#Batfam x reader

[sa1ntd1or]

˖ ֹ੭୧ TEXTS W/ BATFAM ⊹ ࣪ ⑅

ˋ°•*⁀➷ texts with batfamily x batsis!reader !

[fromdove]

batboys and their texts ! bruce wayne, jason todd, dick grayson, damian wayne, tim drake

[starvoiddream]

Bat!sib: I typed "bitch" into my GPS and guess what? I'm in your driveway.

Jason: ...You’re fucking where—

Bat!sib: Vroom vroom, come out already.

[sangunary]

Sillouethe Of Your Soul.

BatFam x Neglected Reader.

SYPNOSIS: How could anyone missed something they've never had.

WARNING: NOT FOR SENSETIVE PEOPLE OR WHO HATE GORE. (Daddy issue incoming)

Some abuser never realised the extent of their actions nor do they try to understand the person they have hurt, they relish in being in power to chain an angel on Earth with them so they won't feel so envious of it's wings.

Some don't realise their own abused, the harsh word that left wounds deep inside their sweet angel's heart, their silhouette ligures around the house but their soul were never present... They do not understand that their own actions have consequences that hurt more than themselves.

You were abused in the silent ways, no one to cheer you own, no one to help you sleep, no one to love you.

You would watch a family so happy and perfect just that they were your family and you felt like watching as their perfection together formed an art while you watched. Just another audience watching a beautiful art.

"She was an angel"

Bruce began as he sit inside his office that left somewhere empty now... The guy who he was talking was from CPS conducting an interview after your death.

"I should have realised... she wasn't a bird like the rest, she was an angel who just needs some encouragement to fly"

Bruce was better at nursing helpless birds than an angel. He's been a father for more than he could remember but he never took onto consideration on how some kid's aren't all birds and he gave up so soon... After he realised he could nurture you like a bird.

"I would watch her silently, I couldn't realise what I was doing wrong... I didn't knew how to raise a bird like her and I realised something was wrong with her."

You would sit there at the side quietly as the rest of the family played around treating you like a ghost. Their playful banter and smile never reached yourside, you were treated like a guest at your own home.

"I kept trying tho, I pushed and pushed trying to force her to open her wings... Like the rest of the family, but it wouldn't budge"

Bruce would watch as he ordered you to do certain thing's that no one else had to, doing everybody else laundry, extra studies, outside tuition and even excluding you from certain family function.

He knew you weren't strong enough to be a vigilante, that's why the rest of your siblings have a hard time being near you... Your life were different. You were just too 'odd' to be include as a family to them.

"I never knew how much it hurt her..."

You could barely hold back your tears sometimes, everyone get the idle father but to you he was never a father he was just an instructor... Who clearly have favourite.

"I told Alfred to stop making food for her... To learn how to survive on her own, she was already weak I thought I was helping her survive"

You would stood there your eyes looking into the abyss, everyone had their plate on the table yet yours was missing. They did not asked or have a single concern as they happily ate their meal... As your flesh began to decay.

Every Christmas you were gone nowhere to be seen but everyone carried on their life like you were never there at the first place.

Your bones were crushed, your blood being drained slowly as their smile and laughter taunt you.

Why? Why would you ever missed something you never had?

You've spent your whole life without them. Why would you suddenly need them, they were heros... They were obliged to love everyone but you were being singled out.

"I don't know why she didn't scream when they dunk her head into the water"

The brutal scene of your death, some thugs decided to kidnapped you for money but when they realised your family nor the bats were coming they used you to fulfill twisted dreams.

Your wrist was red and some soft skin were pelling off. Tears, sweat and snot on your face as you begged God to save you.

Tim got kidnapped before and he was saved before an hour.. You've been down here for six hours, bruised and broken.

You thought for once that your family would show some mercy and come but they didn't, left you behind in the hands of two merciless people.

For six hour straight you've been beaten, they dunked your head into some cold water and before you could passed out and just let go they would pull your head back.

Your clothes were torn and dirty, your body was aching and there was a fine line of cut on your neck as blood wouldn't stop spewing out of it. Your fingers were mostly broken and you're been hit with a rench which left your jaw broken and your head bleeding.

"Dad...I, mis-ed u..."

You could barely speak but you used the bit of your strength on calling for your father, for him to embrace you in your dying moment... That's what you've wanted for a long time .

Memories flash across your mind as your breath began to slow down. You've watched alot of movies, you always wanted your father to pick you up into the sky and told you that he loved you.

The way a father would look at their daughter and be proud of. Everybody had a father by their side growing up atleast in your eyes, the one to hold their hands while they cheer, the one to embrace them when they accomplish even the smallest of thing.

But, he was never a present father to you. Ever award you won the only thing you care for was your father, you looked into the crowd of faces to see his proud face or just him but he wasn't there.

Unlike everyone else who had a father holding their hands to guide them through the darkness you only had yourself. Every compliment felt meaningless and every compliment was replaced with untold hatred.

"I couldn't stop myself that day... I hold onto her and cried. My baby was dead"

He continued as his face show a slight sorrow but he was holding it back.

"My child, my little angel... Lifeless on the dirty street left there to be eaten by the rats... I couldn't control my tears, so many word left untold... So many praise I've kept to myself, she died thinking she was a burden."

His voice cracked as his throat began to heat up from the emotion he was trying to surpass.

Your body was left at some nearby alleyway, you were still concious when they throw your body onto the cold cement. The light of the city blended in your eyes, you lay there paralyzed soaking wet from your blood.

It was cold and empty, trying to imagine the warmth of your father, but you couldn't...You didn't know how it felt to be under a father warmth. You never had that.

All those years filled with unsaid words and tension between the two of you. You couldn't speak and he didn't knew how to care for you. You watched as he would nurture all your siblings buy you.

Every birds by his side cuddling and loving while your feathers began to fall to warmth your heart, to play the role of being loved. You sacrifice your own greatness for fatherly love.

"Her body was cold and empty, not the girl I watched grew up... Her blood were warm, like she was trying to comfort me for the last time..."

Bruce looked at his hands as he looked back at the guy, he recoll running towards the scene, pushing the GCPD aside when they tried to stop him... But a father could never be stopped when their child is at stake.

He saw your body near the trash, they threw you away like you didn't meant anything but a trash to be taken out after it was done with.

He went on his knees as he dirty his perfect suit, his hands holding onto your body as he began to sob... Your face have went pale and he could see the damage done to your jaw and the large bruise on your left eye.

The bruise was swollen, purple and red colouring it... Seemed like they had hit you with something hard.

"Whoever killed her treated her no different from an animal. I hold onto her hands, I prayed to God to do something... I was... Late, too late to be a father to her."

"I ruined a beautiful angel... I wasn't a father... I treated her differently... I was too sucked up to understand that she needed a father and not Bruce..."

"I just, hoped that no father would do this to their child... She was my child, my angel, my baby... And I would die to bring her back and told her... I love you always"

I know this is shittu but im bored.

[voxslays]

[samanthaaether]

Yan Tim

There's just so much potential for platonic !yan Tim Drake that isn't really explored. This post may flop but I like to imagine that yan! Tim Drake is actually the worse out of all his brothers...

Masterlist

Requests: always open

Look...you and i both know that Tim is canonically unhinged. But Batsis!reader doesn't. It's so easy for you to forget that your brother Tim is so dangerous. I mean he doesn't really seem all that different from any other nerdy 19 year old. His body doesn't loom over you like the more bulky of your brothers, and his presence is rather...calming? I mean there's still a bit of uneasiness there but it's so subtle that you can brush it off

He's normal when he interacts with you. He doesn't bug you to spend time with him or uncomfortably touch you like Dick does. He is sweet and gentle...He knows how you prefer to be engaged with and respects what you don't like.

But, that's what makes him so dangerous. He knows you. Every. Last. Detail. He's gotten so good at being a nasty little fly on the wall that sometimes you forget he's even in the room. He's always around you, observing and collecting data. He's got you wrapped around his fingers and you don't realize it.

But it's not your fault. It's hard to even imagine that someone as mellow as Tim could ever share the same traits as his brothers.

Yan! Tim fully picked up just how intuitive you are and how you can spot red flags easily. He's so calculated and careful with every interaction. It's amazing how natural he makes these conversations flow. Well, they better. He's spent hours analyzing and practicing how to speak to you. His heart is pounding with anticipation, as every shred of information you give him is going right into his files on you.

Oh! The files he has on you? When Jason and Dick asked him about how many he had, he said only 4. Which is true. but those 4 files have much more information and pictures of you than they could comprehend. ...and he wasn't accounting for the hard drives and physical stacks of papers he stole. I believe Tim knows more about you than you do. When was the last time you've seen your medical records? Passports? Birth certificate? Is your ID even in your wallet? Don't worry, your brother Tim is keeping them safe for you.

Yan! Tim is a little stalker who may or may not have put a tracking/listening devices in your bag so he can keep tabs on you. <33 That's why he's always wearing headphones so he cab listen in. A small piece of missed information could cost him so much. Don't be mad, batsis! He cannot risk making you suspicious of him by asking you invasive questions so this is the only way.

I Like to think you automatically sit by him. whether it be during breakfast, watching a movie or in the car. You feel safer with him and it's a better option in your head than being with Dick who will be overbearing. Tim always acts cool, even a little annoyed by you at times but inside he's screaming. Your scent, your small smiles at him and nudge his shoulders when he makes a funny remark all send him into overdrive.

But i must say, it's exhausting for him to hold back his obsession all of the time. Sometimes he envies his siblings and how shameless they are in their obsessions. Tim Drake thinks about how great it would to be to just be hugged by you or for you to want to fall asleep on him like you do with Jason.

Sometimes, our creepy detective will slip up. He will say or do something that is odd to you

"I cannot remember the name of that song i used to listen to...what was it.."

"It's this one by that local band, sis."

"oh, yeah! wait...how did you-"

"I know you better than i know myself..."

"...what?"

*an incident happened where dick basically forced you to say i love you back. Tim was there and he was so so jealous*

"You love me the most though, right?"

You laughed, thinking it was a joke\

"Sure, Tim. You are my favorite Robin."

*Tim is very visibly becoming feral. Almost in the same way as Dick and you are slightly alarmed*

"...I'm your favorite Robin? So you do love me more than them."

"0-o"

He repeats it over and over again in his mind. If he was recording it like he does with many of your interaction, it will be on instant replay every morning as an affirmation.

That one time you were chilling in the study with Tim. His head was ducked, low into the computer. It was super late by this time and you didn't really want to bother him so you ended up leaving without saying anything, and headed to your room. Tim was beyond hurt that you were breaking his version of bonding time and you had the audacity to not even announce your exit. He's so swift that it startled you when he grabbed your wrist from behind. His grip was....strong.... to say the least..... and he questioned why you were leaving him.

speaking of his strength, Tim is so skinny that you forget he is well trained with a nice bit of muscle. Maybe not as strong as his brothers or Bruce but he can easily subdue you.

He's definitely broken a lock or two, to get into your room at the dead of night and watch you sleep. This is the only time when he can be as fucked up as he wants to. The unhinged look in his eyes while going through your things and taking what's interesting..The adrenaline that you might catch him, excites him. He can't help but to sickly smile as he makes his way over to you and observes. A gentle hand caresses the sides of your face. You're so perfect. He whispers on and on things he wishes he could tell you while you were awake and wouldn't think it was weird....

