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jaythes1mp · 7 months ago

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4277 words, 24103 characters, 279 sentences, 116 paragraphs,17.1 pages. Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae @wpdarlingpan @dhanyasri @tojislvrr @phoenixgurl030 @mel-star636 @lilyalone @lavender-moony @nickey-diano

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

Ideas for the name of the pet turtle are welcome and encouraged🙏

You groggily woke up, feeling warm and disoriented. You stretched out your limbs and shifted up, the sheets falling down your shoulders and pooling in your lap.

The warmth and comfort of your bed suddenly felt stifling as the memories of the night before came rushing back to you all at once. A wave of nausea washed over you, your stomach churning with a queasy feeling that threatened to empty itself. You felt a strong urge to vomit, the events of the night still fresh in your mind, like a raw wound.

The images and sensations of the previous night's events were stark and vivid in your mind. The fear, the pain, the adrenaline. Everything replayed in your head like a movie, each scene clear and horrifyingly real. The realization that you'd been in danger, that you could have been seriously hurt, hit you like a physical blow. You felt your stomach twist and turn, your body's natural response to the emotional onslaught.

You let out a sigh, the queasiness still lingering in your body. Deciding to distract yourself, you leaned down to get some turtle pellets and baby carrot slices from the small container you kept under your bed.

With gentle hands, you unclipped the opening of your turtle's enclosure, pausing for a brief moment as you looked at the small reptile. It was oblivious to the turmoil you were going through. You place the food into the corner where its small bowl was. As you did, the turtle stirred slightly, sensing your presence.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers gently tracing the hard, bumpy shell of your turtle. You take comfort in the feeling of the reptile under your touch, appreciating its gentle presence in the moment. It responds by crawling forward ever so slightly, as if beckoning for more affection.

You chuckled softly, amused by the turtle's attempt. It was a small, innocent act that brought a momentary feeling of peace to your chaotic thoughts. You gently pick the little creature up and delicately press a kiss to its head. Its scaly skin felt cool against your lips, and you notice the slightest tilt to its head as if it was responding to your gesture. You carefully set it back into the enclosure, closing it quietly.

You stand in the hallway, having changed your clothes and brushed your teeth, but hesitating on your next move. You're unsure of how to approach Jason, unsure of how to explain what happened last night. Your mind is swirling, wrestling with the decision of whether to tell him or not.

The very thought makes you feel ill again, bringing back the familiar queasiness in your stomach. You chew on your lip, contemplating your options.

Jason is slumped on the sofa, the TV casting flickering shadows across his face in the early morning light. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from lack of sleep, his features etched with worry and concern. It's clear that he's been awake all night, his mind consumed by thoughts of your safety.

He had barely managed to stop himself from bursting into your room late last night when he heard about the altercation. The urge to go out and hunt the thugs himself had been strong, a fierce and protective instinct that had taken all of his self-control to suppress.

He sits up straighter when he hears your door click open. His ears prick up, straining to hear any signs of your footsteps approaching.

When he hears the sound of your door opening and closing, he leans forward slightly, his jaw clenching. He's been worrying all night, and the relief he feels at the sound of your voice is a mixture of reassurance and relief.

"Kid?" He calls out, his voice gruff. "Can you come here for a minute?"

You hesitantly walk into the living room, feeling a sense of foolishness for having lingered in the hallway for so long. You realize that Jason doesn't know anything about what happened last night. He would find it strange if he knew you had been standing in the hallway, silently hesitating.

You take a deep breath and summon up your courage, plastering a neutral expression on your face as you approach him where he's sat on the sofa. “What’s up, Jay?”

Jason's eyes instantly meet yours as you enter the room, a sharp, penetrating gaze, one that's immediately scrutinising you. He scans you up and down, no doubt looking for any signs of injury, or anything amiss. But his gaze softens when he doesn't find any.

He pats the cushion next to him, gesturing for you to sit down. "Come here. I want to talk to you about something."

