#Dad Bruce wayne

[arkangelo-7]

Hot take but I think Bruce Wayne is actually a master at gift giving. Like sure, he seems like he’d be the typical clueless dad who has no idea what his kids want—but let’s not forget that he’s the World’s Greatest Detective and that he’s also neurotic as fuck. I bet he knows exactly what his kids + colleagues want, and he’s also really good at giving gifts he knows they’ll like, even if they didn’t think to ask for it. ( + He’s fucking loaded, so he can go batshit crazy on the presents. And he does. Every year.)

And as a foil, I headcannon that Clark Kent has a reputation as a terrible gift giver. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he’s too easily distracted to actually get his Christmas shopping done. He’s just a busy guy! Like he’ll go shopping for Bruce on Christmas Eve because he actually totally forgot, then panics and flies to like China or something to get him some expensive silk fan.

And Bruce? Has absolutely no need for a silk hand fan. (He’s a dude. He lives in Gotham. He’s not sure if using it would be cultural appropriation or not.) But he awkwardly thanks Clark for it anyway, and meanwhile Clark is bright red out of embarrassment.

[timmydraker]

Bruce, knowing Tim went out as RR when he was meant to be benched: do you have something to tell me, chum?

Tim, half asleep and drooling in his tea: sometimes Cassie and Kon make me curl into a ball and then use me as a baseball to play catch with while Bart stands in the middle and tries to catch me first.

Bruce: ….

Bruce: what.

Tim: they call me ‘piggy in the middle’

Bruce: …

Tim: somehow Bart never catches me but I think it’s only because he’s laughing so much.

Bruce, completely forgetting about Tim patrolling: I… I don’t know what to do with this information.

[kaethefangirl]

bruce forces the batkids to go to his charity balls and he gives them suits and dresses for it- but he accidentally switches tim and Stephanie's outfits.

*Jason, Dick, and Duke huddled together looking at Tim and Stephanie walk into the ballroom*

Jason: They didn't.

Dick: They wouldn't

Duke: They did.

Stephanie: *wearing a black and red tux*

Tim: *holding her arm while wearing a bright purple dress, with heels*

Bruce: *sighs in tired dad*

[ryemiffie]

I love imagining the scenario where one of Bruce's kids is getting married but no one knows Bruce's identity and it creates shenanigans. Like for example, Dick is marrying Starfire and she doesn't know Bruce's identity.

And they of course want Bruce at the wedding since he's Dick's dad, but they also want a hero as security due to the nature of the wedding, not only as a wedding between two heroes but also a Wayne wedding (not to mention holding a wedding like that in gotham is never easy) which is a pretty big deal in both respects and garners a lot of attention to be the perfect opportunity for a villian attack. So Starfire and Dick decide to request a justice league member there as security. Some heroes are eliminated due to them already being meant to attend as guests who are meant to be able to enjoy the wedding and some already have missions that need their attention, like Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and the Martian Manhunter are busy off-world, Shazam and HawkGirl are busy with a villian who's been on the run, and Superman is supposed to be doing press for the wedding as Clark, so they decide to give the task to Batman seeing as he's more than qualified and is already accustomed to the area (gotham), he can't figure out a way to decline the mission without risking his identity being leaked since he really has no reason to not be able to do it, except of course saying he has civilian business, on the day of the wedding, at the exact time of the wedding.. yeah hell no, Batman is way to paranoid to say something like that! So he agrees to do security as Batman for the wedding while also agreeing to attend the wedding as Bruce, ya' know, so people don't suspect anything about his identity due to the situation.

And before you ask yes Dick has realised the situation but no he is not helping Bruce out of it because its fucking funny to him, and none of the other batkids agree to where the suit for the day since they're also guests and they also find the situation funny as hell. So cue Bruce trying to constantly switch between making appearances as Bruce and doing security as Batman, like the classic sitcom episode where the person has to constantly switch between one date to the next, but it's Batman just trying to enjoy his kid's wedding.

[cuthwyn]

Bruce: *stirring his coffee with racoon eyes*

I have been tired for 15 years.

Dick: That's how long you've had me for!

Bruce:...

Bruce: Weird.

[transmasculinizing]

[blueberrymori]

☆warnings: FTM! reader, platonical content, teenage reader and older than Damian (reader is between 14-17 years old), dysphoria on the part of reader, reader depriving himself of sleep, Bruce being a good father, I don't use Y/N or variants of those in my fanfics then Bruce calls his son a little bat.