Maybe even once he's crawled into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you. So happy to be able to finally be able to cuddle like this.

And if you happened to wake up, and realize your dear brother, Tim was there...he has a plan for that. He knows how to play mind games on you and makes you seem like the crazy one. No one would believe you anyways. The locks are all fixed by the morning.

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 7: Silver Spoons And Butter Knives, Living Hand To Mouth I’m Getting By

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 (Here!) Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of Bullying, Suicidal implications, Body harm, Body Horror

The concept of boarding school wasn’t as bad as people portray it.

A boarding school is an institution where students live on the premises while receiving formal instruction, essentially providing both lodging and meals. Unlike normal schools, boarding schools offer a residential experience, often encompassing a wider range of extracurricular activities and a sense of community.

At least, that’s the literal definition she found on the internet. 

When Bobby (with whom she had exchanged phone numbers and yapped the whole weekend through text, and sent her way too many TikToks she didn’t really understand but found funny) had asked her if she was staying at the dorms so they could hang out after class, she suddenly found a ray of hope of getting away from the Waynes.

Which led her to do a thorough research on Wikipedia.

Gotham Academy has been a prestigious, private boarding school for Gotham’s elite. And anyone who could afford it, or had a scholarship. 

Most members of the Wayne family had gone to the academy. Most of the said members were expelled or dropped out of it.

Including Bruce himself.

Which is why she was currently pissed off on a Monday morning as Alfred drove the younger members of the family to school.

“This is bullshit,” She muttered while pouting at the window, arms crossed and legs sprawled out in the passenger seat.

The butler gave her a pointed look, letting her know that she should behave. The young girl readjusted her sitting position with a grumble. Her glare followed the tall buildings and the people walking around the busy sidewalk, passing them by in a blur to those with normal eyesight.

Not for her, thought. Everything seemed so slow-paced today.

It was quite annoying. From the moment she woke up that morning, it had been like stepping into a slow-motion sequence. The curtains of her room moved oh so gently, it almost seemed like they were floating. The water from her shower had stopped for a few moments, and she could even count the drops of the stream that stood frozen in the air before she received a cold splash in the face that almost made her crack her head open again if she hadn’t hung onto the built-in shelves on the wall. Then, the gremlin at breakfast. He seemed to take his sweet time eating his French toast, which was almost disturbing to see how slow someone could chew on his food. It made her sick to the stomach remembering it.

They were short lapses of time. Didn’t last too long, but those moments still managed to unsettle her and keep her on the edge.

“I’m afraid this is something you will have to discuss with your father, my dear.” His voice took her away from her musings, returning her mind to the present.

‘Where was I? Oh, right,’ her anger returning once again.

Just when she thought she had found a way to escape from the suffocating manor, the family had once again meddled with her brilliant plans.

Apparently, she did not form part of the whole boarding school experience. (Well, Wayne didn’t)

Due to the many incidents involving her ‘siblings’ and ‘father’ at the school in their scholarly years, they had gained a rather infamous reputation. This led to taking away certain privileges when a member of the Wayne family was to be enrolled at the academy.

Said privileges were not being able to partake in staying at the dorms through the semester.

(aka. Waynes were banned from the academy dorms.)

“I don’t understand why a sudden need to stay in such facilities.” Damian retorted from his place in the backseat. Still giving her the stinkeye for taking the front seat first (she had taken off while yelling ‘shotgun’ through the halls, making Drake get up from his deep sleep and come out of his room to see what was happening with his sheets all tangled on his legs.)

“Pennyworth makes far better meals, and the beds haven’t been thoroughly cleaned in ages. That’s without mentioning having to share your personal space with a stranger who lacks manners.” That last part made her bite her tongue hard.

‘When the irony is ironing,’ She thought sarcastically.

 “It’s all about the independence and socializing. Who doesn’t like talking to total strangers and getting to know them while also sharing a bathroom?” Her lips were curling in a grin, her tone letting on very clearly what she was referring to.

Damian tutted, harshly crossing his arms while glaring at her. Alfred simply sighed as he pulled through the metal front gate of the academy.

“Since when do you like socializing, Embarrassment?” He remarked on the nickname with a cold glare at the back of her seat. 

And as if she had sensed it, she took off her seatbelt and turned half of her body to the back so she could face him directly. Both of their glares clashed with one another. 

Alfred got out of the car to take out her school bag from the back of the car, wondering to himself if he was truly paid enough to deal with teenagers.

Damian was very much annoyed at her new attitude. It was getting on his nerves how she stood her ground and didn’t flatter. He couldn’t have missed this part of her. He was the son of the greatest detective in the world, and he took pride in his deduction skills. And he had deducted his sister from the first moment they met. Never, in a million years, would she have the courage to act like this. Too insecure. Too weak. Too scared.

She would have had to die and be reborn to be acting like this.

“Don’t act like you know me, Damian.” His name sounded like a curse in the making on her tongue. Her deep, dark eyes stared directly into his own, a glint of something akin to sardonic gone the moment she turned back on her seat and opened the car door.

“You don’t have the right to judge. Not then. Not now. Not ever.”

With that, she stepped out and slammed the door shut, leaving him with words in his mouth.

He could only follow her stomping outside towards Alfred out of the corner of his eye, refusing to turn his face a single inch towards them. She seemed to mutter something to the older man, to whom he put a hand on her shoulder and spoke very gently. 

Her eyes softened, and Damian couldn’t help but be put off by it.

He was well aware that she used grey contact lenses. She always wore them, no matter what. One would think she would sleep while wearing them, but he knew she wasn’t that stupid.

He never wondered why she used them, scraping it off as some odd fashing trend girls her age were into. They just were part of her and he went along with it. Never putting much thought into it.

Now, Damian was putting a lot of thought into it.

He had always known that he was an almost carbon copy of his father. Black hair, facial structure, etc. There was little doubt about his heritage and he took pride in it.

His half-sibling was another story. No matter how hard she tried to dress, act, talk, and move like them, she didn’t seem to fit in. The cold colors and heavy presence that were very characteristic of the Waynes didn’t suit her. 

It had been obvious before, but now it was undeniable to Damian. 

And it was all because of those damned eyes.

He wouldn’t dare to say it out loud, maybe just ponder it to himself, only in his thoughts, but Damian wanted her grey eyes back.

Those grey eyes that would crinkle in worry when he came back upset from a bad patrol night. Those grey eyes that would widen in excitement when she looked over his sketchbook and praised his skills. Those grey eyes that were full of softness and care, asking about how his day was at school.

…Maybe he wasn’t missing the grey. Not really.

‘It doesn’t make any sense.’ His mind hissed, making his frown deepen. ‘Why is this bothering me so much? She is just a nuisance and below-’

“Hey! Bobby! Over here!”

Her shout made Damian snap his head towards the car window with a snarl. Which slipped down slowly as he took in the scene happening outside.

She was waving her arm over her head quite fast towards someone. A guy who was smiling way too much for his taste (it almost made him turn away in disgust, but he fought against it), as he moved towards her with a jump in his walk. He looked like an overgrown golden retriever, wearing the academy uniform.

What happened next made Damian’s blood go cold and hot at the same time, his nails sinking into the fabric of his clothes, and his lips pressed tightly.

Because that guy dared to come close to his sister and pick her up in a hug while twirling her around.

Her bright laugh as she was put down, quickly jumping into a conversation with the big oaf while patting down her now wrinkly uniform, made his stomach twist into a feeling he couldn’t quite place yet.

The warmth in her eyes had Damian bite inside his cheek, chest tight as she began to walk away with the guy, with a quick goodbye to a smiling Alfred, who had begun to go inside the car and pull away from the school grounds.

The young boy’s stare didn’t move away from the pair. Not until he lost them out of sight due to the distance.

Who did that guy think he was?! Coming so close to her and acting so touchy with his sister.

Was he a friend? No way. She didn’t have any friends. He was sure.

Was he?

Was he a boyfriend? Ridiculous, there was no way she would have hidden something like that from the family. She wouldn’t.

…Would she? 

What else had she been keeping quiet? What else didn’t he know about her? When had she changed? Had she even changed? Was she always like this and he just came to notice? When she grew tired of his prickly nature and sharp words? Did he lose her affection? Was he too late?

Did he lose her without even knowing?

‘No,’ He thought, fingers curled into fists by his side as he gave a glance to the smaller view of the academy through the window.

‘Something is wrong here.’

‘And I will find out.’

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The academy was huge. It had halls over halls and stairs over stairs. An old smell stuck on the stone walls that gave the building an even more mystic flair, as if the gargoyle statues on every corner of the gate halls weren’t enough. It even had tall stained glass windows that gave a view of the huge campus: the main fountain, the track field, the outdoor gym, and many other places.

It was by pure miracle that she didn’t end up lost. But that was mostly because Bobby would drag her by the back of her school vest whenever she wandered off.

She was very thankful for that, since her ghost companion was not here today to guide her.

Wayne said that she would stay at the manor for the day, something along the lines of that she should experience the full school experience without her help (which screamed bullshit but she wasn’t going to fight her on that. If she was a ghost and had the choice to not go to school, she would also do the same) and trying to find any clues for their small quest.

So now, she was walking by herself for the first time at a school. So exciting, right?

“-and then the coach said I could play in the next game if someone hurts themselves. Which is not bad, but I don’t know. I don’t want anyone to get hurt just so I can prove myself as a player, y’know?”

“Aren’t you here because of a scholarship? Don’t you need to play to be able to stay here?” She asked the stressed boy, who had been talking about this for the past few minutes as they walked towards their third class of the day.

Bobby was from New York, and he had taken a sports scholarship in the academy this very year, so he could get into Gotham University to study accounting. Just like his father, who was a bank accountant back at home. 

He formed part of the baseball school team and had been on the bench since he got inscribed into the academy.

Leading to his sudden stress of not having the chance to prove himself.

“Poor athletic performance can lead to losing the scholarship, so yeah. If I don’t play, I could lose it.” He quoted with his shoulders down, a deep sigh leaving his lungs as she patted his shoulder in a small show of support.

They had gotten along quite fast. Probably because Bobby had been the first open person with his thoughts and feelings since she woke up in that nasty pool. 

No underhanded comments. No pushiness. No expectations. Always asking if what they were talking about was okay. If she was comfortable with anything. 

It was a breath of fresh air, and she felt great hanging around him.

“What if I help you out with practice? I know jackshit about baseball, but I think I can throw some balls so you can practice swinging?” She offered with a shrug as they went into a half full classroom.

Bobby perked up with a huge smile and put an arm over her shoulder, slightly moving her side to side. “Please, and I will buy you ice cream every time after practice.”

That made her snort and shove him off of her playfully by pushing his face away with her hand, making him guaff and laugh.

“Personal space, jeez,” She said as he sat down on the second table and moved a chair back so she could sit beside him.

As he muttered his apologies, she couldn’t help but feel somebody’s stare on her back.

Just when she was gonna look over her shoulder, the bell rang, and everyone took their seats. Conversations quieted down as students began to pull out their books without a second thought.

Following everyone’s lead, she put out her history book with a sigh and kept her eyes downcast.

Now, there were many different stares and murmurs in her direction. From the corner of her eyes, she could see a few classmates whispering to each other or staring openly at her. 

