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marcyvamp1re-blog · 3 months ago

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Pt.3 SILLLY LITTLE BAT.

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ There are only memories, fragments of a past that, like shadows, will haunt you until your last breath, whispers of what was and will never be. Gotham cries out for a guardian, a soul to face the darkness, to challenge fate in its shadowy alleys.

But tell me, who will rise to protect you, traveler of scars and broken dreams? Who will watch over your light when the world swallows your hopes?

In the eternal night, amidst the echo of fear and longing, there is only one path: to confront the monsters and become the hero this city needs, even if the price is the forgetting of oneself.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation.

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt2. Pt.4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— Here is the continuation of the other parts. There will be a few more parts but you should know that we will soon reach the end, but there are still things to clarify and so on. I don't know if you would like me to do another Batfam yandere series in the future or similar. Send me your ideas if you want :3

They are upset because I left

Where they never included me.

The car moved slowly under the gray sky of Gotham, as if the universe itself understood the weight of the pain you carried in your small figure. Commissioner Gordon, with his firm hands on the wheel, cast furtive glances at the rearview mirror, where he saw you curled up in the back seat. Wrapped in an old blanket, the same one you had hugged for days, your face was hidden among the folds, but the silent tears that fell could not be disguised. There were no words that Gordon could offer to heal the recent wound of losing your mother, but his empathy, though silent, was there, wrapping around you like the coat that couldn't quite warm you.

In your lap, a small Batman doll rested, pressed against your chest, as if that fabric toy could protect you from the world that had just destroyed your innocence. Your eyes, still swollen and red, looked out the window without seeing, watching the city that seemed so distant, so foreign.

"You will be loved and cherished," Gordon whispered, breaking the silence that had weighed like fog in the car. "Bruce Wayne... he will take care of you, I promise."

But you didn't respond immediately. The name Wayne felt strange, distant, as if he spoke of someone living in a story, not in your reality. You looked up, your eyes meeting Gordon’s for a second in the rearview mirror.

"And if they don't want me...?" you murmured, insecurity clouding your childish voice. "I don't know them, Commissioner... and they don't know me. What if they leave me in an orphanage? Mama always told me those places aren't nice."

Gordon swallowed hard, understanding the depth of your fear. "You were just a child, but you had already learned that love was not a guarantee." The world had taught you that cruel lesson too soon.

"The Waynes..." he began, searching for the right words, "are good people. You might not understand it at first, but I assure you they have suffered too. Bruce..." he paused, recalling the losses that man had faced. "He understands what it is to lose someone. He will do everything he can to make you feel safe, to help you find a home again."

But you kept looking at the doll in your hands, your fingers squeezing it tightly, as if it were the only stable thing in a world crumbling around you.

The silence grew heavy, uncomfortable, as if the words wanted to come out but didn’t know how. Again, Gordon spoke, his voice low, almost afraid to break the stillness.

"And/y/n... what was your mom like?" he asked softly, not taking his eyes off the road, as if by doing so, he could give you space to be honest, to not feel pressured.

You fell silent for a long moment, your small fingers nervously playing with the edges of the blanket. The world outside the car seemed a reflection of what you felt inside: cloudy, cold, distant.

Finally, you exhaled, as if gathering the courage to speak. Your voice came out shaky at first, filled with a mix of sadness and a hard-to-accept truth.

"My mom..." you murmured, not taking your eyes off the window. "She wasn't a good person, but... she wasn't a villain either."

Gordon nodded slowly, without interrupting you. He knew things were rarely black or white, that life had that cruel ability to mix the two.

"She... told me she grew up in an orphanage. She never had anything that was really hers." You paused, your eyes glassy as you recalled details that now seemed more painful than ever. "Well, except for me."

"Gordon felt a knot form in his throat." He knew that loss was a terrible burden to bear, but there was something more in your words, something suggesting that, amidst it all, there had also been love. An imperfect love, but real.

"She always dreamed of having a little house..." you continued, and for the first time, a faint smile appeared on your face, though it was tinged with melancholy. "A house with a garden, lots of Barbie dolls, and a little dog. She didn't need more. She just wanted something that was hers."

You stopped for a moment, as if the simple act of recalling those dreams your mother had hurt you. You knew she would never have them. That the world had been cruel to her, denying her even the small things she wished for so fervently.

"But... she never got it. We were always moving around, fleeing, searching for something better. And now... she doesn’t even have that."

The car seemed to shrink, the air denser. Gordon felt a wave of compassion for that woman who, though perhaps not perfect, had dreamed of something so simple, so human, and yet had not achieved it.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n," he murmured.

"Commissioner, what if... what if I can't forget her?" you asked, almost in a whisper. "What if I can't stop thinking about Mom?"

The silence in the car became heavy, almost tangible. Gordon wanted to tell you that you didn't have to forget, that it was natural to carry that pain. But the words didn't come, and instead, only a long sigh escaped his lips.

"It's not about forgetting, Y/n," he finally said, his voice low but firm. "It's about moving forward, even though it hurts. Your mother would want you to find happiness again, even though it may not seem possible now. And I’m sure Bruce will do everything in his power to help you."

The car turned onto the long, dark road leading to Wayne Manor. The trees formed a tunnel of shadows, as if the road were wrapped in the same mourning you carried within. The mansion, with its imposing grandeur, appeared in the distance, its walls as high as the secrets it held. "You were so small in the face of the immensity of this new life that awaited you."

"We're almost there," Gordon said softly, as he slowed down. "The wind outside whispered through the trees, like an echo of everything you had lost."

You didn’t know it at that moment, but that house would be full of stories, some broken, others in the process of healing. And although you felt like a stranger in a strange land now, Gordon hoped that, one day, that place would become your refuge.

The car stopped in front of the enormous gates. Gordon looked at you one last time before getting out. In his eyes, you could see a mix of sadness and hope, an empathy that went beyond words.

"You are not alone, Y/n," he said, his voice now firmer. "You will never be alone again."

You remained silent, gazing at the mansion as you clung to the blanket and the Batman doll. The weight of the world still rested on your small shoulders, but for the first time, there might have been a glimmer of relief in knowing that someone, even if he was a strange and distant man, was waiting for you inside."

And in that moment, although you still felt the burning pain of your loss, a ray of hope began to break through the shadows of your heart.

Y/n was sitting in the BatCafé, that corner of the city where the tables wobbled and conversations were woven into murmurs, as if the place knew how to keep secrets that even you wouldn’t dare to share aloud. The walls, a mossy green, were filled with stories that no one had asked for. She looked at her lukewarm latte as one looks at a future that hasn’t quite arrived, a liquid mockery evaporating before it could warm her hands. It had barely been a month since she left her family home, but she already felt that independence was more of a myth than a fulfilled dream. At first, the heroism of having thrown herself into the world had filled her with pride, but now reality lurked like a treacherous chill seeping through the cracks, and the fact that she was waiting for her potential roommate didn’t help matters.

“Well, at least the rent will be cheaper,” she told herself, or rather to the coffee, as if the dark liquid could reply with something sensible.

Sharing an apartment was, for Y/n, the only way out. Her salary barely covered survival, but only if she fed on fresh air and broken dreams. And there she was, waiting for someone named Pamela Isley, who, according to the ad, didn’t even seem to be from this planet. "I hope she’s not one of those people with invisible cats," she thought. Of course, the alternatives weren’t very promising: people who collected Batman figurines or guys who made friends with cockroaches in the kitchen. She had seen it all; after all, her apartment was in one of the most dangerous areas of Gotham, and she knew it all too well.

You were born in that area. One could say the neighborhood chose you before you had a chance to choose it. You didn’t remember exactly which apartment; in that hive of broken windows and half-painted bricks, all the floors seemed like a blurry copy of the previous one, each with the same square footage and an air of silent resignation. In the end, it didn’t matter, because in a way, everything was the same. Dust in the corners, worn tiles, cracks in the walls that seemed to form a map of some invisible and secret city, a place that only you could decipher if you stopped to observe long enough.