☆summary: when Bruce finds out that his son, is having a day of dysphoria, he plans an entire day to take care of his son.

☆A/N: I didn't really know how to finish this one, it was two in the morning when I wrote it.

Bruce had just returned from a patrol, it was late at night, he expected to see the whole mansion silent and unlit, but that's not what he found, Bruce came across his son in the kitchen barely keeping up, he was practically leaning against the kitchen counter barely waiting for the coffee machine to finish the coffee. 

-What are you doing here? This afternoon, are you still using the binder? - Bruce said worriedly as he realized you were still wearing the binder. He walked over to his son and put his hand on his shoulder. - Little bat, you're barely standing - Bruce said as he moved his hand to stroke your hair.

- I'm fine, Dad, I just need some more coffee - his tired voice betrayed him, and Bruce moved his hand to pull his head to his chest. - No, you don't need coffee, you need to sleep and take off that binder, it's going to affect your breathing and your ribs- Bruce said, hugging you and stroking your back.  Come on, I'll take you to rest- Bruce said without giving you time to answer as he led you into the bedroom and turned off the kitchen light.

-Dad, I'll be fine, I swear - his voice was tired and you couldn't even believe your own words, Bruce just hummed without believing you, he kept his hand on your back and followed the path to your room, when you got to the room Bruce stopped at the door.

-Go and get changed, I'll wait here to make sure you go to sleep - Bruce said, smiling slightly.-What are you going to take care of me as a child? - Bruce laughed lightly as he saw you enter the room and close the door behind you, he laughed and shook his head.

- You're never too old to let yourself be helped, little bat- Bruce said, leaning on the door, he looked at the decorations in the hallway, Bruce waited to hear your voice again, he felt the door open behind him and he stumbled a little before regaining his balance. - You could have warned me before opening the door, couldn't you, little bat?  Bruce said, laughing a little, but the smile soon faded when he saw that you were still in your binder.

-  Little bat, we've been over this, you can't wear it for more than eight hours, how long have you been wearing it?  Bruce's tone wasn't accusatory, no, he was just trying to keep his son healthy. -Okay, I'll go - Bruce cut him off. -No more of that little bat, you can't sleep with that on, take it off, take it off please - Bruce says in a firmer but still affectionate tone, leaving no room for argument, Bruce sees his look of protest and he pats him on the head. -  Please, little bat.  When he sees your nod, he closes the door and, to wait one more time, walks over to the painting.

-Ready - your voice made him go back to the door and open it, he saw you sitting on the bed. - What's wrong little bat, what's going on? Please tell me, you're my son, I want you to be all right- Bruce said, sitting down next to him, the bed heavy beside him.

- Dysphoria  - his voice made him move his hand to his hair. - So you tried to compensate for the dysphoria by overworking, sleep deprivation and kneading your ribs - Bruce says smiling at you even though he's much more worried than usual, when he sees you smiling nervously and smiles, he strokes your hair again and he pulls your head onto his shoulder. - What happened? Talk to me- Bruce asks gently again, to encourage you to speak.

- The clothes, when I wear them with sports tops, they show and when I was looking in the mirror it gave me a trigger...me - he sees you wince, Bruce sighs and kisses your forehead.

- I get it little bat, you should have told me or your brothers, I could have taken you to buy you some new clothes, your brothers could look after you and help you take your mind off it- Bruce says looking at you, he has a worried and caring look on his face, he strokes your cheek and kisses your forehead. 

- Little Bat, how about tomorrow we go out and buy some clothes for you, and spend a day as father and son, and please no overtime - Bruce says before getting up. - Come on, lie down, I'll cover you up - Bruce says, picking up the blanket from the foot of the bed.

-Thank you, Dad, I really do - Your voice makes him calm down, and he covers and kisses your cheek.

- Sleep well little bat- he says before turning off the light and leaving the room.

- Good night, Dad- he smiles as he closes the door,  Bruce was going to plan something to help you, you're his son and he refuses to leave his son feeling like that.

The other day you woke up to the knock on your bedroom door, when you opened the door Bruce had a smile on his face - good morning little bat - he says pulling you in for a hug, the hug catches you off guard, but soon your hands go to him to return the hug.

- Why are you so cheerful? The last time I saw you like this was when you took a week off from patrolling- Bruce laughed and I put my hand on his shoulder, starting to lead him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

- I've planned a father and son day, and we're going to start with breakfast, and then we can watch a movie or do something you like - Bruce says smiling, excited at the idea of spending a day with his son, it's been a long time since something like this has happened, he regrets that this is the result of a bad moment like a day of dysphoria that his son had to deal with alone but he's going to do his best to take care of it.