‘Yeah, that ain’t gonna fly,’ she thought, twisting her head to give her classmates a dead stare that had them gasping and looking in different directions while pretending they were busy with their phones or books.

“That’s weird,” Bobby’s voice took her away from her successful intimidation. “Professor Jones is usually here before any of us.”

The girl shrugged, leaning back on her chair while she brought one crossed leg on the seat as the other bounced against the floor. “Maybe they got stuck in traffic or somethin-”

The classroom door slammed open, taking all the attention of the students and making the room fall into silence.

A man stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his steps heavy as he walked towards the desk and put down his brown leather handbag on the chair and a pack of old-looking cigars inside one of cabinets. 

He didn’t spare a single glance at them, picking up a piece of white chalk and beginning to write on the chalkboard.

He had a heavy build, like the ones that those wrestling guys on TV have, judging by how his shoulders and biceps stood out underneath his dark leather jacket. Some of the girls and a few other guys were staring intensely at his tight jeans, showing off his sculpted legs as well. 

What stood out more for her was his hairstyle, spiked on both sides of his black hair.

Once he finished writing on the board, he clapped his hands to shake off the chalk on his palms and turned around with a grunt. A severe frown on his face as he looked over the quiet students.

“Your professor has taken a sudden leave for the rest of the semester.” His gruff tone had people straighten up and glup loudly.

Bobby exchanged a quick look of confusion and uncertainty with her.

This man didn’t look like the type of person to give a history class.

“You may call me Teach or Mr. Munroe. None of that formal stuff. Whoever calls me Professor will give ten laps on the track field, am I clear?” He almost snarled the last part. 

Everyone nodded.

The man nodded and sat on the corner of the desk, crossing his arms. His tag necklace glinted with the movement as he pursed his lips in distaste once he saw the books sitting neatly on the desks.

“Now put those books away. We’re learning real history from now on.”

Some students muttered in confusion while a few others cheered as they put the books back in their bags. Bobby almost scrambled and rattled the desk as he took his book away, which made her snort a laugh and put her book down.

As the class continued, bustling with excitement over the new mysterious teacher and his unconventional method of teaching history, she had forgotten the odd stare she felt at the very beginning of class. It had simply slid off her mind.

In the back of the classroom, a guy with golden curls and clear eyes didn’t take his gaze off of her for the rest of the class.

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Bruce wasn’t expecting any visits this early in the day.

He had recived plenty of calls from Dick, trying to check on him and see how the investigation on the case had been going but he didn’t pick them up. Tim had gone to stay at the Titans’ tower, claiming his sleep schedule was messed up and staying at the manor wasn’t helping keep him focused on the case (Bruce had the fleeting suspicion that Conner had something to do with that decision.)

He was more than sure that everyone was clear that he wanted to be left alone at the moment.

But Jason couldn’t give two fucks about what Bruce wanted.

The past Robin had parked his bike by the Batmobile, leaving his red helmet hanging by one of the handles of his vehicle. Sauntering towards the concentrated detective, who was sitting in front of the main computer and surrounded by many documents and files both on the screen and on paper.

“You look like shit.”

Bruce only switched the documents in his hands without lifting his head.

“Gordon told me about the bodies.” He answered, a cold tone in his voice.

Jason threw himself on the nearest chair, legs spread as he stared at Bruce’s back with a smug air around him. 

“Jealous much?” He snarked. “That I got to them before you did?”

He was pushing his buttons. 

Jason wanted to see how far he could get. 

He was hoping for a fight, that way he could at least calm down the fury still running in his veins.

“You left them headless, and Gordon is still looking for their fingers, Jason.” Bruce hissed, finally turning around to glare at the guiltless man.

“They had it coming.”

“That was execution, Jason. It’s not how-”

“I ain’t one of your little robins, Bruce,” Jason retorted, leaning forward with his fists curling and gaze flashing green. “I did what you should have done the moment she was attacked.”

“There wasn’t enough proof yet-” The older man argued back, making Jason scoff and get up from the chair harshly.

The outlaw began to roam beneath his jacket, taking out crumbled files and dumping them over the keyboard of the computer. As soon as it hit the surface, pictures and documents fell out of it onto the ground and the desk.

“Take a look at your precious proof.”

Bruce took a moment before picking up a few of the pictures that had fallen on the floor. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened when he realized what the image showed.

It was from a surveillance camera. All the pictures were from different cameras around the city. The school grounds. The city parks. The mall. 

And even from the abandoned public pool.

In all of the pictures, she was there. Getting pushed around. Harassed by the same four guys. He could recognize that they had the same uniform as her from the academy. Maybe seniors, since they easily towered over her. 

The ones from the school contained different scenarios. Getting a phone flash shoved right in her face. Shoved down the stairs. Pushed on the school fountain. Yanked by her school bag or clothes. Getting too touchy with her, to the point of it being visibly rough.

One of the pictures showed her running in one of the parks, face blurred in panic as she looked over her shoulder at the boys trying to catch up to her.

Another one showed all five of them at the pool. Her on the ground, holding her head as it bled. Two of the boys were crouching down to hold her down while the others lifted a bloody brick.

He slammed the pictures down with a shuddering sigh. Throat tight, cold anger sinking from the tip of his fingers.

How long had this been going on? For how long had she been keeping this quiet? Why had she kept it quiet? Why didn’t she say something?

‘Had she said something? Did she say anything about it?’ His mind came on empty as many questions surfaced.

All those times he had turned her away, her knocks at his office door, and her silent voice asking if he was too busy. Always shutting her down, dreading to see her face and find old ghosts staring back at him. 

Was it right there? Did she reach out just for him to turn her away? 

Bruce felt a burning sensation behind his eyes.

“The documents are the transcripts of what I managed to get out of them on record.” Jason’s voice sounded far away.

Did she gather up the courage to come to him, and he gave her his back?

“Sick bastards, the lot of them,” Jason spat. “They had been tormenting her for years.”

Did she feel by herself in this? Nobody willing to listen? No one to trust?

“It went on from simply things. Spreading rumors about being into witchcraft and stuff. Saying that she would curse people with her bad luck if they came near her and odd shit like that to isolate her.”

How many times did he even talk to her? How many chances did he allow her to have to tell him about this?

“Then it moved to more physical stuff. Shoving, pushing, typical asshole stuff. Did you notice any bruises on her when she came from school?”

Bruises? What bruises? She was always wearing long sleeves, claiming it was too cold in the manor.

“You did notice, right? They said that it got ugly plenty of times.”

Long sleeves. Even when it was hot out. She always wore them. How could he never piece it together? How many bruises did she hide from Him?

“Bruce? Did you-”

His daughter. Bianca’s child. With long sleeves. Bruises. From that filth. How many? How many times was she hurt? How many times did he not notice? Gods, did she also- Had she also done it to herself? Had she felt there was no other way out of the lonesome existence he had put her into? That he was the one to inflict that on her? That would explain her current attitude. Her anger. Her glares. Her snarls. How could he ever blame her for acting out when it was all on him? Only himself to bla-

The sudden throbbing pain in his jaw snapped him out of his thoughts, making him stumble back as he looked at a fuming Jason with a lowered fist.

“No,” His glare was agitated, chest heaving, and teeth in a snarl. “You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself.”

Bruce took a sharp breath, his gaze lost as the sharpness of Jason’s words cut deep into his throat, making him unable to utter a word.

The younger man pointed a shaking finger at him in anger, taking steps closer towards the shocked man. “Either you fix this and admit you failed her, just like you failed me,”

Jason got up in his face, fist hitting against Bruce’s chest with a shuddering breath. Eyes blazing a toxic green, staring right into his grey ones.

“Or I will make sure that she turns out just like me.”

With that, Jason turned around and stomped to his bike. The engine roaring to life as he took off from the cave without giving him a single look back towards the currently shocked, quiet man.

Bruce then sank to the floor, hands tangled on his hair strands as he took deep breaths. Mind echoing with many words and questions.

But he could only choke out a few words to himself and the air.

“Oh, Bianca, I fucked it up to hell and back, didn’t I?…”

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The piano room was too silent.

Ever since Cassandra set foot in the manor, the piano room had always been filled with contained noise. The keys echoing down the halls, a soft melody that made her skin embrace the foreign warmth of a ballad repeated over and over, day by day.

She hadn’t heard a single note in the past week.

It made the air in the manor heavy and constricted, the halls darker, and the silence almost unbearable.

Cassandra didn’t plan to pass by the piano room. Her feet just led her wandering steps towards the halfway-opened wooden door. The creaking made goosebumps break out on her skin.

The curtains were closed, and no natural light entered the room. Just a few lamps that flickered every once in a while and a very cold sensation covering her when she stepped inside.

Her legs guided her to the untouched piano. A hand passed over the worn keys, feeling a thin veil of dust under her fingertips.

A shard of guilt stabbed right through her stomach.

She had gotten exactly what she wanted…

Silence.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

Call it pettiness or whichever useless feeling people came up with, but Cassandra was done with all the noise that she made.

It's always the same song. The same melody. The same lyrics.

She was tired of it.

She stood by the door, staring directly at the young girl who didn’t seem to notice her as she continued to sing that ballad over and over.

“If I can’t reach you, let my song teach you,” the younger girl sang softly, eyes closed as her fingers played smoothly over the keys.

Cassandra clenched her teeth. 

She wanted silence.

“All you need to keep our love alive,”

She was tired of her playing.

“If I can’t hold you,”

She was tired of her.

“Remember what I told y-”

“Could you keep it down?”

The girl startled, smashing the keys and making an awful sound. Both of them cringed at it. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” She tried to apologize with a stammer as she stood up, stumbling and fidgeting fingers.

But Cassandra didn’t let her finish.

“You don’t know any other songs?” she questioned.

“Not really. My mom only taught me this-”

“Then why play at all?” She didn’t understand. It was useless to know just one song on the piano. A waste of skill and talent, if she were honest. It didn’t make any sense.

The girl took a sharp breath, hands wringing with the hems of her sleeves and fingers. “It’s an important ballad. My mom used to say it was a protec-”

“It’s too loud. Keep it down.”

Cassandra didn’t care about the importance of the song. She just wanted silence. Her ears were ringing, and she could feel a headache coming on if she heard another keynote from the piano.

They stayed quiet for a moment. A slow nod from the younger girl was answer enough for her.

Cassandra turned around and left.

She had blessed silence for the rest of the day.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

That happened years ago. She still played the song, but kept the door closed and put heavy curtains to muffle some of the noise. It still managed to slip through, but Cassandra didn’t really care as much anymore. It had blended into the background noise of the manor. 

It had become part of their daily life. Something that just fitted right in.

And now that it was gone, the absence of it had been loud.

Such a loud silence.

She didn’t like it.

Cassandra hummed to herself, looking around the room one last time before walking outside into the. Leaving the door open behind her.

Maybe she could ask her if she could play again after she came from school? It wouldn’t be too much to ask of her. It wasn’t like the younger girl had done a lot around the manor lately. Just stay in her room all day and night, only coming out to eat and talk with Alfred, and then just go back to her-

‘If I can’t reach you…’

Cassandra came to a full stop at the end of the hallway.

The piano played slowly inside the room.

‘Let my song teach you…’

Her chest became heavy. Throat tight, as if cold fingers wrapped themselves over her shoulders. A wet sensation was sinking through the fabric of her shirt, making shivers go down her spine.

