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tinybirbwrites · 5 months

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The Ultimate Strategy (Astarion & Reader)

This is very silly. Set rather early on in the game. Nothing romantic, just silly and fun. Gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, sort of implied player!reader. Sort of graphical description of someone being set on fire? Not too graphic but it happens. 1,6k words.

People would often think you’re stupid—Astarion could tell by the way they looked at you or talked to you. He himself thought you weren’t the brightest of the bunch when he first met you. Ohh, but you weren’t stupid at all. Yes, maybe some logical thinking and some puzzles proved a challenge for you, and sometimes the subtext was too hidden for you to see, but you could read people quite well. You could tell when they were trying to fool you; there was always that little knowing smile on your lips and that glimmer in your eyes when you knew exactly what they were trying to do, and yet you went along anyway to humor them, only to beat them at their own game.

Sometimes Astarion wondered whether you were a master diviner, someone who dreamed about the future every night, because he swore some things you knew shouldn’t be possible. He would see you buy or collect some strange item and think “how unnecessary,” only to be proven wrong a little while later.

“Humor me,” he said to you one morning, making you look up from your bowl of leftover food from the evening before. “Why are we collecting these?” Astarion gestured over to the big pile of barrels, each either containing oil, smokepowder, or firewine. Quite hazardous, which is why it was being kept far away from Karlach’s tent. You had insisted on collecting each explosive item you could find and carry it back to camp, and because everyone had grown to trust you, no one argued. Because, just like Astarion, the other companions had also noticed your futuristic insight and fondness for ridiculous yet clever strategies.

You beamed at him. “I’m so glad you asked, Astarion.” Putting your bowl down for the time being, you instead took a stick and drew some lines into the dirt. “Using your wonderful imagination for a moment here, you would see that this,” you tapped the middle of your drawing, “is the place right outside the grove. You know, where we first encountered the goblins that were attacking the tieflings and humans outside the gate.”

He tilted his head, then went to stand directly behind you to look over your shoulder. “I can sort of see it. What about it?”

“Well, my dear friend,” you turned your head and grinned up at him, waggling your eyebrows. “What if I told you that there will be a big confrontation, and we could easily solve it with the right means.” You nodded towards the barrels. “Just imagine; the whole field, full with explosive barrels. One little bolt of fire and they all go boom.”

Astarion imagined it, and yeah, okay, that sounded like fun alright. “And who are we blowing up, exactly?”

“The goblin army, of course,” you said, as if it was obvious. Noticing his frown, you quickly explained, “Everyone keeps talking about ‘the big goblin problem’ this and ‘the goblin camp’ that. Obviously there will be a confrontation at some point, and I just wanna be prepared for it. We’ll probably find out more once we go to the goblin camp ourselves.”

He raised an eyebrow, partly impressed, partly doubtful. “And, what? We just put barrels all over the field and hope they won’t notice and just walk right into the trap?”

You pursed your lips. “Okay, good point. Either we bury and hide the barrels, or we, uhh… Maybe we could put some illusion spell on them? Surely Gale knows a way.”

Astarion stared at you for a moment. “You’re only thinking about this now? You honestly thought the enemy wouldn’t notice—” he looked over at the pile and roughly estimated the quantity, “thirty-something explosive barrels standing around an open area?”

You cleared your throat and put the stick away to keep eating. “... Maybe. But, hey, thanks to you, we can prepare for it now. Thanks, Astarion.”

He could have made more indignant and snarky comments, could have teased you more, and usually he would have. But your smile was so earnest and genuine and bright, all he could do was make a small noise at the back of his throat and shake his head.

Turned out that Gale did indeed know some good spells to disguise the barrels, by putting an illusion on them to make people think they were something else, like a bush or a piece of wood or a big rock. After a few hours of setting everything up, you declared a job well done and that you all would infiltrate the goblin camp the very next day.

Again, things worked out more smoothly than Astarion thought.

You’d revealed the grove’s location to the drow, Minthara, much to the other companions’ shock. When Karlach took you aside to question your decision, you had assured her that everything would be fine. “I planned for this, remember? It will all work out, trust me. They won’t step one foot into the grove, I won’t let them.”

Astarion personally didn’t really care either way—he had absolutely not grown fond of the tiefling refugees or any of their thieving children, thank you very much—but he was very much invested in your strange plan at this point.

So when the time came, tieflings and druids warned about the goblin army (with most of the refugees actually preparing for the fight, while the druids hid away like cowards inside the caves) and everyone stood up on the hill by the big horn, and you watched as at least a hundred goblins, big and small, together with their blood hungry pets marched up to the gate, you were confident. Perhaps even a little smug.

Minthara was on higher ground, the hill near the middle of the field, and Astarion remembered how you had insisted on carrying several barrels up there as well, fretting about their exact positions. Again, he was convinced you must have somehow known about this. This couldn’t be just a lucky guess or coincidence.

Some of the goblins even carried little explosive barrels on their backs, which were lit up like a bomb as they ran towards the gate to blow it up. Before they could get any closer, you had already given Astarion the order to shoot the fucker down and let it explode next to one of your own hidden barrels.

He held his breath, and everyone watched as the chaos unfolded so very beautifully. It was a wonderful and perfect chainreaction; one barrel exploded, immediately setting off the next, and then the next, the fire and explosions taking all of the goblins with it. Before Minthara could react, you quickly told Gale to throw a firebolt at one of the hidden barrels near her position as well. It hit, and Minthara was soon blown off the hill and hit the oil-covered ground. She screamed as she was burned alive, trying to put herself out and sort of succeeding.

“Karlach, Wyll, can you take her?” you asked.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Karlach growled, taking her greataxe in hand.

“With pleasure,” Wyll nodded, drawing his own weapon. Again, under your command, they drank a Feather Fall potion to jump down, and Gale used some spells to put out the flames so neither of them would get burned to a crisp. They were resistant to fire, but not immune, and everyone knew you didn’t want your friends to get hurt.

With fresh burns and wounds all over and her ears ringing from the explosions, Minthara could barely put up a fight. She tried, of course, and she did better than most in her position would have been able to. But with both Wyll and Karlach, still at full health and energized, she didn’t stand a chance. Merely a minute or two later, Minthara was dead. The tieflings cheered loudly, some patting you on the back while Astarion did his best to avoid the praise. The gate was opened to let Wyll and Karlach back inside, and you laughed as you were hugged and picked up by several people (sadly, Karlach still couldn’t touch anyone, otherwise she would have probably done the same).

“That was incredible!” Zevlor laughed. “We barely even had to do anything, and not one of us got hurt!”

Later on, as you cleaned up the battlefield a little with some others, looting the goblin corpses, you eyed Minthara’s armor, then looked up at Astarion with a critical eye.

“What?” he asked, crossing his arms defensively.

“Do you think this would fit your frame?” You gestured at the armor—it was rather beautiful, golden and dark gray, the shapes of the plates reminiscent of spiderwebs, fitting for a Lolth-sworn drow like her.

