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A bright light filled an empty warehouse, pillars of shimmering rainbows shining through the dirty windows as it quickly dimmed before disappearing.
"Servant class... Archer. I have been called upon to be your servant of the bow."
You informed with a deep voice, your eyes slowly opening to reveal steel-colored irises.
"I ask of you... are you my master—"
You couldn't finish your sentence as you became an instant witness to what was in front of you.
It was you. Younger.
Tied up, with f/c hair now bloodied, as four armed gunmen and your younger self stared at the sudden arrival of, well... you.
"She's tall!"
Those were the first two words that came to the minds of the gunmen as they laid their eyes on the abrupt arrival of the newcomer. And she was tall.
After the dust settled, the crooks were able to get a proper look at the woman, and they found her appearance quite exotic.
In front of the occupants of the warehouse was a six-foot-two woman with gorgeous tan skin, white hair tied in a spiked bun, and eyes the color of steel. Her figure was a light corded muscle. She wore black, form-fitting armor on her chest that seemed to show off her toned figure, even though it covered them. She wore a pair of metal-soled shoes, and a red hooded shroud that made them shake in fear due to her steel-colored eyes, which had a soft glowing hue. She had a soft but sharp face with a hawkish nose. All in all, she was quite a beautiful woman.
You mentally palmed your face, feeling a painful memory surface, like a hammer hitting a nail as your mind processed a new memory ingrained into your skull.
"Damn Alaya, was this one of her sick jokes?" You could never tell with them.
Or was it just another case of your good old pal Mr. E-Rank luck?
"Help... Help me!" You heard your young self plead with a strained, hoarse voice.
And you groaned. There was the future "Hero of Justice" in front of you, forever desiring to help as many people as she could, destined to die on a hill full of swords, spears, and arrows jutting out of her back.
You could not let her die. You would end up making a singularity or worse, a Lostbelt. Then Chaldea would send its last two Masters of Humanity to fix the timeline.
What was a Counter Force guardian supposed to do?
"Walk away." You spoke. Not a question, nor a request, but a single demand.
A demand that sounded like a sharp sword being drawn and aimed at their necks.
The gunmen did not like that one single bit. One of them swung their arm up to take a shot at you, but your instincts did not even need to warn you. They were no threat to you at all. Not. A single. Chance.
Faster than they could react, you became a blur of crimson. In an instant, you closed the distance, your hand grabbing the first gunman’s arm, twisting it sharply before throwing him into a stack of crates.
Without missing a beat, you pivoted on your foot, swinging a brutal kick into the second gunman’s head, sending him flying to the ground.
The last two could not even move before you were already leaping into the air, reaching the apex of your jump before barreling down with a crushing flying kick. Your steel boot slammed into the third gunman’s chest, knocking the wind out of him as he crumpled to the floor.
The fourth gunman stared at you in horror, watching how you took down his comrades with frightening speed and precision.
"What the fuck—"
He did not get to finish. A hand clamped onto his shoulder with a vice-like grip. You leaned in slightly, your steel-gray eyes glinting with cold amusement.
"I will give you an opportunity to surrender," you said in a soft but commanding whisper. "Do not waste it by continuing this one-sided humiliation."
The last gunman wisely decided to use his brain. Trembling, he handed his weapon over to you. You accepted it with a calm nod and gave him a light pat on the back, instructing him to sit down on one of the nearby crates.
Seeing that he obeyed, you turned your attention to your tied-up younger self, who stared back with awe shining in her eyes. The bloodied wound on her head needed attention. Disposing the gun and holding out your hand, you began to trace a Noble Phantasm.
"Trace on."
In your grasp, a silver wand materialized. It belonged to a no-name wizard, a nameless phantasm whose only merit was its ability to cast spells. Your younger self gave you a wary look as you knelt beside her, quietly chanting a minor healing spell.
"Rejuvenate."
A soft light emitted from the wand, firing a thin, tether-like beam that struck the wound. She winced, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, but after a few seconds, the injury closed, leaving behind only a faint scar.
Reaching for the ropes, you snapped them easily. Straightening up, you locked eyes with your younger self.
"Who are you?"
You could not say your name. That would only cause more problems later.
"I am Archer."
Without further ceremony, you slipped an arm under her legs and lifted her with ease. She instinctively wrapped her arms around your neck for support. Satisfied that she was secure, you approached the only conscious gunman, who flinched as you reached your hand out in silent demand. Without hesitation, he shoved his phone into your palm.