The voice was like a whisper, only for her to hear.

“Am I too loud now?” Cold lips whispered in Cassandra’s ear.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra only managed to see a tangle of wet, dark hair and a bloodshot grey eye with blood dripping down a side of her deadly pale skin.

When she finally got the strength to turn completely around, the hall was quiet. Not a single echo or resonance of the keys was heard. 

Cassandra patted herself down quickly, shaking away the sudden cold over her skin. She felt over her shoulders, trying to find any wet spots on her shoulder or near her ear and back.

There was no trace of it.

She left the hall quickly, deciding to put this on the back of her mind as a headache invaded her head.

The lights flickered in the piano room, the door creaking closed by itself.

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“I wasn’t expecting to like history that much.”

It was already past three in the afternoon, the classes had barely been over a few minutes ago.

But Bobby had already dragged her through the halls towards the baseball field so he could practice some pitching and bat swinging. As he had explained excitedly over lunch to her, shortly after Mr. Munroe’s class. It would be just like playing catch, but with some real damage on the side.

She could play catch! She remembered playing it with Billy before!

And with a white haired man.

And by herself, oddly enough…

“I guess Mr. Munroe just knows his stuff,” Bobby suggested, dodging a few students who walked in the opposite direction from them. He then grinned, “You could even say he lived through it with the way he talked about war stories.”

“He can’t be that old.”

“Just saying. I mean, how old could he be?” He quipped with a shrug.

She wheezed a short laugh. “Can’t be older than the Great Depression.”

Both of them were wheezing as they stumbled down the stairs, shoving and hitting each other on the arms and shoulders. That gained them a few odd looks, but they didn’t notice it at all. Too busy fighting to stay upright and keeping air in their lungs.

They made their way through the front doors of the school, taking the outside route but still inside the school grounds to the sports field.

“He has such a stern air around him, too. He kind of gives-”

“Please, don’t even go there.” She pleaded with a hiss. But Bobby only began to whisper loudly to her.

“Hey, everyone was looking at him like a piece of meat.”

“It doesn’t make it right.”

“Oh, please. You totally looked.”

“Did not.” She denied with red ears.

Bobby looked way too smug. “Liaaaarrrr.”

She shoved him, making him burst out laughing as she stomped faster and a couple of steps ahead of him, ready to take a corner.

To which she instantly froze on the spot with a wide-eyed look.

Bobby took notice of her sudden change, still laughing as he looked over her shoulder. “Hey, what’s-”

She quickly pushed him back until they were back to back with the corner wall, away from the view of the hall. Her hand gripping his vest with white knuckles as she looked carefully over the edge. Holding back her breath, cursing to hell and back the person standing by the front gate.

Dick Grayson was leaning against a expensive sports car, looking at his watch every five seconds when he wasn’t looking around the premises and between the groups of students walking around.

‘The fuck is he doing here?!’ She shouted in her head as she bit her tongue.

She had written to Alfred that she was going to stay for a longer time to hang out with Bobby. Why was the touchy asshole here? He was supposed to return to Bludhaven yesterday and give her some peace and tranquility!

“Um, you good?” Bobby muttered, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. She quickly let him go and apologized.

“Sorry,” she grumbled. “It’s my, ugh, brother.”

That last part was said between her teeth. Bobby frowned at that. “I guess you don’t get along, then?”

“Not exactly.” She remarked with a wince, giving a quick glance back towards the gate. He had moved closer.

That wasn’t good.

“We gotta be quick,” she urged, pushing Bobby back slowly as he let her guide him.

Before they could take off without catching too much attention, someone decided it was the right time to yell her ‘last name’.

“Wayne!”

The duo snapped their heads forward, towards the male voice that echoed through the hall. Her eye was twitching in annoyance.

A guy with golden curls and a snobbish air around him approached them with decision and fists curled in fists. He looked furious, and even then she could appreciate his handsome features. 

He looked straight out of a magazine, to be completely honest.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed in her face, fuming.

If she weren’t in such a hurry, she would have given him a few choice words. But she really needed to run.

“Office hours are closed at the moment, sorry!” She stated, pulling Bobby deeper into the hall behind them. He looked with wide eyes between the three of them.

“Suddenly got a sense of humor?” The guy chided with a roll of eyes, following her steps forward. “Where have you been?! Did you forget about practice?! We have the damned recital in two weeks!”

“Listen,” she fretted, eyes bouncing around to make sure Dick wasn’t nearby. “Right now is not the time to discuss this. I gotta-”

“No, you and I made a deal.” He claimed with a hiss. “I help you with your recital and you-”

“Hun, what is going on here?”

The cold tone made the three teens look at the tight-smiling man who stood beside them. His arms crossed over his chest with his head tilted to the side, blue eyes staring directly at their hands.

Now that she noticed, the two boys had taken hold of her arms while standing between them.

It stayed quiet for a bit. Dick smile becoming tighter and tighter.

‘Fuuuuucckkk-’

“Who are your-”

She didn’t even let him finish. Her legs moved before she could even process it.

It all happened too fast.

She had taken off running, dragging with her the still startled boys down the hall and leaving Dick behind with the words in his mouth. The man also looked caught off guard, yelling after them as he began to run after them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck-” she repeated over and over while Bobby and Goldielocks shouted at her.

“Unhand me! You’re ruining my shirt!”

“Take a left! Take a left!”

Without thinking about it too hard, she listened to Bobby and took a sharp left. Shoes squeaking as the three of them almost slammed against a poster board, before taking off again. 

They took several turns, with mixed shouts and yells between all of them. Mostly with Bobby yelling directions and the other guy screaming in her ear about going too fast.

It all came to an end when all three of them ran over someone.

Well, more like they slammed solidly against someone and crashed to the ground.

They became a tangle of limbs and curses. Bobby was face-first on the ground, complaining about the heavy weight, trying to lift them off the ground but too tired to do so. The goldilocks was cursing while swinging his arms and legs around, flailing like a stray cat. And lastly, the young girl who lay over the two of them with a manic grin on her face and laughing to herself.

‘That felt soooo good!” She gushed as she laughed breathlessly. 

It felt so right. Running like that felt so right. She had to do it again! Her heart was about to burst out in excitme-

A gruff grunt made all of them fall into silence. Three heads looking up with a gaping expression.

Mr. Munroe stood before them with a crushed cigar by his feet. An annoyed frown in his face that made them gulp at the same time.

“Drake. Worthington. Wayne.” The teens looked at each other with pale faces.

“Detention. Now.”

…That could have ended worse, to be honest.

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Author's Note: The gangs all here! Finally got to introduce Maximoff's core friends! And so much happened in this chapter too! I had so much fun writting it, you guys have no idea. And logan is now in the plot ( I will shove my Storm x Wolverine agenda down your throats and YOU WILL LIKE IT-) Let me know what you guys liked, theorize or go and scream in the asks. I love reciving asks and answering them💖💖 Lots of love and hugs, GG✨

Tag List:

@bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs @ilovecoffe0 @kore-of-the-underworld @fortunatelydifferentqueen @vanessa-boo @livingund3ad @aelxr @im-so-goddamn-tired @lovebug-apple

Bonus Memes:

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSTRAP ONㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : What if you ask if you can peg them?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Terry McGinnis, Male Barbara Gordon, Male Cassandra Cain, Male Stephanie Brown.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

You ask him in bed one night, very nonchalant.

“Hey, can I peg you?”

He freezes. Like full reboot. The Bat-OS is updating. Bruce.exe has stopped responding.

“...Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I think I deserve it.”

He stares. Silently. A slow blink. His jaw clenches, like he's negotiating peace with an international terrorist. You see the flicker in his eyes—he’s considering it, and that terrifies him more than anything.

Eventually?

“Once. You get one.”

But then he comes back for more. Doesn’t say it out loud. Just lies face-down on the bed like a Greek tragedy and says:

“Don’t talk. Just… do it.”

And you never let him forget it. You slap his ass and he growls like a wild animal. Gotham’s protector? Pegged by his princess.

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

You bring it up during foreplay, and his eyes sparkle.

“You wanna what??? …Wait, really? Is that like—hot for you?”

He’s immediately into it. Like too into it. He starts googling positions, stretches, prep routines.

“Do we need a safe word? What’s the etiquette here? Should I make a playlist?”

When the moment comes? He’s spread out like a centerfold, full trust, full glutes.

“I feel so vulnerable. Is this how girls feel all the time??? God, it’s kinda hot—”

He moans so loud. Like theater-level drama. Neighbors can hear. Batfam knows. And Dick? He’s glowing for a week.

“So when’s round two, babe?”

— JASON TODD ⋆

You say it casually while he's cleaning guns.

“Let me peg you sometime.”

He chokes. Gun clatters. You hit a nerve.

“You wanna what???”

He’s mad. Flustered. Pacing. But also blushing. And you notice the way he starts testing the waters—

“If I said yes… hypothetically… would that make me less of a man?”

You just pat his cheek like, “No, baby. It makes you a brave man.”

He glares. And then, eventually, agrees. But he makes it a war zone. He's gripping the headboard, growling like you’re in a gladiator fight.

“You better own it, then. I want bruises, I want pain—do it like you mean it!”

Afterward, he lies there like he got hit by a truck. Whispers:

“...Don’t tell anyone.”

You immediately text the group chat: “Guess who just got wrecked by me.”

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

You hit him with it after a sparring match, while he’s sweaty and happy.

“Can I peg you sometime?”

He short-circuits.

“You wish.”

But he’s curious. You see the gears turning. He starts reading medical journals. Watches porn on mute. The ego battles the intrigue.

One night, he corners you like:

“If you must dominate me… you’ll have to earn it.”

Treats it like a duel. He makes you work for it. Grapples. Resistance. Eye contact like a wolf. But when it finally happens?

He groans. Face buried in the pillow. Tries to act composed, but he’s trembling.

“This… is merely… a power experiment.”

Lies. He loves it. But he’ll never admit it. Until he randomly buys you new gear and says:

“This model is superior. More efficient. Less friction. I did… research.”

— TERRY MCGINNIS ⋆

You ask Terry during post-sex pillow talk. He’s already panting, sweaty, pupils dilated.

“Babe… what if next time I hit it?”

He blinks.

“You mean like… role reversal?”

“No, Terry. I mean I peg you.”

Visibly panics. Short circuits. But his toxic trait? He’s a curious little freak.

He’ll act all alpha, but that man grew up on internet forums and old Batman archives. He’s been exposed. He’s thought about it.

“Okay. Okay. I mean… I’m not against it. But like, do I—do I have to do the… arch thing?”

By the time you’ve got him moaning into the mattress, he's lost all higher brain function. Tries to talk tough:

“T-This doesn’t c-change... the fact I’m still B-Batman…”

“Mmhm. Say that again while I hit that spot.”

After everything, cuddly. A little emotionally destroyed. Always asks shyly afterward:

“So... wanna do it again next week?”

— BARRY GORDON ⋆

So Barry's in the chair, coding. You lean over and whisper it in his ear like it's nothing:

“Wanna let me peg you?”

He doesn’t even look up. Just slowly removes his glasses.

“I was wondering when you’d ask.”

“...Wait. That’s a yes?”

“Baby, I can’t walk, but I can take it. Now help me out of these pants.”

This man is confident and freaky. He guides you through. You’re the one sweating and stammering while he talks dirty.