“Maybe,” Astarion said slowly. “Why? You want me to wear it?”

You shrugged. “I think it would suit you nicely. If you want it, it’s all yours. Maybe Dammon could modify it a little if it doesn’t fit, before he leaves the grove.”

Astarion looked down at what he was wearing now—armor mostly made out of leather, good for stealth, but not the most fashionable, in his humble opinion. Then he looked back to Minthara’s corpse, humming thoughtfully. “Oh, by the Hells, why not? But I want it thoroughly cleaned, I can still smell the smoke and oil all over it.”

You grinned. “It looks so good, right? I kept eyeing it when we first met her.”

Reluctantly, Astarion relented. “Well, you’re not wrong.” Hesitantly, he asked, “You really think it will suit me?” He wasn’t self-conscious about his looks, of course. He just hadn’t seen his own reflection in quite some time, and he barely had any idea what colors suited him now. Though he supposed he was doing something right, because most people still swooned when they saw him—including even you.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, trust me. Gold, silver, black, red, blue… all of it would suit you. I think you could make any color work, if done right. But this armor is just… perfect for you.”

Astarion did not blush—he wasn’t even sure if he physically could. But whatever the case, Astarion didn’t blush, ever, for anyone or anything. Absolutely not.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion x reader #astarion x you #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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tinybirbwrites · 1 year

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Guilty Pleasure (Dick Grayson/Reader)

Hello, hi. This started as a vent fic, then it became super silly and fun and longer than expected. No warnings except for some swearing, just silly fluff and crack. Reader is gender-neutral. Also I had Gotham Knights Dick in mind while writing, the game really grew on me lmao.

You often wondered whether Dick had a sixth sense for your mood. Each time you were upset about something, he would either somehow end up finding out about it, or unknowingly comfort you in some way.

Watched a sad movie while Dick was away? Look at your phone; Dick either just sent you a meme, pun, or a sweet little message to brighten your day. Unhappy about what you saw in the mirror? Just you wait; Dick always seemed to have a heartfelt compliment ready for you. Lonely? Worry not; Dick already made plans to come over and glue himself to you for several hours.

This time was no different. Just twenty minutes after you saw something hurtful on social media, Dick plopped down next to you on the couch and wrapped a casual arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, wanna watch a dumb movie together and cuddle?”

Hell yeah.

The movie did turn out to be super dumb—a crazy woman summoning the spirit of her dead killer husband into a fake christmas tree, who then goes on a murderous rampage as a christmas tree? Really? But it was exactly what you needed at that moment.

You were crying and laughing through the stupidity of it all, switching between actually paying attention because of what was happening or because Dick was actively commenting on it, and thinking back to the post you saw that upset you in the first place. Dick didn’t ask, but he kept giving you comforting squeezes and rubbed slow circles over your back the whole time.

As the credits started rolling and you finally got over how weird the movie was, Dick stroked a careful thumb over the tear-trails on your cheek. “Alright, well, now that we’ve gone through all five stages of grief together… You wanna tell me about it?”

You leaned back with a shaky exhale. “Well, you know how I like to read and write fanfiction?” At his nod, you continued, “Well, there’s a subgenre called ‘reader inserts.’ They’re… basically exactly what the title implies. They’re written with you as the main character, and most of the time it’s with a romantic plot point at the focus. It’s something I like to consume for comfort, because it feels nice to read about yourself meeting your favorite characters and interacting with them, doing things together that you’ll never be able to in real life, right? And there’s a lot of well written fics out there that I enjoy a lot, but of course, as with everything, there’s also not so good ones. And the tragic part is, the not so good ones are the only thing that other people who aren’t interested in this subgenre see and know about, so reader inserts get a pretty bad rep. And I get it, I’ve also seen the bad ones, and there’s… a lot of porn, too. I understand it can be frustrating to see when you really don’t want to, but shaming people for writing and reading it just… hurts, you know? It really hurts.”

Dick was silent for a while, frowning. “Sadly, there’ll always be people who get upset about things they don’t like or don’t understand. Some are mature about it, and some aren’t. I’m guessing you saw someone complaining?”

You sighed and nodded, tiredly rubbing a hand over your forehead. “Yeah.” You didn’t feel like elaborating on what the person said specifically, it would only upset you more. Maybe you’d sent a screenshot to Dick later, but right now you just wanted to forget about it.

Dick hummed. “I’m sorry you had to see that. It really sucks when you’ve gotta deal with people hating something you love and care about. And I know it’s easier said than done, but… don’t focus on that negativity. Focus on the good stuff. You’ve talked about getting a lot of positive feedback on your own writing before, yeah? Focus on that. People love what you write, and you love other people’s writing, that means there’s a community where you can all share what you love with each other, and that’s a beautiful thing. Some people just aren’t into the same stuff, they don’t get it, so sometimes they’ll complain about it to feel better. It’s hurtful, yeah, but remember that they’re not targeting you specifically. It’s their problem, the issues often lie within themselves. From what you said, it sounds like they’re just shitting on something they don’t wanna see because they don’t like or care about it. They’re not offering constructive criticism, so really, you don’t have to concern yourself with them. Try to distance yourself from their words, be proud of what you do and who you are. Okay?”

You mulled over his words for a moment, digesting them bit by bit, and eventually, you managed a smile. “Yeah, okay.” You turned your head and leaned closer to him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thanks.”

When you looked at him, the expression on his face was almost shy. “You’re always welcome. I’m just glad I could help somehow.”

Days later, Dick came to you with an excited smile on his face, and you watched as he sat down and pulled out his phone. “So, since you told me about reader inserts, I’ve done some research to better understand what you meant. I wanted to know more about what you enjoy.”

Oh no. “Oh. Really?” you said, a lot calmer than you actually felt.

He grinned, unaware of your growing horror. “Yep! So, I wasn’t sure what to look for at first, but eventually I searched for reader inserts that included some of the media I personally enjoy. I found a few I actually liked a lot! But, uh, I get what you meant with there being a lot of porn.”

You hid your face in your hands with a chortle, feeling heat quickly traveling to your cheeks at the mental image of Dick reading smut fics out of pure curiosity to learn more about what you were passionate about. “Yeah…”

Suddenly, Dick brightened. “Also! You won’t believe it, but I found a lot of Nightwing reader inserts! Some got recommended to me because of my search history, and I got really curious, so—”

OH NO.

“I was so amazed at how many there are! Ah, of course, lots of porn too. Can’t really fault anyone for that, I mean, I know people love my butt, so it only makes sense. Still, feels kinda weird. I started reading a few because I just couldn’t help it, and isn’t it kind of funny? It’s like a story about me making out with myself! Anyway, I found a few really good ones, a lot of them were from the same author—”

Oh God, please, anything but this—

Dick scrolled through his phone for a moment, then turned it around to show you what he found. You felt your soul leave your body.

It was your very own profile picture that stared back at you.

