasure the first mission you went on with them, charging through the enemy base and shrugging off small arms and explosives like they were mosquito bites. That was probably the first mission where all the enemies were killed and no one on 141 fired a shot.

Ghost

Oh boy, when you first met him, he scared you more than the scientists and their endless poking and prodding.

And this man already has MAJOR trust problems. The moment he realized that you could turn into the Big Unfriendly Giant due to a paper cut, he was demanding Price end you back to the States.

At first, he wanted nothing to do with you. You get anywhere near him and his gaze scorched you more than exposed Titan flesh.

Then, your first mission happened. After they collected the info they were after, a few hostiles realized you were a distraction and turned their rocket launchers on their position, but before impact, you shielded them with your hand, absorbing the blast and crushing the shooters like they were bugs.

After that, he decided you were owed a little trust. After all, you are a part of 141. (Also, watching you break through an enemy compound was like fucking beautiful.)

Soap

You ever see a child on Christmas morning? That’s exactly how this hardened soldier looked like.

As a demolitions expert, he’s obsessed with being able to deal the most damage to an enemy, leaving them with absolutely nothing worth salvaging. And here you come, being able to do that like it’s nothing!

Of course he’s a little wary of you, but he prides himself on being a good judge of character and seeing you as some poor kid whose whole existence revolved around being the ultimate weapon, he welcomes you with open arms and convinces his team to give you a chance.

No matter the mission, he’ll ALWAYS demand to be on your shoulder as you charge through an enemy base, pancaking hostiles and their equipment like they were bugs. Mostly because he loves watching you deal the kind of destruction he can only dream of, but also because he loves getting to ride on a giant.

Seriously, even on base, he’ll BEG you to give him a ride.

While Gaz shows you all of London’s tourist hot spots, he’ll show you to all his favorite pubs, determined that he’ll be the one to share your first drink with. He’s also determined to bring you to Scotland, insisting “it’s better than those Brits’ city.”

@darkangel4121

New CoD AU Series Idea

I know I’ve been inactive for quite some time, but I really didn’t have much of a drive to post. The HP/CoD AU idea popped into my head and I really wanted to see something like that on here and when I realized that the only way I would is if I wrote it myself and when the idea ran its course, I got bored with it and stopped. But, here’s the newest idea that’s been plaguing my thoughts as of late: a Star Wars/CoD AU!

And I want to know if anyone would be interested in it.

Now, I won’t go into too much detail just in case I end up doing it, but it takes place during the Old Republic era and the Reader is a Jedi and 141 is a clan of Mandalorians. Due to circumstances, the Reader forsakes the Jedi Order and begins adventuring around the galaxy with 141 and over time, the five of them enter a relationship.

I’ve been thinking about this for the past two weeks and wondered if anyone would be interested in it.

Their Favorite Magical Subject

Price

Charms

He remembers the first spell you used when you first joined 141: Windgardium Leviosa, which you used on a tank and made it float like it was a balloon instead of a 55 ton war machine. The sight of his boys’ eyes nearly popping out of their sockets still makes him chuckle.

His favorite use of your charms has to be after a particularly long and gruesome mission, him and his boys wanted nothing more than a cold drink, but all the bars were either closed are were clearing out to clean up after a night of rowdy customers. You then had the genius idea of using the Refilling Charm on the half-decent case of beer they were able to buy, which allowed them to drink as much as they want and the bottle would refill itself.

Needless to say, you made a lot of friends that night.

Your charms have come in handy in the field countless times, such as Alohomora, which has allowed them to quietly breach a building without setting off alarms and alerting hostile (also when he’s lost his office key for the umpteenth time and really doesn’t want anyone to know).

Gaz

Flying Class

The first time you showed up on your broomstick was the moment he knew you and him were going to be friends.

He always wants to go for a ride with you, no matter how hard a mission he was on was. In fact, the thought of soaring through the sky and feeling the wind on his face is what motivates him to power through the mission.

When you introduce him to Quidditch, he instantly falls in love. You show him your monthly copy of Quidditch Times and go over every article inside, from interviews of famous players to announcements of new broomstick models.

Please take him to a Quidditch match. A Hogwarts match, the Quidditch World Cup, he doesn’t care. All he wants is to see people play on broomsticks.

He’s tried many times to convince Price to let you fly them into missions on your broom, but the captain’s said no every time. Still, he’s sure he’ll wear the man down and get his wish one day.

Ghost

Defense Against the Dark Arts

This man is focused on the offensive and defensive aspects of magic since that’s what you’ll be using while in the field.

He may act like he doesn’t care, but he loves it when you go over every spell that’s taught in the class. His favorite spell is the Disarming Charm, Expelliarmus, as it knocks the target’s weapon out of their hands, allowing them to be apprehended or taken out.

Of course, this man would obsess over the Unforgivable Curses when you tell him about them; being able to control a man, inflict unbearable pain upon him without drawing blood, and then killing him in a single blow. Of course, he’d never ask you you cast them. To him, you’re pure and innocent; leave the heinous acts of violence to him.

And if you ever ask him to help you brush up on your charms and curses, he’ll happily agree to be your test dummy. Of course, if you want to practice blocking bullets, he’ll insist on rubber bullets and the moment you get hit, he’ll drag you to the infirmary and call it a day.

Soap

Care of Magical Creatures

While all forms of magic, no matter how dull, blow him away, this man is amazed when you tell him all the magical creatures he’s heard about in stories are real.

Especially dragons. He absolutely loses his shit when you tell him dragons are real and reside in reserves scattered around the world.

Will ask you for lessons on magical creatures and records everything in his journal, sketching creatures in great detail and listing characteristics, how to care for them, and his personal thoughts about them.

If you have any magical creatures you care for, he’ll help you with them. From feeding, grooming, and walking, he’s there with abundant energy and a bright smile. And if you ever need to leave the base for a few days, he will totally babysit.

Alejandro

Charms.

Like Price, he’s in love with your charms, but his reasons are more personal.

When you volunteered to help him rebuild Las Almos, you used what would become his favorite spell: Repairo. The sight of seeing his home being repaired in a matter of minutes before his eyes is something that will stick with him for the rest of his life.

Not only did you repair the town, you cast a spell that brought rain to help them through their summer drought and healed the hurt townspeople with healing charms, like Episkey, the Bandaging Charm, and Vulnera Sanentur.

After Las Almos was repaired and was back on its feet, you became an honorary member of Los Vaqueros and the towns people built a statue of you in the the town plaza so that your deeds would always be remembered.

König

Potions.

After you gave him the first Calming Drought, he became fascinated at the art of brewing potions and always asks to watch you whenever you have to brew a potion.

On multiple occasions, both the core members of 141 and Alejandro have walked in on you two sitting on the floor of your room, the giant sniper sitting crisscross and watching you with undivided attention as you brew a potion.

Also asks you to give him potion lessons, and you do; he keeps detailed notes on everything you do in a little notebook and studies it as he gets ready for bed. It also helps calm him down from the day’s chaos.

When he shows promise in potion-making, you allow him to help you with large orders. You also trust him to use your cauldron and personal supplies when you’re unavailable. He keeps his potion notes on him at all times and whips it out every time he brews, no matter how many times he’s made a specific potion.

Sit-Rep

Price’s phone buzzes, making him stop doing paperwork and pick it up from his desk. The screen shows a picture from Gaz: a group selfie of him, Ghost, Soap, and Merlin. From what he can tell, you four at some restaurant in downtown London, eating outside. Gaz is grinning and winking, Soap is smirking and messing with Ghost, who is obviously grinning under his mask while rolling his eyes, and Merlin smiling his usual bright smile and waving. He smiles at the sight of his boys enjoying themselves.

Missing you, Cap! Thanks for giving us the day off. Wish you were here.

Wish I could, but been putting off reports for too long. Have some fun for me.

While it was true he’d been slacking on the latest mission reports, they didn’t demand his immediate attention. He gave those four the day off so he could host a very important meeting; one that Merlin couldn’t know about and the other three couldn’t attend without making fools of themselves, the 141, and Merlin.

Just then, someone knock at his door.

“Enter.”

The door opens and one of the new recruits, Welles, enters his office.

“Captain, the VIPs are here.”

The door opens a bit more and a man and a woman can be seen behind the soldier.

“Thank you, Private.” He stands up and walks towards his guests. “You can go.”

The private nods and leaves.

“Mr and Mrs L/N. I’m glad you can make it.”

“Thank you for having us, Captain Price,” Mrs. L/N responds, smiling as he and her shake hands. As he looks at her, he can see where Merlin got his eyes and jawline from.

“Good to see you again, Captain,” Mr. L/N adds, shaking his hand. It’s then he notices Merlin and his father share the same nose and ears.

“Please, make yourselves at home.” He motions for them to sit at the two chairs in front of his desk “Can I get you some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

“Appreciate it, Captain. Whatever you have’s be fine.”

The two take their seats as he prepares the tea at the kettle in the corner of his office. Ever since Merlin joined 141, he’s made it a point to arrange for regular meetings with his parents; as powerful a wizard he is, Merlin’s still a minor and a civilian and his parents are trusting Price to care for their son. Of course, he knows the kid would object to this meeting as he didn’t want to upset his parents with all the dangerous missions he’s gone on, so Price tries to schedule these get-togethers whenever the kid would be away from the base for a couple hours. Hence why he gave Merlin the day off and permission to go to London.

He also had his lieutenant and two sergeants go with you since Soap and Gaz would be their usual goofy selves and Ghost would just recount every dangerous moment of every mission he’d been a part of.

No, he was the only one who could do this properly. Plus, as the commanding officer of 141, it was his duty to keep the parents of his youngest soldier informed.

“Here you are.” He places three cups on his desk and takes his seat. “Hope it’s halfway decent.”

“If you’ve brewed it, it’ll be lovely,” Mrs. L/N responds as she takes a sip from her cup. “So, how is Y/N doing? Is he eating enough? He wouldn’t want to have special treatment, but I don’t think those MREs you boys eat are fit for human consumption.”

“M/N—“ F/N cuts her off, but Price just chuckles, waving him off.