“Mmm, harder. You call that topping? C’mon, use that core strength.”

Afterward he lays there smug mocking you.

“Good job. You get a gold star. Wanna go again or do I have to manspread harder?”

— CASSIAN CAIN ⋆

You say it during your usual makeout, biting his ear:

“Wanna be my pretty little baby?”

Cassian doesn’t speak much. But his eyes go wide. And the blush? It climbs his ears.

At first, he shakes his head—too shy. But a week later, you find him laid out on the bed. On his stomach. Ass up.

Doesn’t say a word. Just… offers himself.

And he’s so sensitive. Bites his knuckle, whimpers through every motion. Has his whole face buried in a pillow, fists clenched, body twitching.

“You’re doing so well, baby…”

Nods frantically. Tries not to cry from how good it feels.

After? Curled into your arms, completely limp, like you just possessed his soul.

— STEPHEN BROWN ⋆

You barely finish the sentence:

“Hey, what if I pegged—”

And he’s ALREADY stripping.

“YES. PLEASE. I WANNA TRY IT. DO I LOOK GOOD LIKE THIS? DO YOU WANT ME TO SHAVE?? I HAVE CANDLES???”

He’s bouncing. Wagging his tail. Sends you like 10 Etsy links for strap-ons. Makes a mood playlist. Packs snacks.

In the bedroom? Drama. Theatrics. Noise.

He’s moaning like a porn star. Gripping the sheets. Begging.

“I’m your good boy! I’m your little toy! Use me, mommy, pleaaaase!”

You have to put a pillow over his mouth because he’s SCREAMING. And afterward, he wants cuddles and tells all his friends:

“I’m in love.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[pomegranatelifethis]

Shadows of Valor

The grand chandelier of the Wayne Manor ballroom glittered like a constellation trapped in crystal, casting a warm, golden glow over the sea of Gotham’s elite. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes, the clink of champagne flutes, and the low hum of polite conversation. You stood at the edge of the gala, a vision in a deep emerald gown that hugged your frame before spilling into a cascade of silk. Your hair, usually left to its natural, untamed state, was swept into an elegant updo, each strand meticulously pinned to play the part of the perfect Wayne daughter. The spoiled princess, as the tabloids loved to call you. The family disappointment.

You weren’t a hero. You didn’t wear a cape, didn’t patrol the shadowed streets of Gotham, didn’t have a codename whispered in the dark. Unlike your siblings—Dick with his effortless charm, Jason with his raw intensity, Tim with his brilliant mind, or Damian with his fierce determination—you had no desire to chase danger. You wanted peace, or at least as much peace as a Wayne could claim. A quiet life, away from the chaos of the Batcave, away from the weight of a legacy you’d never been invited to carry.

Your family didn’t understand. To them, you were a mystery, a puzzle they’d long since stopped trying to solve. Bruce, your father, had once looked at you with something like hope, but that had faded when you’d politely declined his offer to train, to join the family business. Dick had tried to coax you into the fold, his warm smiles and gentle encouragement almost tempting, but you’d held firm. Jason had scoffed, calling you soft. Tim had barely noticed, too absorbed in his own world. And Damian—well, Damian had never considered you worth his time.

So, you played the role they’d assigned you. The frivolous one. The one who spent her allowance on designer clothes and charity galas, who smiled for the cameras and let the world believe she was nothing more than a spoiled heiress. It was easier that way. Easier than explaining the truth.

Tonight, though, the role felt heavier than usual. The gala was in full swing, and you were doing your part—mingling, laughing at the right moments, letting the older socialites pinch your cheeks and coo over how much you’d grown. Your siblings were scattered throughout the room, each playing their own version of the Wayne charade. Bruce stood near the center, his presence commanding, his smile practiced. You caught his eye once, but he looked away quickly, as if you were a ghost he couldn’t quite see.

Your phone buzzed in your clutch, a sharp vibration that cut through the haze of the evening. You excused yourself from a conversation with a particularly chatty councilman, slipping the phone out as you stepped toward a quieter corner of the ballroom. The screen lit up with a name that made your heart lurch: *Martha*.

Martha was the director of Gotham’s Hope Orphanage, a place you’d been volunteering at for years, far from the prying eyes of your family or the press. You’d poured your heart into the children there, especially one little boy named Mathew. Two years old, with wide brown eyes and a laugh that could melt the coldest heart, Mathew had claimed you as his favorite person. You’d spent countless hours reading to him, playing with him, holding him when nightmares woke him in the night. He was your secret joy, a piece of your life no one else knew about.

You answered the call, your voice low. “Martha? What’s wrong?”

“Y/N,” Martha’s voice was strained, urgent. “It’s Mathew. There was an accident—a car hit the playground fence while he was playing. He’s at Gotham General, but he’s hurt, and he’s asking for you. He won’t let the doctors touch his leg. He’s terrified.”

Your breath caught, the world around you fading to a dull roar. “I’m on my way.”

You didn’t think. Didn’t pause to tell anyone where you were going. You slipped through the crowd, your heels clicking against the marble floor as you made for the exit. Outside, the cool night air hit you like a slap, but you barely noticed. You flagged down a cab, your heart pounding as you gave the driver the hospital’s address.

The ride was a blur, your mind consumed with images of Mathew—his tiny hands clutching your fingers, his trust in you so absolute it humbled you. You couldn’t let him down.

At the hospital, you found him in a small, sterile room, his little body curled on the bed, his face streaked with tears. His left leg was bandaged, the sight of it making your chest tighten. The doctors hovered, frustrated, as Mathew whimpered, shaking his head at their attempts to examine him.

“Y/N!” he cried when he saw you, his voice breaking.

You rushed to his side, dropping to your knees beside the bed. “I’m here, Matty. I’m right here.” You took his hand, brushing his damp curls from his forehead. “You’re so brave, you know that?”

With you there, he calmed, his sobs easing into hiccups. The doctors explained the situation—a fractured leg, not life-threatening but requiring surgery. Mathew clung to you as they prepped him, his small hand never leaving yours until the anesthesia took effect and his eyes fluttered closed.

You stayed through the night, sitting by his bedside, your gown crumpled, your hair falling loose in wild strands. Your eyes burned with unshed tears, but you held it together for him. For Mathew, you could be strong.

ᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥ

Meanwhile, across town, the gala continued without you. No one noticed your absence at first—not your siblings, not Bruce. But a reporter, a vulture named Carl Hensley, had been watching. Hensley was desperate for a scoop, his career teetering on the edge of obscurity. He’d followed you when you’d left, snapping a photo as you stumbled out of the hospital in the early morning hours, your appearance disheveled, your eyes red. He didn’t know why you were there, didn’t care. He saw an opportunity.

By the next morning, the headline was everywhere: *“Wayne Princess Ditches Gala for Wild Night Out!”* The article was vicious, painting you as a reckless party girl who’d abandoned her family’s event for a night of debauchery. The photo of you outside the hospital was splashed across every tabloid, your expression twisted into something that looked like guilt or shame.

You didn’t see the article until you returned to Wayne Manor, exhausted and emotionally drained. You’d stayed at the hospital until Martha arrived to take over, promising to call with updates on Mathew’s recovery. The cab ride home was silent, your mind still with the little boy who’d clung to you like a lifeline.

When you stepped into the manor, the air was thick with tension. Your family was gathered in the living room, their faces a mix of anger and disappointment. Bruce stood at the center, his jaw tight, the newspaper clutched in his hand. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian flanked him, their eyes fixed on you with varying degrees of accusation.

“Where the hell were you?” Jason snapped, his voice cutting through the silence. “You just disappear in the middle of a gala, and then *this*?” He gestured to the newspaper, the headline screaming its lies.

You blinked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Damian said, his tone venomous. “You’ve humiliated us. Again.”

Bruce stepped forward, his voice low and controlled, but the anger in it was unmistakable. “You left without a word, Y/N. And now this—this garbage is all over Gotham. Do you have any idea what this does to our family’s reputation?”

You took the newspaper from his hand, your eyes scanning the headline, the photo. Your stomach dropped. “This isn’t true,” you said, your voice trembling. “I didn’t—I was at the hospital—”

“Hospital?” Tim cut in, his voice skeptical. “For what? A hangover?”

The words hit like a slap. You opened your mouth to explain, to tell them about Mathew, about the orphanage, about the truth, but Dick spoke before you could.

“Y/N, we’ve given you everything,” he said, his voice softer but no less cutting. “And you keep throwing it back in our faces. We’re trying to keep this family together, and you’re out there making a mockery of us.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You don’t understand,” you said, your voice breaking. “If you’d just listen—”

“Enough,” Bruce said, his tone final. “You’ve done enough damage. You’re grounded, Y/N. And until you can prove you’re capable of responsibility, you’re not leaving this house.”

You stared at him, disbelief washing over you. “You’re grounding me? For something I didn’t do?”

Bruce didn’t answer. Instead, he gestured to the staircase that led to the basement—a cold, windowless room used for storage, a place you’d always avoided. “You’ll stay down there tonight. Maybe some time alone will help you reflect.”

Your blood ran cold. “No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Not the basement.”

You’d never told them about your fears, never shared the way tight spaces and darkness clawed at your mind, suffocating you with memories of a childhood trauma you’d buried deep. They didn’t know because they’d never asked.

“Bruce, please,” you said, your voice rising. “I’m telling you the truth—”

“Now,” he said, his voice unyielding.

You looked at your siblings, searching for an ally, but their faces were closed off, their eyes hard. With no other choice, you turned and descended the stairs, each step heavier than the last. The door closed behind you, the lock clicking into place.

The basement was a tomb. The walls seemed to press in, the darkness swallowing the faint light from the single bulb overhead. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your heart racing as the familiar panic set in. You backed into a corner, sliding to the floor, your arms wrapped around yourself as the world closed in.

Minutes passed, or maybe hours—you couldn’t tell. The fear was too much, the darkness too heavy. Your vision blurred, your chest tightened, and then—nothing

ᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥ

The truth came to light the next day, as it always does. A news report flashed across every screen in Gotham: *“Orphanage Director Sues Reporter for Defamation, Defends Wayne Daughter’s Honor.”*

Martha stood before a crowd of reporters, her voice steady as she recounted the real story. She spoke of your years of volunteering at Hope Orphanage, your quiet dedication, your love for the children—especially Mathew. She explained the accident, your rush to the hospital, the way you’d stayed by his side through the night, calming him when no one else could. She revealed the donations you’d made, millions of dollars funneled into the orphanage under a pseudonym, never seeking recognition. She called you a hero, the kind Gotham didn’t deserve.

The Batfamily watched the broadcast in stunned silence, the weight of their mistake settling over them like a shroud. Bruce’s face was a mask, but his hands trembled. Dick’s eyes were wide, guilt twisting his features. Jason cursed under his breath, his anger turned inward. Tim stared at the screen, his mind racing to piece together the clues he’d missed. Damian, for once, was speechless, his usual arrogance replaced by something like shame.

“Oh God,” Dick whispered, the realization hitting him like a freight train. “She’s still in the basement.”

He bolted from the room, the others close behind. They reached the basement door, Dick fumbling with the lock in his haste. When it finally swung open, your body tumbled out, limp and pale, collapsing into his arms.

“Y/N!” Dick’s voice cracked as he cradled you, his fingers brushing your clammy skin. “No, no, no—come on, wake up.”

