Justice League x Hero! Reader Scenarios

You have a frantic reaction to a tragedy

I wrote half of this once in a specific mood and then the other half was 'eh' as I couldn't get into that mood anymore so sorry if some of the characters aren't so good.

Superman:

You were injured from a prior mission, so when that bus fell into the water you could do very little. You saved who you could but most you did not get.

Superman arrived too late. And you made sure he knew. He watched you hurry over, completely drenched from having jumped into that cold water over and over to try and save those poor souls,.

"Let's go home," he told you as you need to get into a warm shower and dry clothes right away.

But instead he was met with a fist to his jaw, which did very little to even move his head, then over and over to his body. Any inch you punched or kicked, shouting;

"Why are you late?! You always appear on time! You saved other busses before, why not this one?! It's our job to appear on time! Why did we fail?! Why?!" His shock finally seeped away, but before he could answer your hands clenched his suit. Your whole body visibly shook, choked cries as you sunk to your knees, "Why did I fail?"

He observed you then crouched down. He pulled you in a soft hug, not tight so you know you can push him off if you must, but you didn't, which made him feel nice to know you want his support in this time. Your arms wrapped around his neck, for a normal would have been too tight. You kept going on about things that began making less sense, so guilty filled, shaking your head in dissapointment at yourself. So he stroked your head, whispering that it'll be okay, but that just made you shout:

"How?! They are DEAD!"

So he had to shush you as the people around stared. He picked you up, even with your struggling against it, and carried you to a quiet spot. He laid you on a field, let you cry and trash it out. It broke him how this broke you. Watching you grasp at your chest, curling up as if your heart is hurting, made his chest ache. You laid on your chest, curled up, in silence, for a bit. He did not break it. He waited.

"I'm sorry for hitting you," came your voice after a few seconds, clear in your true you feel genuinely bad about it.
He sat down, rubbed your back, and assured: "Didn't even feel it."

You both sat on that field for what felt like hours, for it might have been hours, before he took you home.

Batman:

No sound as his feet hit the ground. "How long have they been at it?" An officer flinched away with a gasp, processed the words, then answered; "Almost an hour."

Batman approached your doubled over frame slowly, watching as your hands kept trying to dig under the debris of the fallen tower; sobs and frustrated grunts as it was of no use.

He sank through his knees, put a hand on your shoulder, and spoke in a firm but low voice: "Stop."

"No! I know they are there! I hear them! I saw- I saw... There is a chance! There is always a chance."

You kept going, more blood seeping out from your fingertips, your nails bending in ways that had him cringe then grasp your hands, clenching harder when he felt you try to pull them free.

"Stop! You are hurting yourself. They are gone!"

It is the cold truth. One you have to accept, no matter how much it hurts. It took a few minutes, of you shouting that's not true and trying to free your hands, but then, as you were forced to sit there, unable to run or move hands, had to begin thinking. Slowly that shouting turned to loud sobbing. He watched, his own eyes getting glossy, then slowly let one hand go to stroke your head before pulling it so your foreheads rest against each other. Softly, no firmness now to his voice, whispered;