It was your blog.

It was your writing.

Your Nightwing fanfics.

He went on, completely undeterred by your stunned silence. “I know it sounds kind of narcissistic of me to say, but you should totally give this person’s stuff a read! They’re really good! I felt weirdly immersed, reading about being in love with, well, myself. Pining after… myself. Never thought I’d feel so strongly about that, but here I am. There’s one story that I’m hoping will get a second part some day, actually. I’m thinking I should maybe leave a comment. You think it’d be too much to do that with my Nightwing account?”

Oh. Oh, thank God. Dick didn’t know it was you.

You subtly cleared your throat. “Uhm. Yeah, I think commenting as Nightwing would be a bit much.”

It was an older account—you actually hadn’t uploaded anything for a while now, but most of them were about Nightwing.

It had started off with the usual go-to scenarios of Nightwing saving reader while on patrol, something he’d actually done for you a few times now, which was what inspired you to scroll through the Nightwing x Reader tag in the first place. Then you decided you would give in and post some of your own for the public to see as well. Anonymously, of course. You’d never pin your actual name to that particular guilty pleasure of yours.

The more you wrote, the more you started to wonder about what if scenarios.

What if Dick Grayson was Nightwing? You’d noticed that they shared a lot of similarities; a love for puns, a charming smile, a kind heart, perfect hair, and, uhm… A nice body, too. You’d never written out this theory for the public eye, but in your head, you’d started imagining Dick being the one behind the mask, which fuelled your writing even more as you poured your feelings into them.

You knew it was kind of a No-No to write about actual, existing people. It wasn’t something you usually did, either, nor were you very proud of it. But you just couldn’t help it—you’d been pining after Dick and Nightwing separately for years now, venting about it in the form of self-indulgent writing, until you eventually figured out they were both one and the same person.

Of course you’d fallen head over heels in love with Dick, it was practically impossible not to; He had a stupidly big heart and a stupidly big butt. Finding out these two ridiculously attractive and caring people were actually one guy? That only served to intensify your feelings by, like, a hundred.

You hadn’t mentioned this realization to Dick, but it got more and more difficult not to as time went on. Until finally, one day, Dick confessed his vigilante identity to you, stating he trusted you and felt it was only fair if you knew. He felt bad about having to lie to you and keep making up excuses about his bruises and why he had to cancel plans every time something big happened that Nightwing had to take care of.

You were too scared to tell him about your feelings, especially after realizing you’d been writing reader insert fanfics about him all this time. It was one thing to just imagine Dick being Nightwing, but it was another to actually know it was him. You were lucky and very happy to even be friends with this amazing guy, and you weren’t about to ruin that by confessing your shameful sins to him.

You knew it was extra weird to write not only about an actual person, but about your friend. You’d never written any smut—that was something you just couldn’t let yourself do, it felt too wrong, even before you found out about Dick’s secret.

You knew he took all the sexually charged comments on his Nightwing persona in good stride. He actually seemed to glow from all the praise, even feeding into it by laying on the charm extra thick sometimes when on patrol, always insisting Nightwing should never wear a cape so his precious butt wouldn’t be covered up. You also knew that he himself as Richard Grayson was a very popular guy, handsome and charming, a “well dressed golden retriever,” as some people liked to describe him.

But you also knew that there was a line, and you felt like you were definitely crossing it by writing reader inserts about your best friend and crush. Though you did stop writing them after finding out about who Nightwing really was—it just felt too weird to keep posting more at that point.

Argh, who were you kidding? Either way, it was definitely still weird that you hadn’t immediately deleted your whole blog afterwards. It didn’t matter that Dick was currently unknowingly blowing up your phone with excited comments and likes on several of your Nightwing x Reader fics. You pulled it out and glanced at your screen as it lit up. Ah, he was also sending you all the links so you could read them for yourself.

Is this how Dick felt when people talked about Nightwing in front of him, not knowing it was him they were talking about? You certainly felt like you had a top secret persona now.

Despite your conflicted feelings on the matter and the rising shame in your chest, you couldn’t help but smile at Dick’s genuine enthusiasm. And his comments were all very nice, too.

Maybe… Maybe he would be okay with it, knowing it was you. Maybe he’d laugh about it. Maybe he’d even be flattered. You knew it would be impossible to keep this to yourself forever, especially since Dick was so easy to open up to. But not now. Definitely not now.

A few months later, Tim mentioned your username during a group conversation. In his defense, he probably thought it was common knowledge—you knew he wouldn’t reveal something as big as this on purpose if he thought it wasn’t a big deal. You were using the same username for several other accounts on other websites as well, all connected to your second email address, the one you hadn’t shared with Dick or the others, so you hadn’t actually expected them to ever look into it and find out.

How very foolish of you. You just hoped Tim hadn’t read any of your fanfics as well.

While you’d tried to appear calm and unaffected on the outside, you could feel yourself slowly dying on the inside, melting from the sheer amount of mortification you were experiencing.

You couldn’t look Dick in the eyes ever since.

While he hadn’t mentioned anything directly, you could tell the clogs inside his head had already turned enough for him to connect the dots. He knew. Fucking shit, he knew.

Several days went by. You kept casually sending messages to him, sharing memes and other every-day things like always, and he did the same. But you could tell he knew and wanted to say something, but didn’t because he could tell you were highly uncomfortable with him knowing.

He was nice like that. Goddammit.

And then, one evening, as you contemplated finally deleting your whole account and sending an official apology to Dick (you would definitely have to do that, you just didn’t know what to say and where to start), your phone lit up with a new message.

From Dick.

You stared at the notification for a long moment, dreading what you’d find once you opened it, until your eyes started to burn and you had to force yourself to take a few deep breaths and calm down.

Don’t jump to any conclusions now, you told yourself. Just open the damn message and see for yourself.

You procrastinated by going to the bathroom first. Then walked around the kitchen in search of something to eat, only to realize you were too anxious to actually eat anything.

So you took your damn phone and clicked on the damn notification, holding your damn breath as you read Dick’s messages.

(Dick) 21:32 : Hey, so, I had some ideas for a sequel regarding your last Nightwing story

(Dick) 21:33 : Hear me out

(Dick) 21:35 : What if Nightwing went over to reader’s place

(Dick) 21:35 : and then…

You waited for him to elaborate, maybe send a GIF or something else, but he wasn’t even online anymore. You frowned and started to type a hesitant, confused response, when there was a sudden knock on your living room window, making you flinch and shriek, almost dropping your phone in the process.

Looking up, you saw Dick in his Nightwing suit outside your window, grinning and waving at you.

You blinked at him for a moment, then quickly walked over to open the window. “Wha—”

“You haven’t posted in a long time,” Dick interrupted you with a smile. “I thought maybe I could help inspire you.”

“Ins— Inspire?” you repeated, stunned.