Bruce was there in an instant, checking your pulse, his training kicking in even as panic clawed at him. “She’s breathing, but she’s in shock. We need to get her to a hospital.”

Jason scooped you up, his usual bravado gone, replaced by a quiet urgency. “I’ve got her,” he said, his voice rough. “Let’s move.”

They rushed you to Gotham General, the same hospital where you’d spent the night with Mathew. The doctors worked quickly, diagnosing a severe panic attack brought on by claustrophobia and nyctophobia—conditions your family had never known you had. They stabilized you, but you remained unconscious, your body exhausted from the ordeal.

In the waiting room, the Batfamily sat in silence, each grappling with their guilt. Bruce stared at his hands, the weight of his failure as a father crushing him. He’d locked you away, ignored your pleas, dismissed you without a second thought. Dick kept replaying your desperate words, the way you’d begged them to listen. Jason’s anger simmered, directed at himself for believing the lies. Tim felt sick, realizing how easily he’d accepted the narrative without question. And Damian—Damian felt something he rarely did: regret.

When you finally woke, hours later, you found Dick at your bedside, his eyes red-rimmed. “Y/N,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

You looked at him, then at the others gathered around—Bruce, Jason, Tim, Damian, all looking at you like you were a stranger they were seeing for the first time.

“We didn’t know,” Bruce said, his voice low, heavy with guilt. “About the orphanage, about Mathew, about… you.”

You turned your head away, your throat tight. “You didn’t ask,” you whispered.

The words hung in the air, a quiet indictment. They stayed with you through your recovery, through the awkward attempts at reconciliation. Your family tried to make amends—Bruce with his quiet presence, Dick with his gentle encouragement, Jason with his fierce protectiveness, Tim with his thoughtful gestures, Damian with his rare, halting apologies. But the hurt lingered, a scar that would take time to heal.

Mathew recovered, his leg healing under your careful attention. You returned to the orphanage, to the children who needed you, to the life you’d built outside the shadow of the Bat. And though your family began to see you—truly see you—the road to forgiveness was long, paved with the truths they’d ignored for too long.

But you were strong. You’d always been strong. And in the end, you didn’t need their approval to shine. You were enough.

[thehealthyfearofeverything]

The Kitchen Sink

SYNOPSIS; “ You were on the roof out in the open with Nightwing, Richard Grayson, Nightwing. The first Robin, the original Boy Wonder.”

Or you have a late night talk with Nightwing.

Chapter Four || Up The Down Trench.

Warnings: Depression, implied Suicide, the reader makes a joke and references to her Suicide from the first chapter, a character assume the reader is trying to commit Suicide, she not it’ a misunderstanding.

You may have had a few oversights in your rush not to be placed in Gotham's foster system. In your defense, you were panicked, just lost Mama and two of your three best friends were in the hospital, and that whole thing in the library. So smaller details were bound to fall to the wayside.

Said details seemed to create the woman in front of you, who was currently staring you down from across a cluttered desk. The woman was brunette, middle aged and visibly exhausted. When she had came in, at 9 fucking a.m You had been dragged into the tiny room that was her office.

Literally dragged in.

This woman had tugged you after her by the collar of your shirt as if you were a disobedient kitten. Pulling you from the bare cafeteria, where you noticed that there were probably ten other children, all scrawny with paranoid hollow eyes. Not that you can judge, you knew that you weren’t doing any better. Though you had to look away when you noticed that you weren’t even the youngest of the bunch.

Ms. Shari— Sharon? Cheryl? Cheyenne? Shannon? You weren’t exactly listening when she introduced herself and she didn’t have a name tag for you to check— was this no-nonsense social worker what partnered with the Youth Shelter. Her job she had explained when you toned back in was to determine the severity of your case, to create your file, help you get assigned to your own social worker, and track down any living relatives.

Much to Ms. Cheryl exhaustion, you weren't making a single aspect of her job easy. She tapped her pen against the paper sitting before her, a rhythmic tapping that created the only sound in the small space. If you were to look at the paper in front of her, you’d see written in neat handwriting the only information you had willingly offered your name and age. 

“ Uh, Ms…. Can you help me identify a body?” You asked. The women suddenly looked alert, as if what you said was unreasonable. 

“What do you mean?” She asked. You shrugged and slumped down in your seat. Deciding to stare down at your hand, picking at the frayed skin away from your nails.

“ My Mama died yesterday, she’s probably at some morgue, but I know if she’s left unclaimed she’ll just be incinerated.” You muttered.

The social worker leans a little over her desk, you felt her eyes bore into you. “Is that how you got your injuries?” She asked almost soothingly.

Again you shrugged. “You know that failure of a field trip that happened yesterday? The one the Joker crashed? Yeah… I was there.” it had gone silent after that then in a small voice Ms. Cheyenne said;

“I’m sorry no child should have to go through that.”

She sounded genuine, but all you could do was humed in response.

“I’ll see what i can do, about your mother i mean, but to do that i’ll need you to cooperate with me.”

“I’ll be cooperative as long as I'm not placed in a foster family.” That sounded harsher than you meant it to be, but the social worker didn’t seem offended about it. Instead she looked like she understood where you were coming from. Some foster parents and social workers were a part of child trafficking rings, Most foster homes were just abusive, and although there were a few foster homes that were good, like genuinely good—that had the kids well being in mind. But the good homes were few and far in between and you rather be safe than sorry. 

The women merely nodded.

After reaching some kind of unspoken understanding with Ms. Cheryl, you were much more cooperative. Willingly telling her your previous address, your mother’s name, your name, middle name, last name, birthday, even social security number.

You were in the office for a little over thirty minutes.

“And that’s time.” Ms. Cheryl said, checking her watch and then heaving a deep sigh. You got up quietly, simply nodding your head in her direction.

“You’re a smart girl ya know.” She said, You cast a look over your shoulder. She was slumped in her chair, and her eyes were closed. She looked tired.

 “I’d figured that I would get better help in a place with the Wayne name attached to it.” You knew what she was talking about. A lot of children distrusted the foster system– with good reason– even when the Wayne name was attached to it. Gothamites were prideful and stubborn people, they hold little trust in the systems in place.

The women hummed in response. “ I’ll get back to you about your mother.”

With that you left the office.

You were in the room the youth shelter provided, there were two beds, two dressers, and no closet. One bed was bare, just fitted with a simple gray sheet. The bed May assigned you had a cream cover and matching pillows.

It was a rare sunny day, which was unexpected considering how much it rained yesterday. You planned on going out today, just wander around and not get caught by the truancy police, then later on try calling your friends to tell them you’re safe. You didn’t have to worry about school, the social worker said so. Apparently the schools that were invited to the publicity stunt gone wrong have the next few weeks off.

The other kids still had to go to school, a local public school. So you were by yourself for the time being.

Your fingers traced the patches on Tobey’s jacket, the one under your finger was a cluster of goombas from the Mario games, on the right sleeves was a line of the ghost from Pacman. There were more, mostly on the front and sleeves since Red Robin’s logo was on the back and Toby would never cover it.

You didn’t even like the Gotham vigilantes— well not any more. Maybe it was because you're in the DC universe, In Gotham and not just a passive reader who can just close the comic book and disengage anytime you want. This was your life now, you were stuck in Gotham and if you played your cards right and remained a wallflower maybe one day you can make enough money to leave this cursed city. 

You’d talked about it a few times. The first time it came up was at the third sleepover you had with Tobey. 

You were five, lazing on the rug in the living room of Tobey’s apartment. You watched the ceiling fan blades spin. The sunlight – a rarity–from the balcony would dance with each turn, and the boy was laying next to you. The soft buzz of music drifting from the kitchen and the smell of breakfast had your stomach growling.

 “ What do you think Metropolis is like?” Tobey asked, propping himself up on his elbows. You hummed and inclined your head to look at the fat faced boy. You haven’t read much Superman focused comics, mostly following the super sons or Tim drake’s young justice. You mainly hand interest on anything Bat Fam focused.

“Bright, and safe and sunny, imagine meeting Superman.” You said. Tobey smiled.

“Would you want to live there?” Tobey asked and you rolled onto your stomach. 

“Duh, who wouldn’t?”

The second time was at the first sleepover with Jamie and Nettie. With them simple musing about living in Metropolis tuned into owning a cafe-library hybrid— where the first floor was the cafe and the second was a library.

“ The library would be like a loft!” Jamie said, a smile already splitting his chubby face. “With a huge window so that we can look down into the cafe!”

Nettie nodded. “ And we’ll have spiral stairs to get to the library, and an escalator!” she added.

“Elevator.” you had corrected her. Nettie had stuck her tongue out at you.

“Tobey and Birdie can run the library part and me and Jamie can run the cafe!”

Jamie nodded long and Tobey because he was deemed the better artist was drawing out the future plans.

“ Why do I have to manage the library?” you asked. Nettie puffed out her chest, a smug expression painted on her face as she patted her chest.

“My Ma is teachin’ me how to bake and she’s the best at it so our cafe will have the world's bestest sweets.” she said.

Everything was so simple then, it was fun to just sit at a coffee table and imagine that cafe-library. Bickering about the menu or talking about what books to add to the library, though you guys never could agree on a name.

You saw the tear soak into the sleeve on the jacket and you blinked in surprise. 

Oh, you were crying.

You wiped at your eyes, you couldn’t cry now there was still too much to do. You couldn’t cry until Mama’s body was properly dealt with, you couldn’t cry until you knew that Jamie, Nettie and Tobey were okay. You couldn’t cry, not now at least.

You had to give Tobey back his jacket, you had to buy Nettie a new glasses chain and you had Jamie still alive, he had the worst injury out of the three.

So no you couldn’t cry, because if you cried now you wouldn’t stop. 

You’re an adult, you remind yourself, you’re 25 years old, just because you spent the last four years in a child’s body doesn't mean that you're actually a child. But physically— physically you're nine years old and everyone treated you like a nine year old girl… sometimes it’s easy to forget that you're an adult when everyone treats you as a child. 

Miss May had told you to stay in the shelter until school was out so that you wouldn’t get caught by the truancy officers, she had also told you that the shelter had an open door policy– that there wasn’t a mandatory curfew but she would prefer it if you came back before 9.

That was reasonable, although you were in a better part of Gotham doesn't mean that you were safe. There was no part of this city that could be called safe. You roamed the streets of the university district, it was clean, nice and smelled of something other than blood and alcohol. On every street was some kind of bakery, clothing store, chain restaurant and fast food joint that wouldn’t dare open in the Narrows.

You wandered into a few, buying a couple of new patches for Tobey’s jacket, found a cute glasses chain with little cats hanging off of it for Nettie, and a simple black stuffed rabbit for Jamie. He was always fond of cute things, and rabbits and bunnies according to him were the cutest animals to ever exist. 

Two days passed, the social worker woman had managed to locate Mama’s body and set up an appointment so you can claim it. You haven't called your friends yet — it's nerve -wracking to do so, but you promised yourself that after you claimed Mama’s body and properly put her to rest that you’ll call them.

You dreamed of your apartment, the one you had with Mama, the one you lived in when you were that 22 year old college student and the one you lived in with mom and later grandpa. It was a strange fusion between the three, a cat tree in the corner, a fish tank blocking the balcony door the old couch mama would lay on after work.