You gingerly sit down on the couch next to Jason, the unease and discomfort you feel evident in your body language. You try to maintain a casual exterior, but the tension in your shoulders gives you away.

Jason glances over at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he picks up on your uncomfortable manner. He turns the volume of the TV down, giving you his full attention.

He takes a moment to observe you, the slight tenseness in your body, the subtle shift in your expression as you try to maintain a facade of normalcy. He's known you long enough to know that something is off. He can practically smell the anxiety and fear radiating off you.

The silence between you stretches out for a moment, the only sound in the room being the low hum of the TV. Jason's gaze remains fixed on you, studying your expression like a hawk. It's clear that he has a lot on his mind, and he's still working out how to approach the topic he wants to bring up.

"You came home late last night." Jason comments, his tone carefully casual. He studies your face closely, searching for any signs of fatigue or discomfort. He's not one to mince words, and while he's trying to tread lightly, he still needs to ask the question.

"I waited up for you. I thought maybe you had stayed over at a friend's house, given you didn't come home last night. But here you are, at home and unhurt."

You visibly shrink slightly as you digest Jason's words. The thought of him staying up all night, worried about you, makes you feel guilty and regretful.

You hesitate, the memories of last night's events still fresh in your mind. The feeling of the cold barrel pressed against your head was still a vivid, haunting sensation. You let out a soft, deep breath, your hand unconsciously moving to rub at the back of your neck, a nervous habit. Finally, you force yourself to speak up.

"Something... something happened last night," you say, the words feeling heavy on your tongue.

Jason frowns at your wince, his expression hardening with worry and concern. He notices your nervous rubbing of your neck and the way you pause before speaking, the words reluctant and apprehensive.

Your voice barely above a whisper. As you spoke, Jason could see the way your shoulders tense, the slight shake in your voice. He doesn't miss the way you reflexively touch your neck, and his mind instantly jumps to the worst possible conclusion. Had it been worse than the demon spawn had described?

Jason's jaw clenches at your confession, his eyes darkening with anger. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what might have happened, so he doesn’t have to act surprised. The very thought of someone laying a hand on you, of hurting you, makes his blood boil.

He leans closer to you, his gaze sharpening. "What exactly happened? Tell me everything." If that little shithead spared even one detail he was going to kill him.

You inhale deeply, trying to maintain your composure, but the memories of the incident are still raw and unsettling. You shudder slightly, the fear and anxiety from the previous night returning with a vengeance. You rub your bruised wrists, feeling a phantom pain on the spot where the woman had been pressed roughly against you.

You told him in detail about what happened, having to pause during some parts, the reality of the situation having settled in. You could have died.

Jason's face hardens to stone as he listens to your account of last night's events. With each detail, his anger mounts, his veins practically bulging with suppressed rage. His hands clench and unclench in his lap, the restraint it's taking him to not go out and hunt for those women right then and there nearly more than he can handle.

When you finish recounting the incident, there is a tense silence as Jason takes a moment to process everything he's just heard. It was to a T what had been described to the family last night. His knuckles turn white in rage, but the way you fan over Robin even while telling such a traumatising experience causes his eyes to soften.

Jason's tone is firm and non-negotiable as he looks at you, his eyes locked onto yours.

"You're not going out alone anymore," he says, his voice leaving no room for debate or negotiation. It wasn't a suggestion, it was a command.

You can sense the protectiveness in his words, the raw, primal instinct to keep you safe and away from harm.

Your lips parted automatically, a protest forming on your tongue, but Jason cut you off before you could even speak. His gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing in a warning.

"No," he spoke, his voice leaving little room for argument. "This is not up for debate. Not anymore. You're not going out alone, period."

“Jason.” Your voice cracks with a hint of anger as you speak his name. Your voice strong and filled with determination. "You can't tell me what to do. I'm not a child."