You stepped back a little when he started climbing through the window, taking in his appearance with a sense of awe. You’d seen him as Nightwing a few times now, but you never quite got used to it. He was a sight to behold—he always was, whether he was wearing the suit or just his regular clothes, but having Nightwing standing in front of you in your own home always felt a little unreal. It was so form fitting, showing off his muscles and curves, and the mask hiding parts of his face had its very own appeal that you could hardly put into words.

“I noticed a theme while going through your stories.” Dick’s voice pulled you out of your stupor, and you quickly shut your mouth, only now realizing you’d been gaping at him the whole time.

You cleared your throat. “A theme?”

“Yeah.” He stepped closer to you, slowly, as if he wanted to check whether you would move away or not. “Nightwing and reader never actually kiss in any of them.”

You thought your heart was going to burst out of your chest. Then you realized he was waiting for you to say something.

“Oh, uhm. Yeah. I, uh. I just felt kind of weird about that. At first I was just scared you’d maybe find out about my stories some day and be weirded out by them, but later on after you told me about being Nightwing, I also just— It felt wrong to write about kissing you because it felt… too personal? And then I just kinda stopped writing them entirely.”

“Mh-hmm,” he hummed understandingly, stepping even closer, close enough for you to smell his cologne and minty breath. “Not to force my own interpretations onto your writing or anything, but I think Nightwing would definitely be very much into kissing the reader. And seeing how strongly the reader feels about him, I’m guessing it’s something they would want, too?”

You gulped, then managed to croak out a weak, “Yeah.”

He smiled and leaned closer until the tip of his nose shortly brushed yours, pausing for a moment to give you the chance to pull away, then gently pressed his lips to yours. Your breathing hitched, an electrifying sensation running through your whole body, starting from the points where he was touching you. His hands were on your arms, slowly rubbing up and down while he moved his lips against yours just as slowly. Your muscles couldn’t decide whether to stay tense or relax and melt against him, so you did a weird combination of both.

Unsurprisingly, Dick was a very good kisser.

After a long moment, he eventually parted from you, leaning back a little to take in your reaction. You couldn’t help but let out a breathless little laugh, stunned by what just happened, and so very fucking happy.

Dick chuckled too, hands gently squeezing your upper arms as if he wanted to hug you. “Was that okay?”

“Absolutely,” you said, without hesitation. “I’m sure all the fics probably gave it away, but I have feelings for you. Strong ones.”

“Well, I didn’t want to make assumptions based on fiction alone,” Dick smiled. “But I’m glad, because I feel the same way. About you, I mean.”

Your chest warmed at that. Then you chuckled, an idea hitting you. “What, you don’t want me to write Dick Grayson x Nightwing fanfics next?”

He opened his mouth to retort with something sarcastic, but then his eyes widened. “Oh my God, that’s actually a really genius idea—”

You chortled and knocked your hand against his strong chest. “No, it really wouldn’t be. What if people connected the dots and found out because of it?”

He pouted. “Alright, fair point. But maybe you could write them just for me?” Aaand he was using his puppy eyes on you. Go figure.

“I’ll think about it,” you gave in. Only a few people were strong enough to withstand Dick Grayson’s charm, and you certainly weren’t one of them. “But, I gotta ask… Weren’t you super weirded out when you found out that I wrote all these stories? Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?”

If you ever found out that a friend of yours was writing romantic reader insert fanfics about you and publishing them… Well, you didn’t know what it would feel like, but it was definitely weird.

Dick chuckled and shook his head. “If it were someone else I knew, then maybe. But I know you—you’re one of my best friends. Knowing you wrote them, it just… doesn’t bother me at all, no. I understand why you wrote them, I understand why you published them, too. And why you stopped.” He shrugged. You felt a weight fall from your shoulders at his words, finally feeling yourself relax against him. “Anyway, did I manage to inspire you? You gonna write a kiss for part two?”

You snorted, then hummed, pretending to think for a moment. “I don’t know, I think I’ll need a bit more to really get the creativity flowing.”

Dick’s smile turned knowing. “I’d be more than happy to help.” And then he kissed you again, and it was even better than the first time.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #reader insert #x reader #genderneutral reader

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tinybirbwrites · 1 year

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Losing Control (batfam/reader)

this was part of that one idea i talked about a while ago. it’s unfinished, but i thought i’d share it anyway. small warning for language and mild violence, also attempted sexual assault but it’s not very detailed and doesn’t get very far.

tried keeping reader genderneutral, not sure if i missed anything.

hope you enjoy reading!

____________

The first time it happened, I got angry during training.

Sparring with anyone from the batfamily would rarely lead to a victorious outcome—they were too experienced, too talented, too ambitious. I didn't expect to win, but a tie would be nice. And yet, I always ended up on the ground, or trapped in someone's hold. I rarely landed a hit myself, and barely managed to dodge.

It was frustrating, and more often than not, I found myself getting angry at the guys for never giving me a chance, but mostly at myself for being so weak.

But never had I blacked out like this before.

One moment I was on the ground, pressed down by Jason's weight, the next I was standing upright and staring down at him, his chest beneath my foot. He was frantically tapping my leg, and I realized that I was pressing down on his ribs hard enough to break them.

I immediately stumbled backwards and sat down, trying to recall what had happened, while Jason groaned and sat up. He didn't seem hurt, thankfully, just out of breath and surprised.

“Well,” he said, “that one was new.”

We didn't get to talk about what happened afterwards.

It was getting late and I was on my way home when it happened again. I remember being followed and touched by three tall guys, terrified to the point of being unable to move, to defend myself.

Next thing I knew, all three men were on the ground, knocked out with broken noses, covered in strange bite marks and scratches. I called the police and went home, scared and confused.

The third time it happened, Damian was yelling at me because I had made a mistake. It was on patrol, and I usually stayed back so I wouldn't get in the way, but Dick had told me I should get involved more, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to learn anything new. But of course I had made a mistake, and Damian thought it necessary to burn it into my brain.

I loved Damian, but I hated being yelled at. The anger came easily, and next time I opened my eyes, I was being held against the wall by Bruce himself.

“Calm down,” he said. He was using the Batman Voice, sending chills down my spine and making me go limp immediately, scared of having made him angry, and scared of what I had done this time. Was Damian okay?

Luckily, Damian was unharmed, but he looked a bit pale and kept staring at me with wide eyes.

I told Bruce about my blackouts that night, so he took me back to the cave to run some tests.

“The causes are high surges of adrenaline,” Bruce stated calmly, “In other words; anger, or strong fear.”

“So I'm the Hulk now?” I scoffed, but it just turned into an exhausted sigh. Bruce had taken some of my blood and insisted on doing the tests now instead of waiting until tomorrow. I was about ready to pass out.

“I want to see the effects up close in a safe environment. Only that way will I be able to tell what's happening to your body.” Bruce was already walking towards a platform with a big cell made out of see-through, bulletproof glass.

“Can this wait until tomorrow? Please?” He stopped and looked back at me with a frown. “I know this is important, but I really need some sleep, and I don't even know if I can make it happen on command.”