“It’s fine, she’s just making sure the boy eats a proper meal. We save the MREs for missions that we know that’ll take a few days. While we’re here, we have actual food. Don’t worry, ma’am, he’s eating proper meals.”

She nods in appreciation and takes another sip.

“What about his role on missions,” F/N asks. “I know when he first started going with you and the others, he said he was kept in the back, serving in a support role, but I remember my time in the Army and plans rarely survived contact with the enemy.”

He remembers pulling F/N’s file when Merlin told him his father was a veteran; his father joined the military right out of high school and was deployed in Afghanistan in 2002 when his squad was ambushed by a squad of Taliban fighters; the reports say he fought bravely and was the sole survivor. After that, he was honorably discharged and returned to civilian life.

“I admit, your son has had to be more involved in our missions than I would like. He’s saved our asses loads of times with that Protego spell of his and capturing targets is a lot easier when he’s stunned them with Stupify.” M/N opens her mouth to speak, but F/N grasps her hand in his. “I wish I could stop him from being put in these positions, but I’m afraid he’s determined to help out in every way possible.”

“That’s our Y/N,” M/N chuckles softly. “He’s always wanted to help however he can.” She stares at him, her eyes glassy. “Please, Captain Price, keep an eye on him. I know you can’t be everywhere at the same time, but he’s all we have.”

She isn’t exaggerating; according to the L/N Family files, Y/N was a miracle in more ways than once. M/N had less than a 5% chance of getting pregnant due to some genetic condition, and after trying for over a year, she finally gave birth to Y/N, which took a lot out of both her and the boy, and after they were both stabilized, the couple were told that she’d never be able to get pregnant again, making this their only child. They didn’t care, they had their miracle child and that was enough. The day of his first birthday, they got a hell of a surprise when M/N was bringing his cake when she tripped and Y/N had managed to stop both his mom and the cake from falling and after a visit from Professor McGonagall, they found out their son was a wizard, and when he turned eleven, they had to send him off to Hogwarts. As if it wasn’t bad enough not being able to see him for most of the year, now they have to worry about their son being in active war zones.

Knowing he was responsible for their only child was something that kept him up at night.

“Don’t worry, M/N.” He takes her hands into his. “I’ll look after him as if he was my own.”

And, in a way, he sees Y/N as his own.

“Thank you, Captain.” She wipes her eyes. “Oh, there was something I was wanting to ask you.”

“Babe, I don’t think—“

“Oh, shush, F/N. I’m his mother, it’s my job to know these things. Plus, you can’t tell me you’re not the least bit interested?”

F/N opens his mouth to retort, but closes it. To say Price is curious is an understatement.

“What is it?”

“In his last few letters, I’ve noticed he writes about the rest of 141, the leader of those Vaqueros, and that man from KorTac in a much different way. At first, he thought you all would resent him for not being a soldier and he tried to stay out of your way, then he started going on and on about all the fun he’s been having on base, and now I can’t help but think he’s gotten a little crush.”

Price’s eyebrows shoot up.

Merlin has a crush? On someone here?

“Of course, I couldn’t begin to hazard a guess since he writes a lot about each of them, but since you see him everyday, could you tell who it might be?”

Price begins scouring his brain to come up with an answer. Just who could his crush be? With Merlin turning eighteen soon, he might just act on it; not that he had a problem with it, he’d be absolutely ecstatic if the lad would make an honest man out of his boys. Simon seemed to be the least likely since he thinks of himself a husk of a man and undeserving of love, but Merlin’s had a positive influence on his oldest soldier. In the past, Simon found little to be fascinating and had no desire to hang out with any of the team outside of training and the celebratory post-mission drinks, but with an actual wizard in their midst, Price notices the lieutenant to be a lot more attentive when the kid demonstrates his magic.

Not the most obvious pairing, but it wouldn’t be the strangest thing he’s heard of.

Next up is Gaz, which he can definitely see. The sergeant and Merlin became friends not long after his introduction to the team and they’re together a good portion of the day. Price has walked in on Merlin giving lessons to Gaz, who looked to be absorbing everything like a sponge. Price is sure that, in a relationship, Gaz would be the perfect gentleman and would treat Merlin as he should be treated and no doubt the kid would return the favor, especially with a lot of flying around on his broomstick.

Could see it happening. They’d be pretty cute together.

After Gaz and Soap, and he feels his blood pressure rising at the thought of his demolitions expert and wizard being boyfriends. Not that he’d disapprove of their relationship or that they wouldn’t treat each other well. The Scotsman was practically the wizard’s first friend since he was blown away at the sight of magic and the two have been joined at the hip since day one. What made him worried was the chaos such a relationship would bring. Soap has practically no impulse control, and being in a relationship with Merlin meant having unlimited access to the boy at all hours of the day, meaning his infamous pranks would never cease; guns would runaway on tiny legs when people tried to pick them up, doors would close just as people attempted to walk through them, and recruits would be chased by fireworks that turned into dragons.

But, like Gaz, John would treat the lad with the utmost respect, and there isn’t a doubt in Price’s mind that the two would be a stereotypical lovey-dovey couple that makes people gag at the excessive sweetness.

Another likely candidate. But, I’ll probably have to talk to Merlin about Soap’s pranks.

Then there’s Alejandro, and Price isn’t sure how to feel about that one; he’s seen the man at the bar and no doubt the Colonel is very charismatic and flirty, always managing to have a dozen men and women around him the entire time he’s there. Of course, Price knows that the man would treat the lad well, but Alejandro isn’t likely to give up his charismatic behavior. Plus, Alejandro is Mexican Special Forces, so if the two were to get together, Merlin would likely get away whenever he could to see him, and he doesn’t want to part way with their wizard.

There’s also the rumors about Alejandro and Rudy…

Not sure about that one, but after Merlin repaired all of Las Almos, no doubt Alejandro would have some feelings.

Finally, there’s König, their resident giant. The two avoided each other at first, but it was due to both of them being scared of one another. After they got to know each other and Merlin started supplying the merc with potions to help him with his crippling social anxiety, it wasn’t uncommon to see the Australian following the shorter lad like a lost puppy. König already treats the kid like he’s made of glass, and if they were to become boyfriends, Price would see the merc begging Merlin to allow him to wrap him up in bubble wrap for his protection. But, overall, he’d see no problem with it… other than Merlin leaving to see König whenever he was off base.

Another possibility…

It’s then he notices F/N and M/N are staring at him, waiting for his reply.

“To tell you the truth,” he sighs. “I couldn’t even begin to hazard a guess.”

“Really,” M/N sighs. “Not even a little?”

He picks up one of the many framed photographs from his desk and shows it to them.

“Based on this picture, it could really be any of them.”

They look at it and smile. The picture is when Merlin took them to Hogsmeade during a long leave Laswell gave them; in it, they’re at the Three Broomsticks, enjoying the butterbeer and each other. It’s easily one of Price’s favorite pictures as it not only shows all his boys having fun, but as it’s been enchanted, it replays that moment over and over, allowing him to relive that happy memory as if it happened yesterday.

“I’m glad he’s having fun with you all.” F/N hands the picture back to him. “Thank you for keeping an eye on him, Captain.”

“I like to think he keeps an eye on us just as much.”

And with that, they begin their monthly ritual of discussing the lad who’s brought so much magic into their lives.

Worth Every Bit

A/N: a bit different from my usual posts, but I had this idea a while back and I just had to write it.

“Y/N, are you still out there,” your father yells from the back porch, his voice echoing through the forest.

“I’m almost done,” you yell back, adding the last of the lephria leaves to your basket. “I’m on my way back!”

Tonight is a full moon, so as your village’s only herbologist, you know that herbs gathered right now will be more effective than at any other time. And with so many of your fellow villagers being elderly, it’s important to have the best ingredients on hand should anything happen. Fall is coming to an end and soon the temperature will being to drop, meaning people will get sicker a lot more easily, so now it’s important to be able to brew potions as quickly as possible.

“Got everything you needed,” he asks as you walk towards him.

“Of course,” you beam, holding up your basket full of gathered herbs.

He smiles and pats you on the head, your omega instincts sponging up the attention. Of course, your father worries about you since you just so happen to be a male omega, a rare subspecies of human; omegas used to make up 10% of the realm, but after the Great War nearly a century ago, the omega population was reduced to less than 5%, and male omegas are less than 1% of that, so he’s constantly on guard. Your mother left not long after you were born, so you’re the only family the poor beta has.

“Let’s head to the tavern,” he says, motioning to said tavern. “I think the feast should be ready by now.”

The village always celebrates the end of fall with a big feast with music, games, and drinking; everyone gathers inside the tavern and goes home a few hours before the sun rises.

“Alright,” you say, excited to eat the mayor’s signature roasted boar.

Just then, the warning bell is rung, its chime telling everyone that something potentially dangerous is approaching.

“It’s a Tribal carriage,” the guard shouts from his watchtower. “It’s a Tribal carriage!”

And just like that, the air went stiff and a sense of dread entered your body, as it no doubt did to your father and everyone else in the village. The Tribe is the largest and most powerful kingdom in all of Arcadia; what started as just a small band of barbarians evolved into a vast kingdom that, under its current chief, everyone fears and no one dares challenge. For them to be here, a village on the edge of nowhere with no strategic value whatsoever, only makes this all the more scarier.

“Get in the house,” your father orders, forcing you inside the house before shutting the door and running around to meet everyone else at the main gate.

You run around to the front of the house where a window gives you a perfect view of the village entrance, where all the men have gathered, ready to defend their home should it come to it. Not that it would do any good, the Tribe is known throughout the realm for its strong and fearsome warriors who seem to lust for battle and blood; even if the carriage carries a single warrior, he would be more than enough to conquer the village and everyone in it… if there was any survivors.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the carriage pulls into the village and comes to a halt just at the crowd. Two identical men jump down from the carriage and you instantly know who they are: the cousins and personal guards to the Tribal Chief himself, Jimmy and Jey Uso, known as the Twin Terrors. They’re known for being a deadly duo capable of fighting over a dozen men and coming out on top, fighting in perfect unison that many have thought they can read each other’s minds; they’re also known for being beside their cousin at all times, unless he’s sent them on a mission that requires professionals. From your spot, you can see they’re alphas; their sleeveless leather armor reveal the signature tattoos on their muscular arms and the hardened expressions they have show they’re here on a mission and won’t tolerate any interference.