Bruce woke up early that morning because he wanted you to feel cared for and create a sense of trust so that if it happened again you would go to him instead of putting your health in danger.

Bruce made a point of not giving you coffee this morning, he asked Alfred to help him hide the powder and the coffee capsules, maybe later Tim would freak out when he didn't find his coffee capsules, but that would be a later subject.

-No coffee today, tea will be better for your body and mind - Bruce said as he poured the sachet of chamomile tea into a mug and added the hot water.

-Seriously? You're going to block my coffee? - Bruce laughed lightly and looked at you as he brought the mug of chamomile tea closer.

-Yes, you and Tim are going to run out of coffee today, it'll be good for your health - Bruce said, pouring himself some tea.

- Tim's going to freak out when he doesn't get his coffee, he'll give in to the energy drink and go back to the cases.  As you said this Bruce nodded, he saw you take a sip of tea and he smiled to himself.

Bruce waited for you to take your time eating, he wanted this to be a peaceful moment for you, he wanted to make sure you felt safe and protected.

[trashblog07]

Bruce talking to helena: if a stranger came up to you and said “i’m your dads friend and he sent me to pick you up” what would you say

Helena: you’re a liar my dad doesn’t have any friends

[enby-mori]

Batman and Red Hood having an almost constant antagonistic relationship, only teaming up if Gotham as a whole is in danger of being wiped off the map.

Bruce and Jason having a fairly normal father-son relationship, so much so that it feels like no time has passed.

[somnus-in-law]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members & Bruce Wayne Characters: Batfamily Members (DCU), Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Crack, Marriage Proposal, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Loves Bruce Wayne, Bruce wayne loves his kids, Silver Fox Bruce Wayne, Gotham loves Bruce Wayne, Older Damian Wayne, Hispanic Jason Todd, Jason Todd Loves Bruce Wayne Summary:

Bruce Wayne is getting older, and with it, Gotham's fascination with the Prince of Gotham seems to have died down - Bruce has never been more relieved!

or: The Batkids and Family are doing everything they can to keep Bruce out of Gotham's clutches, with gray hair taking over the ochre, Gotham has never been more in love with Brucie Wayne!

[arkangelo-7]

Things Bruce Wayne does at Justice League meetings that 100% confirm the fact that he is a Dad.

Makes attempts at referencing pop culture to try and relate to the younger members. The most memorable instance is when he told Flash to “keep running up that hill.” (Dick laughs for an hour when Wally tells him about it.)

Does the iconic groan/grunt whenever he sits down in his chair. It’s hilarious, but no one is dumb enough to laugh at the Batman.

Ensures that the background music exclusively plays Matchbox 20 and Nirvana. Diana is the only one who enjoys this.

Actively complain about how everyone is “ruining his floor” whenever they push back their chairs.

On that note, he also complains about crumbs getting everywhere whenever someone is snacking.

Will (covertly) ask Clark for grilling tips during breaks. Oliver overhears this once and has to go lay down out of shock, because Batman? Grilling?

Declines requests for new equipment/tools/etc. because they “have that at the Watchtower.” This inevitably leads to complaining from the entire JL.

Always, without fail, will ask Hal if he’s changed the oil in the spacecraft recently. Hal doesn’t know whether to be offended or not.

Randomly interrogates members on if they’ve messed with the Hall of Justice’s thermostat. They have not, in fact, touched the thermostat.

Someone needs to stop me because I literally cannot get the image of Bruce being the Typical Dad (tm) of the Justice League.

[timmydraker]

During a Gala for raising awareness about women’s healthcare, a few heroes show up in both costume and civilian persona.

Wonder Woman is proudly walking around in a Greek style toga and talking about how the women of her home land care for one another and never doubt each others word on health issues. She is shamelessly challenging the men in the audience to better understand the women they claim to love and advocate for.

She’s the most obvious one in attendance, though if you look closer you will see Raven and Miss Martian talking with a the most obviously sexist group of men and making them all sweat bullets.

Others, like Zatana and all of the Bat kids, are in their civilian uniforms.

The most important guest in this line up, in the sense that her husband is making Bruce pout like an angry kitten, is Dinah.

Because Dinah is there to make a speech so naturally her husband Ollie is there to support her.