It was an unpretentious place, where people rarely smiled, but neither did they let themselves be trampled. There was something in the air, a kind of poorly disguised pride, as if every neighbor, every stray dog, knew that surviving there wasn’t a matter of luck but of will. Heroes didn’t exist in that corner of the world, but villains didn’t dare impose their law without facing some gaze that, without saying anything, said it all. It was rough terrain, where kindness camouflaged behind growls and complaints, and malice grew tired before it could fully settle.

And yet, you loved it. It was absurd, but you loved it with that devotion reserved for things you don’t choose, for roots that sink into your chest without asking for permission. The place was filled with memories you didn’t ask for, stories you never wanted to hear but that seeped into your skin. Tales of people who vanished in alleyways, of broken promises around the corner, of loves that drowned in factory smoke. And yet, those same tales were like echoes that held you, reminding you that you were born there, in that half-hell where life was always a fight but never a complete defeat.

The clock in the BatCafé struck six ten when the door opened. What happened next was hard to explain, like when you dream and you don’t know if it’s the pillow or the universe holding you. Pamela Isley walked in, and it was as if the wind, that autumn wind that brings memories, had gently pushed her in. Y/n looked up, and the first thing she noticed was her hair, a red that was out of this world, more fire than pigment, more nature than dye. The roots tangled as if they were living branches, and for a moment, Y/n wondered if the sun had made a mistake and was shining only on her.

Pamela walked as if she had a pact with the earth. Her steps were slow but firm, as if her feet waited for the ground to respond before settling. She wore a jacket that was impossible to describe without sounding crazy: green vines and small buds peeking out, as if at any moment the plants would grow over her. "Where does this woman come from?" Y/n thought, feeling something beyond mere curiosity. There was something she couldn’t deny, an attraction that felt unsettling, like those waves that, without warning, sweep you away when you think you can still touch the bottom.

Pamela approached the table with a calculated calm, a calm only nature or time can sculpt. And then she smiled. In that smile, Y/n felt something familiar yet strange, as if she were facing a younger version of her mother, but instead of being terrifying, it was comforting. What was happening?

“Y/n L/n?” Pamela said, her voice reminiscent of the whisper of dry leaves underfoot.

“Yes, that’s me,” Y/n answered, trying to make her voice sound normal, even though everything inside her felt out of place.

Pamela sat down across from her, crossing her legs with an almost feline elegance. The BatCafé seemed to conspire around them; the air smelled of wet earth and freshly brewed coffee, a strange mix, like the combination of what was about to be born and what had already died.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” Y/n began, not knowing exactly how to finish the sentence. She wasn’t even sure what she was expecting.

“Strange?” Pamela completed, with a playful smile that left Y/n with a sense of defeat and fascination in equal parts.

“Something like that,” Y/n replied, looking at Pamela’s hands. Her long, slender fingers were covered in small green spots, as if she had just planted a forest with her own hands. There was something almost magical about her, as if every part of her being was connected to the earth in a way that Y/n couldn’t quite understand. And there, amid that confusion, was the fine thread of attraction.

Pamela let her gaze fall on her own latte, turning it between her hands as if it were about to reveal some hidden secret in the foam.

“So, what do you do? I mean… aside from, you know… looking like you walked out of a Tim Burton movie,” Y/n said, attempting a bit of humor to ease the tension she felt in her stomach.

Pamela glanced at her and laughed softly, a laugh that felt like an unexpected breeze on a hot day.

“I’m… a caretaker. Of plants.” She paused, gauging Y/n’s reaction. “And other things.”

“Other things?” Y/n asked, intrigued but also amused by the way Pamela toyed with the mystery.

“Yes, like people who don’t know how to water a plant without drowning it,” she replied, arching an eyebrow mischievously.

The response made Y/n laugh, a laugh she hadn’t expected, as if Pamela had found a way to touch something deep within her, something that hadn’t bloomed in a long time. And without being able to help it, she felt drawn, not just by the way Pamela moved, spoke, or even by the air of mystery surrounding her, but because there was something more, something familiar, something that reminded her of her mother, but without the shadows of authority and judgment. It was like a wild, free version of what had once been security.

“So… are you going to save my cactus or criticize it?” Y/n said, trying to sound casual while feeling that her heart had started playing a game of chess with her emotions.

Pamela smiled again, and this time it was a different smile, one that seemed to carry a promise.

“It depends. Would you let me stay to try?” Pamela said, with a playful seriousness that left Y/n unsure whether the question was about the cactus or something much larger.

Y/n blinked, trying to process the phrase, but deep down she knew that any answer would sound awkward. Pamela’s question hung in the air between them like a leaf falling slowly, right at the perfect point where it was neither entirely a joke nor completely serious. And there she was, caught in that space, wondering whether she should laugh or just blush.

“Well… you can try,” she finally said, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her face. “But I can’t promise the cactus will survive. I’m something like… a serial plant killer... When I was younger, I had time to care for them as they deserved, with help from… from my father. But now work consumes me a lot, and the truth is I’ve neglected them too much… they must feel the same way I felt when… sorry, I talk too much about myself, don’t I?”

Pamela raised an eyebrow, with a smile that seemed to say more than either of them dared to voice at that moment.

“Oh, no, keep talking about yourself; I’m used to it. I have very… eccentric friends, to be honest.” She leaned a bit closer, as if about to share a secret. “Though I prefer not to work under threats, so don’t look at me like I’m going to be your next plant murder victim. But I doubt a little scared bat can kill even a fly.”

Y/n laughed nervously, surprised at how easy Pamela made everything. She, who had always been clumsy with conversations and glances, felt like the words flowed with Pamela in a way she didn’t quite understand but didn’t want to question either.

“...Little Bat?” Y/n asked, with a clumsy and blushing smile as her fingers nervously toyed with the edge of her cup.

Pamela let out a low giggle, that laugh that always seemed to carry the sound of dry leaves being trampled in autumn. With a gentle gesture, she pointed to her clothes.

“Is it that obvious?” she said with a half-smile, raising a playful eyebrow as she leaned a little forward.

She wore a dark fur coat, enormous, with a wide fall that, under the dim light of the BatCafé, seemed to have the precise shape of bat wings extending. The high, well-fitted black boots completed the image of a figure that seemed to have emerged from the very shadows. And for a moment, Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or get lost in that air of mystery that Pamela seemed to wear like a second coat.

“Well…” Y/n diverted her gaze with a shy smile, “it’s not like you’re hiding it much.”

Pamela smiled with that touch of mischief that characterized her.

“Does it bother you? I’m sorry, it’s just… I’ve been fascinated by bats since I was little.” she asked, her voice low and slow, as if measuring every word, as if the world were a delicate plant that required to be touched with the tips of her fingers.

Y/n let out a small nervous laugh, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks again.

“No, not at all. I think it’s…” she hesitated for a second, searching for the right word, unsure how to avoid the obvious, “I think it suits you well.”

Pamela watched her for a moment, and then, with that look that always seemed to go beyond what words said, added:

“You’re turning red, you know?”

Y/n’s eyes widened a bit more, surprised by Pamela’s directness, but all she could do was laugh at herself.

“Well, it’s just that, I’m not really used to… this.”

“This?” Pamela repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Sharing coffee with someone or bats?”

“Both,” Y/n admitted, shrugging, which provoked another smile from Pamela. “I always wanted one as a pet… but I have a vegan little brother who’s very… spooky… so I’ve always been afraid he’d steal it from me or accuse me of having exotic pets.”

Pamela settled into the chair, not taking her eyes off Y/n.

“But you’ll get used to it,” she paused, letting her words float calmly.