Jason's expression darkens at your stubborn protest, his jaw clenching. "I'm not saying you're a child. But what happened last night shows you're not capable of protecting yourself."

His words are blunt, his tone harsh but there's an undercurrent of concern in his voice. "You could have been seriously hurt.. or worse. This isn't up for debate."

His eyes narrowed, the frustration showing in the sharp edges of his features. "... You think I like telling you what to do? You think I enjoy being the over protective brother who has to watch your every move? You're being stupid and stubborn." He does. He so desperately does, but he needs you to understand.

You freeze at his words, swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat. His words cut you like knives. You had gotten so used to having him there to rely on that it hadn’t ever occurred to you that maybe he doesn’t want to look over you.

You never wanted to have to put him in that position. Your voice wavers. “Oh...” You hated how weak that sounded. You were better, stronger than this.

Jason's eyes soften as he sees the pain in yours, his own frustration shifting into understanding.

"Hey," he speaks, his voice gentler now, his features softening slightly. "I do this because I care about you. You know that right?"

He studies you, a small frown on his face. You look so.. vulnerable in that moment. So unlike your usual self. He hates it. He just wants you to understand where he's coming from. He needs you to understand.

"I don't want to control you... I just want you to be safe."

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, his frustration still evident in the clenched jaw and tensed shoulders. “I don’t want to have to tell you what to do. But you make it impossible. You’re stubborn and reckless. You don’t think before you act. You take unnecessary risks."

Jason pauses, his words catching in his throat as he realises how familiar these words he's saying sound. They're the same words Bruce used to say to him. The same lectures. You were turning him into Bruce.

He swallows roughly, the realisation of becoming the very person he swore he wouldn't be weighing heavily on him. He takes a deep breath, struggling to control the mix of emotions rising in his chest. Frustration, anger, worry, and a strange sense of deja vu.

"This isn't about control," he continues, his voice slightly strained, "It's about keeping you safe. Alive. If I have to tell you to not do something, if I have to force you to do something, then I will. Because I'd rather you hate me and be alive than love me and be dead."

Jason's eyes lock onto yours again, the intensity in them unmistakeable. He would do anything, everything to keep you safe. Even if it made you hate him.

You swallow heavily, your heart feeling like it's been squeezed by a vice. The depth of emotion in his voice, the intensity in his eyes, it's overwhelming. You know he means every word he's saying. You know he cares.

But you can't help the anger that's rising up in you. You're not some fragile porcelain doll that needs to be locked away and protected. You're a person. A person that can think for themselves and make their own decisions.

You grit your teeth and let your voice hang low, unemotional. Detached. “Fine. I’ll call Tim to meet up with me at that new arcade between the theatres. Happy? Huh Dad?” You won’t. You just need to get out of here. You don’t want to be around anyone right now.

Jason's expression darkens as you speak, his jaw tensing at the coldness in your voice. Your use of the word "Dad", the sarcastic and detached tone you had used, it was like a slap to the face.

He can see through your facade. He knows you're trying to get him off your back. But knowing that doesn't make it any less painful. It makes him angry. You, acting like he's the bad guy in this. You not understanding the hell he's gone through, the hell he's still going through. It's so frustrating.

But he doesn't snap. He doesn't rise to the bait. He keeps his voice even, controlled.

"Fine."

The anger is evident in the way he bites out the word, but he tries to keep his expression neutral. He knows you're just trying to push him away. But he's not going to let you do that. He's not going to let you put yourself in danger again. Ever.

You huff in frustration and stand up from the couch, your hands balling into fists at your sides. You want to storm out of the room, but you can feel Jason's gaze on your back, watching your every move.

So instead, you settle for walking away from the couch, putting some distance between you and Jason. The room feels too small, too claustrophobic. You need to get out. You need fresh air.

With a final, silent look at Jason, you grab your phone and keys from the side table near the door. You don’t have a destination in mind, you just need to get away. Away from the suffocating atmosphere in that apartment.