Yet when the speech is done and the wandering around begins, Bruce watches as Ollie hangs around one person like they’re old pals.

Tim Drake, Bruce’s most professional son during public events, is laughing and clinging to Oliver Queen like he’s some kind of celebrity or cousin he only gets to see once a year. The blond man had his arm around the younger Luke a parent and is chatting away with Tim as the two half talk with business partners and other socialites or so obviously just between themselves that the other people politely leave them to it.

Bruce had never seen Tim so relaxed at a Gala, the growing young man usually taking the time to go full business and organise meetings, deals or just the usual routine of holding reputation.

Yet there is Oliver Queen acting like they’re old friends.

Like Tim is his son.

Naturally, Dick and Barbara notice how Bruce is glaring at Queen and trying to hold back a frown of genuine hurt and jealousy. Part of them feels bad, but Tim and Oliver Queen are both made for this world, so it makes sense they get along in it.

But then Diana, who doesn’t mean any harm and is just talking to Bruce Wayne about how she approves of his work on the ecosystem casually leans down and whispers to him as Batman, “It’s always so nice to see how those two get along.”

Bruce’s eye twitched a little and he doesn’t bother trying to feign curiosity and grumbles out, “explain.”

Wonder Woman laughs loud and cheerful, which the room is now sued to hearing and jsut assume Brucie Wayne is trying to flirt with an Amazon which is not at all surprising.

“Oh, Bruce. Haven’t you noticed how Tim follows Jim’s round whenever they are at the tower? He’s like a little duckling. One time I heard him asking if Ollie wanted to come to his school event to see his science project!”

She goes on to talk about how Ollie must seem like an uncle to him and doesn’t pay attention to Bruce’s internal spiral.

By the end of the night Bruce looks like he might start crying, though only his children can see that.

Tim and Ollie finally make their way towards him after having a talk to some older woman about something or rather and Bruce puts on a mask quickly, acting as if he isn’t about to strangle Oliver Queen as they get ready to leave.

Dick steers Damian away and asks Duke to get the girls and wait in the car, knowing full well Bruce is going to embarrasses himself.

Rather quickly, Tim picks up on his distress and pulls away from Ollie’s side hug and approaches Bruce, “Is something wrong?”

Bruce smiles a terrifying thing, full of teeth and hidden malice, “Not at all. Tell me, when did you two get so buddy buddy?”

Oliver pales a little, but luckily Dinah is there to stop him from saying the wrong thing.

With a smooth voice she speaks, coming forward to press a kiss to Tim’s head and then back to her husband, “Tim and Ollie met at one of the Drake’s charity events years ago. This really was lovely, but we must be going, I don’t trust the younger kids to bot cause you or with Captain Marvel.”

With that there gone while Bruce is faced with the fact that Oliver may ah e met one of his babies before him.

But Tim isn’t a fool and he loves his dad, so he hugs Bruce around the waist and clings to him like he’s ten instead of twenty two. He leans back just slightly and gives a cheeky grin with a softness in his eyes, “I love you, dad.”

Dick coos while Barbara snaps a photo as Bruce squeezes his son and somehow manages to not cry.

[kaethefangirl]

Bruce: *has the batkids lined up* Who did it? Tim: If this is about Damian's toothbrush, it was Jason's idea. Dick: You found it!? Stephanie you said he wouldn't find it! Damian: What did you do with my toothbrush, Drake. WHAT DID YOU DO??? Tim: *laughs* Stephanie: He couldn't have! Cass: *blinks* Jason: I live for chaos. Bruce: I was asking who drank the last of the milk and left an empty carton. The batkids: ... Duke: It was me.

[ryemiffie]

Stuff from my day turned into batfam incorrect quotes for yours:

Batman: You know, sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who is still affected by your death.

Jason: Yeah ya' know, I kinda feel like that too, especially considering I am literally still alive.

Batman: Yeah but you weren't.

Jason: Yeah but I am now, soo, why can't you just tell your brain that? Just delete the truama, it's not like you need it anymore.

Batman: ...

Batman: Thank you Jason that is really constructive and solid advice.

Jason: You're welcome.

[goodday-goodmorn]

Alright! Starting this shitshow of a blog off strong with a platonic yandere Bruce Wayne fic!

Heavily inspired by- @blughxreader and their batman stuff! Go check ‘em out- (specifically the one with poor reader and the rooftop escape, those are my fav’s <3)

———————————————-

Also inspired by this qoute:

'They can't do that,' she said finally. 'It's the one thing they can't do. They can make you say anything -- anything -- but they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside you.' (Gorge Orwells, 1984)

“You know, i’m pretty sure that you helping me right now would be going against natural selection.”