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of nerves and a spark of something she couldn’t quite define. Pamela’s dark coat and relaxed smile were a disconcerting yet strangely familiar contrast, as if they had always been there, waiting for her. And suddenly, all she could do was wonder how soon that would happen… getting used to it.

“Although I can’t promise my apartment isn’t… a battlefield,” Y/n said, trying to sound confident, but noticing the slight tremor in her voice.

Pamela looked at her intently for a moment, with that mix of flirtation and something deeper, something that seemed impossible to decipher completely. Then she relaxed in the chair, as if the game had just begun.

“A battlefield, huh?” she said, playing with the spoon of her coffee. “Well, I like challenges. And chaotic places have their own charm if you know where to look.” Pamela let the phrase slide smoothly, like someone throwing a stone into a lake and waiting for the ripples.

Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that every word Pamela spoke carried a double meaning, but far from making her feel uncomfortable, it sparked something akin to contained laughter, as if they were sharing a private joke that she was just beginning to access.

“Don’t you have plants at home?” Pamela suddenly asked, as if the question had sprung from the foam of her coffee.

“Well, there are a couple of cacti… and a fern that I think hates me,” Y/n replied. “But I always forget to water them. Or I overwater them. Seriously, it’s like plants come to me already doomed.”

Pamela smiled, one of those slow smiles that seem to grow little by little, like a sprout deciding when the perfect moment to emerge into the light is.

“It’s not just about water, Y/n,” she said, with that voice that seemed to carry the calm of the wind and the weight of centuries of nature. “Plants need attention. Patience. Sometimes they just want to know you’re there, even if you don’t say anything.” She paused, letting Y/n’s gaze get lost in her eyes. “Sometimes, like people.”

Y/n felt a little shiver. It wasn’t what Pamela was saying, but how she was saying it. There was something in her voice that disarmed her, as if every word had been calculated to penetrate a defense that Y/n hadn’t even realized she had up. And then, almost without thinking, she let slip a truth she rarely shared.

“I’m not very good with people.” The confession came out of her mouth before she could stop it. She said it without drama, almost as if she were talking about the weather. But something in Pamela changed, barely perceptible, like a leaf moving without the wind touching it.

“Really?” Pamela asked softly, but without an ounce of pity. Just curiosity.

Y/n looked down for a moment, fiddling with the edge of her cup, before daring to continue.

“I grew up in a huge house, but… empty. My father… well, he was busy with his things. Business, parties, the usual. Shrugging it off, wanting to downplay it, even though inside she knew it wasn’t something that could easily fade away. Alfred, the butler, raised me. And yes, he was amazing. But it was always just him and no one else. It’s not the same as having… friends.”

Pamela listened in silence, but not in that awkward way where people listen just to see how you respond afterward. No, there was something in her attention that enveloped Y/n, as if she were giving her space to bare herself without fear of being judged.

“You never had friends,” Pamela asserted more than asked.

Y/n shook her head.

“Until now,” Pamela said, with that same softness that seemed to have become her trademark, and something in Y/n’s chest stirred, as if she had just heard the most important thing in the world.

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a silence that somehow connected them. And then Pamela broke the spell, with a mischievous smile that lit everything up again.

“So… are you going to let me be your first friend, or would you rather keep killing plants?”

Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, a sincere and liberating laugh, as if something inside her had broken an invisible chain. After all, it was clear that Pamela wasn’t just another person passing through her life. There was something different about her, something that made the air feel lighter, that made the future seem less uncertain.

“Well, if you can survive the cactus…” Y/n said, leaving the sentence unfinished, but knowing Pamela would understand.

And then, for the first time in a long time, Y/n felt that everything might be okay. That maybe, just maybe, Pamela Isley wasn’t just a roommate, but the first person in a long time with whom she could imagine a less lonely future. She was already caught in that web, and the worst, or perhaps the best part, was that she didn’t care at all.

Bruce Wayne was sitting in the mansion's garden on a gray afternoon that seemed to drag memories along like the wind drags fallen leaves. In his hands, a cup of black coffee, still steaming, its strong and bitter aroma mingling with the scent of damp earth after the rain. In front of him, on a small wrought-iron table, rested a piece of dark chocolate cake topped with melting strawberry ice cream, forming a pink puddle around it. But he found no pleasure in the view. It was more of a bitter symbol of a routine he once believed unbreakable.

In the garden, where the wilted flowers swayed gently, a little girl flitted about with contagious energy, as if the chill of the afternoon did not exist for her. Her laughter, so innocent and pure, filled the air, breaking the sepulchral silence that seemed to reign in that old home for a moment. She wore a pink dress with small white dots, an 80s style that would have been charming in another time but now seemed out of place with the scene. Her patent leather shoes shone as she ran back and forth, chasing her dolls.

In her small hands, she held action figures, one of the Batman her father portrayed and another of the Joker, his eternal rival. The girl, no older than six, organized her battles with adorable seriousness. In a high-pitched, mischievous voice, she brought the characters to life, staging an epic duel between hero and villain.

“You won’t defeat me this time, Batman!” she exclaimed, raising the Joker figure with a malevolent laugh.

“I will stop you! I always do...” she replied with her other hand, giving voice to Batman, but with a childlike touch that contrasted with the darkness of the character.

Bruce watched the scene with a mix of tenderness and pain. He knew she wasn’t really there, that this vision was nothing more than a distant echo of what never was. Y/n, his little Y/n, had vanished months ago. And he… he had never given her the love she deserved, always wrapped in his own shadows, in his endless struggle to protect a city that never rested.

The air felt thick, heavy with nostalgia and regret. The girl continued to play, laughing, talking to her dolls, oblivious to the weight of the years, to the loss. And Bruce, although he knew it was an illusion, couldn’t look away; he couldn’t stop imagining what it would have been like to give her what he never knew how to offer. What it would have been like to see her grow, to laugh more, to run through those gardens with the carefree spirit only childhood allows.

Suddenly, the sound of soft footsteps interrupted the daydream. Alfred appeared at the garden entrance, always elegant, always with that air of discretion and understanding that only he possessed. He approached slowly, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder as if he understood the pain that kept him trapped in that scene.

“Mr. Wayne” he said in a low voice, filled with compassion, “it’s time to come back.”

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, letting Alfred’s words seep into his consciousness. He knew what they meant. He knew that girl, in her 80s dress and her dolls, was nothing but an idealized memory, a distorted reflection of what never was. Because Y/n wasn’t like that. She didn’t like those old dresses; she had always preferred the fashion of the 2000s, with its vibrant colors and comfortable clothes. And she never enjoyed the chocolate cake now sitting in front of him. She liked carrot cake, simple and sweet, but he had never paid attention to those details when he still could.

How did he know those little details about his daughter? Bruce often wondered. It wasn’t because he had learned them by being close, because proximity had been a luxury he never allowed himself. No, those small fragments of her life he had discovered in the album that Alfred kept with an almost reverential discretion. That album was more than just an object; it was a silent refuge where Alfred had archived what the big house, always filled with shadows and echoes of footsteps that never came, had refused to hold.

The day the children learned of the album’s existence marked the beginning of a chaos he still remembered with a mix of exasperation and a contained smile. They had decided, like little conspirators, that treasure belonged to them. A kind of all-out battle had ensued in the mansion, something that over time acquired the quality of family legends.

Bruce, standing in the study, could still see the sparkle in Damian’s eyes, the intensity, the almost playful fury with which he had taken that assault as a personal mission. Damian, with his perpetual impatience, had been the fiercest of all. He vividly remembered how his youngest son had burst into the room wielding two katanas, with the cold precision of a millennia-old warrior, even though his hands were still too small to fully grasp the handles.

“It’s mine!” Damian shouted, with that mix of stubbornness and vulnerability that only the youngest possess, as if he could cut not only the air but the very uncomfortable silence that always floated between them.