The carpet changed between brown, tan, and gray. The apartment was quiet, it was disconcerting quiet. And you were home alone, you knew it, but it was quiet. Even quiet places were filled with little white noises. The buzz from the kitchen, the thrum from the fish tank, the footsteps from the apartment above, the honking of car horns, the bits of loud conversation that would drift up to the windows.

 Your apartment was filled with little white noises, outside of the apartment was overflowing with little white noises that would seep and mix with the white noise inside the apartment. 

But this quiet was quiet. No noise whatsoever, just you and your thoughts and all of your little observations. You could feel the goose bumps form on your arms.

Bile rose in your throat, and you shot upright, throwing back the chair as you rushed to get to the bathroom. 

You barely made it in time to empty your stomach in the toilet. You coughed, spitting the last of the foul, burning liquid from your mouth, and wiped the back of your hand over your lips. You stayed there for a full minute, hunched over the bowl and waiting for your stomach to settle, before standing and flushing. You slowly stepped up to the sink and raked your fingers through your hair, breathing deeply.

Huh, what brought that on?

Usually there were signs of nausea before throwing up, lightheaded, a twisting of the gut, difficulties to breath. 

But this was so sudden, with no build up, and no way to prevent it. 

Fucking gross. Leaning over the sink and staring at the mirror intensely. A solemn-looking reflection gazing back at you. 

That’s not what you're supposed to look like, you’re supposed to have the face of a nine year old girl who has yet to fully grow into her features.

You looked like a mess. You looked like you were 22 again.

You looked so tired, your eyes were sunken in and dull and lifeless as if someone plucked the eyes off a corpse and put them into your skull. And wow Birdie was prettier than you.

You left the bathroom. At the end of the hall was a figure, it was small and vaguely person shaped. Narrowing your eyes you took a few cautious steps forwards.

“ Hello?” you called like every dumb horror movie character. Your hand brushed along the wall until you found the light switch, you flicked it up.

Oh, there was Birdie. She was standing at the end of the hall, her head was bowed and she was wearing that penguin printed nightgown, the same nightgown when you woke up in her body. 

“Thief.” She muttered. Your heart hammered in your chest.

“What?” 

“THIEF!” The girl snarled as she snapped her head up, her eyes burning with hate.

You startle awake, unnerved by your dream. The images and words fade away within seconds of waking, the way all dreams do, and you're left puzzled and ill at ease. you rub your eyes, as you sit up — the covers pooling around your waist.

It was raining earlier, but the rain has stopped now and the sky is cloudy and dim. You can only stay in one place for so long. You left the youth shelter– you wrapped Tobey’s jacket tighter around yourself, and held tight to your chest was the stuffed rabbit you’re going to give to Jamie.

Ever since being it you had gotten attached to the thing, maybe it was the color but it reminds you of Jamie. It’s late--you doesn’t know how late--and the city is lit up below you. You’re not standing on the tallest building in the district; it’s only about twenty floors tall. And it gives you a good view of this part of the city.

You’re on the roof of an abandoned industrial building, something a street kid showed you a few days ago. You stroll along the edge of the building, hands tucked into the pockets of Tobey’s jacket, leaning over the edge to look over the city. You can see and hear over two dozen red and blue lights and sirens lining the city streets, each moving in different directions. A distant spotlight shines against the clouds with the image of the bat signal. 

You can hear the distant crack of gunfire nearby. It seems to come from every direction. The whole city was a constant war zone. It reminds you of the Narrows. In the Narrows at least the crime didn’t stop once the sun rose, people would be mugged in broad daylight and that would be the average Tuesday.

A building erupts into flames in the distance. More sirens begin, and you can see helicopters fly towards the fire. You focus on that area of town. What villain is attacking? Was it the scarecrow? The penguin? A group of nameless goons? A drug cartel? The longer you look, the more you lean over the ledge, as if that would help you see who’s responsible for the fire.

“ Hey, can you step away from the ledge?” A voice said from behind you, it's calm and gentle as if trying to sooth a feral animal. You jumped in place, as you whirls around to find yourself staring up at a masked man in a black suit with blue, stylized wings spread across the chest. You tensed.

Aw fuck it’s Nightwing.

“ When did— where did you come from?” You asked. You were two for two when it came to meeting batfam members. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence and three times is a pattern. You hope this isn’t a pattern because then you somehow ended up in their orbit.

“The building to the right.” Nightwing says carefully as he walks over to you. He stands an arm’s reach from you and offers his hand.

“I’m Nightwing.”

“I know.” you said, eyeing the outstretched hand. There was no way you were going to touch him, that would make things too real. When you spoke to Babs( can you call her that?) you had the reception desk separating the two of you. But here you had no such luxury. You were on the roof out in the open with Nightwing, Richard Grayson, Nightwing. The first Robin, the original Boy Wonder. 

Still it would be rude not to take his hand, and both Mom and Mama raised you with manors. So you reached out to grasp Nightwing’s outstretched hand. The man pulls you from the edge of the building and spins you around so that he stands on the ledge and you stand where he was– near the center of the roof.

“What the fuck?” You gasped. What the hell just happened?

“There! All better!” Nightwing holds your hand a little too long. You frowned and pulled your hand from his.

“Are you Alright? Actually, scratch that, that’s not the best question, if you were fine you would be on a roof at three in the mourning.”

You wiped you hand on Tobey’s jacket, did he think you were going to kill yourself? Your frown deepened. If you were going to kill yourself(again) than you would’t jump(again) you’d try something different.

“ I wasn’t going to jump.” You said, hugging Jamie’s rabbit to your chest, your fingers idly playing the one of its felt ears. “ I had enough of jumping from high places…I couldn’t sleep so I came up here to clear my mind, then I got distracted by the fire.”

Nightwing frowns at you. “ Many people come up to tall buildings to think. Do you want to talk about it, at least for a little while?”

Nightwing frowns again, as he brings a hand up and presses it against his ear. A comm? Maybe, most likely. His focus, however, remains on you.

“ Mister Nightwing sir, I'm fine, truly. No need to worry about me, I do all my best thinking on bridges anyways.” you said. You didn't want to keep him away from his superhero work, and you didn’t want him near longer than necessary.

“ I was about to leave soon anyway, I don’t want Miss May to worry about me.”

The vigilante sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, he glanced at the fire then trunks back to you. “ Let me take you home at least.”

“ I’m staying at the Martha Wayne Youth Center.”

“ Why’s that? If you don’t mind me asking.” He pulled out a grappling hook, spinning it in his hand before tightening his grip on the handle. He held it out to show you.

“What are you a cop?” You deadpanned. He smiles.

“ That’s not far, I can drop you of and make it in time” He points the grappling hook at a higher building. 

“ You’ll have to hold on tight though.” Nightwing opened his other arm, inviting you to hang on. you glanced at the shot, then up at the ledge Nightwing was aiming at.

“Just, don’t drop me, I've never done this before.” You said, awkwardly shuffling over to throw your arms around the vigilante. Nightwing wrapped his arm tight around your waist, making sure he had a good hold.

“I’m a natural at-”

“Dropping children?” You cut in.

“Ha! No. Carrying them. Even if you did fall, I would catch you.” Nightwing chuckled, as he fired his grappling hook.

“I don’t want to fall again.” You glanced downward, while they were reeled across rooftops. You missed the concerned look and frown from the hero holding you in his arms.

“You never told me your name.” You looked up at the man. You understood why he was being so clingy, any normal person would. He thought you, a (physically) nine year old, was about to take your own life. 

“You can call me Birdie.”

“ It’s nice to meet you Birdie.”

That night, before you fall asleep, you pray it’s not a pattern.

Tag List:

@jsprien213 @vxsire @sick2mystmch @not-aya @seemeee3 @wendee-go @mileskisser @cynniee @djpuppy-kittens @pix-stuff @godoreo22

A/n: ask box and tag list is open!

reader: something's not right here. *narrows eyes* am I the main character? God I hope not.

PART 3—Interlude—HERE

[sa1ntd1or]

I love the aesthetic of Ur blog it reminds me of a latte ☕

Can I request a smau text of batfam X batsis!reader who puts the fame in famous and the batfam find out she's dating like Jude Bellingham or another famous athlete? Shenanigans ensue!!!

Love your work keep doing what your doing 🫶

˖ ֹ੭୧ CELEBRITY STATUS ⊹ ࣪ ⑅

ˋ°•*⁀➷ texts with batfamily x celebrity/batsis!reader !

[fromdove]

batboys and how they'd grab your face ! bruce wayne, jason todd, dick grayson, damian wayne, tim drake

[niwaart]

Maybe a tomie reader?🥺🙏

If I were to write a story about Damian's twin, I think the story would go something like this:

In the League of Shadows, Y/N and Damian were born so that one of them would lead the League and lead humanity to destruction. That's what Ra's wanted, but what he didn't expect was for the twins to start a cold war to get his and Talia's attention. Damian succeeded in that, so what was Y/N's next plan? To get Bruce's attention.

Damian woke up to find that his twin had escaped the League and no one knew where, and Ra's didn't care as long as his chosen heir was here. As the years passed, Talia decided to introduce Damian to his father and Boom.

Damian finds his twin, shocking Bruce with the news that he has two children, not one. Damian discovers that his twin has changed radically: a gentle smile, a polite greeting... but this only makes Damian realize that his twin is a weak person, and that capturing his father's attention will be easy...

It wasn't easy.

Damian hates to admit it but his twin is smarter than he expected, and it turns out that his father isn't the only one who needs his attention, but the other servants who his twins call their "brothers" too, and that's hard with Damian's tough and fierce personality... He hates that his twin is watching him with a sly grin, knows that Damian can't win this war easily but he will win no matter what to gain everyone's respect.

[sangunary]

Yandere Batfamily × other dimension Reader.

SYPNOSIS: Your other family are willing to kill to have you... So is your orginal family.

>Part 1< >Part 2<

The world you have left was turned into ruins in a matter of months. Barely any crime in the street of Gotham since the so called hero's were taking that job trying to find you.

The night became more dangerous than ever since they were willing to ruin their prestige reputation to bring back their lost bird.

"Tell me where the fuck they are before I blow your brain into pieces!"

Jason threatens the poor boy with guns against his head ready to pull the trigger if not satisfied.

Amongst the family Jason was taking it the hardest, he was already violent as he was but your sudden disappearance was taking a toll on him...

"I- I don't know anything! I swear... Please just don't kill me please!"

The boy beg as wet tears stream down his cheeks.

Nobody was safe now, their hero's have turned against them.

Even the Justice League were trying to reason with Bruce but he wasn't very willing to hear them screech about what justice was.

He wasn't batman at the moment, he was a father searching for their young one that have gone astray... He wasn't going to loose his precious bird because some freaks in costume tell him to forget.

A father that could not die at peace knowing he practically left his own child to rotting from the inside.

"... Kid you really are getting on my nerves."

Jason threatens as he push the cold end of the gun into his forehead, fingers dangerously close to the trigger.

"I don't know... I promise you... I don't know anything about her... Please..."

The kid's wept harder, their face contorting into one of sorrow and desperate in one frame... Their hands trembling badly as they hold onto Jasons hands as he was holding them by the back of his shirt leaving him off the floor. If the boy weren't to be holding onto the savage man he would he chocking.

"Kids... I have no problem shooting that clown in the head for joking around too much... What makes you think I would treat you any differently?"