He considered me for a long moment, making me squirm under his piercing gaze, before he finally nodded. “Go.”

“Damian?” I whispered, lightly knocking on his door. He had been sent away to bed early, leaving before I could apologize for what had happened. “Are you awake?”

The door unlocked, so I slowly opened it. Damian was already back on his bed, lying down with his back leaning against the headrest, arms crossed. He avoided my gaze, stubbornly staring at his feet instead.

I closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, unsure where I stood with him right now. Was he angry? Upset? Scared?

“Damian,” I started cautiously, “I'm sorry. I don't know exactly what happened, but I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.”

“Wasn't scared,” he mumbled.

I couldn't help but smile. “Okay. But it's alright to be scared, you know that, right?”

He just gave a grunt.

“You also know I love you, yes? And that I'd never want to hurt you?”

He pulled his legs closer to his chest, turning his head away more. I could see his embarrassed pout before he could hide it.

“Damian?” I pushed gently. He let out a breath through his nose and mumbled something incoherent.

I slowly sat down on his bed near his feet. “What did you say? I didn't catch that.”

“I said,” he sighed, talking louder and more clearly, but still not looking at me, “that it's me who keeps hurting you. I knew that, but I didn't really see how much I hurt you until earlier today.”

He looked at me then, eyes full of shame, “I do not understand how you can still care about me.”

I was taken aback by his genuine words, as I was so used to his harsh shell. He rarely showed any softness or openness to anyone, aside maybe from Richard. I lifted a hand to gently cup his cheek, and he leaned into my touch like a cat.

“You're complicated to get along with, I'll give you that,” I said, “But I can see your heart, Damian. And I want to keep it safe. I know you don't always mean what you say, and no matter how much some things hurt, I will always care about you.”

He frowned, giving a thoughtful hum. “So you're just going to take the beating?”

I sighed. “Well, I don't want to, but what am I supposed to do? Yell at you? Besides, you don't always want me getting all emotional like right now. If I don't want to lose you, I'll just have to roll with the punches and deal with it and not take it personally.”

Damian gave a huff, then started shuffling around and pulling at my arm until I was lying down with him, letting him curl up in my arms and press his face against my collarbone.

“I will… try… to be less… harsh,” he muttered into my shirt. “I... don't want to lose you, either.”

“High adrenaline surge caused by anger is the initial trigger. It seems a part of their brain falls asleep, but the rest stays active, controlled by an unknown force that has yet to be understood. Physical changes are getting more apparent the longer they stay in that state. Increased length and sharpness of teeth, especially the canines. Aggressive behavior, borderline animalistic. No usage of vocabulary, only hissing, growling and snarling. The skin on both hands and arms starts turning dark black after one minute, and after three, the same happens to the eye whites, gums and tongue. It’s like tar slowly seeping out from every pore, covering what’s underneath.”

Bruce's notes were highly concerning, to say the least. He had kept a close eye on me the whole week, until, inevitably, I got angry during training yet again. He put me inside the cell and observed for twenty minutes, before getting me to calm down.

‘Getting me to calm down’ meant he sent Dick to make cooing noises at me until he got close enough to give me a hug. Miraculously, it worked wonders.

“You guys want me to listen to ASMR the whole day? So I won't get angry anymore? You do know that's not how it works, right?”

Bruce had invented a device that could comfortably be worn on my person, monitoring my vitals and sending a distress signal to the closest member of the batfamily in case my adrenaline got to critical levels again. Meanwhile, the boys had apparently unanimously agreed on a strategy on how to keep me calm, meaning they had put together a playlist with ASMR and calming ambience videos for me to listen to whenever I could feel my blood pressure starting to rise.

It was really sweet, but whether it was actually going to work was a whole nother question entirely.

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Jason shrugged, then grimaced at his own words. “Fuck’s sake, I sound like Alfred.”

Dick and I were on an undercover mission. It was a small one, just for one night, in which we'd have to do our best to get some information out of Subject A, a thirty year old rich woman in a red dress and big red hat, and Subject B, the owner of a big company and the husband of Subject A.

Both were insufferable, absolutely the worst. Dick was a natural at being charming and disarming, so he had no problems with talking to either subject, though I could tell by the way he would clench his jaw whenever he smiled that he was just as annoyed as I was.

Me, on the other hand, could not stand another minute in the same room as either of those two. So I told Dick I would be getting some fresh air.

And because I had the best luck in the world, some lonely rich guy followed me outside and kept talking to me, and kept creeping closer to me until he was fully in my personal bubble, completely unprompted.

“Oh, you look cold,” he said, and because apparently he thought he had the right to touch me, wrapped an arm around my waist to press me closer to his side, “Maybe we should go back inside? Or maybe I could bring you home, hmm? You seem lonely, like me.”

Everything about this guy was creeping me out. He smelled so heavily of cologne that I wanted to gag, and he kept breathing into my face.

“I would very much like to be alone, to be honest,” I pressed out between clenched teeth, already feeling the familiar pounding in my head. “I did not give you any permission to touch me like this, so please, kindly back off, sir—now.”

He was murmuring something about reading my body language and subtext and getting clear signals of sexual interest, but I could hardly even hear him anymore over the pounding in my ears, my vision already fading more and more into black, as my adrenaline started to rise.

Then, suddenly, the man was being pulled away. Then I was being maneuvered to a more secluded part of the outside area, somewhere out of sight, and Dick was standing in front of me. He was holding me by the shoulders, gently squeezing and closely watching my eyes.

He was saying something, but I couldn't hear him. I could feel my teeth sharpen, a growl rising from my throat, hands clenching and nails slowly growing into claws.

I wanted to find that disgusting piece of shit and rip his eyes out. I wanted to cut off his prick and feed it to him until he would choke to death—

Then Dick was holding my face with both hands, leaning closer until our noses were almost touching. I could hear him now, gently shushing me like a parent would to calm their crying baby. His familiar scent surrounded me, filling my senses, calming me. I relaxed a little. My anger was not directed at Dick. I knew I was safe with him.

Then he let go of me to search his pockets, quickly pulling out his phone and putting his earbuds in my ears. A few seconds later, the sounds of rain droned out the rising violence in my mind, making the back of my head tingle and the hot anger boiling in my chest die down until my physical transformation went away as well.

I sagged against Dick's chest, feeling tired all of a sudden. I waited a little longer, relinquishing the feel of relief and calm washing over me, while Dick wrapped his arms around me to stroke one hand over my back, the other holding me closer to his chest by my neck.

Eventually, I pulled the earbuds out and gave them back to him. I sighed, “I hate that I'm a ticking time bomb. You can't always be there to make sure I don't go off.”

“I don’t mind,” Dick said, helping me stand up. “That’s what family’s for, right? We got your back. With B’s device, there will always be someone there to help you out. If not, you can always call, no matter what time it is or where you are. If all else fails, you know what to do to help yourself.”