Flipping through the device, you checked the most recent calls. Bruce Wayne's number flashed on the screen, though it was marked as "Unknown." You scoffed silently. There was no mistaking it. That sorry excuse of a fucking deadbeat had never cared about your existence.
You handed the phone to your younger self, instructing her quietly.
"Pocket it. Hold onto it tightly."
Stepping outside the warehouse, you paused, standing still for a long moment as the city of Gotham stretched out before you. The one place, across all possible Earths, that you would burn to ashes without a second thought. Your steel-gray eyes narrowed into a sharp glare.
A soft pat on your head pulled you out of your thoughts. You glanced down at the girl.
"Where are you taking me?"
You pressed your lips together and bit the inside of your cheek. There were not many places you could take her. None that would be safe.
Except one.
"Wayne Manor."
"Oh... okay."
"Is there a problem?"
"No... nothing. Don't bother."
You suppressed a groan. Giving her a sidelong glance, you took a breath, then sprinted toward Wayne Manor at high speed, vanishing into the dark streets of Gotham.
It took a few minutes, but you finally arrived at the gates of Wayne Manor. The sprawling estate stood in the distance, shrouded in mist and the looming weight of old memories. The girl shifted slightly in your arms, tired but awake.
You landed lightly on the ground and set her down. She stumbled a little, but you steadied her without a word.
There was no avoiding it now. She would have questions. She would want answers. And you would have to give her just enough to keep the illusion intact.
"You are my Master," you said flatly. "And I am your Servant."
The girl blinked at you, still trying to process everything that had happened. Blood matted her f/c hair. Dirt stained her skin. Her hands shook slightly at her sides.
"But... I don't understand," she said. "How am I your Master? I didn't do anything."
You knelt down to her level, meeting her wide, confused gaze with your cold, steel-colored eyes.
"You summoned me. Whether you meant to or not is irrelevant. The contract has been formed."
You reached out, gently taking her left hand in yours and turning it over. There, seared into the skin, were three faintly glowing red marks. Curved, sharp designs, each one pulsing softly with magical energy.
"Those are your Command Spells," you explained, your voice low and even. "Symbols of your authority as a Master. They grant you three absolute orders over me. Use them wisely."
The girl's mouth opened, then closed again. She looked from the marks to you and back.
"If... If I mess up...?"
You let out a quiet breath. A wry, almost bitter smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.
"You will mess up. That is inevitable. All you can do is survive long enough to regret it."
The words were harsher than you intended, but necessary. Sugar-coating the truth would only make her weak. And weakness was not an option. Not in Gotham. Not in this world.
She hesitated, then asked in a small voice, "What's your true name?"
You shook your head.
"My true name does not matter. I am Archer. That is all you need to know."
A lie, spoken so easily it barely even registered anymore.
The manor gates creaked as you pushed them open. You motioned for her to follow.
"Come. It is not safe to linger."
She obeyed, sticking close to your side as you made your way up the long, winding path to the manor. Every shadow, every whisper of movement in the dark, made her jump. You did not blame her. Gotham taught fear the way most places taught language.
As you approached the front door, you paused. Old instincts screamed at you to leave. To vanish into the night. To avoid getting tangled up any deeper in the life you had already thrown away once before.
"Why aren't the alarms going off?"
You cursed inwardly. You had overlooked that detail, but after thinking for a second, it made perfect sense. Because you and her were the same person, the manor’s security systems must have registered you as her, not recognizing two separate presences.
"The system does not react to my body. It is composed entirely of mana," you answered, voice calm and level.
You gave your younger self a silent nod of approval. She might not understand now, but her existence had just saved you from a very tedious confrontation.
Before either of you could step fully inside, you paused. Your steel-gray eyes swept across the darkened hallways, senses sharpening.
"It seems no one is awake. Go inside. I will follow shortly," you said.
Without waiting for a response, you faded into motes of golden light, your body dissolving into the ether like a spirit returning to the Throne. A simple trick, but enough to avoid unwanted attention for now.
The girl stepped back in surprise, staring at the spot where you had just been. She called out once, hesitantly, but when no answer came, she pulled the heavy door open and slipped inside.
The manor was cold. Silent. Her footsteps echoed faintly off the marble floors as she made her way deeper inside, instinct guiding her to her room. She did not encounter her father. Nor any of her siblings. The house felt... deserted.
Likely, they were all out on patrol. Gotham never slept, and neither did its so-called protectors.
Alfred was gone as well. On vacation, if she remembered correctly. A rare occurrence, but one she was now silently grateful for.