Just what are they here to do?

Jimmy opens the door and out steps a bald man that you instantly identify by the very expensive and gaudy robes he’s dressed in: Paul Heyman, the Wise Man to the Tribal Chief and ambassador of the Tribe; he’s known for not only advising the Chief on running the Tribe, but also carrying out anything that requires shrewd negotiations. With three key members of the Tribe here in your isolated village, the mystery only grows. Just what could they want?

Then, the twins stand side by side on one side of the door and Paul stands on the other and the last occupant of the wagon steps down, and as he does, you feel your blood go cold and your heart skip a beat. In wolf pelt armor and a massive battle axe on his back stands the infamous Tribal Chief and Head of the Table, Roman Reigns. If Jimmy and Jey are alphas, then Roman is the apex of alphas as his muscular body looks like he crushes boulders as a hobby and wrestles bears for fun; his long hair and signature tattoo stretching from his right arm to the right side of his torso only adds to his fearsome appearance. As you look, you notice his last signature item: a gold gauntlet covered in blood; legend has it that a punch from it is capable of knocking any man down and leaves him unable to get back up.

As he looks around the village, you feel the atmosphere completely change for the worse. The Tribal Chief never leaves his castle unless he’s leading his men into battle to conquer another enemy. And right now, that seems to be the case.

“We welcome you, Tribal Chief, to Aster Village,” the mayor speaks, clearly trying to keep himself from shaking. “I am Alador Finnigan, the mayor of this fine village. To what do we owe this honor?”

“The Tribal Chief has come to make a deal,” Paul Heyman responds, his voice overflowing with the pompousness he’s known for. He turns to the twins who have pulled a massive chest made of silver and gold from the back of the carriage and place it next to the man’s feet. Paul opens it and reveals the massive pile of gold and platinum coins, gems the size of your fist, and jewelry of all types inside. Your eyes widen and all the men gasp at the massive amount of treasure. “The Tribal Chief is willing to give you all that you see here in exchange for the male omega that lives in this village.”

Once again, your heart stops. The Tribal Chief, the most feared man in the entire realm, is here for you?

“That’s my son you’re talking about,” your father grows, stepping forward, his knife drawn.

“You’re the omega’s father,” the Wise Man asks, though it sounds more like a statement than a question. “When the Tribal Chief had learned that a male omega, unclaimed and unpromised to an alpha, living in this isolated village, he knew he just had to have him. And, he’s willing to offer you all that you see here in exchange for him. Of course, for such a rare treasure, he’s agreed to offer you more.”

“My son isn’t livestock to be bought! Especially to some bastard who’s just going to use him for breeding!”

It’s then the Tribal Chief takes a step forward and if looks could kill, your father would be a pile of ashes from the look he was getting from the Tribal Chief.

“I understand you’re protective of your son, who many would kill to claim him, but you will show the proper respect for me, beta,” the man growls, making you shiver. “I’ll let this go, but talk about me like that again, and I’ll take your tongue.”

“My Tribal Chief,” Paul Heyman chimes in, getting between the two men. “I’m sure he meant no disrespect, it was just a spur of the moment. If we weren’t negotiating for his son, he would be acknowledging you.”

This seemed to placate the man, who took a step back and nodded, signaling to resume the negotiations.

“Sir, I can assure you that your son will not be used solely for breeding. The Tribal Chief has the purest of intentions with your son; he intends to take your son as his mate, and he will be treated with the highest respect. As you know, male omegas are highly coveted, so being the male omega to the Tribal Chief will earn him a place of honor at the table.”

“I don’t care if he replaces your Tribal Chief as the Head of the Table, he’s my son and he’s staying here.”

A blind man could see the look of fury on Roman’s face; he’s known for always getting what he wants and what he wants is you, and he’s not taking no for an answer.

“Sir, everyone has a price, and the Tribe has amassed treasure from all over the realm,” the Wise Man chimes in, clearly nervous at how the negotiations are going. “Just name whatever you desire, and I’m sure we can meet it.”

“We’re not haggling over the price of a set of armor, asshole! We’re talking about my son and as long as I breathe, he’ll never be yours!”

In that moment, you make up your mind. The Tribe’s reputation is known to all, and that reputation says they’re going to get tired of arguing and eventually resort to violence, which will result in the death of your father and probably the village. You throw open the door and approach the crowd.

“If you want me so bad, you should be talking to me,” you say, trying your best to sound confident, but at best, you keep your voice from cracking.

At once, all eyes fall on you and it takes all your energy not to melt into a puddle. The Tribal Chief’s eyes fall on you and smirks.

Guess he likes what he sees.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing,” your father growls. “Get back in the house!”

He tries to pull you back to the house, but you yank your hand out of his grip and keep taking.

“I’m this village’s only herbologist. In addition to all the treasure for my father, if you promise to find a replacement for me, I’ll go with you.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Paul responds before looking to Roman. “Right, my Tribal Chief?”

“Yeah,” he says, his deep voice making you weak to your core. “We’ll have a new herbologist here first thing tomorrow morning.” He walks up to you, his hulking figure towering over you. He holds out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes.” You take his hand and look up to him. “My Tribal Chief.”

His smirk grows and becomes all teeth. He motions to the carriage and you walk towards it without any argument.

“Y/N,” your father cries out as Roman opens the door and helps you up it. You can tell he’s trying not to cry, but the tears still fall. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And with that, you and your soon-to-be mate enter the carriage, followed by the Wise Man. As soon as the twins are situated at the front, the carriage begins to move, passing by the village gates.

“Are you satisfied, my Tribal Chief,” Paul asks, his tone rich in smugness. “I know you’ve been wanting an omega for so long and now you have the rarest of the rare.”

“You’ve done well, Wise Man. When we first arrived at that backwater village, I thought that we’d have to offer far more that that measly little chest.” He gently grasps your chin and makes him look at you. “And you worth every bit of those stupid little trinkets.”

The Boggart Problem

Laswell catches wind of a group of terrorists meeting with a group of Dark Witches to trade weapons. You and the rest of the boys are sent in to stop it; a fight breaks out and in the chaos, the box containing the weapons is opened, revealing Boggarts transforming into everyone’s greatest fears.

A/N: a comment from @hellnoname inspired me to bring this concept I’ve had to life. I just hope it lives up to expectations.

Price

He’s been in the military for most of his life, and has seen the worst mankind can conjure. He thought he was capable of powering through the sheer horror his jobs brings while in the field, but his Boggart makes him reconsider that.

As the creature stops spinning and reveals his greatest fear: the corpses of his team, you included.

Sure, he’s seen death before, watched the life fade from a man’s eyes and witnessed his fellow soldiers be torn apart by a flurry of bullets. But it’s different with all of you.

141 is the first task force he’s personally assembled and led; he carefully picked each member and approached them to convince them to join. He’s stood side by side with all of you as gunfire rains from around the corner and laughed about it later at the bar for post-mission celebrations.

To him, you’re not just soldiers, but his sons. The ones he never had. And the thought of losing one of you hits harder than any artillery shell; seeing you makes it even worse. A young lad, still just a boy, with so much talent and potential inside and his whole life ahead of him. And it was cut short.

You agreed to join them in their missions; to boldly march with them, even if it could mean death. And worst of all, you put your trust in him. And this is how he thanks you.

When you finally cast Riddikulus and banish the damn things, he opens up more when you stop at the bar afterwards. That Boggart reminded him that in their line of work, death can claim any one of you, and he wants to make sure he spends as much time with all of you as possible.

Of course, death can take his boys over his dead body.

Gaz

Gaz’s Boggart would probably be something from his childhood that plagues him to this day. Something traumatic that put his life in danger.

Say, for instance, a snake bite. When he was little, his parents took him on a camping trip and when they turned their backs, he wandered off and unfortunately found the UK’s only breed of venomous snake, the Adder. The poor thing managed to see it pounce just before it bit him.

Luckily, his parents heard his scream and were able to find him. His dad had the training necessary to suck the venom out and he was rushed to the nearest hospital. He made a full recovery, but was forever scarred with an intense fear of snakes. Just the sight of one is enough to make his heart beat faster, his palms sweaty, and his breathing quicken.

Now, that same snake not only stands before him, but now it’s giant. Even bigger than Ghost. Just as his little Gaz remembered it.

He’s paralyzed. Countless missions in countless hostile environments, and an overgrown lizard is what makes him completely shut down.

You manage to cast Riddikulus before it can bite him and it takes him a while to snap back to reality. After he does, he vows to beat his fear no matter the cost.

Ghost

Trauma alert! Trauma alert! Trauma alert!

No, but seriously, Price may have years in the military on Ghost and seen more action, but Ghost has literally crawled back from the grave, if you know his past. And if you’re familiar with his upbringing, then you know that this man has seen hell itself.

For a man as troubled as Ghost, what could be so intimidating that it would make him completely paralyzed in fear?

The answer is simple: himself. His Boggart turns into a copy of him; a version of himself that’s completely snapped.

The first thing it does is choke you and Soap, the two closest things he has to friends… or what he imagines friends would be since he never had them growing up.

And the truly screwed up part? It’s staring at him the entire time, as if saying, “Look what you’re doing. They love you, they trust you, they put their lives in your hands, and this is how you repay them. How can you be so cruel?”

And that’s what scares him the most: the fact that he can snap at any moment; that one day all his repressed shit will bury him and he’ll hurt those that he cares for, which he thinks is the only thing he can do.

After the Boggarts are banished, he takes some time to himself before joining the rest of you at the bar. The thought of you and Johnny being hurt by his own hands is enough to bring a tear to his eye, which he thought was no longer possible.

Soap

He may be 141’s resident comedian, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his demons. He finds out that Boggarts can not only take the form of physical fears, but abstract ones, as well. And it makes its victim’s fears to the surface, no matter how much they may know it’s not true.

His Boggart turns into his fear of being alone, surrounding him in a seemingly endless fog that cuts him off from the rest of the team. Even worse, it seems to block all sound, so he’s unable to call for help.