Bruce sent you a look, something dark in his eyes. You knew it was coming however and shamelessly avoided looking at him for that exact reason. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have said that, he never was one for jabs or jokes that hinted in any way about you dying.

“You’re kind of a mother hen ya know that? I mean, i knew before but this is really solidifying it ya know?”

It was a deflection and you both knew it, usally Bruce wouldn’t let you get away with those. But once again, these were not the usual circumstances. Truth be told he was probably just glad you were talking again, that you had some life back in your eyes, albeit only a small amount.

“Your soup is getting cold.”

Ah damn it. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice. A stupid hope, consdiering he notices fucking everything.

“So it is.”

…

A sigh, “Kid, you need to eat.” You knew what it meant. It was a silent question, ‘are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?’, because either way, you would be eating.

You swallowed, truth be told, you didn’t have the motivation to eat. Nor the appetite, but the alternative was him talking you through every bite and you really didn’t want that right now.

So with a sigh of your own you picked up the spoon, at least you didn’t have to cook anything, all you had to do was eat what was in front of you. You could do that. Barely any effort. It was simple.

So simple.

The spoon stays in the bowl, your hand resting on it as you stare at the soup.

It’s delicious, you know it is, Alfred's food always is, and he’d made one of your favorites too. Something nice and hearty so you would be full for a while and wouldn’t have to go through the effort of eating again too soon.

Bruce was watching you when you looked up, ever watchful, ever observant, waiting to see if he had to intervene.

You swallowed, you never liked it when he stared too hard. His gaze was always so intense. With heavy limbs, you scoop a spoonful of soup and start eating.

Bruce’s gaze softens and he lets out a soft, “Thank you.” He ruffles your hair and you don’t have the will to stop yourself from leaning into it right now.

Give and take, give and take…

You eat in silence, you’re propped up on some pillows on the bed, Bruce is sitting next to the bed on a chair.

Maybe it had been a stupid idea to ask for him, a very stupid idea but at the time you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t deal with the boy’s clinging, not like this. Not when you woke up feeling like anything but a person.

See, a few hours ago, you woke up and felt fatigued, and apathetic. Two oncoming signs of a depressive episode.

It only got worse as the day went on, you tried to be alright- you really did but, you just couldn’t do it. This whole act of playing house with the Wayne’s was already tiring enough, but for your own sanity you had to keep it up.

After all, if you fought hard against all their afflictions they would only dig their heels in and make your situation a lot worse so- you always figured from the beginning it was better to give in early.

At least, on the surface anyway. Not resist their affections, hell you hadn't even once pulled any sort of escape attempt, or tried anything. You’d barely even argued either.

Your lack of resistance was met with open arms and eagerness. Of course- they knew you were only pretending, that you didn’t view them as family, but they knew it was only a matter of time until you came around.

After all, if you act for something long enough, your brain will eventually start to believe it.

Alas, you were a stubborn little shit, and giving in voluntarily had only seemed to help you keep up this mentality longer.

Until this morning anyway.

When you woke up, feeling like shit and simply couldn’t deal with playing house with your ‘brothers’. So, in your moment of weakness, when you didn’t want to do anything or let them drag you around or cuddle or watch movies, you had done something rather unexpected.

Which of course, was to simply shut down.

They were worried as shit, but when they finally did manage to get you to talk, your shaky whisper of, “I want dad.” -Had been shocking, worrying and exciting all at once.

(It had also been a touch too real, your voice had sounded so small, so far away, and in that moment you really did just want the comforting presence of Bruce.)

So now you were here, so deep into the throws of not being a person you barely felt like moving; sitting in your bed with none other than Bruce Wayne by your bedside, stroking your hair lovingly.

You were done with the soup now, as much as you could eat anyway, before Bruce could even say anything you reasoned with him, “I’ll eat more later. Promise.”

Promises held a lot of weight here. Something practically unbreakable, Especially with Bruce. Especially with you, maybe that’s just because you liked when they had weight. It was nice; To have a concrete thing to swear on that you knew would not be broken.

Bruce probably used them to build trust in his words or something, you didn’t know, and quite frankly you didn’t care right now because well- you got to use them too so…

He thinks for a moment, and then nods, agreeing easily, “Okay.” And with that he takes the bowl from you. He’s… he’s rather agreeable right now, usually he would confirm or try and fight you more on that.

