Regret.- Batfam x reader
Summary: where everyone thinks that batsis(reader) is a disappointment, they have a big fight, then, later on, that night she gets killed by JokerÂ
Warning/note: Death. Also this is pretty short, mostly because I just wanted to wrap this story up. Warning, this is unedited...Enjoy! You can find Part 1 here.
Words:557
Taglist: @daniissuchadaniâ @catlyaâ @125bluemachine125â@hopelessaddictions @raening-with-regrets
âThe jokes on you I guess.â my voice broke as my skin tore and stretched, the toxin working its magic.
My heart slowed, panic seemingly faded, eyelids heaving. My lips parted as I took my last breath, my surroundings fading into an abyss.
Wrong place at the wrong time, is a commonly used phrase I never experienced until now. For a moment, I was standing in the line â alive-breathing- then frozen in panic. All there was left was a cold corpse covered with blood. I didnât regret it. The womanâs life was precious as sheâd carried a child. That child may do more good in this world than I ever could. My body felt light as I stared at the Joker carrying my corpse.
The pain that once clouded my mind, washed away. I seemed to be stuck in somewhere between life and death. Too scared to die yet too weak to live. As it seemed, I wasnât dead yet, I was still holding on though any minute now â I would be truly gone.
Your ghostly figure hovered in the middle of the riotous scene. The police swarmed the bank as Batman chased the Joker, a never ending cycle. Realization settled on your face, as you caught grip of whatever was left in your reality. You stared afar with heavy lidded eyes and a slack mouth.
Dark rimmed eyes accentuated the lifeless look.Mind being robbed of emotions, your skin bore the bullet wound, thick and jagged.
The ghostly figure that hovered over the puddle of blood, brightened then disappeared in a blink of an eye.
Bruce retrieved your body from the Jokerâs calloused hands. Damianâs face stayed neutral as he lifted your corpse to the Bat mobile. Did he feel regret? No. not at this moment anyway.Â
Was he sad? Maybe, but he wasnât going to break down by seeing you dead in his arms. Moments where his loved ones died werenât new to him.Â
Death wasn't the kindest. He knew this far too well. It snatched what it could, taking minors, and the few who were far too good. Damian laid your cold body softly in the back seat of the bat mobile, speeding off to the manor.
No one spilled a tear as they stood over your closed casket. Not because you were that of a nuisance, but It was weird how this moment happened so often. It became sort of a routine. You had become a silhouette, as if you walked from a photograph and left behind darkness.
Regret washed over everyone like the long slow waves on a shallow beach. Each wave was icy cold and sent shivers down their spine. Your ghostly presence went unnoticed, however goose bumps rose on their skin.Â
The distressing memory of their last moment with you sent pains through their hearts. It seemed unfair that no matter how much you tried separating yourself from this family of vigilantes and heroes, all you ended up with, was a bullet in your gut. As you grew older, you distanced yourself. Your presence at the manor soon became foreign. Everyone was so busy being blinded with irritation and oblivion that they couldnât see the longing look in your dilated eyes.
Branded the best detectives in the world, but they couldnât even see through the act you put up.