“It belongs to all of us, Damian” Bruce had tried to intervene, with that authoritative voice that, curiously, never managed to control his own children as he did with the chaos of the city.

But Damian wasn’t listening. For him, the album was not just an object; it was a relic, a bridge to something he felt but couldn’t name. His sister Y/n, so distant in daily life, was closer in those pages than in any superficial conversation they had ever had. She was his sister, but not enough. He wanted those photos, those notes that Alfred had kept, he wanted to understand what it was about her that slipped away from him daily.

Bruce watched from the threshold, not really intervening. He let the chaos unfold, as if it were necessary. The children fought, but it wasn’t just for the album. They fought for something deeper, a kind of silent reclamation of what they had never been able to have: time, connection, perhaps even love. Alfred, from a corner, merely smiled with that quiet wisdom, knowing that those battles of childish katanas, of shouts and disputes over photos and notes, were actually the way they tried to find each other in a house full of absences.

Bruce sighed, remembering. Alfred had always known more than he did, always understood those invisible things that Bruce, no matter how much he wanted to, could never quite grasp. And so it was that he himself, at the end of it all, also ended up snooping in that album, with a silent curiosity he would never admit. There, in those carefully tended pages, he found his daughter. Or at least, he found the idea of her, the pieces of a life he hadn’t shared but that, somehow, had always been present in those photos, in those little notes that Alfred, more of a father than he was, had kept with such love.

“She won’t come back, Alfred... I lost her... maybe forever... ” Bruce murmured, his voice barely audible, as if admitting it aloud would make her absence more real—“and I… I was never there for her as I should have been.”

The old butler sighed, his tired eyes filled with infinite patience.

“It’s never too late to remember, sir. It’s never too late to honor her memory in the right way.”

Bruce opened his eyes, looking again at the scene, but this time more clearly. The girl had disappeared.

The wind blew gently through the Wayne mansion's garden, carrying away the murmur of the dry leaves. Bruce remained motionless, as if the weight of the years, of the mistakes, had turned him into another statue in that landscape. The aroma of coffee had dissipated, and the cake before him remained untouched. Y/n’s figure still floated in his mind, her laughter like a distant echo that wouldn’t fade but also wouldn’t console him.

Alfred, with the patience only a father at heart could have, stood by his side, his firm hand on Bruce’s shoulder, as if in that gesture he could transmit strength to face the pain that gnawed at him.

“Mr. Wayne” Alfred began, his voice soft but laden with meaning, “the kids have gone looking for Y/n again.”

Bruce closed his eyes, allowing those words to sink into his consciousness. He knew all the Robins and Batgirls had been following leads, searching for answers in the darkest corners of Gotham, but the emptiness he felt remained overwhelming. They had failed so many times… what did another attempt matter? The city, always hungry for its heroes, seemed more a trap than a cause.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Alfred” Bruce replied, his voice rough, worn down by years of struggle. “None of this will change what happened. Y/n… is gone.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Alfred interjected, this time with a firmer tone, “Y/n is still out there. And as long as there’s a single chance to find her, you cannot allow yourself to give up.”

Silence stretched between them. Bruce’s gaze remained fixed on some point in the garden, lost in thought. But Alfred, with his usual insight, knew he needed more than empty words to awaken him.

“There’s something else,” Alfred added, taking a breath, “a new figure appeared last night during a robbery in the East District. They call her Kerosene. The White Bat. She was seen taking out a group of assailants in seconds.”

Bruce didn’t react. Kerosene. The city had always generated figures willing to fill the void he had left every time he stepped away, every time Gotham lost the light of its vigilante. But this time, he didn’t feel the urgency to learn more. What did it matter? He repeated to himself. Gotham already had its heroes.

“I don’t care” he murmured, his voice empty, as cold as the air surrounding the garden—“Let others deal with Gotham. Kerosene, the Joker, or whoever… the city doesn’t need me anymore.”

Alfred tightened his grip on Bruce’s shoulder, almost like a father refusing to see his son give up. He stepped forward, and this time his voice was lower but more incisive.

“This isn’t about Gotham, sir,” he said with an intensity Bruce hadn’t expected—“It’s about Y/n.”

Bruce lifted his gaze, his eyes finally meeting Alfred’s, as if those words had ignited a spark within him.

“If you don’t want to protect this city, do it for her ” Alfred continued—“Because you will find her, sir. I’m sure of it. And when you do… how would you want her to find you? Destroyed? Defeated? No. You need to be ready, you need to be strong, for her. Wherever she is, Y/n is still waiting for her father.”

Bruce felt the pain in his chest intensify, a constant reminder of his failure, but Alfred was right. Y/n was somewhere out there. Alive or not, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that as long as he didn’t find her, he couldn’t give up.

“The kids have done everything they can to find her,” Alfred said, softening his tone—“They’re still at it. Every day they search for new leads, explore new corners of Gotham… but there’s only one man who can put everything in order. There’s only one father who can bring her back.”

The air tensed between them, and for the first time in a long time, Bruce felt a slight tremor inside. He remembered the moment he decided to become Batman, driven by the guilt and pain of losing his parents. Now, that same guilt, that same pain, called to him again, but this time, it wasn’t for Gotham. It was for Y/n. His daughter.

“Tell me, Alfred, who is this Kerosene?” Bruce murmured, finally reacting to the information Alfred had given him.

“Yes, sir. Her abilities are astonishing, according to reports. Agile, fast… but her true identity remains a mystery. Some say she’s just another vigilante trying to fill the void you left. But the important thing is that she is acting with lethal precision.”

Bruce stood slowly, leaving the cup of coffee on the table, already cold and forgotten. He looked at the empty garden, but this time, with a new determination blooming in his chest.

“If this Kerosene is connected… if there’s any link to Y/n, I will find out,” he said, his voice firmer, closer to the one Alfred had known for so many years—“And if not… then I’ll find her myself.”

Alfred nodded, a mix of relief and satisfaction reflected on his face. He had managed to awaken the man Gotham needed, but more than that, he had awakened the father Y/n deserved.

“ Very well, sir,he replied with a slight smile, always the unwavering servant—“The Batcave is ready for your return.”

Bruce turned toward the mansion, but not before glancing once more at the garden, where Y/n’s figure, so real in his mind, faded like morning mist.

Wherever you are, I will find you.

Richard “Dick” Grayson knocked forcefully on the old apartment door, the echo resonating in the narrow hallway of the building, where dust gathered in the corners like forgotten memories and the lights flickered as if trying to perform one last dance before going out. Beside him, Barbara Gordon, the commissioner's daughter, crossed her arms, staring at the door with an intensity that could have splintered the wood.

Jason Todd, restless to his left, kept his gaze fixed on the doorknob, his body tense, as if each passing second brought him one step closer to breaking through that wooden barrier. Above, on the roof, Red Robin, The Spoiler, and Batgirl waited, shadows in a world that seemed to ignore their pounding hearts, ready to act.

“I don’t know why we always have to deal with the worst specimens of humanity,” Barbara murmured, adjusting her coat as she shot a sidelong glance at Dick, who seemed to have a plan in mind.

“Because we’re lucky,” Jason replied, sarcasm lacing his words, a crooked smile on his lips that didn’t quite fit the situation. “And when I say ‘lucky,’ I mean we’re carrying someone else's karma because we… are screwed.”

Dick knocked on the door again, this time with more force. The echo reverberated through the hallways, a declaration of intent.

“We should break it down. You know it’s not going to open just from a gentle knock,” Jason said, stepping forward, his intention clear and palpable.

“Calm down, Jason. Not all problems are solved with violence,” Barbara retorted, though a part of her knew that idea faded every time they found themselves in a situation like this.