I let myself lean against him for a few moments longer, enjoying the comfort he brought, before straightening myself up with a sigh. “Thanks, Dick. I guess… let’s finish up here, huh?”

He grinned. “That’s the spirit!”

#batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #reader insert #x reader #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x reader #jason todd x reader #its all kept platonic/familial #especially the relationship between damian and reader #i love when reader acts as a parental figure towards damian #its very sweet #monster reader #genderneutral reader

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tinybirbwrites · 1 year

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the fall

a quick one-shot I wrote after playing the new archon quest, about the only thing that kinda bothered me. so this isn't particularly well-written or anything, just a quick, self indulgent little thing.

spoilers for the archon quest (3.2) ahead.

Watching Scaramouche, the so-called “False God,” desperately reach out for the electro Gnosis, hearing him beg with that heartbreaking expression on his usually resentful, cold face… And seeing Nahida, the Traveler and Paimon completely ignore his pleas in favor of using the Gnosis to save Irminsul, it made something twist inside your chest.

The cables and tubes attached to his back finally snapped from the strain he'd put on them, and you watched as he jolted forward.

“Hey—” you turned your head to tell the Traveler, Nahida, anyone, to catch him, but it was like they'd already forgotten about him completely.

There was no time, and your companions were otherwise preoccupied, so you sprinted forward as fast as you could, trying to calculate his fall and where he would land, and how you'd even catch—

Of course, with only so little time to react and act, all you could do was brace yourself, reach out your arms and hope for the best.

One second later, the weight of another's body, combined with the velocity of a fall from great height had you slamming to the ground with a pained grunt. Your arms had to be either broken or dislocated from trying to accommodate Scaramouche's weight and inconvenient position, not wanting to hurt his head or break his neck.

Upon quick inspection of the young man's body, he indeed seemed to still be intact—more so than you were, even. Looking at his eyes told a different story though, the dangerous, hate-fuelled light inside them had gone out, his expression empty, dead.

You couldn't blame him. After everything he had done to get here, after finally getting what he'd wanted for years and years, it had been taken away from him far too quickly.

It's better this way, you told yourself, he's unstable and dangerous.

Contrary to your thoughts, you cradled his head to your chest like a mother would do with her child, gently pulling his body close as if to keep him safe from any more harm. He just looked so vulnerable and broken at that moment, it felt wrong to just leave him lying around like a doll.

His expression didn't change much, only the slightest furrow of his brow betraying his seemingly lifeless state. He didn't fight you, though you couldn't tell whether it was because he didn't have the strength, or because he was lacking the will to.

It was like all the fight had just left his body, not even opting to call you names like you'd expected him to.

You craned your neck around, voice slightly croaked as you called out, “Hey, guys, was no one gonna—” Your friends were gone.

Okay, you thought, I get Irminsul is pretty important, but this is still kind of cold.

“...always the same.”

You looked down, surprised upon hearing his voice, previously so powerful and aggressive, now reduced to a mere whisper.

“Always cast aside. Always abandoned. Always left with nothing. Always left empty.”

He was mostly talking to himself, lost in his own thoughts and pain, but maybe he could tell you were bothered by the complete lack of sympathy from your friends.

“For what it's worth,” you said, matching his quiet tone, “I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Not until I know you'll be cared for, at the very least. Can't believe they'd just leave you lying around like scrap after a fall like that…”

Especially after witnessing the genuine fear and desperation on his face first-hand, when all Scaramouche had ever shown was a false smile and deep-rooted resentment.

Scaramouche tilted his head slightly, leaning closer to your chest and pressing his ear against it. You watched in silence as he listened to your heartbeat with an almost wistful look on his face. Eventually, he closed his eyes, not waking even after you tried talking to him again.

#scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin scaramouche #belatedly added tag buT GOD THE FEELS LIKE #NO ONE CAUGHT HIM #THEY!!! DIDN'T!!!! CATCH HIM!!!#I'M SO MAD FR #they just 😐

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tinybirbwrites · 2 years

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UNO Reverse (Leon Kennedy/Reader)

what’s this one about: basically isekai, but with a twist. only warning being about the swearing in this one. hope u enjoy!

I must have gone full on bonkers, is what I kept thinking to myself, as I walked through the rain in search of any signs of life. It was dark, though I had no clue about the actual time. The only thing visible to my puny human eyes was the seemingly endless street, grass, some vague dark shapes of a broader environment in the distance, and the real heroes of this story: streetlamps, the only source of light around here.

Why was I out here? No fucking clue, to be honest. Which is why I kept thinking about having gone bonkers. Anyone who could have sworn they were walking home after a long day and suddenly found themselves on some foreign, creepy ass street would think the same. Not to mention that weird sensation of total disorientation before opening their eyes to a totally different environment. It felt as though I had fallen asleep, only to be rudely woken up by the sound of thunder.

“Fuck you too, Thor,” I mumbled, after yet another flash of lightning nearly made me jump out of my skin. The situation hadn’t fully sunken in yet, and I didn’t know if I wanted it to. I was out in the middle of nowhere, my phone was dead, it was dark, my clothes were soaked, I was cold and scared and there was a fucking thunderstorm, as if my situation wasn’t already bad enough. In a desperate attempt to cope, I started mumbling the lyrics of Stayin’ Alive through chattering teeth.

Minutes later, as I wracked my brain to remember the lyrics of some ABBA songs, I could hear a familiar hum that grew louder and louder through the sound of rain and thunder, until the street in front of me was lit up by something other than the streetlamps. My first thought really shouldn't have been ‘maybe I’m going to get abducted by Aliens now, too,’ it really only proved my suspicion on going totally insane, before I finally realized that those were car noises.

I turned around with an exaggeratedly loud gasp, immediately being blinded by the bright headlights of some Jeep. I barely remembered to wave, in hopes of the driver taking pity on me and taking me along in their warm car.

Luckily, the Jeep was already slowing and coming to a halt beside me, the driver rolling down the window of the passenger seat so we could talk. I squinted through the rain, eyes still adjusting to the darkness after being brutally blinded, but I could already feel the sinking feeling of deja vu in the pit of my stomach when I got a better look at the exterior and interior of the car.

“Hey, do you need help?” The voice sounded awfully familiar, which I tried to shrug off as just my imagination, but after blinking about three more times and finally being able to make out the guy’s face, that’s when I couldn’t ignore anything anymore.

“Uhh,” I said, rather intelligently, as I stared into the eyes of Leon Scott Kennedy. A video game character.

Well, I thought, trying to make sense of the situation in a matter of milliseconds, maybe this is the guy they modeled him after. I started to nod to myself, but then remembered that the voice and modeling was done by two seperate people, so my theory immediately stopped making sense.

After about three seconds of silence, in which Leon was still politely waiting for an answer, I finally remembered how to talk again. “If— If it’s not too much trouble, could you take me with you? I don’t know where I am or where I’m headed, to be honest.”

