Title: “Batbaby”

Burnt Bridges

(Dabi x Villain!Reader)

The first time Dabi left, it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. There were no explosive confrontations or sudden betrayals. It was just an absence that spread like a poison, slowly creeping through the air. You should have seen it coming, really. The signs were there, even if you didn’t want to acknowledge them. But you didn’t expect him to just leave.

He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t give you any warning. He just... vanished.

You had been partners in crime, partners in everything. Destruction. Chaos. He was fire, and you were the wind that fueled it. But now, in the wake of his absence, you felt like an ember, flickering in the cold.

You’d come back from a mission, bruised and bloodied as usual, but the familiar warmth of his presence wasn’t there to greet you. His side of the room was empty, the bed unmade. No smirk, no flame, no Dabi.

You should have been used to it, but you weren’t. The hole he left was jagged, painful, and the silence rang louder than any explosion you had ever caused. The night he left, you tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need him. You had always been able to go it alone before.

But this wasn’t the same.

You spent days — no, weeks — trying to drown out the void he’d left. You threw yourself into missions, into villain work, into destruction. But each kill, each robbery, each confrontation felt hollow. Something was missing. Someone was missing.

And it wasn’t just anyone. It was him.

You hated the way you couldn’t get him out of your mind, the way you felt like a part of you had been ripped away. And the anger? It burned inside you like an open wound. He had left you without so much as a word. No explanation, no apology. He just left. It wasn’t like Dabi to be this cold, this distant. But maybe he’d always been that way, and you’d just never realized it.

-------------------------------Time Skip------------------------------------

You didn’t expect to see him again. Not after everything. Not after he left without a trace, without a single word.

But there he was, standing at the center of the chaos, his flames dancing like an inferno, scorching everything in his path. He didn’t even look at you at first. Not until the smoke cleared, and you saw him standing there — taller, colder, more controlled than you remembered.

He was a walking blaze, but the heat was different now. It wasn’t the wild, unpredictable fire that used to send shivers of excitement down your spine. It was something calculated. Detached.

And that’s when it hit you. He hadn’t just left. He had changed. His flames weren’t the same, but neither were you.

The battle raged on, but you didn’t care about the heroes. You didn’t care about the villains. Your eyes were fixed on him, and the anger inside you bubbled over.

“You just left,” you spat as you approached him, the words sharp and filled with venom. “Without a word, without a fucking reason. You just left.”

Dabi’s expression was unreadable. His eyes, once filled with fire and intensity, were now cold, like nothing could touch him. It was like he was a different person altogether.

“I don’t owe you anything,” he muttered, his voice like gravel.

“No,” you shot back, your fists clenching. “You don’t owe me anything, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make you owe me an explanation.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t care if he wanted to fight or talk. You were done holding back. You were done pretending. His absence had carved deep scars inside you, and now you were going to burn everything down until he understood the weight of his silence.

-------------------------------Time Skip------------------------------------

The city was ablaze, but nothing compared to the fire inside you. You fought like an animal, driven by rage. Every punch you threw, every villain you took down, was a piece of the anger you couldn’t contain.

But the heat of the flames was different now. Even Dabi’s fiery presence was no longer enough to soothe the wound he’d left behind.

After the battle, you stood alone in the remnants of the wreckage. The sound of distant sirens was like a mocking reminder of everything you had lost. Everything he had taken. You didn’t know why you stayed here. Why you didn’t walk away.

Maybe it was the lingering hope that he’d finally talk to you. But after everything, you weren’t sure what you expected.

“Why the hell did you leave?” you demanded, your voice shaking with barely-contained fury.

Dabi didn’t respond right away. His eyes were cold, focused on the destruction around you. But then, finally, his gaze flicked to you. His lips curled into a thin, bitter smile.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” he said, his voice distant, almost disinterested.

The words hit you like a slap. You didn’t expect him to apologize. You didn’t expect him to beg for forgiveness. But this? This was worse. The indifference in his tone, the way he dismissed you as if you didn’t matter, as if you were just another part of his past he could burn away… It was more than you could handle.

“You think I didn’t care?” Your chest tightened, the anger threatening to swallow you whole. “You think I don’t care that you left me without even telling me? Without any warning, without any explanation?” Your voice rose, the fury in your words making the air around you crackle. “You’re a fucking coward, Dabi. A coward who ran when things got hard. You always leave when it gets too real. And I’m sick of it.”

He stepped forward, his gaze unwavering, the flames flickering at his side, but there was no emotion behind them. “I didn’t ask you to stay. You’re here because you chose to be.”

“And now I regret it,” you hissed, taking a step back, the fire in your eyes not matching the coldness in his. “You’re not the same, Dabi. You’re just a ghost. And I’m done chasing after you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. There was no sound, no movement, just the two of you — separated by everything that had come between you.