He’s always been afraid of being alone, even as a child, so that’s why he’s always so loud and always being friendly, and why at night he needs to have some sort of noise in the background. Being alone for too long without any sort of noise brings some sort of dread in him that leaves him paralyzed.

He screams in the fog, but nothing comes out. He thrashes, but hits nothing. Eventually, he collapses into a ball, tying to comfort himself in some way, telling himself that he’s not really alone and that his team will save him.

And you do, you cast Riddikulus and help him back to his feet. He’s not ashamed to admit that he clung to you the entire walk to the helicopter.

At that bar, he clings a bit closer to the rest of you. So long as he has you and the rest of 141, he’ll march right into enemy fire, kick down the gates to hell, and give Satan himself a wedgie. So long as he’s never alone.

Alejandro

His fear is easy to figure out, but that doesn’t make it any less frightful: a vision of Las Almos engulfed in flames and her people screaming as the fire consumes them.

Like with Soap, his Boggart is able to bring his fear to the surface and completely paralyze him in a matter of seconds. Deep down, he knows his home is still standing, but right now, the Boggart is making him think his greatest fear has come to pass.

In the vision, he sees Rudy, the closest thing he has to brother, on fire; Rudy screams for Alejandro, but he’s unable to do anything. And for some reason, death doesn’t come, just more pain.

As the flames grow stronger and the cries become louder, he begins to break down. His home is gone, reduced to a pile of ash, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

After the Boggart is gone, he makes arrangements to go home for a few days. He knows that what he saw was nothing more than an illusion, but it’ll help set his mind at ease. And Laswell is more than happy to give him the time off.

König

Like Alejandro, his fear is easier to figure out, but that doesn’t make it any less valid.

All his life, he’s struggled with terrible social anxiety and he’s only just recently made progress to beat it. His Boggart takes the form of hundreds of eyes, all of them staring at him, judging him, belittling him.

He always takes a Calming Drought before a mission, to help beat the jitters that come with his line of work, but the Boggart somehow overpowers the potion and not only brings his anxiety back, but amplifies it tenfold.

He begins to hyperventilate and eventually crumples up into a ball, trying to make himself so small that he can hide from the eyes, but he’s reminded that his size makes him too big to hide anywhere.

He cries out for someone, anyone, to help him. To make the eyes disappear. To make his anxiety disappear. He eventually starts to choke up.

You manage to banish the Boggart and help calm him down, giving him a Calming Drought you keep on you whenever you’re around the Australian giant.

After he gets back to the base, he locks himself in his room, turning out all the lights and covering the single window he has. In the absolute darkness, he does the breathing exercises he was taught as a kid to curb his anxiety. For a while, he insists on being alone and Price is happy to give him his alone time.

Although, he’s happy to accept your offer of using your Animagus form if you happen to be a cat/dog. He finds petting your soft fur helps and asks if you’d be willing to do this again, which you happily agree to.

A Trip to Hogsmeade

After a particularly long and grueling mission, Laswell manages to secure a month long leave for the 141, as well as Alejandro, and König. Of course, they were happy to hear that they’d have a long time to unwind, but they didn’t know how to occupy that much time! They’re soldiers, they’re not used to having that much free time. As for you, you kept on top of your studies, so you had a few days free to offer a great way to start their leave: a trip to Hogmeade, the only all-wizarding village in Scotland! Naturally, they were excited to not only see more of the Wizarding World, but also to spend more time with you! What could be better?

Price

He was blown away at the sight of everything. Seriously, it’s like going back in the past with all these stone buildings! This man would seriously nerd out over the history of the village.

“This place served as the wizards’ headquarters during the Goblin Rebellion. Wait, you guys have goblins?”

He loves the Three Broomsticks. He loves a good pint and he’s been to A LOT of sketchy bars and powered through them for the sake of good beer, but the smell of goats that’s synonymous with the Hog’s Head is where he draws the line. “No beer in the world is good enough to stand that smell.” Plus, the butterbeer is absolutely delicious.

Also, he loves the Three Broomsticks because it’s very welcoming. He sees his boys enjoying themselves, laughing, and cutting up, it warms his weary heart. They get dirty so the rest of the world can stay clean, but it’s hard to keep fighting when it seems like all there is to life is the mission and the only thing to look forward to is death. Here, they’re not soldiers, they’re just men having a good time.

When it’s time to leave, he brings back half a dozen barrels of butterbeer for him to take home. He can get a good pint anywhere back home, but the best butterbeer is only found at the Three Broomsticks. You also bought him a quick-quotes quill from Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop so he can write reports and paperwork without having to do any writing. The face he made when you told him made your heart skip a beat. But, his most important souvenir is a group picture taken back at the Three Broomsticks; it’s enchanted, so it’s like a moment of time captured within a frame. He keeps it on his desk at all times.

Gaz

He looks like a kid in a candy store when you arrived at Hogsmeade. “Everyone here is a wizard?” He looks at every store you pass by with fascination.

Also, speaking of being in a candy store, he absolutely loses his mind when you show him Honeydukes. Like, the minute you walk through the door, his jaw literally drops to the floor. The sight of candy packed into every corner of the store nearly sends him into a coma.

He sees the dozens of boxes of chocolate frogs for sale and he gives you the most irresistible puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. You buy as many boxes he can carry so he try to complete his collection.

He also loves the Sprintwitches Sporting Needs store. He fell in love with a Thunderbolt VII that was on display and exchanged all the money he had for the galleons needed for you to buy it. Despite him saying it was yours, you told him that your money bought it, so it was his to keep and whenever he wanted to go for a ride, you would drop everything so he could fly on it. He keeps it proudly displayed in his room back on base, above his bed. Soap is totally jealous.

When you leave, he has dozens of chocolate frogs, sugar quills, a gallon of rocky road no-melt ice cream, and the Thunderbolt VII, which is the best souvenir.

Ghost

“So, an all-wizarding village? Impressive.” On the outside, he keeps his usual indifferent attitude, but on the inside, he’s excited. An entire village full of magic.

While Price avoids the Hog’s Head, he heads straight into it and orders a firewhisky, loving the unique burning sensation that comes as it hits the back of his throat. You try to convince him to leave since the smell is strong enough to be smelled from the outside, but he just shrugs and keeps drinking.

He later asks if there’s anything you can do to get the smell out of his clothes and cast several spells that make the smell disappear and he thanks you.

He later gets kicked out when he breaks a witch’s hand after she called you a Mudblood. Aberforth kicks him out to appease his other customers, but gives him an approving nod and a few bottles. He later joins the rest of you at the Three Broomsticks, deflecting all Soap’s questions for leaving. “Price needs help babysitting you idiots. And Merlin’s too young to be a chaperone.”

He honestly couldn’t care less about souvenirs. Sure, the free bottles of firewhisky are great, but he wasn’t looking for useless trinkets to have to drag back home. Of course, you couldn’t let him walk away with nothing and bought him a custom made balaclava that can not be torn by non-magically means. “That’ll save me a fortune on masks. Thanks, kid.” Under his mask, he’s blushing.

Soap

Come on, you know this guy lost his ever-loving mind when you arrived. Like, it took Price AND Ghost to restrain him. “Johnny, for fuck’s sake, people are staring!” “But that place is an owl post office, LT! Owl post office!”

Finally, after five minutes, he finally calmed down enough to be let go, but he was still so excited that he grabbed and dragged you to each shop and had you explained what it sold. “You have a wand shop here, too?! Can we go in?!”

When you showed him Madam Snelling’s Tress Emporium, he had his mohawk touched up. Of course, he couldn’t resist to have something magical done to it. He walked out with his hair charmed with a variation of Colovaria, allowing it to change colors on its own. Price and Ghost their heads while Gaz goes in to do the same thing.

You already know his favorite store is going to be Zonko’s Joke Shop. As soon as you tell him that there’s a store that sells magical prank and joke items, he has you show him the way, leaving the rest of your friends behind. If you thought he was bad when you first showed up, he somehow gets worse at Zonko’s. He spends a good hour in their, going over everything for sale before walking out with armfuls of dungbombs, frog spawn soap, and a nose-biting teacup he was going to give Laswell (you later bought two sneakoscopes to give to Price and Ghost to help avoid Soap’s tricks going too far. You also promise to take Soap to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes for even more joke items.

Soap later finds out that his joke items are just as valuable in the field as they are off it. Enemies are easy pickings when they’re hacking away from the smell of a dungbomb, or it’s easy to sneak past guards when a bunch of frogs appear from out of nowhere.

He leaves Hogsmeade with so many joke items, it’s not even funny. He also helped himself to some candy from Honeydukes. Him and Gaz trade cards on the way home.

Alejandro

He’s awestruck when you arrive and Rudy has to bring him back to reality. “Dios mio. This village is amazing…”

He’s ecstatic like Soap, but he’s refined like Ghost; he keeps his excitement under control. He follows you down each street and listens to what you say, and if he asks questions if he has them. “And here we are at the Hogsmeade Post Office. Here, people can send and receive mail and packages via owls.” “Can you send mail anywhere using owls?” “Yes, magical owls are able to send mail to anywhere in the world.”

Him and Rudy go crazy at Honeydukes. Growing up, they didn’t have the chance to get candy whenever they wanted like their friends, so now they have the opportunity to get as much candy as they want. Alejandro’s favorite candy is the Fizzing Whizzbees, he loves to feel lighter than air for a few minutes while Rudy is crazy about no-melt ice cream; seriously, he gets triple scoops of different flavors.

They would pop into the Hog’s Head, but just long enough to buy a bottle of firewhisky to take home. After they have the bottle, they leave. “That smell… it’s not of this world…” After that, they’ll spend the rest of the trip at the Three Brromsticks

They would take home the bottle of firewhisky, several types of candy from Honeydukes, a few hiccouch sweets from Zonko’s, and a barrel of butterbeer, but that was Rudy’s decision. “Rudy, hermano, we don’t have the room for it…” “We’re make the room, damn it! Just, help me roll it…” You help by casting Reducio to make the barrel small enough to be put in a pocket.