Leon frowned at that, either confused by my admission or concerned about whether taking a complete stranger with him would be safe. But, knowing he became a cop to help people, I highly doubted he would just leave me out here in the rain.

...This would be the perfect moment for a hilarious joke, to say that he did, in fact, leave me out here, driving away at speeds that were clearly breaking the law—but he didn’t. Leon, kindhearted soul as he was, cleared out the passenger seat for me and opened the door with a smile.

I felt immensely out of place, soaked and confused as I was. Again, the situation wasn’t fully settling in just yet. I mean, meeting a fictional character was one thing, but then realizing that I was apparently in a whole other freaking dimension right now was another.

Leon took in my appearance for a moment, face showing concern. “How long have you been out there?”

I pursed my lips as I tried to estimate the time, but knowing it probably felt longer than it actually was due to the shit weather condition, I quickly gave up. “I’ve no clue, maybe half an hour? Maybe more?”

The young cop set the car in motion once more, but not before looking in the mirror, over his left shoulder and using the turn signal, despite there being a clear lack of traffic. Truly, a law-abiding citizen by heart. Meanwhile, I almost forgot to put on the seatbelt.

After going back to a steady, legal speed, Leon spoke up, “Hopefully we’ll find you some spare clothes, or at least a blanket. I’m afraid I don’t have anything with me that could help you…”

“No worries, I’m already feeling much better just being out of the rain.” I watched another bolt of lightning flashing across the sky for a split second, feeling much safer now that I was no longer alone and out in the open. “Thanks for taking me with you.”

“No problem. I’m happy to help.” Leon shot me a quick, warm smile. “I’m Leon, by the way. Leon Kennedy.”

That confirms it, I thought, trying my best not to give anything away. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest as realization started to sink in, deeper and deeper.

“Nice name,” I heard myself say, quickly introducing myself before he could react. Luckily, Leon didn’t seem to have heard it, though he started to frown again, as if struck by a thought.

“So,” he started after a moment, tone polite, though he was still visibly distracted by whatever had come to his mind, “why were you out there? You said you don’t know where you are—this all sounds pretty concerning.”

I snorted. “Yeah, you can say that again. I was on my way home, but then I suddenly… wasn’t? Maybe I was drugged or something, I have no clue. All I know is I really, really shouldn’t be here, and that I would’ve probably eventually caught hypothermia if not for you.”

That’s when a familiar song started playing on the radio, and a sense of dread started to set in as I belatedly realized where we were headed.

In the distance, the lights of a gas station came into view.

After everything we had just been through in the past hour or so, Leon still managed a genuine smile. “Seeing as I won’t need these anymore,” he pointedly pulled at the collar of his jacket, “maybe you could wear them? They’ll be too big, but at least they’re not as soaked.”

We’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, and you’re still worried about me being cold? is what I almost said, but then I thought, of course he is—he’s Leon S Kennedy, after all.

“It’d be an honor to wear your clothes, Mr Kennedy,” is what I said instead, almost immediately regretting it and cringing into my shirt as I started to pull it over my head, both from my words and from the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes clinging to my skin.

Leon gave a little laugh, something I had never heard from him before, which made the whole thing worth it, honestly. “Alright, I’ll get dressed back here and set my clothes in the middle so you can grab them. Let me know once you’re done, so I don’t accidentally…”

He trailed off, and when I looked up from watching my shirt wetly flop onto the floor, I could actually see him blush. “Oh, uh, yeah. Good plan. Let’s do that.”

Leon was staring at me as if I had just told him I was the Queen of England. “Wait, what did you say your full name was again?”

I repeated it, more slowly this time, wondering what the hell was so special about it. Maybe he had been so distracted by my messy appearance that he hadn’t listened when I told him the first time.

“You mean, like the fictional character from the book?”

Now it was my turn to be confused. “What book? What fictional character?” Because, frankly, the only fictional character here is you, is what I didn’t say, instead biting my tongue. No need to throw that harsh truth in his face so soon into meeting him. No way he would even believe me.

He said my name, then, as if he had said it a million times before, which was a little confusing considering he couldn’t remember it just a few seconds ago. “You know, from the I’d Rather Sleep Than Solve Math Problems book?”

Wait, what?

“That… funnily sounds like something I would say. Not a bad title, honestly,” I chuckled, albeit a little nervously. Was he for real? Was this all some fucked up joke? Wasn’t I supposed to be the one being all “oh, haha, you’re actually a video game character, funny story, haha”?

Leon was still watching me with a searching look in his blue eyes, as if gauging my reaction, testing a theory. “It’s rather popular with teenagers. I even had to write a whole essay about it back in school.”

“Wh— It’s a thing in school?! I’m in a book that gets assigned as homework in fucking school?” I watched him nod, feeling as if the rug had been pulled out from under my feet.

I found myself stumbling back a few steps and ultimately sinking down and leaning my back against the wall, Leon crouching down in front of me. Absent-mindedly, I mumbled, “Well, I’m… sorry you had to do that. Must’ve been a real drag.”

Leon smiled. “Actually, I rather enjoyed it. Couldn’t put it down once I started reading. Even got a good grade for my essay.”

He enjoyed a book I was a fictional character in, I thought, rather deliriously, he even got a good grade. This can’t be fucking real.

“Uh, congrats! I’m… uh… glad you liked it?” He tilted his head, gaze now growing a little worried.

“You okay? Sorry, I guess it’s a lot to take in, huh?” At my nod, he grimaced apologetically and sat down beside me, putting one hand on my knee and giving it a comforting squeeze. “I thought you were crazy at first, but there’s no doubt that you’re actually them. I’ve read the book about three or four times, you’re exactly like them.”

“Huh,” was all I could croak out, “But... I guess I gotta look a little different than you imagined, right?”

“Well, no, not really. Sure, I didn’t know what your face looked like exactly, but the description is pretty damn accurate.” I turned my head to look at him, just in time to see him blush. “You’re… cuter than I imagined.”

Cute? Did the Leon Scott Kennedy just call me cute?

Play it cool. “I… uh… Thanks.” Smooth.

“So, what exactly happens in the book? I mean, it can’t be that interesting, right? I know what my life is like, and, well, it’s not exactly eventful.”

“That’s what makes it so popular,” Leon began to explain, voice growing passionate, “it’s relatable to teenagers and young adults because your life is the way it is. You don’t know what to do in life, you’re searching for your purpose, you’re scared of the future, of how quickly time passes—it’s pretty much what everyone goes through at some point, don’t you think? And then the way you try to cope by using your imagination is just so well written!”

Leon was actually full on gushing now, talking about a book about my life as if he were talking about Star Wars. There were so many things that were strange about this situation, yet the one that stood out the most was that I would’ve never imagined that someone like Leon would enjoy a book like that.