Then, without another word, you turned away, leaving him standing in the flames.

...

Oh. my. everything!!!!

I just got around to reading chapter 2 (was my b-day yesterday, so I've been busy :]), and I love it!!!

Seeing Croc as a mentor wasn't what I expected, but I love that so much!! Him, and probably Harley would be the ones who would have been the best mentors out of the rouges gallery. Imo at least

Now that just makes me think of what Duck's relation is with all the villains. Ofc, Joker can go die in a ditch, but like, would Harley and Ivy be like, aunties towards Duck? Or at least friendly on the most part?

I'm sure Selena would be, considering they've got a cat themselves!

I just imagine, that Duck is like, the only one Croc tolerates being near, or accidentally touching him, after they've known each other for a long while.

Keep up the amazing work! And remember to hydrate! <3 <3

- 🐇

BUNNY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! HOPE IT WAS A GOOD DAY!

I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND WHEN I SAY YOU'VE READ MY MIND. I HAVE A LIST OF HOW THE VILLIANS WOULD TREAT DUCK.

If you want that list, I can and will post it, much like the Batfam list.

I would have to say that Croc, Ivy, Harley, and Selina were probably the main 4 to teach Duck the ways, with the others teaching Duck every once in awhile but none of them where ever mean!

I can tell you this, the rouges all fucking love Duck would do anything for them!

They see someone hurting Duck badly in a fight? They are on the person's ass in 0.5 seconds.

Also, Selina was def the one that gifted Duck their cat once they became their own villain. I could see Ivy giving them some plants that don't need much taking care of while Harley would gift them some weapons or a book on how to analyze people.

Croc would probably just give them a pat on the back or something and say "proud of you" but is their biggest supporter. Duck can go to him, or anyone else, for help or for anything really.

Also, side note, AUTOCORRECT KEPT CHANGING DUCK TO FUCK SO IF I MISSED ONE, LET ME KNOW. 😭

Also skull what readers do you write for?

hmm, currently I write Gender Neutral, Female, and Male.

When I have more confidence in my skills, I'll venture out but that it's for now.

Thanks for asking, Hermes!

THE BAKERY IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS

HELLO! HELLO! COME ON IN!

Welcome to my little bakery. Most of what I'll 'bake' (write) will relate to whatever hyperfixation I have at the time.

I shall keep my irl name a secret but feel free to call me Insomniac or any nickname you can think off based of that!

I am not a writer but I wanted to get my random thought about stories out of my head and what better place than the internet!? (def won't regret this later)

Feel free to request any pastery (asks) and I'll see what I can make for you!

Lists of what I will and won't write will be made eventually.

Welcome and I hope you all stay awhile!

Masterlists:

The Genre Bakecase (start here)

Current Menu Items

The Making of a Villian

I'm head baker but if you wish be a helper (an emoji-based anon) below are the emojis already taken:

🌃🪼👩🏻‍🍳🐇

"Villainy, Coffee, and Other Minor Inconveniences"

(I'm in the process of writing a Batfam x neglected!villain!reader but have some stupid scenarios based on that)

You, a totally ordinary civilian with zero villain tendencies whatsoever, are sipping your fifth overpriced iced coffee of the morning, watching Gotham spiral into its usual flavor of chaos. You’re not involved. Obviously. Just a casual observer. A bystander. A background character.

Then someone—probably Jason—crashes through a hot dog stand two blocks away, and the vendor screams something about vengeance and mustard.

You don’t flinch. You sip harder.

Tim Drake lands beside you mid-pursuit, glancing at your cup.

“Where’d you get that?” he asks, completely out of breath.

You raise a brow. “Crimebucks. Two-for-one if you commit emotional damage before noon.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Exactly.”

He’s too tired to process it and just grapples away.

---

Back at your completely normal, not suspicious at all apartment, your cat (whose name is "Gotham's Doom" but you call her "Gothie") sits on your desk, wearing the tiny hoodie you stitched with “Property of Nobody.” She's judging you. She always is.

You adjust your villain…vision board. It has a detailed ten-step plan, three color-coded Post-Its, and a glitter sticker that says “Slay.”

Step One: Make Gotham mildly uncomfortable.

Step Two: Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.

Step Three: Remember to water the plants.

---

Meanwhile, across the city, the Batfamily is absolutely losing it.

Someone hacked the Batcomputer and replaced Alfred’s login screen with a slideshow of ducks wearing bowties. Dick cried laughing. Bruce did not. Jason tried to adopt one.

No leads.

No trace.

No clue that you were the Duckmaster of Disaster.

---

You end your day in a hoodie, sipping another coffee, watching the sunrise from a roof you definitely don’t own.

You're not plotting.

You're simply...vibing.

Because if being dramatically mysterious while your cat licks her paw like she’s prepping for world domination is wrong, then you don’t want to be right.