Without another word, you open the front door and stride out into the hallway, letting the door slam shut behind you.

You walked through the streets, the cool evening air doing little to cool your temper. Your mind replaying the conversation with Jason over and over again. You knew you were being stubborn, childish even, that you were in the wrong. But you couldn't help it. Right now, you didn't care. The frustration and anger were still bubbling inside you, fuelling your every step. You needed space. You needed to be on your own.

You were an adult, capable of making your own decisions. You’ve had to since you were very young. It wasn't fair for Jason to suddenly start treating you like a helpless child, just because of one isolated incident.

You walked for what felt like hours, the anger and frustration propelling you forward. Night settled over the city, the streetlights casting an eerie glow on the empty streets. Your phone buzzes occasionally in your pocket, but you ignore it. You weren't ready to talk to Jason yet. You weren't ready to face him and his over protectiveness. You just needed to breathe. To think.

You were so lost in thought, so consumed by the storm of emotions roiling within you, that you hadn't noticed the figure until it was too late. You collided with a solid, unmoving object, your forehead connecting with a hard chest.

The impact snapped you back into reality, a small gasp of surprise escaping your lips. You stumbled backwards, your hands instinctively coming up to rub at your sore forehead.

Your eyes widen as you look up, your gaze meeting the man's face. His expression is friendly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he stuffs his phone into his pocket. It's a sharp contrast to the dark, brooding anger that's been gnawing at your insides.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you look up, your heart jumping in your chest. Standing in front of you is none other than Bruce Wayne, his tall, imposing figure easily recognizable even in the dim street light.

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed where you were walking. You stumble backwards, a mixture of surprise and shock on your face.

"Mr... Mr Bruce?" you blurt out, your voice wavering slightly.

Your eyes widened in surprise as you recognised the man in front of you. Your voice laced with shock. You took a few steps back, trying to stabilise yourself and put some distance between the two of you.

His eyes narrowed momentarily at the action of you backing away. A soft chuckle passing his lips. “Mr? I’ve told you to just call me Bruce.” Your name slipped past his lips so smoothly you’d think he’d rehearsed it a million times in the mirror.

It wasn't a coincidence that you ran into Bruce Wayne on these empty streets. Jason had informed them about the situation, updating them all on every detail. But you weren't aware of this fact. You didn't even know that the family knew of each other, let alone the extent to which they kept track of your life.

His gaze is steady as he looks down at you. He seems to be analysing your movements, your expression. He's probably noticed your frustration, the way your shoulders are tense and your face slightly flushed.

His smirk is still in place, his head tilted to the side. Playing his thoughts off as if he was amused by your appearance and not that he’d been standing there the past half an hour waiting for you. Watching the blinking red dot as it turns around each corner on his phone intently. He takes a step towards you, closing the distance you tried to create.

"What are you doing out here? At this time of night no less. It’s not safe.” There was a dangerous undercurrent to his words, a hidden warning. But there was also a hint of concern in his eyes, whether he liked to admit it or not, he did care about you and your safety. He wasn't here to reprimand you or give you a lecture, although it would probably come afterwards. He just wanted answers.

You huff in resignation and look down at Bruce's shoes, finding solace in the simple task of staring at them. The sight of the expensive leather and polished toes seems almost absurd. How did it come to this?Standing on a cold, dark street, staring at the billionaire's feet, after running into him like a clumsy fool.

“... I’m sorry.” You’re not sure why you’re apologising. For running into him, or for being out, maybe...

Bruce is surprised by the apology that escapes your lips. He wasn't expecting you to feel guilty or to even address it. He remains standing a step away from you, watching you intently, waiting for an explanation.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his shoulders relaxing. His voice is lower, a subtle playful warning. "Apology accepted. But that doesn't answer my question."

He takes another step forward, trying to catch your gaze, but you're stubbornly keeping your eyes on his shoes.