König

This man was a bit overwhelmed when you first arrived, and understandably so. You talk him down from his mini panic attack, give him a calming drought you packed just in case, and gently led him down the streets. “Thank you, maus. This village is quite nice.”

If you decide to use this trip to stock up on your potion ingredients, he’ll 1000% carry the basket you fill up. He also loves it when you explain what each ingredient is and what it’s used for. Also asks if he can brew a potion by himself. Please let him, he’ll do a good job, he swears.

I can see him choosing Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop as his favorite shop in Hogsmeade. It’s away from the noisiest part of the village, it has a very calming atmosphere inside, and the tea is absolutely delicious. His favorite is a tea that’s enchanted to show the drinker’s happiest memory after a single sip. His is when he first joined KorTag and met Horangi, his best friend and the only one who believed he could become a sniper.

Of course, you had to tell him that the tea shop was known for being a popular place for dates. Fortunately, he wore his hood and it hid the nuclear red blush that covered his face. “A date! I mean, I would love to go on a date with you, maus! If we were dating! And I would be honored if you wanted to date me!”

After the incident, he starts to have daydreams about going on a date with you…

When it’s time to go home, he has a fancy teacup and several bags of that “memory tea” from the tea shop, a few pumpkin pasties from Honeydukes, and a collapsible cauldron from Ceridwen’s Cauldron so you can teach him how to brew his own calming drought.

Their Favorite Creature

A/N: I remembered a comment on my very first post and that became the inspiration for this one.

Price

Phoenix. This man sees them as majestic creatures and can’t help but be in awe at the sight of them.

It takes his breath away when it bursts into flames and is reborn. The first time it happened, he might have gotten a little scared; he was aware of their immorality, but the sight of flames bursting in front of him brings up some unpleasant memories.

But, he gets a little down when the bird is reborn because he wishes many of his fallen compatriots could rise from the flames.

He had a stand specially made for him (using enchanted wood to resist flames) and when he’s filling out paperwork, he looks up and smiles at the bird. He also keeps a box of plants to feed the phoenix.

He loves to use the phoenix to deliver letters/packages to you. It always amazes him to see it deliver mail, no matter how heavy it is.

You managed to pluck a feather from the phoenix and had it turned into a quill enchanted to never run out of ink. He uses it only to write letters to you. He keeps it in a special box in his desk and he takes its security very seriously.

With your help, he bottled some tears from the Phoenix as they possess amazing healing qualities. More often than he cares to remember, those tears that brought back his boys from the brink of death and he’s so thankful to both the Phoenix and you.

Gaz

Puffskein. Hands down, this man will no nuts at the sight of a fuzzy ball.

He also loves the fact that it eats bugs, specifically spiders. I can see Gaz facing down a hail of bullets and not batting an eye, but the sight of a spider will have him jumping in his dad’s Price’s arms. So, he would ask to take the Puffskein home to not only cuddle with, but to eat any bugs that find their way in.

When you told him that a popular game involves throwing Puffskeins around, he was understandably upset. I mean, to him, it was similar to throwing puppies against the wall. But, when you told him their fuzziness protected them from harm, he relaxed and played the game. Eventually, it turned into a regular thing between the two of you. Think of it like ‘Hit The Bottles,’ but with Puffskeins instead of baseballs.

Gaz will absolutely lose his mind if you show up with more Puffskeins. Will absolutely lie down on the ground and let them swarm him. He’s in heaven.

Please get this man a Puffskein plushie for his birthday. Will absolutely sleep with it every night and if it goes missing, will tear the entire base apart in order to find it, waking everyone up in the process. Everyone will pitch in so he’ll calm down and they can go back to bed.

Ghost

Thestrals. Let’s face it, this man will gravitate towards these misunderstood creatures.

When you showed up to the base on a carriage hitched up to four Thestrals and explained why the soldiers could see them while some of the base’s support staff couldn’t, he felt a certain kinship to them.

“Only people who’ve seen death can see them, huh? So, I could’ve seen them all my life.”

He says many self-deprecating jokes about him and them being signs of death, but when you shut that train of thought down and tell him that he’s a better man than he gives himself credit for, he can’t help but smile. “Careful, Merlin. I might start to think you care about me.”

Despite his protests, will absolutely love to ride the carriage you brought with you.

“Ghost, do you want to ride the carriage before I have to take it back?” “Merlin, I’m a hardened dog of war. I’ve taken so many lives that I’ve become death incarnate. My reputation is known to so many terrorists, they have nightmares about me.” “So, is that a no?” “…Yes, I want to ride it.”

Soap

Common Welsh Green. Come on, did you think it would be anything other than a dragon?

The first time he saw one was when you took him to the Romanian Dragon Reserve and to say he was in awe is an understatement. Like, his eyes were as wide as saucers and he was stuck in place as one flew over his head.

Once you told him that they’re native to Scotland, he was giddy as you can get. He wants nothing more than to fly on the back of one while waving the Scottish flag and screaming “Scotland forever!”

Of course, he knows that’s not going to happen since dragons are dangerous creatures. But, say you have a friend who has a friend who has a friend who is capable of making that happen. This man will squeal with joy and once he gets off that dragon’s back, you will have a new best friend. Like, if you ever need anything, let him know and he’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen.

Will devote over a dozen pages of his journal to drawings to this species of dragon. From closeups to full body sketches, this man will flex his artistic muscles and draw pictures that rival the pictures from your Magical Creatures textbook.

You take him back to the reserve on his birthdays so he can see them again, and he falls more in love with these dragons and you every time.

Alejandro

Mooncalf.

The sight of a cute Mooncalf will turn this hardened freedom fighter into a baby-speaking softie. “My brothers, we continue to fight not for ourselves but for this city we love! Long live the Cowboys!” Mooncalf joins the chat. “On my god, it’s the cutest fluff baby I’ve ever seen!”

He tries to never miss every full moon because the sight of seeing them dance is a breathtaking sight. And if you bring more Moon calves to join in the dance, he can’t help but join in. Rudy joins in as well since it’s very rare he sees his brother so lively and carefree.

He does everything he can to not laugh his ass off when the townspeople freak out at the crop circles left behind from the lunar dance.

He’s also been known to allow the Mooncalf to wrap itself around his neck like some sort of scarf. One time, he got so use to the Mooncalf being around his neck that he forgot about it and led an entire debriefing with said Mooncalf still wrapped around his neck. Rudy told the soldiers not to mention it as it was the funniest thing he’d seen in a very long time.

König

Niffler. Yes, this absolute mountain of a man is head over heels with this tiny magical platypus.

It’s love at first sight when he runs into you and sees you carrying a Niffler. “That bill… those feet… Perfektion…”

Begs you to allow him to hold it every chance he gets. Of course, you him that Nifflers are known for stealing anything valuable, but he’s undeterred and relieves you of the kleptomaniac platypus.

Needless to say, chaos ensures. He took his eyes off it for one second and it ran off, stealing anything shiny along the way. Eventually, he was able to capture its and you shook everything out from its fur, including Price’s lighter.

He learned from that unfortunate incident and started keeping a bag full of shiny metallic objects (mostly bullet cases) to satisfy the creature’s cravings.

You offer to show him how to train the Niffler and it turns into a bonding experience for the two of you.

“I had fun teaching the Niffler, maus. Now, it’ll clean up bullet casings on the battlefield.”

“Can you hold my wand for me?”

Disclaimer: Since so many seem to love my first post, I decided to do this “sequel.”

Context: You’re being sent out on a recon mission and to decide to leave your wand with one of the boys.

Price

“Of course, son. I’ll keep it safe.”

This man knows that your wand is very important to you, and if it’s important to you, it’s important to him.

He also feels very honored that you chose him to safeguard your wand, as this shows you not only hold him in high regard, but also trust him with this very important object.

While he’s out of the base, he keeps your wand inside a protective case inside his kit. While he hates to take it into the field and risk it breaking, he takes confidence in the fact he personally oversaw the case’s production and gave orders to spare NO expense in its creation. The outside is composed of a military-grade alloy that can withstand fire, bullets, and even explosives while the inside is covered in soft fabric that cradles the wand, keeping it in place no matter what. And keeping it sealed is a military-grade electronic locking device that can only be opened with a 6 digit code (it’s the date you officially joined the 141).

While he’s in the base, he keeps it on a stand he whittled himself on his desk. While he’s filling out paperwork, he can’t help but look up at it every so often and he smiles when he thinks of all the moments he’s seen you cast spells that have saved their lives countless times.

But God help you if you so much as breath on the thing. He has it the way he wants it and your wand is his responsibility. Anyone found even bumping it slightly out of place will face harsh consequences. Just ask Steve the Rookie.

Steve, entering Price’s office: “You asked to see me, Captain?” Price: Takes his cigar out from his mouth. “Of course, Private. Please, take a seat.” Steve: Sits and accidentally bumps into his desk, knocking off your wand from its stand. “Sorry, Captain.” Places the wand back on its stand.” Price: Breaks his cigar in half, his eye twitching like crazy. “Not a problem, Private. Take 50 laps when you leave. And if you’re not done by sundown, add another 50.”

Gaz

“I’ll take good care of it, Y/N! I promise!”

And he does. Seriously, he immediately puts it in his locker in his quarters and is secured with 3 locks, all of which require 3 different keys.

Soap, of course, tries to get him to give it to him, which he automatically said no. The Scotsman doesn’t know the meaning of the word and keeps annoying him for the next few hours until finally he relents and takes it out of his locker.

Of course, this leads to a whole new argument. “You said look, Soap. You use your eyes to look, not your hands.” “Oh come on, I just want to hold it for a little bit! Maybe we can use some of his spells!” “That’s not how it works, Soap! Or is it…”

This leads to the two of them going out to the training ground, taking turns casting spells you’ve used before, trying to get your wand to do the same for them.

“It’s Leviosa, not Leviosaaa, Soap.” “Keep saying that, and the next spell I try is Silencio, Gaz!”