You: "Am I the drama?"

Gothie: "Meow."

can u do more alpha jason stuff pls? maybe he nests fem!omega reader? pls n thank u

The fact I'm about to write another fic on a subject I know very little about. My search history is going to be concerning.

Love the idea, it'll probably be posted later tonight since I have nothing else going on.

Caffine and Capes

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Hal Jordan (Batlantern) Setting: Cozy café, followed by a walk in the park Tone: Soft Fluff

The café was small and cozy, tucked away on a quiet street in Gotham. The air smelled like freshly ground coffee and something faintly sweet, like cinnamon. A soft jazz tune played in the background, mixing with the chatter of the few patrons.

Bruce sat at a corner table, his usual sharpness dulled by the warm lighting and comforting atmosphere. His coffee sat in front of him, but he wasn’t drinking it. Instead, he was watching Hal, who seemed entirely too excited for a simple trip to a café.

“This place smells like... joy,” Hal said, eyes wide as he looked around. “I’m convinced coffee beans are secretly happiness in disguise.”

Bruce didn’t smile, but there was the tiniest flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You sure it’s not the sugar?”

Hal leaned forward with a smirk. “Maybe a little bit of both.”

Bruce reached for his cup, taking a sip, and Hal watched him, eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re really quiet today.”

Bruce sighed. “I’m not quiet. I’m... contemplative.”

Hal snorted, causing Bruce to give him an unamused look. “I’ll take that as ‘yes, you’re quiet.’”

“Well,” Bruce said, glancing out the window at the soft drizzle of rain that had started outside, “I didn’t think you’d be so... enthusiastic about coffee. You’re usually more into explosions and flashy things.”

“Coffee’s a simple pleasure,” Hal replied, leaning back in his chair. “Besides, it’s a good break from all the chaos. I don’t need fireworks to enjoy something.”

Bruce’s gaze softened slightly. He hadn’t expected Hal to be so... well, normal. In the middle of Gotham, in a café with soft lighting and jazz, Bruce felt a kind of peace that didn’t come often.

After a few moments, Hal was up and pulling his jacket on. “So, I know you’re Mr. Nighttime—“

“Don’t.”

“—But how about we take a walk through the park?” Hal finished, ignoring the glare. “There’s a park not far from here. I promise, no giant green robots or alien invasions.”

Bruce gave him a flat look. “You really think that’s going to convince me?”

Hal just smiled, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “I’m betting on the fact that you’re curious enough to see what a normal date looks like.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching toward a smirk. “Alright. Lead the way.”

The park was quiet, the path lit by soft streetlamps that shimmered in the rain. They walked side by side, the occasional raindrop catching in the dark strands of Hal’s hair. There was a certain ease in the air, despite the world’s usual chaos swirling around them.

Hal kicked a few leaves up, glancing at Bruce. “You know, I’ve always imagined Gotham as... darker. More gloomy. But this place... it’s peaceful.”

Bruce nodded, his gaze on the path ahead. “Sometimes you need a reminder that there’s more to a city than crime.”

Hal glanced at him, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Bruce let his guard slip just a little. He didn’t have to be Batman right now. He could just be... Bruce.

“You know,” Hal began, looking up at the rain-soaked trees, “this is nice. Just... us. No Green Lanterns or Bat-families. No big city problems.”

Bruce turned his head, watching Hal with a rare, genuine smile that seemed to soften the edges of his face.

“I’m glad you think so,” Bruce said quietly. “It’s been a while since I’ve just... walked.”

They continued on in silence for a while, the sound of footsteps mixing with the gentle rustle of leaves in the rain. When they reached a bench near the center of the park, Hal gestured for Bruce to sit.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so...” Hal trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence.

“Normal?” Bruce suggested, taking a seat. “Yeah. I’m good at hiding it.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to see past the cape and cowl,” Hal said softly. “But I think I like this version of you.”

Bruce met his gaze, his voice a little quieter than usual. “I think I do too.”

Hal’s hand rested on the bench beside Bruce’s, fingers almost brushing. Bruce looked down for a moment, then subtly shifted his hand so it was resting just an inch from Hal’s.

“I guess we’re both full of surprises,” Bruce said, his lips quirking in the slightest smile.

Hal chuckled, looking down at their hands. “You have no idea.”

The rain fell a little harder now, but neither of them moved to leave. Instead, they sat there, quietly sharing a moment that was simple — but in its own way, exactly what they needed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is for @witherby I'M RATTING YOU OUT. You guys should definitely check out their writing, it's awesome!!

Oh I am most definitely implying that they like to cause chaos and trouble!

I read "Villainy, Coffee and other minor inconveniences", and the 'duckmaster of disaster' just made me think of the untitled goose phrase 'its a lovely day in the town, and you are a horrible goose' :D

In terms of nicknames, I'm maybe a bit biased, but I like Duck, or something akin to that. The duckmaster of disaster just stuck with me for some reason

And I'll come back to you with scenario ideas, since I need to get my thoughts in order.