“Sure, as if we have another option. Do you want me to schedule a tea date instead of kicking down the door?” Jason frowned, the tension palpable.

Finally, a sound came from behind the door. Chains, the metallic echo of locks being unlatched with a maddening slowness, as if someone on the other side knew that every second of wait was boiling the blood of the three standing before the door. At last, the door opened just enough to reveal a face: the landlord. A short man with small eyes and a slimy smile that seemed to ooze like dirty oil through his yellowed teeth.

“What do you want?” he asked in a thick voice, looking at Dick with suspicion, but his gaze soon dropped to Barbara, lingering unpleasantly on her figure, and then to Jason, who had already tensed the muscles in his jaw.

“We’re looking for Y/n Wayne L/n,” Dick said, trying to maintain his composure, the heat of anger threatening to overflow. “We know she lives here. And we know you know where she is.”

The man let out a laugh under his breath, a rusty squeak that resonated like a heavy joke.

“Ah, the pretty girl… yeah, yeah. And who are you all, huh?” he asked, his slimy tone sending chills that seemed to crawl over Dick's skin.

“It’s none of your concern. We just want to know where she is,” Barbara said, her voice firm and resolute, although the tension in her body betrayed her impatience.

The landlord tilted his head, like a cat playing with its prey, and smiled with a disturbing mischief.

“Well, if you haven’t found her in five months, maybe you don’t want to know,” he said, letting the words drop like stones in a pond, creating ripples of discomfort.

“I warn you, this isn’t a game,” Jason interjected, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t make me remind you what can happen when a man plays with fire.”

The man shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned, although the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Jason's hand rested near his belt, right where he kept his gun, and although he hadn’t drawn the weapon yet, the threat was clear.

The landlord noticed but instead of being scared, he wore a repugnant smile, like a predator that had just spotted a wounded prey. His gaze shifted back to Barbara, and then, without the slightest respect, murmured something that made Dick’s fists clench.

“Ah, Y/n... yeah, I remember her. She came around when she had just turned eighteen. Good material, if you catch my drift. She looked innocent, but... those are the most interesting ones, right?” The man's gaze darkened, scanning Barbara again, as if evaluating merchandise.

“Say that again,” Jason growled, drawing his gun in a motion so quick that the landlord barely had time to blink before feeling the cold barrel pressed against his forehead. “And I swear I’ll blow your brains out right here.”

The words hung in the air, sharp, loaded with contempt and a lust that twisted like a snake inside him.

The man let out a cynical chuckle, relishing the moment.

“The last time I saw pretty Y/n was a while back. I don’t know what she’s up to now, but I kept some pictures of her and her friend.” His tone was defiant, almost mocking.

Rage was bubbling in Jason. His fists were clenched, a deadly spark in his eyes.

“What did you say?” His voice trembled between anger and control, like a string about to snap.

The landlord, feeling invincible, continued. “I don’t know if they’re lesbians, but seeing them together was quite the spectacle. Both of them were hot, you know?”

Jason could no longer hold back. The anger erupted like a volcano.

“Shut up!” he shouted, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the tense silence that had invaded the room.

Before the landlord could react, Jason pulled his gun, aiming with precision.

“I’m going to give you one chance. Tell me where Y/n is. Now.”

The man’s laughter faded, his eyes widening in shock. “Wait, wait, there’s no need to…”

“WHERE?!” Jason's voice thundered, firm and filled with rage, like a storm rumbling in the atmosphere.

The tension became palpable, the air thick with promises of violence.

“Alright, alright!” the landlord stammered, but Jason’s voice turned even colder.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“She just left for work at night and that’s it…” he started to say, but Jason could no longer hear. The man had photos of Y/n. Compromising, crude, and that simple mention ignited hell in his chest.

In an instant, the sound of an explosion resonated in the hallway, and the man fell to the ground, his silly smile erased by the terror that had overtaken his face. Blood gushed forth in a dark torrent, staining the floor and nearby walls.

Barbara covered her mouth in shock, while Dick stood frozen, stunned.

“Jason!” she exclaimed, but the image of the landlord lying on the ground with his vacant stare was etched in her mind.

Jason holstered the weapon, his breath rapid and uncontrolled. He had crossed a line, and in that moment, he realized there was no turning back. Anger had found a way to break free, but at a terrible cost.

“I won’t let anyone hurt Y/n again,” he murmured, his eyes filled with determination. No one else would stand in his way to find her, no matter the price he had to pay.

The room was saturated with the echo of the gunshot, and the silence grew heavy, almost palpable. Barbara took a deep breath, the anger sparking in her eyes as she looked at Jason, who still seemed dazed by the act he had committed.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she said, her voice contained but sharp as a blade. “That’s why we didn’t bring Damian along, because he would have gone off just the same, but in a much more reckless way.” Her gaze fixed on the corpse, lying in a pool of blood, a scene that could have come from the mind of a disturbed artist.

Jason, with his chest heaving and jaw clenched, simply shrugged.

“I couldn’t just stand by. He knew something, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away.” The fervor in his voice didn’t hide the confusion that was beginning to seep in, like the cold of the night creeping through the windows.

Barbara didn’t respond, but the silence that filled the room grew even denser when the others entered, alarmed by the gunshot. Tim, Stephanie, and Cass arrived, their expressions filled with concern that quickly transformed into indignation.

“What happened here?” Tim asked, his eyes widening at the scene. Blood slid across the floor like a dark river, and the landlord’s body faded beneath the flickering light.

“Are you crazy, Jason?!” Steph exclaimed, disbelief palpable in her voice.

Cass crouched down, her expression grave as she looked at the fallen man. She didn’t need to speak to convey her disapproval; every glance said more than a thousand words.

“It doesn’t matter how we got here,” Dick intervened, his authoritative tone trying to restore order. “We need answers. Let’s investigate.”

With a determined movement, Barbara approached the body, while Jason still breathed irregularly, as if the weight of his actions began to settle on him. Barbara looked around; the apartment was a dusty and sad place, filled with shadows that seemed to whisper secrets.

As the others searched, Tim found a series of photos pinned to the walls, each one showing Y/n and other women from the area, frozen laughter in time, trapped between moments that should have been happy. However, there was something unsettling about the way they were arranged, a disorder that seemed a declaration of possession.

“Look at this,” Tim said, pointing to the images. There was Y/n, always smiling, but next to her was a figure that couldn’t be ignored. The silhouette of Pamela Isley, better known as Poison Ivy, stood beside her, her red hair like a fire that seemed to consume the sadness of the place.

“Pamela…” Cass murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “She’s been in Arkham for three months.”

Barbara moved closer, examining the photos more closely. “This is more complicated than we thought. Ivy has been involved, and that changes everything.”

Jason, still trying to comprehend the chaos he had unleashed, ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find Y/n. I don’t care what I have to do.”

Barbara looked at him, her expression one of challenge but also understanding. “We can’t do this recklessly. We have to be smart. Silent.”

The group nodded, realizing that the road ahead would be filled with dangers, but also promises of redemption. They were all willing to kill for Y/n, but they had to do it quietly, like shadows slipping through the streets at night.

“Listen, we’re going to find her,” Dick said, his voice resonating like a mantra. “No matter how many doors we have to break down, how many truths we have to drag into the light.”

And so, in the echo of the silence that followed the violence, the five united in a tacit pact, intertwining their destinies in the search for Y/n. Each lost in their thoughts, each remembering that shadows sometimes have the power to conceal not only secrets but also the light that clings to hope.

The shadows stretched as they moved away from the apartment, leaving behind the vestige of a dead man and the echo of trapped laughter. The search had begun, and Y/n’s fate hung in the balance, a thread of light in the darkness that promised to bloom amid the ruins of despair.

The city lights flickered in the distance, like lost stars in the asphalt.