Then again, I didn’t know a whole lot about Leon’s interests. Not like his wikipedia gave away much other than his life during and after Raccoon City, not before. Capcom never even gave us his exact birthdate, just the year he was born in. Most of his wiki was about his missions, everything he’d done to protect humanity from bioweapons and the like. It didn’t exactly talk much about his private life, the only thing I knew about him was that he drank a lot of alcohol, apparently. But thank God we knew what his blood type was.

“I’m sorry,” Leon suddenly apologized, sounding a little bashful, “I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable. I must sound like a total geek.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” I quickly tried to reassure him, giving him a smile that I really hoped didn’t look like a grimace, “I’m really just at a loss for words. I don’t know how to— I mean, I just— I never expected to be a—” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

Leon seemed to know exactly what I was talking about though, nodding with an understanding look on his face. “Yeah, I can only imagine.”

If only you knew. I bit my tongue before I could say anything about him being fictional too. One thing after another.

#yeah no i couldnt think of a better title for this one im afraid #also im a total sucker for these kinds of tropes #like with a character being thrown into a fictional world and all #or a character coming into the real world #just anything isekai-ish #idk why but i love that stuff #leon is probably super ooc in some parts #sorry about that #also reader is mainly based on myself so i apologize to those who cant relate to them #i try to keep stuff vague but sometimes its hard not to get into any details #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you

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tinybirbwrites · 2 years

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ok so just for my own peace of mind, i’ll put this blog’s main focus points here.

just as a fair warning, my interests constantly switch, depending on what sort of comfort my brain is craving and what sort of character i’m in the mood for. but! my current main interests are, in no particular order;

warframe

dc (mainly batfamily oriented)

bg3

genshin impact

resident evil

dead by daylight (though i’ve kinda fallen out of it due to social anxiety)

detroit: become human

original ideas (i am constantly working on oc’s and where/how i could use them, so i might post something about that some time, idk yet)

+ other fandoms (like one punch man, saiki k, portal,...) but since i haven’t been active in those as much, i won’t include them yet.

also, i mainly write reader inserts because they bring me some much needed comfort and because i have trouble concentrating on maintaining the personalities of two or more characters instead of just one (i’m a perfectionist and don’t want the character to feel too ooc). reader being basically a self-insert/mainly based on the writer themself is easier for me to write, and more fun at the moment, but who knows, maybe i’ll write/post about actual pairings some day too.

i’ll never use y/n, and generally i try to avoid any physical descriptions of reader’s appearance. some things could be hinted at, such as height or weight. i always prefer writing gender-neutral reader so they can be enjoyed by anyone.

i am unsure whether i’ll be posting anything nsfw, but if i do, i’ll put a warning at the top and the smut under read more so it should be completely avoidable.

if you like my writing, i also have an ao3 account.

#i know no one cares but just in case someone ever wonders like #what this blog is even about #or if u have any ideas/thoughts u wanna share but dont know what im even interested in #here's info about that stuff ig udwef

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tinybirbwrites · 2 years

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A drive to drive (batfam/reader)

All you wanted was to stay in your room and enjoy your hobbies in peace, with no responsibilities to worry about. Alas, you were an adult now, and have been for years. It was time to act like it and do something with your life.

But you didn't know what the problem was. There was nothing you really wanted, aside from writing books perhaps. You hated that time kept passing with no chance of stopping it. You just wanted to press the pause button and relax for a year without having to worry about wasting time, figuring out what you wanted to do with your life.

“I'll make you a deal,” Bruce said, noticing you were having conflicted feelings. When you looked up, he had a rare smirk on his lips, making your head tilt in curiosity. “If you get your driver's license, I'll let you drive any of my cars—including the batmobile.”

You heard a collective mixture of shocked and scandalized gasps coming from around the dinner table. As far as you’d heard—which were mostly complaints—the boys weren't allowed to drive the batmobile, especially not Dick, for whatever reason.

“Are— Are you sure? What if I damage any of them?” you stammered, having long forgotten about the food on your plate, which made Alfred tut disapprovingly behind your back.

“I can afford it. I just need you to have the motivation to pull through, that's all that's important right now.” Bruce's tone, for once, was genuinely caring. You had never heard him talk like this before.

“We'll all help you study for the exams!” Dick suddenly piped up, lips pulled up into an excited smile, “We can even let you test drive a bit.”

“Ah,” you chuckled, “I'd just embarrass myself, but we'll see. I'd definitely like it if I could sit down with someone once a day to learn the theoretical stuff, it's hard for me to stay focused and motivated at home.”

“With my help, you'll ace the exams without a sweat,” Tim smiled confidently. You had no doubt that he wasn't exaggerating.

“Well, I just hope we don't start hating each other halfway through, I tend to be really slow at understanding things.” Your tone was light, but you were serious—not only did you have a hard time with self-discipline, you were also slow in understanding the stuff you were supposed to learn. Yourattention span and patience had become shorter than it used to be, which made learning harder. You really hoped you wouldn't make a fool of yourself and make the guys hate your guts during all this.

“We'll figure it out as we go,” Dick said reassuringly, “Don't worry about it for now.”

“They just want to bribe you into letting them have a go at the batmobile too,” Jason whispered to you, making you snort. “But, seriously, you'll nail this. It might get chaotic, sure, but no matter how long it takes, you'll make it.”

You stared at him in awe. “I— That means a lot, Jase.” You gave him the rest of your pancake as thanks, which he happily devoured.

Bruce, who had listened to his sons’ encouraging words, cleared his throat, “Remember that money doesn't matter, so even if you do fail the exams, you can repeat them as many times as you need. A large percentage fails at them, so don't worry if you do too, we certainly won't be disappointed.”

“I didn't pass the practical exam on the first try,” Dick hummed, “Didn't matter. Reviewed my mistakes, practiced, and tried again. Aced it.”

“I had trouble with the theoretical exams,” Jason mumbled around another piece of pancake, “But once I got my shit together and took the time to learn and burn that stuff into my brain, I aced it too.”

You couldn't help but be surprised; you thought these guys were perfect at anything and everything. To hear them admit that even they hadn’t passed the exams on their first try made you both anxious and more relaxed. Anxious because it must be difficult if even these geniuses sitting at this table had trouble with it, and relaxed because if they had failed, you were allowed to fail without shame too.

Damian, who hadn't said anything this whole time, suddenly put down his knife and fork to get your attention. “If the driving instructor gives you a hard time, let me know and I'll take care of him.”

Everyone at the table nodded in agreement, making you laugh. “I feel like I could do anything with you all having my back,” you said, heart swelling with adoration and joy. “Thanks, guys, Damian, I appreciate it.”

You turned back to Bruce, who was still waiting for your official answer. “It's a deal.”

#ok so this is pretty old #maybe like two years ago or so #before i got my own drivers license #i wrote this to motivate myself into getting one #i did get one :)#it took a little while but i can legally drive now eufhweuf #anyway yeah so this isn't perfect #i dont rlly like the way its written anymore #but i thought id post it here #maybe itll help motivate someone too who knows #batfam x you #batfam x reader #reader insert #x reader #batfamily x reader

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