He hums in thought, then holds out his larger hand. His expression softening. “Come on. It’s late. Let’s go get dinner, hm?”

A moment of surprise crosses your face at the sudden change of tone. From the firmness and authority to the gentleness and affection in his voice. He holds his hand out to you, his expression a little more tender than before, the hint of a smile on his lips.

He gently taps your chin with his knuckles, trying to get you to look at him. "Come on, I'm not going to bite."

You finally look up at Bruce, a small, ironic grin spreading across your face. Despite everything that's happened, despite the situation you're currently in, you can't help but find some slight humour in this unexpected encounter.

You've had more than your fair share of chance meetings with the billionaire, almost all of them have involved a cozy dinner or lunch together.

Bruce's smirk only deepens as he catches a glimpse of your grin. Despite the situation and the frustration that has been gnawing at you, he can't help but think it's adorable the way your expression changes. The perfect child, unaware of the dangers the rest of the family have to face to keep your wondrous innocence. It softens his heart slightly and makes him want to take care of you more.

"What's with that smile? It's like you're enjoying yourself." He quips, his voice a hint lower as he steps even closer, gently tapping your forehead this time.

You snort, squeezing the elder man’s hand in response. “Is that such a crime?”

He laughs softly at your response, shaking his head as he leads you towards a black limousine that's parked near the curb. The doors are opened by his chauffeur, Alfred. The man looking vaguely familiar to you, but you can’t put your finger on it.

Bruce motions for you to get inside before following suit, settling down on the luxurious leather seat next to you. The door closes and you’re engulfed in the comfortable silence of the car.

Bruce rests his arm on the headrest behind you, turning to look at you. “You didn’t answer my question. Why were you out so late?”

The interior of the limousine is as extravagant as you might expect. Soft leather seats, tinted windows, a mini-bar, and a small flat-screen TV. It's all very impressive and almost overwhelmingly luxurious.

Bruce's eyes are fixated on you, his gaze never wavering as you settle into the seat next to him. He waits patiently for an answer to his question, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Just... needed some air.” It’s not a complete lie.

He hums in acknowledgment, his eyes roaming over your face, trying to decipher whatever thoughts might be going through your head.

Instead, he simply shifts closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently against his side. The action is so natural and so like him that you just find yourself relaxing into the touch.

The arm around your shoulders feels warm and comforting. Somehow, despite your earlier frustration and anger, being tucked into his side makes you feel safe. The familiar smell of his cologne and the steady thump of his heart against your ear grounding you.

Bruce remains silent for a moment, just letting you sit there, feeling you relax against him. His fingers idly toy with a strand of your hair, gently brushing it back from your face.

His hand is warm and firm, a paternal, protective gesture. It's a feeling you've come to associate solely with him and him alone. It's never been an overtly affectionate gesture, but it's one that you've grown used to, one that you've come to appreciate.

You've never told him how much it means to you. How comforting it feels, like a silent reassurance.

You hated to admit it, but you missed this. This warmth, something you never got from your mother nor the countless men she’d have over.

You only ever got it from Bruce. So you can't help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence. You missed this, the warmth and care that he naturally seemed to radiate. It was almost fatherly in a way, but you never dared to think of it like that. You didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. You’ve always assumed it's just a part of his nature, something he does for all the people in his life. You wouldn't dare to read too much into it.

“Where are we going?”

Bruce feels you relax against him, the tension leaving your body as you lean into his side. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He continues to toy with your hair, his fingers gently brushing through the strands as he responds to your question.

"I thought we could grab a bite to eat."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes shifting to look out of the tinted window. The night is silent, the city's lights a blur as the car glides smoothly through the streets.

“A buffet restaurant maybe?” It’s worded like a question, but he’s already booked out the place.

You nod against his side. Your hands fiddling with one another in your lap. “That sounds nice.”

No use of y/n, no descriptive features for the readers appearance, no gender mentioned.

Seriously please send in requests, they’re heavily appreciated🙏

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