The tears of Y/n fell onto the slippery ground, forming puddles that blended with the blood, a dark ruby staining every part of her thin body, as if sins were being tattooed onto her skin. The humidity of the place smelled of iron and fear, of broken promises and a destiny she had chosen but didn’t quite know how to accept.

“It doesn’t feel good, little one?” said the Doctor, his voice a bitter whisper echoing off the damp walls of the room. He, with his dirty blonde hair falling messily over his forehead, wore a white coat that looked more like a rag than a symbol of authority. A cynical smile spread across his lips, revealing teeth that seemed sharper than the fate he had designed for her. “Bathing in the blood of enemies, isn’t it an exquisite pleasure?”

Y/n, her gaze lost at a point on the floor, nodded slowly, as if each movement cost her an eternity. The blood, warm and sticky, slid between her fingers, a sensory experience that drowned her in contradictions. On one hand, there was a dark delight in the power that image conferred upon her, a power she had learned to wield. But on the other hand, there was an abyss of pain threatening to consume her.

“It’s…” she whispered, barely able to form words. Her voice trembled like a leaf in autumn, indecision etched in her features. Guilt suffocated her, and each tear that fell was a reminder of what she had lost, of what she had left behind.

“What is it?” asked the Doctor, leaning toward her, his eyes lit by a glow that was not exactly compassion, but rather a cruel satisfaction. His gaze seemed to pierce through the layers of her being, scrutinizing the dark corners of her soul. “Is it pleasure you feel, or is it fear?”

Y/n recoiled, feeling her skin burn under his gaze. The Doctor’s words tangled in her mind, forming a knot that seemed impossible to untie. Her voice, almost a cry for help, resonated in the air.

“I don’t know! I don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain.” The words shot out like arrows, but only managed to embed their tips in the empty air, finding no destination. She trembled, caught between repulsion and the desire to free herself from the invisible chains that kept her anchored in that place.

The Doctor let out a cold laugh, as if he were enjoying the spectacle unfolding before him. With a careless gesture, he threw another bucket of blood onto the floor, creating a small puddle that slid toward Y/n.

“That is the beauty of your situation, my dear. You have been chosen to cleanse Gotham of the scum, and along the way, you will discover that pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin.”

“Chosen?” replied Y/n, her voice shaking with the fierce mix of disbelief and rage. “Chosen for what? To be your puppet?”

The Doctor stepped closer, letting the distance between them fade. His presence was oppressive, like a shadow that swallowed light.

“You are not a puppet, Kerosene” he said, pronouncing her name as if caressing it. “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution. The tears that fall now are the ashes of the old you, and it’s time you embrace what awaits you.”

Y/n felt the air grow dense, as if the Doctor’s words were trying to envelop her, to convince her. But there was a truth in his voice, an echo of what she had longed for deep within her being. Hadn’t she been searching for purpose, a place to belong?

“No… I don’t want to be what you’ve made me.” she said, though her voice sounded more hesitant than determined. It was as if reality slipped around her, like the slippery ground she stood on.

“Of course you do, Y/n.” He smiled, and there was something unsettling in that smile, something that made her feel she was on the brink of a revelation. “Your pain is the echo of the city, and you, little one, can be its savior.”

The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, and Y/n felt herself teetering on the edge of the abyss, the possibility of becoming Kerosene, the force of vengeance and power. She fought against the idea, but there was a part of her that was beginning to awaken, to open like a flower in the desert.

“So, what do I have to do?” she asked, finally facing the reality that surrounded her. The tears, instead of being a sign of weakness, now seemed a recognition of her new identity.

The Doctor looked at her with a mix of satisfaction and complicity, like a teacher who sees the spark of greatness in his student.

“First, you must accept that the past does not define your future. The blood that surrounds you is only the first step toward freedom. Become what you have always been. Your destiny is to burn, and in doing so, illuminate others.”

Y/n felt the weight of her decision slowly fading away. By accepting her destiny, she had found a new way to free herself, a purpose that shone like fire.

“Then I will do it.” she said, her voice now firm and resonant, as if she were finally embracing the darkness that had always dwelled within her. “I will be Kerosene.”

The Doctor smiled, and in that smile lay a world of possibilities. Together, they could shake the foundations of Gotham.

“That’s right, my dear Kerosene.” He stepped back, allowing his figure to fade into the shadows..“And remember, every decision you make will be a step toward glory or toward downfall. The line is thin, and you are destined to cross it.”

“What about them?” Y/n asked, pointing to the shadows surrounding her, referring to the Waynes who remained silent in their luxurious prison of silence. “Where is Batman?”

The Doctor paused, his gaze turning serious and contemplative.

“Since your appearance, the Waynes have become shadows of what they once were. Batman has vanished, as if fear has locked him in his own game. They don’t want you to know the truth, and I wonder if, deep down, he fears what you are capable of.”

“Fears?” repeated Y/n, incredulity splattering her voice like a rain of dead stars. “Why?”

“Because the truth is that there is no longer space for the good in this city.” The Doctor stepped closer, his tone low but filled with fervor. “Soon you will go after the Court of Owls. We will expose those monsters in the streets, as they deserve, and they will have no one to defend them. Not even their beloved bat.”

A chill ran down Y/n's spine. The idea of stepping out into the night, of facing the villains who had ravaged her city, filled her with a strange power. She remembered Pamela, laughing amidst the shadows, her voice like an echo urging her to fight.

“I will not be their puppet. I do not want to be a pawn in a bigger game.” The words erupted from her with the force of an approaching storm, and the vision of Pamela dancing among the flowers filled her with a sudden sweetness.

“You will not be a pawn, Kerosene.” The Doctor smiled, and in his eyes was an air of admiration. “You are the queen in this game. Your vengeance will not only bring down those villains, but it will also seek the man behind the mask of Batman. We need to end him.”

“End him?” The question hung in the air like a trembling whisper. Her heart stopped for an instant, remembering the nights spent with Batman, the unspoken words, the caresses of an absent father.

“Yes. Because he, like them, has become a legend that needs to fall.”

Y/n felt the darkness looming over her, a shadow whispering promises of power and pain. But there was something more, a spark igniting within her, a fire burning with the strength of a new dawn.

“Then I will do it.” said Y/n, her voice resonating with a clarity that surprised her. “I will expose the Court of Owls and make my father see.”

The Doctor watched Y/n with palpable satisfaction, as if he had finally ignited a spark deep within her being. With a gesture of his hand, he made the invisible shackles that kept her trapped fade away. In that moment, a strange freedom slipped over her skin, a freedom laden with dark responsibility.

“Come, Kerosene.” he said, his voice now a hypnotic chant rising among the shadows. “There is something you need to see.”

He led her through a labyrinth of damp hallways, each step resonating like an echo of past decisions. The walls seemed to whisper forgotten secrets, tales of those who had fallen into the abyss before her. As they advanced, the light of day faded, and the gloom became an accomplice to their thoughts.

Finally, they reached the balcony of the building, a place where time had stopped its march. The Doctor gently pushed Y/n toward the railing, forcing her to look out over the vast expanse of Gotham that stretched before them. The city was a canvas of flickering lights and deep shadows, a portrait of intertwined chaos and order.

“Look, little one.” the Doctor whispered, his voice wrapping around her like a veil of mystery. “This is your city, a monster that feeds on the secrets you hold in your chest. The blood that stains your skin is a symbol of the struggle that lies ahead.”

Y/n leaned over the edge of the balcony, feeling the cold wind caress her bare skin. The city glimmered like a sea of dying stars, each light a story, each shadow a whisper of betrayal. The vision enveloped her, and for a moment, she felt like a spectator of her own destiny.

Her bare skin, still stained with blood, prickled at the chill of Gotham, a freezing breeze sneaking through the cracks of crumbling buildings, as if the city itself reminded her that she was alive, that darkness embraced her with its mantle of forgetfulness and despair. Each small contact of the air made her more aware of her vulnerability, and at the same time, of the power that blossomed from within her. It was a reminder that, amidst chaos, she was the spark of a new flame.