Maybe he was being more lenient because you willingly came to him? Or because you were being open right now, or maybe because he felt bad for what you were going through or-

Gods you don’t have enough energy to ponder this.

You nod and lay back down, he guides you down most of the way. Now you’re back like before, lying in bed, cheek smushed against your pillow, starting at him blankly.

You break the silence as he pulls the blanket over you.

“What type of bird do you think everyone would be?”

He looks back to you, a small upturn of his lips and eyes crinkled slightly in an amused manner. “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, “Bored.”

A partial truth. In reality you were thinking about all that poetic shit about you being like a bird in a fancy golden cage. A very very well cared for bird with access to some deep fucking pockets but you know, still in a cage. Even if the cage is real fancy and has amazing food, even better wifi, and a home movie theater.

(You think Bruce would let you install an indoor pool? Or a jacuzzi. ��He probably would. You should ask sometime, ah- you’re getting off track here.)

So anyway- fancy bird poems and then you started thinking about what type of bird you would be and then it kinda spiraled from there.

“Hm. Well, that depends, who do you wanna start with?”

“Mmm… Alfred, cause i think he’s the easiest.”

A little amused quirk of his brow, “What bird is he then?”

“Penguin. Cause he’s always dressed all fancy, and penguins got that sleek fancy vibe about them. They are kinda short for Alfred though…”

Bruce nods, as if taking your words into consideration, “Emperor penguin then. They’re the biggest penguin species.”

Contuiting on just to have something to blabber about you confidently say, “Jason is an emu.”

——————

After a very engaging deep dive into what types of birds everyone was-

(Tim was a woodpecker on account of all the times you’ve seen him slam his head into his desk while working; Dick was an ostrich because if Jason was an Emu then those two had to match; Cassandra got the honor of being a crow; Damien was a kinglet, a ruby crowned kinglet, purely because they are small and for some reason you only recall pictures of seeing those bird look annoyed, Bruce was a harpy eagle because they look big and grumpy, And finally you were a pigeon.)

-You were now half asleep as Bruce read to you like you were a little kid.

It was… nice. Like all the other times you were forced to hang out with the Wayne family. (Only this time you hadn’t been forced, you had called for him.) Nice but with that ever present little weight in the back of your mind, reminding you of just how much these people had taken from you.

Right now though, that little weight was… it was a lot easier to ignore.

You let Bruce’s calming voice wash over you, you were barely listening at this point but he paid no kind to your lack of attention.

This was nice.

No one had ever taken care of you when you went into one of your episodes before. Usually you had to suck it up and work yourself up to go get some food and water before laying in bed until the feeling went away.

It was a terrible feeling, a staggering sensation just on the edge of emptiness. But not there enough for you to not feel anything, it was almost as if everything was muted. All sensations dull, your thoughts weren't but you were apathetic to them.

In short, it sucked. Majorly.

But now, here you were, tucked into bed, fed a warm hearty meal, and being read to with such tenderness and care.

You didn’t even notice that your eyes started to water. But Bruce did. He noticed everything.

Gently, so gently, he wiped away the tear about to fall from your eye. His own were soft as they stared at you. Soft and filled with a look you couldn’t decipher, a look you didn’t want to decipher because the closest thing you could even begin to compare it to was- …was love.

Love.

Fuck- love.

You knew there was something wrong with this family, of course you did- they kidnapped you for pete’s sake, but- but they also had been unconditionally kind to you didn’t they?

You�� You couldn’t-

“-do this anymore.”

Your voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. A quiet confession.

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Bruce sighed, his voice level, but quiet, fitting of the atmosphere. “You don’t have to, it’ll be so much easier if you just give in kiddo.”

He cupped your face in his hand. His own skin was scarred, rough, callous, and yet he held you with such care. It was almost reverent. He gazed at you with an almost sad look, as if your passive struggle hurt you more than him.

(It probably did. He didn’t have anything to worry about after all, you would break eventually. You could only keep telling yourself this was pretend for so long.)

“…”

Stubborn. Always so stubborn in the most muted way; silence. You weren't one to make large outbursts, or outwardly resist, but even so, passive stubbornness. It was something Bruce was fond of; how resilient you were.

You look away from his gaze, not meeting his eyes. His eyes, always so intense, always so much behind those icy blue scaleras.

“Is it-“ You start, the chemical imbalance in your brain making you honest right now.