Despite his protests during this ordeal, Soap is a friend and he trusts him to be careful while he’s guarding this most important item. Just as he does the rest of Ghost Team, Los Vaqueros, and Konig. Anyone outside this sphere tries to hold it, they’re gonna have some problems. Just ask Steve

Gaz: polishing your wand like he’s seen you before. Steve: “Hey, is that Merlin’s wand? I’ve always wanted to hold it. Can I-“ The whole base witnesses Gaz chasing Steve while screaming several threats.

Ghost

“Sure.”

Despite him sounding so indifferent, he’s positively ecstatic that you trust him so much as to leave him with the most important tool to a wizard.

And he’s determined to not let you down.

At first, he was going to keep it in his room, locked in his desk, but then he thought about someone breaking in and stealing it. Sure, the base is full of highly trained soldiers prepped for combat, but he’s an army onto himself and decides that it would be safer if he kept it at all times.

Of course, this leads to a bunch of other problems: Soap.

Once he finds out that the Lieutenant is tasked with your wand’s safekeeping, the Sargent immediately confirms him and practically begs to be allowed to see (hold) it.

He allows the Scot one look, and that’s that. And no, he may not hold it.

“But, Lt, I want to hold it!” “Negative.”

We all know that once this man is given a mission, he will stop at NOTHING to accomplish it. And if people get in this way, he will be the last thing they never see. Steve found that out the hard way.

Ghost: walking down the hall, about to turn a corner. Steve: turns the same corner, but from the opposite direction, and bumps into Ghost, making him drop your wand. “Oh, sorry Lieutenant Riley!” Gives him back the wand and carries on when he suddenly knocked out.

Soap

“The wand chooses the wizard…”

Sure, you chose him to watch over your wand, but he’s sure your wand told you to give it to him! Therefore, he’s a (sort-of) wizard!

This man will brag to everyone on the base! Hell, he’ll even get a hold of Laswell and tell her about his new job as Wand Watcher. “That’s nice, Soap, now can I get back to work? I’m trying to locate a terrorist cell in the Middle East.”

At night, he sits at his desk, drawing your wand into his journal, putting all his energy to painstakingly recreate it on paper. From the the tiny indentations made from you grasping it, to the nearly invisible cracks in the wood. He also writes down all that you’ve taught him about wandlore, from the three supreme wand cores to how wands are sentient in their own way.

Look, as serious as this man is, he cannot resist the temptation of going out to the training grounds and waving your wand around exactly like you and pronouncing the spells as you do.

Hell, Gaz will join in. You have no idea how many times Price and Ghost have walked in on them playing with your wand. “Expelliarmus! Pst… Gaz, you have to drop your gun…” “Oh, right, sorry!”

Look, as much as this man loves to wave his new found responsibility in everyone’s faces, but he takes it very seriously. Also, only he is allowed to wave your wand around, trying to use your spells! So back the hell up, Steve, before you get smacked the hell up!

Soap, waving your wand around at Gaz: ”Bombarda! Bombarda Maxima!” Steve: “Whoa, Merlin left you with his wand? Cool! Hey, think I can wave it around a bit, sir?” Soap: “Away n’ bile yer head!” Steve: “…Uh… excuse me, sir?” Soap: Angry Scottish noises. This leads to Soap chasing Steve while shouting Scottish swears at the poor rookie, Gaz joining in because he’s angry their playtime got interrupted.

Alejandro

“Of course, hermano. On my honor, nothing will happen to it.”

This man’s word is his bond. Every time his squad gets new men, he always delivers the same speech. The moment they become his, he promises that he will never leave a man behind and he will do everything in his power to bring everyone home.

Therefore, he keeps your wand under his watch. Never once does it leave his sight and he denies any and all requests to give it to anyone else. Except Rudy, because that’s his brother. He can be trusted.

If, for any reason, he ABSOLUTELY has to leave the wand behind, he runs to his unit’s barracks, no matter how far away, and locks it in his footlocker, where he keeps all his other worldly possessions, like a photo of him and Rudy as kids and a pistol his father gave him when he first joined the Mexican Army.

At first, he denies his men the “privilege “ of seeing it, much to their dismay. Although, after he gets a few drinks, he allows them to see it. But only for a few moments. He may be drunk, but he still knows this is an important task and he must keep his promise.

As you can imagine, him being named your wand’s guardian causes a bit of tension between the 141 and Los Vaqueros. As Price argues, you’re technically a part of the 141; therefor, one of them should have it. Preferably him. Of course, this causes him to become more protective of it. Unfortunately, Steve was left out of the loop of you leaving your wand with Alejandro and the 141 and LV blood feud over it.

Steve, walking into the mess hall and sees Merlin’s wand left on a table: “Should that be left here? Maybe I should take it to the Captain.” Alejandro, seeing Steve trying to pick up the wand and explodes in Spanish: “Hey, fucking asshole! Trying to steal Merlin’s wand? Did your captain put you up to this?” Steve, confused as hell: “What? I don’t… I’m just trying to take Merlin’s wand to the Captain…”. Alejandro: “You sonuvabitch, I’ll kill you!” Cue poor Steve being chased by the entire Las Vaqueros, all of whom are yelling curse at him in Spanish.

Konig

“Of course, Maus! I’ll keep it safe!”

And oh boy… does he…

Special Order 937 is now in effect. Priority One: Protect Wand Until Merlin’s Return. All Other Considerations Secondary. Teammates Expendable.

Kidding! …But not really. This man may be socially awkward 25/8, but while he’s given this task, he pushes all that to the back of his mind and keeping you wand is the only thing he thinks about.

And he takes it to the extreme!

Like, when he’s not needed in the field or training, he tucks your wand into a safe he purchased just for this task and stands by it, still as a statue and his rifle at attention like the guards at Buckingham Palace. And anyone who gets too close for his liking is yelled at and warned to back up or else. Avery one on the base is terrified as they’ve never seen the Australian this focused (except for Ghost, he respects Konig for taking his mission so seriously). As usual, however, Steve is left out of the loop.

Steve, approaching Konig and the safe: “Hey, I heard Merlin asked you to watch his wand. Do you think I can see it? Just for a moment?” Konig: “No, sir. Please step away from the area, or I will be forced to take defensive measures.” Steve, taking a step over. The yellow line he’s drawn around the safe: “Oh, come on! It’s not going to hurt anyone!” Konig: “So you have chosen death.” He then proceeds to life Steve up in the air and drop him over his knee like he’s done to so many enemies (although he doesn’t do it so hard). Poor Steve is then taken to the infirmary to recover.

Everyone, if you could please leave an ‘f’ in the comments for Steve. He sacrificed his safety for your education. Thanks to him, you know now your fate should you try to steal the wand they’ve been tasked with protecting.

141 Boys + Alejandro + Konig x Male Hogwarts Student Reader Headcanons (Platonic)

Disclaimer : before we go any further, keep in mind this is my very first post on Tumblr. At first, I was just thinking about asking another user to write this, but I fell in love with the idea so much that it kept buzzing around in my head and now here we are.

Context: a group of pro-Muggle witches and wizards were able to get the Ministry of Magic to approve a program that would open up more to the outside world and start building a relationship with its people. You, being a Muggle-born, were asked to be the first “envoy” of this new program, seeing how Muggles would react to the Wizarding World and if mutual trust could be established. But, since the Ministry is run by a bag of dicks, they decided that you would be sent to the military, hoping this program would die in its infancy. After some debating behind closed doors, representatives from the Ministry and the SAS decided you would be trusted to Task Force 141.

Price

This man is less concerned about you being a wizard and more about you being a minor. “No, I don’t care if he’s almost eighteen, he shouldn’t be here!”

Was almost ready to throat punch Shepherd when Laswell stopped him and he reluctantly agreed to keep you on base.

Of course, when you showed off your magic for the first time, he was amazed for sure. And if you’re a skilled potioneer, he appreciates you brewing dozens of Wiggenweld Potions for the team. “Those potions are great! They work like… well, magic!”

Also, if you could use your potion making skills to mix up a drink for him, he’d really appreciate it. Being in the military, he has to forgo all comfort and luxury, but this man DESERVES a good drink on a regular basis! He’s in charge of one of the world’s most deadly fighting forces and is constantly dealing with terrorists and death everyday, so I’d say he should get a bottle of the good stuff. Low key would let you share a drink with him in his office if you do.

He also appreciates you casting the Bandaging Charm whenever they get hurt. As much as he hates you being in the field, he has to admit you make an effective field medic.

He’ll also ask your help in recon if you’re an Animagus. As a bird, you can be outfitted with a camera and get a literal bird’s eye view of the AO and as a cat/dog, you can go right up to the enemy and distract them. As they’re scratching your fluffy belly, Ghost will knife them.

And if you can turn into a cat, he may or may not ask you to sit on his lap while he sits in his office chair. Whenever a rookie is brought in for insubordination, he loves to do the Dr. Evil chair spin and freak them out. He’s very stressed out from all these missions and needs some comic relief! Plus, he loves to scratch you behind the ear and you love it too.

He also scares the rookies that if they don’t listen, you’ll turn them into a frog or something. Of course, you never tell him you can actually do that. Don’t want to give him any ideas.

Will also appreciate your help in interrogations. Give the perp some Veritaserum and the interrogation is over in like 5 minutes. Low key, though, Ghost is a bit pissed because they always let him conduct the interrogations, and now they can just get all their questions answered because of some juice you made.

He also makes sure you keep in regular contact with not only Dumbledore, but your parents as well, says that he’d be worried if his (minor) son was placed in the hands of the military. “They worry about you and I’m sure they just want to make sure you’re alright, son.” Low key goes behind you back and arranges for regular meetings (tea times) with both your parents and Dumbledore to discuss how you’re keeping up with your studies and assuring them that he’s keeping a close eye on you and making sure you take care of yourself. After a while, he comes to see you as another member son of Task Force 141.

Gaz

Look, he freaks out a bit when you show off your magic for the first time, and you understand. The first time you did magic, you accidentally levitated the family dog. Thankfully, you were inside at the time, so Fido just hit the roof.

For a while, things were awkward between you, but after you bandaged him up after a sparring session, he started to open up to you.

Meaning, he began asking you all sorts of questions about the Wizarding World to see if any of the fairytales he was told as a kid were real.