Reaching her room, she closed the door carefully behind her, locking it. Only then did she allow herself to collapse onto the bed, heart pounding, mind racing with everything that had happened.
High above, perched on the roof of the manor, you watched.
You would not let your guard down. Not yet. Not ever.
Not until she was strong enough to survive if she refused the Hero of Justice path.
Not until you had your own vengeance against the family of bats.
What about a reader who is EMIYA (Archer) from the Fate Series in a Yandere Batfam x Batsib!Reader au, summoned by a young version of themselves and trying to make sure that Y/n (Archer) does not get caught or have their true identity revealed?
Headcannon: vampire reader likes to chew on things
Leather or anything to get that odd itch off her teeth. Since she only needs blood to sustain herself, eating solid food is a forgotten part of her life. So, biting and chewing on things is probably what's left of her human side, begging to be satisfied with real food. Still, she loves chewing the absolute hell out of the Batarangs she steals from the Batfamily.
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Headcannon: there have been at least two instances of vampire reader scaring the shit out each batfam member
Two instances? More like multiple instances!
She’s scared the absolute hell out of Steph, Tim, and Dick more times than they can count. Whenever she yawns, she does it like a dog, cat, or snake would. Those sharp teeth, combined with her forked tongue, show just how wide her mouth can open thanks to her lockjaw ability. Then she casually flicks her tongue out to wet her lips afterward.
Bruce has jumped more times than he’d admit from running into Vampire!Reader around corners. There mirror in the bathroom is useless, and since she’s a vampire with no reflection, it’s like she appears out of nowhere.
Jason, Damian, and Cass definitely get the worst of it. Because of her infrared vision, her eyes glow a bright, eerie red. It’s terrifying whenever they spot her silently standing somewhere—or worse, just sitting on the ceiling staring at them.
It’s gotten to the point where they’re seriously considering putting a bell on her.
Hc: vampire reader wears lots of red and black clothing, things that have ruffles and possibly even a corset sometimes, maybe even wear blood themed jewelry and silver. It could *just* be for the aesthetic but it could also be a reverse psychology thing like "no actual vampire would dress like that". They probably don't wear anything bat-themed for obvious reasons, but coffins and crosses are fine. Or maybe they straight up just dress like Draculaura or Valentine from monster high.
Surprisingly enough, that does happen with Vampire!Reader. She's mostly an anomaly, so the only ones who usually see her outfits are the bats in her abandoned bell tower (which also established is her home.)
But if she were familiar with the Batfam and got invited to a gala, there’s no doubt she’d bring out a rose-black tinted dress paired with a smoky grey fur-trimmed coat.
Her everyday outfit? Ripped jeans, simple shoes, and a fur-trimmed red hooded jacket.
She also has two silly hats: a feather-tipped fedora and a top hat.
Hc: Vampire reader uses a caprisun straw to drink out of blood bags
A Capri Sun straw and a silly straw.
She has a really hard time drinking blood from those bags. Before using straws, she used to try puncturing them and drinking straight from the hole, only to end up making the holes too big and causing the blood to spill like a waterfall.
Another time, she squeezed the bag a little too hard and it popped on the other end, splattering her face like a ketchup packet. She had tried to gulp down all the spilled blood in one go.
But now, she uses straws to drink from blood bags. Much cleaner, way less dramatic.
Reader is a unique type of vampire, possessing an extra set of teeth at the bottom jaw that allows her to perform a lockjaw, effectively trapping prey in her mouth. Once she bites down, there’s no easy escape.
She also has a forked tongue, which gives her heightened sensitivity to taste and scent, allowing her to track even the faintest traces of blood or fear in the air.
Her eyes are usually red, functioning like infrared sensors that allow her to see heat signatures. This makes her an excellent tracker, especially in the dark, where she can pinpoint someone’s exact location by their body heat alone.
She works at a blood bank, which gives her regular access to a food supply. She’s clever about it too—carefully rationing, labeling, and storing her stash to avoid suspicion. No need to hunt when dinner’s already bagged and chilled.
Sunlight doesn’t kill her, but it does weaken her overall power. Her reflexes slow, her strength dips, and her senses dull a bit. That’s why she tends to avoid being out too long during the day unless absolutely necessary.
She sleeps and lives in an abandoned bell tower, one that bats naturally roost in. It’s cold, high up, and far away from the chaos of city life—perfect for someone like her. The Batfam knows where it is, of course. They've never visited.
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