The puddles of blood that had stained her skin, silent witnesses to her transformation, shone like a dark ruby under the dim light of the moon. In that moment, each drop was an echo of past decisions, a symbol of the life she had left behind. And yet, in her mind, the Doctor's words echoed: “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution.” The irony of her state wrapped her in a sweet and bitter confusion; deep down, her nakedness felt like a release.

The city stretched before her, a vast ocean of twinkling lights and lurking shadows. Gotham, in its complexity, seemed to breathe, a living being pulsing with stories of pain and longing. The streetlights flickered as if about to go out, and Y/n felt that each flicker was a whisper calling her, a reminder that she was destined to be part of something much larger than herself.

As she gazed at the horizon, her mind filled with images: the faces of those she had lost, those she had loved, and those she had to confront. Her heart wrestled between the desire for vengeance and the longing for redemption.

“What do you see?” asked the Doctor, his eyes shining with an unsettling intensity.

“I see…” Y/n began, but the words slipped away like sand through her fingers. The city was a labyrinth of emotions, a stage where pain and pleasure intertwined in a macabre dance. It was a reflection of her own internal struggle, her desire for vengeance and her yearning for redemption.

“I see a sea of shadows, a stage where illusions collapse like houses of cards.” she finally replied, her voice echoing. “Each light, a hope; each shadow, a whisper of unhappiness.”

“Perfect.” The Doctor smiled, his face illuminated by an almost fraternal satisfaction. “Gotham is a mirror, and you are the light that can break the darkness. You must be able to see beyond what shines.”

The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, tearing through the veil of confusion that enveloped her. In that instant, Y/n understood that every tear shed had fed the city, that every drop of blood on her hands was an echo of what she had lost. And yet, vengeance offered her a new purpose, a path into the unknown.

“The city cries for change, for a fire to purify it” she whispered, her voice gaining strength in the night breeze. “And I… I am that fire.”

“That’s right, dear.” The Doctor nodded, a mix of pride and malice in his expression. “The fire that will purify Gotham and, in its wake, consume everything that stands in your way.”

Y/n felt the air fill with electricity, a palpable current connecting her to the city, to its pain and desire. Deep within her, something began to change. She was no longer just a puppet; she was no longer merely the shadow of her past. She was Kerosene, the spark that would ignite the flame of change.

“But, Doctor, what about those who love the darkness?” she asked, her voice now an echo of what she had learned. “What if they cling to their shadow?”

The Doctor stepped closer to her, his penetrating gaze filled with complicity.

“Darkness is a possessive lover, but there is always a price to pay. The truth is that they cannot hold onto it forever. And when the fire burns, only those ready to be reborn will be saved.”

Y/n felt a mixture of anguish and determination. The city before her became a symbol of her internal struggle, a stage where light and shadow intertwined in an eternal game. Every street, every building, every corner whispered her name in a song of warning and challenge.

“And when the fire consumes everything in its path, will there be anything left of me?” she asked, her voice trembling with the fragility of a leaf in the wind.

The Doctor smiled, a smile that seemed to mock the questions still dancing in her mind.

“Perhaps, dear Kerosene, you will find yourself in the act of burning. Or maybe, you will fade into the ash. That is the enigma of transformation: in the fire, death is merely the prelude to a new beginning.”

As she gazed at the city, Y/n felt her identity fragment and fuse, in an endless cycle of creation and destruction. The image of Gotham before her became a metaphor for the human soul, a reflection of the struggles everyone faced in the darkness. The city, with its chaos and its heartbreaking beauty, enveloped her like a hug.

With one last look at the flickering lights and lurking shadows, Y/n stepped back, a firm decision rising within her.

“There’s no turning back now” she murmured, her voice an echo of her new reality. “I will be the fire that illuminates this eternal night.”

The Doctor, with a gesture of approval, retreated into the shadows, leaving her alone in her revelation. As the city spread before her, a mantle of mystery and power, Y/n knew that the true journey was just beginning. The line between fire and ash was thin, and in her chest burned the certainty that by crossing it, nothing would ever be the same.

“So be it, Kerosene” she said to herself as the wind enveloped her in secret whispers. “Let the fire speak in your name and let the night receive your lament.”

And looking at Gotham, she understood that, in the end, her destiny was not merely to be a spectator, but an unstoppable force, a storm that would unleash chaos. And so, with her heart beating to the rhythm of the city, she prepared to embrace her truth, her fire.

☆

A/N — Here is the long-awaited third part of this series. Thank you for all the support and love you have given me. I decided to make this part longer (at the cost of not being able to include the last image :( ) so that you can enjoy it more.

I was reading your comments where you were asking if Y/n and the Doctor would have a romance (which horrifies me a bit :d, but it gave me an idea) or if he performed a lobotomy on her. Well, that will be answered in the next part or in a headcanon, whatever you ask me.

By the way, in the tag list, there are some users I couldn't add, sorry about that 😔. I really appreciate your understanding and patience. Your enthusiasm keeps me motivated to keep creating and sharing these stories. I hope you find this installment engaging and that it brings you the excitement and emotions you’ve come to expect from the series. Enjoy!

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

take a bath!

Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @imnotdumbimstupif @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii

@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @sheepintherain @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @kiarst @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

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darkstaria · 7 months ago

Text

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.

Chapter 1:

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Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Dark pupils watched from the ceiling, their gaze affixed upon you. You sighed, deciding to ignore its presence.

An aggravated chitter interrupted you. Pausing, you watched as a little green bird jumped out of the bat’s shadow. It paced towards you, making a small leap to land on your outstretched finger. You smiled, extending your hand to pet the top of its head. The bird took a moment to consider the moment, head tilting with its beak outstretched as if it intended to bite you. It seemed to decide on sparing your finger, allowing you to give the bird some pets on the head.

However, it was time to resume your work. You turned back to your computer, a dismissal. The bird didn't like that. A quick flash, and the bird tittered about on your keyboard, messing up your setup.

“Robin!” You snap, reaching out as if to push the bird away.

You sighed. You disliked calling the bird Robin. It was the correct species, despite the bird being green, so it made sense to use the name. But.. you hated the connection it created between your soul bonded animals and the vigilantes of the city. Unfortunately, the bird didn't answer to any other name. You've tried.

The other robins were so much more agreeable than this newer one. Well, not that you could even call those three robin anymore. The newer robin was very possessive of the name, and you'd rather not have to search your room for more stray feathers that flew off in their next fight. Your soul animals were such a pain.

The flutter of wings distracts you from your musings. You look up, finding the very bat you had been so cautiously avoiding earlier descend onto your desk. The bat chirped a little, with the robin occasionally replying back with chirps of its own. They were having their own conversation.

You decided you were owed a break already, so you gave up on your dreams of getting work done in lieu of watching the ongoing conversation. It was rare for soul animals to talk. They didn't need to. Due to the nature of a soul bond, soul animals act on the innermost feelings of the soul they represent. The bond connects souls, so soul animals, which are a manifestation of the bond, are already intune with their soulmates.

The only instance in which soul animals did tend to talk, was if the soulmates themselves were talking.

Robin chittured with a snap, the bat in return giving a controlled chirr.

Oooh. You thought to yourself. This sounds like an argument. You wondered what it was about. Maybe Robin pecked one too many victims, or caused a mess again.

Ah. You were thinking of your bonded as just animals again. To be fair, it was fairly easy. The only things you knew of your soulmates were because of how the animals acted. Anything else, and you were in the dark. That's how you wanted to think, anyway.

Maybe while they were distracted… You scoot back a little in your chair, until you figure you’re out of their line of sight. You make for the door, tipping out of your seat as quietly as you can. You're almost out the door when a weight settles itself on your head.