“You don’t really fly on broomsticks, right? I mean, that’s just ridiculous.” “Well…”

As soon as you roll up on you Nimbus 2000, this man WILL ask for a ride, giving you his best puppy dog eyes and you cave almost immediately. During his first ride, he was TERRIFIED; I mean, he’s a hundred feet up in the air sitting on a flimsy piece of wood, of course he’d be scared and holding on to you tightly.

But, after that first ride, he’ll beg you for a ride every time you both have free time. He’s flown in dozens of helicopters in his life, but feeling the wind against his skin and maneuvering around the way you do gives him a thrill unlike any other. Seriously, as soon as he gets back from a mission, he’ll go straight to you and beg to go out flying with you. Doesn’t matter if it was a week long mission and he’s had to go without food and sleep for most of that time, the thought of flying with you on your broomstick was enough to keep him going.

He also loves it when you teach him all that you learned in History of Magic; unlike Professor Binns, you do everything you can to make your lessons interesting. You use magic, you act out certain events, you even give him chocolate frogs when he passes you pop quizzes. PS: please give this man magic sweets, he always gives the biggest grin when he sees you walking towards him while holding candy. He likes chocolate frogs the best since he’s building his collection of cards. (He just needs a Dumbledore card…)

He also loves to hear about your time at Hogwarts. This man wants to know everything that happened to you, from the Sorting Ceremony to when you were made the first Muggle Envoy. He also doesn’t understand why House Slytherin hasn’t been disbanded. “I understand not every Slytherin is bad, but most of the worst wizards have come from that house! And its founder kept a giant snake around to kill anyone not a pureblood!”

He thinks you being an Animagus is amazing and if you turn into a bird, he’s both astounded and jealous. “I want to fly in the sky as a bird, too…” and if you’re a cat, well… “I heard all cats love curling up in a box. As a cat, do you have those feelings, too?” “…Yes.” So, best boi Gaz shows up to your quarters with a large cardboard box with multiple blankets and you instantly take to it. Like, you forget all about your bed and sleep as a cat in that box. And you don’t know it, but he one time came into your room to ask you to go flying when he saw you curled up in the box (and in human form, no less!) and his heart melted at the sight. He also took several pictures which he then proceeded to drop in the 141 Group Chat. Needless to say, they were quickly printed out and is the highest kept secret from you (hell, even Laswell is in on it).

In conclusion, Gaz would be very welcoming to you in the beginning, but in all honesty, probably not as much as Soap.

Ghost

Look, when you met Ghost for the first time, you were scared out of your mind and 95% sure he was a Death Eater sent to kill you and ruin this program. But, after a few days, you figured out that he was just a Muggle and you relaxed a little bit. Still, you kept your distance as this 6’2” man still scared the hell out of you.

When Price told them that a wizard was joining the 141, he thought the man finally lost it after postponing a well deserved vacation for far too long. But, after seeing you cast a spell when you first joined the team, he quickly ripped up the anonymous note he wrote to Laswell to force the Captain to take a vacation.

When you started talking to him about the Wizarding World, he quickly took an interest in magical creatures. Look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn’t be fawning over a Thestral! That’s actually how you bonded with him— when he saw you caring for one, he asked about it and when he learned that they’re only visible to those who’ve seen death and are misunderstood to be a bad omen. He feels for the beast and offers to help you feed it when you’re ever unavailable.

Like Price, he hates you being in the field, but definitely sees the advantages to having a skilled wizard with them. He will, however, insist you stay behind them, casting healing and support spells. During one mission, all hostile were thought to have been killed, but one that remained tried to shoot him in the back, you quickly cast Protego to shield him and followed up with Petrificus Totalus. No matter what Soap says, he DID NOT have heart eyes when you did that.

As odd an experience as it is, he loves to Apparate from place to place. A helo attracts too much attention and riding a broomstick is just silly to him (look, he’s a 6’ 2” killing machine made of pure muscle and whose name strikes fear into the most hardened terrorist on the planet; him being on a broomstick ruins his streetcred!). Being able to appear anywhere out of thin air poses a strategic advantage, it bypasses all

He also takes interest in your Defense of the Dark Arts lessons. He’ll watch you practice offensive spells all day long, praising you every time you destroy a target. He also teaches you to handle a firearm and how to throw a knife. Sure, you can use magic, but use magic, but you its always good to know other skills. He really wanted to just spend some more time with you and teach you what he knows.

Will definitely help you practice your defensive spells if you ask him, but he’s very nervous as he fires rubber bullets at you. As much as he tries to argue with you, you’re persistent and finally does what you ask him. But if you’re ever hit by one, that’s an end to practice for the day and he’s dragging you to the infirmary.

Also, as much as he denies it, he loves it when you turn into your Animagus form. If you turn into a bird, he offers his arm as a perch when you return from stretching your wings; if you turn into a dog, we will give you the best belly rubs; and if you turn into a cat, we will hold you and scratch your ears. And he’ll do it anywhere, even during a mission briefing! Also, he gets very jealous when you’re held by anyone else and will fight to the death when someone tries to take you away from him. “Lt, it’s my turn to hold him!” “Negative, Sergeant.” He then proceeds to scratch your ears as he looks Soap right in the eye.

While not an alcoholic beverage, he loves butterbeer and always loves it when you bring back a keg from the Wizarding World. After a successful mission, you brought them to the Three Broomsticks for a fresh mug of butterbeer. He knows you had to jump through a lot of hoops to get this trip approved and appreciates you arranging for this. It’s here that he realizes that not everyone in your world is like you; some uppity witch mocks you for bringing them here and leaves as she calls you a “Mudblood,” which you later explain is a derogatory term used to make people like you feel less than them. Well, Ghost being Ghost, he slips out to teach that witch that being whether your pedigree means nothing when your fingers are broken and you can’t hold a wand, you’re weaker than a Muggle since you depend on you magic for everything, leaving you vulnerable. “Ghost, where’d you go?” “Just needed to take a break.”

He loves to harass you with terrible puns as he learns more of you world. “Wanna hear a joke?” “Ghost, please don’t.” “If a wizard gets robbed by a Muggle, has he been Muggled?” “What do you call a postman who can speak to packages? A parcel tongue.” Or the worst of them, “How does the head of Gryffindor see when swimming? She uses McGonagoggles.”

After a while, he finally trusts you enough to tell you some of his darkest secrets. What really hits you the most is what happened in the US-Mexico border with Roba, and how he was buried alive with a rotten corpse and forced to dig himself out with said corpse’s jawbone. After he finished his story, you offered to use the Memory Charm to make him forget, and for a brief moment, he genuinely wanted to say yes. The thought of being able to forget that horrible memory and never dream of it was enough to bring tears to his eyes (which he thought was no longer possible), but in the end, he said he appreciated the offer, but by forgetting what happened, he’d be losing a piece of himself that made him him.

You become a part of his team, and when you do, he’ll kill and die for you, just as he would for any other member of his team. Eventually, he gives you the nickname “Merlin,” and soon everyone starts calling you that and you’re honored to have a nickname after one of the most accomplished wizards.

Soap

While his team lost their collective minds when they first met you, Soap tripped the mightiest of balls and turned into a literal child when you demonstrated your magic. Also, the moment you tell them Hogwarts is located in Scotland, he turns very smug and brags about his homeland being the superior place on Earth. Of course, you eventually explained that there are magic schools all over the world, which broke his heart, but he quickly got over it when you explained Hogwarts’ very distinguished history.

You think I’m joking when I say everything you do amazes this man, but I’m not. After you showed up on your broomstick and gave Gaz a ride on it, he practically ripped the poor man off it and called dibs for the next ride; you show him a few Transfiguration spells, and he’ll ask you to turn everything on base into something else (Price had to step in when he had you turn his favorite hat into a goose and you two had to chase it down);you pull out a caldran and start brewing potions, he will sit and watch you every step of the way (and if you ever brew a potion of fire-breathing, he’ll beg you to let him drink it, he so wants to chase Gaz, pretending to be a dragon).

And speaking of dragons, he made a joke about dragons being fake and when he saw you not laughing, he instantly knew they were real and instantly starting begging you to take him to see one. Of course you told him that dragons are dangerous creatures and are kept far from society, he gave you the biggest put possible and of course you caved and reached out to a friend who worked at the Romanian Dragon Reserve, who was able to sneak you in. As soon as he saw the Common Welsh Green, he acted like a kid who finally got to Disney World and when you got back, he thanked you profusely and you two started hanging out every day.

This dude dedicates almost half his journal to you, writing down everything he learns about you, Hogwarts, and the Wizarding World at large. He’ll also draw picture after picture after picture; he’ll draw you, your wand, you casting spells, your house crest, etc. He also jots down his thoughts about your and your world and questions to ask you later. Ex: ask Y/N to cast Windgardium Leviosa on me while riding the mop used for latrine duty. Note to self: do it where the Captain/Lt can’t find me.

If you’re an Animagus, he absolutely loses his mind. If you turn into a cat, he thinks you’re a regular cat that wandered onto the base and is playing with you. “You want the pen? You want the pen? Go get it— Steamin’ Jesus, Y/N!” “Soap.” “Can we never—“ “Yes, we’ll never mention this again.” “Can I have my pen back?” “No, this is mine, now.” If you turn into a dog, he asks you to turn so he has a dog to pet. He strikes me as the kid whose best friend was a dog and after the dog died, a piece of him did as well, and petting you as in dog form reminds him of better days. Unfortunately, he tends to do this often, especially during mission briefings. “Johnny, Y/N needs to turn back, we’re having a serious mission briefing.” “I can brief him later, right now, he needs bell scratches.” And if you’re a bird, he asks to outfit you with a camera and has you fly over the AO and get much better intel without alerting the enemy they’re being spied on. And like Ghost, he offers his arm as a perch, but unlike the Lt, he keeps bags of popcorn in his bag and hand feeds it to you after returning to him.

Merlin help you once he discovers you can cast spells like Confringo and Bombarda. Soap will demand you cast said spells on the training field and wants to compete to see who can destroy the most targets (these contests can go on for hours and only ends when Price comes to rescue you). Of course, as much as he hates you being on the field, he asks Price to allow you to help in breaching fortified bases and destroy weapons caches and escape vehicles. He revels in the destructive power you bring to the team and loves to watch you work. “Fookin’ beautiful, Merlin!” “Johnny, we’re being shot at, eyes on the targets!”