Jason voice was loud and clear as the boy just couldn't stop sobbing.

Yes, it is true that the Joker was killed. More than one hand were tainted with blood. The rage of a bird is intense and brutal...

Suddenly the comma began to ring, prompting Jason to drop the kid flat on their ass. As he listened to the signal carefully.

"I have a trace... Everyone at the batcave, fast"

Barbara words were demanding and seem slightly anxious which was never a good sign. Ever since your sudden disappear she could barely get herself to get out of her operation room.

You used to stroll her around all the time and she wouldn't even notice you during those days. She would rather talk to herself than to you and personally asked you to not speak so she won't get agitated. Now she missed you badly.

She have been going through thousand of files, looking through files of anyone who have a criminal records, they don't have to he a major criminal... People who are arrested for playing loud music are also under her watch..

For month's she would send them out to meet specific rodents in hope of finding whoever was responsible for your disappearance. She doesn't always sit behind large tecnology she would also go out and beat some rodents in your name.

Jason was ready to leave but not before he turns back and look at the kid who was sweating profusely... Couldn't even look at his shadow due to fear.

With a bang the kids clenched onto his left leg which was bleeding profusely after Jason shot at it...

"I marked you down so don't ever think of doing anything I won't like. Cause next time your head would be display infront of your family..."

With that said he jump off the building going towards the batcave.

Jason was being extremely out of character even he could see that. He was protective of kid's especially one that reminded of him... Excluding you.

Whenever he saw your face he just can't help but be irritated. You remind him of himself as a kid, your big guilty eyes... How excited you were and all the others... You were just like him.

He shouldn't have taken his anger out on you for being a better version of himself.

He would avoid you like the plague, make your day worse than it had to be and how he made sure you'll never get the mantle.

He hated Tim for replacing him and he despite you for being happy.

He planned for weeks on how to make sure you never get that mantle... which was also a twisted way of getting revenge on Bruce.

He had broken your leg which was on accident. He was aiming for your spine but you moved and he shot at your knees instead.

Although he realised even if he didn't shoot you, you wouldn't inheret the mantle cause you were deemed too 'odd' by your father.

Bruce was originally going to re-home you since you were not fitting for the family, but after Jason shot you Bruce realised he had to take responsibility as his son shot you.

If it were to he anyone outside the family that were to shoot you he would still have re-homed you as soon as possible. So your presence could be swept under the rug faster and alot more efficient.

Inside the cave was gloomy as usual, the lingering smell of iron was strong and the air purifier were working extra hard.

"There's a problem in the multiverse..."

Barbara started.

"Again?"

Dick asked, he was wearing his usual black and blue uniform no red stain yet the strong sense of iron was coming off of him.

"It is unlikely but there is another way..."

They all listen to her patiently, concern about your well being and what kind of dimension you are currently on.

On the flip side, you were just having the best time.

Everybody cherished you, loved you. And you definitely took advantage of that.

Your scare were slowly healing just by being with the right people.

"Aha! Caught ya' birdie!" Before you could even process some words Dick pick you up. You forgot how strong they were since you never interact with your other family.

"This is humiliating get me down!" You struggle but not enough force, he was picking you up like how the monkey from lion king did to Simba.

"Do not fling her across the room! I demand you let her down this instead Richard!" Damian spoke as there he was holding pillows from Tims room.

Duke who just entered the room just look around and sigh, stealing the pillow that Stephanie was resting her head on.

"...Oh so you want war huh? Bring it on yellow ranger" Stephanie with a smirk stood up as she instead reach for the towel which was beside her.

"That's illegal... You have a machine gun and I have a knife? What kind of war is this?"

Before Stephanie could continue somebody throw a pillow with all their strength combined towards her. She stumble and plop down on the couch as she looked at the person.

"That's... what you get for taking my coffee, you witch"

Tim stood confidently near the entrance, his arm crossed as he glare at Stephanie who smiled without any guilt knowing damn well what she did was an unwritten crime in the family. Which nobody follows.

Before Stephanie could throw the remote at him someone else throw a literal a book at him which... unfortunately land at him hard.

"I've always wanted to do that..." Jason spoke as there were more books in his hands. The book's were for children under 4... a nursery book which was given to him by Tim each birthday of his...

Unfortunately the books were thin so it wouldn't hurt him much.

"Hey! that's illegal! Ganging up and using hard material is against the law we made!"

You watched as Stephanie throw a pillow at him, headshot. You couldn't help but feel the warmth crept up your heart and throughout your body.

"I-" "Æ!".

Dick thrown you onto the couch without warning as he was getting ready for war.

"What the fuck, Richard?"

You asked as you rub your back, for being young your back do hurt like it's about to retire already.

"Don't worry little wing... This bird won't hurt you..."

Dick assured you as he picked up a pillow that was laying on the ground.

"You dare to protect me from my blood... You've chosen the wrong blood to messed with..."

Damian dramatically spoke as you couldn't help but be abit entertain. It was like watching a theater kid's role-playing free style during break hour.

"This is like claiming a vulture is related to a Robin... Eitherway birdie you won't live to see that glorious light of victory. Cause I, the gre-"

Before Dick could continue Damian throw an award worthy throw at him, he stood tall and prideful as he look down on the older brother.

"They are worthy of sharing my blood, they woll be recognised as such"

"G-"

Before Tim could finish Damian throw a devastating hurl at him which made Tim to kiss the floor again.

"You should learn to shut that mouth of yours, Timmy"

Jason suddenly decide to give Tim some word of advice but after that he just dropped all the kid's book ontop of Tim.

Stephanie too ended up throwing a blanket which she pulled out of thin air at Tim who was hugging the floor.

Beneath the perly mansion lays a secret, underneath the Wayne manor the batcave was there... Bruce, Alfred, Cass and Barbara all together.

"Cass you will be by their side at all time... We do not know when or whom will come here to take her."

Bruce spoke, his eyes still on the large computer that was set infront of him. The screen show a picture of you, dna, background and alot of personal records.

"Yes, Will protect her. At all cost"

Cass replied, she was still in her usual indoor clothing but it still made her look badass. Barbara who was sitting on her wheelchair gave Cass a quick smile to reassure her that you were going to stay.

"Those alternative version of us clearly made it clear that they won't stop at any cause to have them... They won't be so spoiled here.

Barbara continue as he gave Bruce some files... which documented every single detail of how the glitching worked and your actual family problems.

"How about the rest? We can't just not tell them"

Barbara added another thing on her curiosity list.

"They're well aware, they'll stay her one way or another... And get rid of those ungrateful heros..."

[oddlylovingaddiction]

Hi how are you, I was wondering if you could do a batfam x reader where she was switched at birth

OKAY SO SORRY I HAVEN’ T ANSWERED THIS, I was thinking about making this ask a full fic and I’ve actually been thinking how to go about this. Because I don’t really want to create a throw away character that reader will replace eventually because idk why but that just leaves me with a guilty feeling 😭 however I started thinking…

What if YOU were the fake?! Batman THOUGHT you were his bio kid however when Damian came along Bruce ended up getting both your DNA tested. Damian was a 100% Bruce’s kid. You? You were definitely not. Insert chaos. Here’s a short blurb/fic about it! (I’m totally down to make it into a series if it gets popular enough. I mainly say series because this is such a good idea for a series and not just a one time thing.)

I’m assuming you want Fem!Reader from the she/her. Sorry if that was wrong!

Platonic Batfam x reader x platonic frenemy Damian

Tw for cursing, psychical violence, mentions of breakdowns, kidnapping and human experimentation.

(Also may contain spelling mistakes…)

“He is not your kid.” You scowl, glaring at Damian. I mean from your point of view he’s coming and swooping up a spot you had for years as Bruce’s child.

“Ha! Says the bastard who doesn’t share a lick of blood with her supposed father.” Damian snapped, giving you the evilest smirk known to man. You give him a strong punch for that, “Fuck you, just go back to your hole and die!” You screech.

Damian launches himself back, fists fire from both of you as you both. Bruce scowls, he was quiet before mainly just taking it all in before he decides that’s enough fighting, so he yanks you both apart and up by your shirt collars (almost like a mother cat would pick up her kittens by the scruff), before either of you could reach for your weapons.

You’re both battered, you sporting a black eye and Damian with a blooded nose. You glared at each other like if Bruce let go of you both, you’d go back to fighting to the death.

“It doesn’t matter who’s biologically mine, you’re both my kids and I intend to take responsibility for both of you.” He huffs in his gruff voice.

He pauses looking at You and Damian, who are looking in opposite directions, making sure if he sets you down you’re not going to try and kill each other.

When he finally sees you both not looking as murderous he sets you both down with a sigh before walking away.

As Bruce turns his back Damian mouths “Not his real kid.” To you which you mouth back “I know you aren’t his real kid no need to remind me.” To which he tries and kick you for. However Bruce turns around again so Damian and you are forced to stop.

When Bruce turns back around. you flip each other off and walk away.

That’ll probably be roughly how it starts, listen Bruce and the rest of the batfam doesn’t care if you’re not biologically his, hell half the damn family is adopted you’re fine. But between you and Damian? It matters. Oh it so matters. Constantly one upping each other in everything. Training? It’s a competition. Eating? It’s a competition. Hell even BREATHING is a competition. And Bruce lowkey doesn’t give a fuck, in fact he likes that you both are competing against each other because it means that both of you are improving battle wise. He only really separates you both when it gets violent or unproductive. I think Bruce would occasionally even try and start fights between you both because it makes you train more.

NOW HERE IS WHERE IT GETS JUICY.

So I think reader gets kidnapped by Lex Luthor during a mission with Damian. And this EATS HIM UP. The boy is a wreck assuming you’re dead and it’s his fault. I’m talking he trains 10x harder, he is 10x meaner and 10x more harsh on himself he usually is. I’m talking Bruce has to demand he stop and take breaks, and during those breaks he breakdown crying from the guilt and pain.

Insert some years later, 5? 3? Who knows years later you’re released from Lex’s grip, a bit battered and bruised and you go back home, when Alfred opens the door he nearly faints and Dick screams something about a ghost.

However once one of the batfam members confirms you are human and not a ghost, they all come running and BAWL their eyes out. Hugging you tight even if you’re now somewhat cold to them because of the stuff you’ve faced from Lex.

Damian walks in to see you standing there and you expect for him to flip you off or be annoyed you’re alive but instead when everyone finally lets go of you, he just walks calmly over and rests his head on your shoulder before breaking out in quiet sobs.

Everyone is shocked and frozen, and you’re frozen too, because you definitely weren’t expecting this. “I’m sorry— it was all my fault..” He sobs before slowly wrapping his arms around you.

I swear it takes you a good two hours before he finally stops crying and ever since then he’s being insanely clingy, he refuses to leave your side. He’s convinced that any moment you’ll disappear again and he’ll feel this unbearable pain again. But he also fears losing, in what his eyes is, probably his closest friend he’s ever had. Someone who inspires him to do his best everyday.

He now proudly calls you his sibling and straight up refuses to do anything without you, you’ve both been dubbed “The Wayne twins.” By media and the family despite the fact you’re not twins biologically at all.

I’m thinking of writing a full fic based on this, but I’m not sure! If this gets popular I’ll work on it after finishing Coming Full Circle! Let me know what everyone thinks!