You realize suddenly that this is the first real conversation you’ve had in months. There was no keeping up the act here. No holding your tongue or dancing with your words, no overthinking about what response would make you the perfect sibling, the perfect child. No catering, no push and pull of deciding how much of you you want to put into your words.

This was honest. The most honest you’ve been since you were kidnapped.

Bruce tilts his head slightly, patiently waiting for you to continue. He could sense a breakthrough, and he always did know when it was better to hold his tongue.

“…Is it worth it?” You say, eyes filled with so much emotion simmering just under the surface.

Bruce has a good idea as to what you’re asking. He knows you. Knows the way you think, the way you come to conclusions, your speech patterns, he knows you well.

(And yet it’s not nearly as much as he wants to. He wants to know more, to know everything, he wants for you to share such details about yourself willingly. He wants you to come to him after a rough day and listen to you rant. He wants to hear you laugh as you discover a new interest. He wants-)

“Yes.”

He strokes your hair gently, voice impossibly soft.

“It’s worth it.”

He answers your asked, unasked questions without a moment's hesitation.

‘Is it worth it to do all this? To keep me here against my will? To have me locked away like some canary in a gilded cage?’

“If it means you are safe and happy.”

“Is this really happiness?”

“It can be if you let it.”

“…”

“Don’t you like it here? You have a loving family, a nice house, you never have to worry about food or safety ever again.”

“…”

He cups your face with both his hands now, making you meet his gaze. Always intense. Too intense. You can’t handle the weight of his love for you.

Flicking your eyes to the wall you mumble, “There’s a saying. If you love something, let it go.” It’s weak, half hearted, you aren’t even sure you really mean it. (You aren’t even sure if you want to be let go anymore… you can’t imagine returning to a life before all this.)

(And Bruce knows this.)

You look back at him, meeting his eyes because you- you just- you know it’s stupid to ask but you can’t stop yourself-

“Why?”

You don’t need to explain any further. Bruce always seems to know what you’re asking.

‘Why me? Why do any of this? Why go through all the trouble just to keep some random kid?’

“Because I love you.”

He says it so easily. So simply, so calmly, as if it is undeniable fact, so once more you ask with more feeling this time,

“Why?”

You can’t stop yourself from leaning into his hold as he gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It’s childish, it’s stupid, it’s dumb, it’s humiliating-

He wipes away new forming tears, still cupping your face, “Because you’re precious.”

You choke out, “You don’t even know me.”

“So then, let me know you.”

Weakly, you shake your head, his hands fall from your face as you choke out, “I- I don’t- i can’t.”

“Hey, look at me sweetheart.”

You do, looking up at him and seeing only the love of a father. You don’t know how to handle such a sight. It’s foreign and it burns and yet, you are drawn in like a moth to a flame.

“We already love you kid. Nothing could change that.”

“You love the idea of me.” You counter, shuffling to prop yourself up a bit because laying down for this just seems too- too vulnerable.

He sighs, “If you think that then we seriously should have had this talk sooner.” He mentally tsk’s, he knows he’s been putting it off for so long because well- you’ve been good. And the family was happy and you were adjusting better than anyone expected you to.

It seems his negligence has resulting in this problem growing however.

He says your name, folds his hands and looks at you calmly, “-If the family wanted another child, then we would have gone to an orphanage.”

You swallow, he continues, “But, we didn’t want just any old person. We wanted you.”

You try to deny his words, no one’s ever wanted that before, and yet you can’t. Because it’s the only thing that even begins to make sense in your head. The only logical reason any of this would have happened.

You can’t deny it.

They love you.

They’re insane, they kidnapped you and yet- yet they- it doesn’t-

“-make sense.” You whisper, even though it’s the only thing that makes any semblance of sense.

“I know, you’re confused and not used to this and scared, but you’re the only thing holding yourself back. If you just let yourself believe we’re a family, you’ll feel so much better. This mindset is only hurting you sweetheart, you need to let it go.”

You look at him, eyes wet and so vulnerable as you whisper in a small voice, “I don’t know how to.”

And he pulls you close now, into a hug, it’s a bit of an awkward angle because he’s on a chair next to the bed and you’re on the bed, but you barely even notice with the way he’s pressing you to his chest. He’s warm as he wraps his arms around you and gently strokes your hair, consisting, comforting.

“We’ll be there every step of the way, start small.”

You shudder. The weight in the back of your mind is back in full force. He's asking you to give up your last bit of resistance. Your last act defiance. He’s asking you to give yourself up voluntarily. To fully endorse the idea that they are your family.