Once this man finds out about Quidditch, there goes all your free time. Seriously, once you tell him that there’s a sport where you fly around on broomsticks and try to knock each other off by throwing balls at frightening speeds, that’s all he can think about for days. You tell him all about the history of the game, its rules, and the many famous players that have ver been on the pitch, and as you do all that, this man begins to yearn about actually watching a game.

Fortunately, he gets his wish— in an effort to garner more good publicity, Fudge extends an invitation to you and “the Muggles you’ve been assigned to” to attend the Quidditch World Cup and view it from his private box. Of course, Soap begged Price to allow them to attend and after clearing it with Laswell, all of you attended the most anticipated Quidditch event of the season. And when it was revealed that the Scottish National Quidditch Team was competing, he went flat out ape shit, shouting all sorts of Scottish chants and curses you have yet to decipher.

Of course, many in the Minister’s Box found him annoying and threatened to surge him, you were quick to Transfigure many of them into slugs when everyone was distracted whenever a team scored a point. Of course, Ghost would be the one to catch you. “Bein’ risky, are we?” “No one threatens Soap and gets away with it on my watch.” “Good boy.”

At the end of the day, he’s probably the first friend you’ll make in this scenario. While others are cautious, this man is running up to you and begging you to do magic for him every time you see one another.

Alejandro

The leader of the Los Vaqueros was shocked to see a real wizard before him and had reservations about a minor being allowed in the military, but after seeing you had nothing but the best of intentions being here, he quickly put aside his fears and welcomed you with open arms. Also, Rudy saw how much fun Gaz and Soap were having and wanted to join in, and who is he to disappoint his brother?

After he described the destruction El Sin Nombre, Hassan, and Shadow Company brought to his hometown, you offered to help rebuild. To say he was touched would be an understatement and he accepted the help. He expected you to just help clean up the rubble Graves and his tank made, but when he saw you cast Repairo and the buildings started repairing themselves, he was blown away. In less than half a day, all of Las Almos looked like nothing at all happened. “Ay dios mio… The whole city… it’s been fixed…” let’s just say that after that, you became an honorary member of the Cowboys and had a place in Las Almos whenever you needed it.

He’s very interested in your demonstrations of charms. He especially liked hearing about Wendelin the Weird and how she liked being ticked by the charmed fire so much she allowed herself to be captured multiple times. “Wait, she let herself be captured how many times, hermano?” “Forty-seven times!” “That’s crazy!”

In exchange for teaching him Wizarding World slang, he teaches you to speak Spanish. As well as some very creative swears that he knows Price wouldn’t like (which is why he does it). “Who taught Y/N to say that?!” “No idea, Capitan, might want to ask Gaz. That baby face of his seems like the perfect ruse, yeah?”

He appreciates all the Wiggenweld Potions you brew for him to take back to his men. While the cartels and Shadow Company have been driven out of Los Almos, Valeria is still out there and leading what’s left of her men, trying to rebuild her empire. He’s devote every last resource he has to capturing her, which leads to many injuries. Unfortunately, he can’t always get medical supplies, so that’s where you come in. Whenever you Apparate in their base with crates full of healing potions, you’re heralded as a hero by his men.

You two also bond over music from the Wizarding World. While he loves to listen to the Weird Sisters with his men, when it’s just him, Rudy, and you, he loves to listen to Celestine Warbeck. Once, when he was drunk, he began singing You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me and said that it reminded him of you. The morning after, you and Rudy decided to keep his little performance a secret from him, his men, and the 141, agreeing to take it to your graves.

Like the rest of the men on this list, he absolutely loses it when he sees your an Animagus. “Hermano, why did you not tell me you can do this?” He strikes me as the kid who always wanted a pet, but his parents weren’t able to afford one and there’s been a void only a pet can fill ever since. Sure, he could’ve adopted a dog after he moved out and joined the Mexican Army, but he’s been bust fighting drug lords for years, so he hasn’t had the time to. And here you come in, able to turn into a dog (of course he’d love it if you turned into a cat or bird, but what he really wants is a dog)! “Hey, hermano, do you think you can… you know?” “Of course.” Look, we all know that there’s a spot behind a dog’s ear that makes him thump his leg like crazy, but this man knows how to hit that spot on the FIRST TIME, EVERY TIME! And he does it with just right that you think your leg will never stop thumping. Rudy’s walked in on the two of you many times, and not only keeps quiet about it, but tells the rest of Los Vaqueros to not disturb their hermano. “He’s earned some time to himself.”

You also volunteer your services to help track down Valeria, which puts a smile on his face brighter than Lumos Maxima you’ve ever cast. “Time to go scorpion hunting, my brother!” While you weren’t well versed in Divination, you were able to spy on her men while in Animagus form and any that get captured are given your Veritaserum, making them spill their guts and tell you where her new base is. From there, it’s just getting the layout of the base, which you are able to provide, and that night, both 141 and Los Vaqueros raid the base that night, which ends with no casualties and Valeria’s capture. “We celebrate, my brothers! And we welcome a new member to Los Vaqueros!”

As much as he wanted you to pour the Veritaserum down her throat and make her tell him all he wanted to know, he wanted her to suffer, just a fraction of what he’s felt all these years. So, he asks you if you know any methods of torture that won’t kill her, just make her suffer a bit. So, you looked into it and gave him a boggart locked in a chest and told him about the creature’s ability to take the form of what its victim fears most. Seconds after being exposed to her greatest fear, she begged for mercy and told him everything he wanted to know. As she was being dragged away, still in shock of what she saw, he thanked you for the great service you did for Mexico and invited you to celebrate at a bar they rented out for the night.

Behind closed doors, the 141 and Los Vaqueros came this close to a fistfight because Alejandro wanted to take you back to Mexico with them, to which Price responded with a very loud “Hell no!” which resulted in a prolonged argument with everyone in the room. Finally, Laswell was able to calm them down when she told them that if they don’t “calm the fuck down,” you might be recalled and none of them will see you again. The thought of you leaving terrified them and agreed that they would share custody of you and Alejandro and his men would be allowed to visit the base and see you whenever they wanted to.

Konig

Look, when you both first met, you were terrified of one another. You because this man was as big as Hagrid, skilled in weapons, and made the muscle mass to break you like a twig, and he was terrified of you because he thought you could turn him into a toad like many of the witches he was told about as a child. For the first week or two, you both avoided one another like a case of Dragon Pox.

Eventually, you realized that this mountain of a man was 90% social anxiety and he realized that you weren’t planning on turning anyone into a toad or eating anyone (to which you were horrified that someone would think you possible of such a thing). In fact, when you learned he suffered from constant social anxiety, you brewed him a bottle of Calming Drought and after he drank it, he felt his sense of dread vanish for the first time in years. “Thank you, maus!” And from there, he became your shadow, always close behind you. You gave him bottles of Calming Draught on a regular basis to help the poor man and he became one of your closest friends.

If you have a knack for Herbology, he takes interest in it; there’s just something about digging into the dirt and watching your magical plants grow from such tiny seeds that relaxes him, not unlike your Calming Drought. He helps with carrying large bags of fertilizer, watering your plants, repotting Mandrakes, and harvesting herbs for your potions. He also loves hearing you talk about what each plant is and what they’re used for; not only because he finds this new information interesting, but because he finds your voice very soothing.

God, the moment he discovers that you can turn into an Animagus, he instantly takes a Calming Drought because the the thought of hurting you while being so small is enough to make his anxiety hit him like a sack of bricks. At first he asks you not to be near him out of fear he crushes you, but when you curl up in his lap as a dog/cat, he freezes up and is afraid to even move. Then, he finally works up the courage to pet you and when you let out a pant/purr, he instantly forgets his fears and pets you even more. If you’re a bird, you turn his shoulder into a perch and he instantly falls in love with the idea of being your perch and starts walking around the base like that. “Konig, is that Merlin?” “Ja, Leutnant.” “And you don’t think that’s a bit inappropriate?” “Nein, Leutnant.” As he walks away, he feels Ghost glaring daggers his way, and he’s sure it’s not because of what he’s doing, but because the Lieutenant wishes to take his place.

He also loves to watch you practice your spells and broomstick riding. How you wave your wand or move through the air with such grace astounds him and wishes he could do the same.

After a while, he finds spells and potions capable of reducing one’s size and wishes for you to make him smaller. When he tells you that he’s always felt people would like him better and he would be better at his job if he wasn’t so tall. You instantly tell him that’s not true and that you have a friend whose taller than him and everyone loves him. And so, you arrange a tea time with Hagrid and bring Konig, who is blown away by the size of the half-giant. To say he was breathtaking to have to look up to someone was an odd, yet satisfying experience. The two talk about being tall and Hagrid tells him that despite his giant size, he never stops trying to be helpful. By the time tea is served, Konig feels himself more comfortable in his skin and tells you that he no longer wishes to be small.

When Hagrid goes to bring out his infamous rock cakes, you warn Konig about their tough exterior. However, when he takes a bite, he does so without problem. “I don’t understand, Maus, they’re delicious. If you don’t want yours, may I have it?”

You two leave Hagrid’s hut with the promise to bring Konig back for more tea and rock cakes and when you return, he thanks you profusely for helping him become more confident with his height. He tells you that he sees you as the best friend he’s ever had and promises to always help you whenever you need him.

You also share your stash of sweets from Honeyduke’s, which he is happy beyond words. You warn him when he picks up a box of Bertie’s Every Flavor Beans and laugh harder than you ever have before when he spits out an earwax flavored one. It eventually turns into a game of randomly picking a bean and hoping it wasn’t one of the many disgusting flavors. He quickly grew to love Fizzing Whizzbees when he found out sucking on them allowed you to float in the air. Seriously, just imagine him floating in the air and loving every moment of it, it’s hilarious.

He may not have magic, but this man will NEVER allow someone to harm you. Even if it’s another wizard or witch, he’ll pick up that poor fool and break their back over his knee with no regrets.