Keep up the great work, and keep yourself hydrated!

First off, I can tell you're gonna be one of my fav anons so feel free to give yourself an emoji to make it easier to know who I'm talking to!

Second, that phase is the embodiment of our lovely Neglected!Villain!Reader. I do like the nickname but if you have any other ideas, tell me!

I also look forward to any ideas you have! It might help come up with ideas to write about as this is not a fully flushed story yet so anything can happen!

Well in that case, I'm gonna pick 🐇 :3 And just call me bunny or rabbit if you don't wanna use the emoji all the time <3

And I do actually have something in mind. Though it's not really a scenario, more just a question.

What is the relationship reader's going to have with the individual bats? Like, is it going to be indifference (is that the right word?) with all of them?

It makes sense if it will be, I'm just curious of what you might have in mind! :D

Remember to stay hydrated!!

- 🐇

I'm gonna call you Bunny cause it's adorable!!!

Welcome to the team, Bunny!

This had to make me think for a bit but then I realized, it would be better to give you the before and after relationships between our lovly Duck (the nickname is growing on me ngl) and the batfam.

Before (while still living with them):

Bruce: Dismissive. Barely acknowledged your presence unless something went wrong. Cold authority figure.

Dick: Polite but shallow. Smiled at you, but never took you seriously.

Jason: Indifferent. Didn’t go out of his way to mock you, but never defended you either.

Tim: Competitive and undermining. Frequently took credit for your ideas.

Damian: Openly critical. Saw you as weak and unworthy from day one.

Barbara: Apathetic. Rarely engaged with you or acknowledged your input.

Alfred: Neutral but quietly regretful. Treated you with basic civility, but never intervened.

After (when reader had enough of them and left):

Bruce: Treats you as a dangerous unknown. Frustrated that this new villain is always one step ahead. Doesn’t realize he created you.

Dick: Tries to find a pattern in your moves. Thinks you’re clever, maybe even admirable—still has no idea it's you.

Jason: Thinks you’re hilarious. Doesn’t see you as a threat yet, just someone giving Bruce a hard time.

Tim: Spiraling. This unknown player is disrupting everything. Feels like he's missing something obvious.

Damian: Sees you as a pest with no honor. Thinks you’re trying too hard to impress.

Barbara: Suspicious. The way you move reminds her of someone, but she hasn’t figured it out yet.

Alfred: Observing. Quietly noticing similarities between your actions and the person the family ignored.

Your Name Was Hope

(Shigaraki Tomura x Reader | angst | second person POV)

It happens faster than he can process.

One second, you're standing between him and a hero’s blade — the next, you're bleeding out, crumpling forward.

His body moves before his mind can catch up. He lunges, catches you — but even in his panic, instinct takes over: he only uses four fingers to grab the back of your jacket, his pinky hovering awkwardly in the air. Anything to avoid destroying you. Anything to keep you here.

"Idiot," he chokes out, dragging you against him as he stumbles back, his back hitting on the wall behind him. As he slides down to the ground, places your head on his lap. He looks down at you, his eyes full of fear. His voice is cracked and raw, nothing like the Shigaraki the world fears. "Why... why the hell would you do that?"

You smile. Of all the things you could do — all the things you could say — you smile. Weak. Soft. Like you don't have a single regret.

"You’re not..." You cough, blood staining your teeth. "You're not a monster. Not to me."

His whole body shudders. You shouldn't say that. You shouldn't believe that.

His fingers tremble where they grip your jacket, so tight the fabric might tear — but still, carefully, carefully, he keeps his cursed touch at bay.

You reach up — shaky, struggling — and brush the back of your hand against his cheek. A featherlight touch. No threat of Decay. Only warmth.

"Tomura," you whisper.

The sound of it — his real name, spoken with love — cuts deeper than any wound. It shatters something inside him.

You slump fully against his chest, your breathing slowing, your hand falling away.

"No— no, no, no—" His voice is hoarse, frantic. He’s begging, even though he doesn't know who he's begging anymore. "Don't leave. Don't—"

But you’re already slipping away.

The battlefield goes quiet. And Tomura — villain, destroyer, monster — is left holding the only person who ever looked at him like he was worth saving.

Later, when the smoke clears, no one questions why Shigaraki walks off the battlefield with his fingers digging into a battered, bloodstained bracelet wrapped tightly around his wrist. A simple thing. Frayed, cheap — something you had always worn. It was yours. Now it’s his.

He never lets it decay. No matter how damaged he is, no matter how angry — he always makes sure he touches it with four fingers. Never five. Never enough to destroy it.

Because it’s the only thing left of you.

The only thing reminding him he was once loved. Even if he never deserved it.