The worst part is, you don’t find yourself all that horrified with the idea.

If anything, you’re more scared that you’ll mess up somehow and piss them off with the real you and end up locked in a basement or something.

You don’t- you don’t know how to have a family. How to have siblings, a father- you don’t know how to interact or what to say and what to do- what if you fuck it up? what if you aren’t acting enough like a family and-

“-breathe with me kid. Com’on, in for 5.” He’s stroking your hair still, talking with you as he counts. You find yourself unconsciously following the deep rumble of his words.

“That’s it… hold for 4. One, two-“ It’s actually really nice to listen to him. Pressed so close like this you can hear the purr and rumble of his words in his chest. You can feel his chest expand with his own steadying breaths.

“Exhale for 6. One, two, three-“ You repeat his number sequence until you find your breathing is back to normal. Not that you had noticed how frantic it got to begin with.

Bruce hums, you feel the vibrations. You can hear his heartbeat like this. It’s nice, being held in his arms. “Good job kid, better?” His voice is a smooth rumble.

You nod weakly against him.

The two of you stay like that for a bit, him holding you as you listen to each other's heartbeats. You ground yourself with his and find your eyes drooping once more with sleep.

You make a noise; a hum of sorts and he sends you his own in return, soft, questioning.

“I-“ You clamp your mouth shut, thinking about what you’re about to say, thinking about if this is what you really want.

In the end you settle on this being the best choice, “I’ll try.” You swallow, mouth suddenly feeling dry, Bruce doesn’t give you any time to regret it though. He presses his face to your hair, affectionate.

“I’ll make the transition as comfortable as possible.” He promises against your hair, not being able to hide the smile in his voice.

You swallow again, starting up with slight nerves clear in your voice, “B-but i told you i’m not exactly very likable s-so don't regret it when i start speaking my mind and-“

That gets a laugh out of him, an amused kid huff, “You can’t possibly be any worse than Jason or Damein.”

You give a weak smile, “I dunno old man, think I could give ‘em a run for their money in bluntless.”

Bruce is smiling, you see it when he pulls away and looks down at you with such adoration. “We’ll have to see then.”

He’s happy, more than happy at finally hearing you be you. As much as he wants to keep you in his arms and listen to you for the rest of eternity however, that was a rather exhausting conversation. You look more than ready for some rest.

Gently, (always so gentle with you, as if you were somthing to be treasured), he laid you back down on the bed.

You let yourself be tucked in. You let him press a kiss to the top of your head. You let him turn off the lights.

“Um hey B- D-Dad?”

Bruce notices the slip up, but he lets it go. You’ve just made a lot of progress, and you’re clearly trying.

“Yes?”

“Do you uh- can i call you something else? Dad just feels really weird and kinda artificial at times so I was thinking maybe something more natural like maybe Pops? Or something like that i don’t know i just-“

“Of course you can.” He cuts off your nervous ramble easily, “You can call me whatever feels most natural, kid.”

You suck in a breath, soothed by his clam tone.

“O-okay. Cool… cool cool cool. Uh well then, could you maybe- maybe er- read to me? If that’s- if that’s alright..?”

Bruce was so proud of you. So much progress was made not too long ago and you were already trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone. You were trying so hard, bless you, you precious darling child.

He turned on the bedside lamp and took his seat on the chair once more, picking up the abandoned book.

Truth be told, Bruce was a busy man and he should be leaving because he has patrol in an hour, but he’ll be damned if he can’t carve out time for you. Especially when you asked to see him today.

(Especially when you were finally willing to view him as a father.)

“Would you like me to continue this one or do you want a different book?”

You jerkily nod, “That one’s fine.”

So, he begins to read once more, his voice a calming drawl that washes over you. Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and soon you are yawning and drifting off.

Once Bruce is sure you’re asleep he closes the book. With such a soft gaze he gently brushes the hair out of your face, smiling to himself. Then he gets up and turns the light off, walking out of your room and letting the door close with a soft click.

He isn’t surprised to find all of his boys camping out at the door.

He sighs, looking over the lot of them. From the looks of it they’ve been camping out here all day, or have been continuously coming back.

The only one who even has the decency to act sheepish that he’d been caught is Dick, and even then, he barely looks sorry.

Bruce shakes his head fondly at his boys, ushering them all out of the hallway to your room to let you sleep in peace

[rickroll-25]

Battinson and baby Dick doodle