You sigh.

“Robin. Get off me, please.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the presence doesn't budge. Obliging, you reach up to your head, feeling the bird’s little feet jump onto your hand. Bringing Robin to eye level, you stare at it, unimpressed.

A nearby bat of wings draws you out of your faceoff. Guess sneaking out on your own was too much to ask for, as always.

“Ughhh.” You whine. Your soulmates were going to push you into complete isolation at this rate.

“Fine. You two already know the drill.”

You point at the Bat. “You can never follow me, I mean it. A bat is way too ominous of a soul animal to be flying around. It's just asking for trouble.”

The Bat remains silent, watching. Always, watching. You really hated it sometimes.

In all honesty, a robin wasn't too great of a soul animal to have with you in Gotham either. But your robins came in odd colours, so people didn't always clock that the bird was actually a robin. Sometimes you said that your soul animal was a greenfinch or a swallow. It tended to work, as long as no one looked twice.

A bat was much harder to hide.

“So..”. You give up, gesturing to your bag. “Just get in already, I'll make the trip quick.” You always had to make any outings short with this particular robin. If you spent too long with someone it got snippy. Very, snippy.

The other three robins tended to be a bit more accommodating. Well, not by much.

Robin glides into your bag, a movement of precision and grace. Not for the first time, you wonder what your bonded was like in person.

Deciding to dismiss the thought, you unlatch your door, heading out.

Just another day, with your soulmates.

~ ~ ~ ~

Your parents told you about your birth. You were born to a bat watching your window. It wasn't such a red flag, at first. The maternity ward was flush with newborn babes, so your parents figured that the bat was bound to another child. It was what they had hoped for, anyway.

Plenty of children weren't born with soulbonds. It wasn't a concern. They could be the elder of a bond. Or, they could have a delayed bond. They weren't concerned.

But… then it followed you home. Your parents settled you down, snug in your crib. When they next came to check up upon you, it was there. Perched upon the crib, watching you. When they next blinked, it was gone.

The very next day, your parents awoke to the Bat watching you again. But this time, a smaller bird was snuggled to your sleeping face. It clung to you all day, refusing to disappear when they appeared like the Bat did. It was… very mouthy.

They had assumed this to be a good development, everyone knew The Night worked alone. They were happy.

They were happy, even when another robin appeared the subsequent day. A scruffy one, snappy. Its feathers were still growing out. Young.

Perhaps they should have expected then, that the dawn the next new day would bring another little bird to your crib. The youngest one, a nestling still developing pin feathers. Despite its age, it held a keen gaze at them.

There weren't any more animals that appeared after that. So they hid any evidence of the Bat, and instead allowed you to grow up freely with your three birds.

The Bat was evidently the oldest in your soulbond. It was protective, almost parental, in its movements. It had a sixth sense for when you were in any danger, always emerging from the shadows with perfect timing. If a bat wasn't such a symbolic image in Gotham, you'd probably be more appreciative of its efforts.

The eldest bird was silly, performing aerial tricks and jumps that always brightened your day. It was keen, focusing on you whenever you felt down. It had the uncanny ability to appear whenever you were under the weather. When you said the word robin, it snapped to attention.

You decided to call it Robin.

The second bird was protective. It wasn't as loud as the eldest, but there was a spark of kindness in its gaze. Originally the bird was a lot rougher, but it started to calm down a few years in. Became stable. It always seemed to find you when you got stuck on homework, or landed on your shoulder whenever you flipped through a book.

The third bird was small. You assumed it was only a year or two older than you, due to how the bird’s feathers grew in. It wasn't as affectionate as the other two. Solitary, it often lingered in the shade. It watched you. It watched your other soul animals too, when they appeared. It seemed a little tired. It took you a bit, but eventually you realised it was lonely. After that, you always had a comforting word.

That is… until the Batman gained a partner. A boy decked out in green and yellow, the same feathers on your eldest bird. The vigilante called itself Robin.

As the duo gained notoriety, you were hidden more and more. There was danger in soulbonds, and nothing was more dangerous than vigilantes.

Robin became Nightwing. Your eldest bird grew in blue feathers. The bird stopped responding to its name. A new boy became Robin. You spotted green and yellow feathers growing in on your second bird. It started answering to Robin.

You knew who your soulmates were. After that, it was no secret. Not to you, not to your parents.

Your parents weren't happy anymore. But you were safe. They could be content with that. They considered reaching out. The evidence was obvious, they knew it, and you knew it. Maybe you could be even safer, if the Batman knew where you were.

And then you watched your Robin die.

The little bird had been stuck to you recently, seeming to be in an argument with the Bat. When in conflict, soul animals gravitated to those they weren't in disparity with, and this was nothing unfamiliar to you.

You had been stroking the little bird, as it rested on your lap. But then it jumped. It started shaking. It started crying. Bleeding.

You panicked. You tried to comfort it, to whisper caring words, to give a reassuring touch. You were young, you didn't know what to do. There was nothing you could do.

When a soulmate dies, the soul animal dies too.

The little Robin died, crying in your lap.

You had never looked at vigilantes the same way again.

There was no point in denial, not after that. Your bat became the Bat, the eldest robin named Wing. A few days later, your youngest soul animal developed new feathers. Green… and red. You didn't have a name for the bird, but you suspected you would soon.

You took a week off school.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Please be quiet, this time.” You muttered down to the green bird resting in your bag. It started at you with a condescending gaze. Ugh. Younger soulmates.

You'd sigh, but you've been doing that far too much lately as is.

Time to get this over with.

You enter the supermarket, one of your very few weekly outings. You start perusing the shelves, picking out what was in your list. As you're walking though, you hear a frustrated bark. You peak out from the shelves, spotting a lone woman tugging a leashed dog along.

Ah. You knew what this was. Everyone did. The other shoppers in the store paused too, staring at what was going on.

It was a rejected bond. When feelings between single soulbonded individuals become too bitter, the soul animal dissipates. Well, it was supposed to, and then reappear when feelings improve. But if the animal was constrained in some manner, then the animal can't disappear and is forced to remain in a physical form.

Judging from the leash on the dog’s neck, this was that same scenario. It was rather bold of the woman to bring the soul animal out in public if it was rejecting her like this. Almost brave.

Gothamites rarely helped each other, but things became a little sensitive with soul animals. You wouldn't be too surprised if there wasn't at least one attempt to free the dog today. It certainly caught attention. It could even catch.. vigilante attention.

You frowned. It was a shame to cut one of your few outings short. Sometimes there was no alternative though. You certainly wouldn't be sticking around.

You jumped at the sound of a shriek, eyes darting down to your bag where Robin rested. Robin glared venomously at your shoulder, and you glanced at it.

Your shoulder where… Ah. That would do it. Your shoulder where Red rested. Your third robin. You felt like crying. Why, why this pair?

You didn't even feel the bird as it appeared. Was that a testament to Red's stealth or your lacking observational skills?

Robin glared daggers at Red, practically hissing. You didn't even know birds could hiss. Red paid him no mind, instead looking very settled on your shoulder. The bird even snuggled your face a little. What a smug guy.

Another bark caught your attention. You glanced forward, remembering the scene. Your soul animal’s squabbling would draw too much attention. If any of the vigilantes were watching, you'd be in trouble. One robin soul animal was potentially excusable. But two? That would get you caught.

You tried to shush the two, a small signal for them to knock it off. Naturally, because it was these two, they ignored you. You groaned. This was far too public.

You grabbed Red, snatching him off your shoulder as gently as you could. Placing him gently into your shoulder bag, you tried your best to pretend the resulting screech from Robin wasn’t noticeable. The flap of your bag was closed, so no one could spot them… They could certainly hear if they came close enough though.

Time to leave. You paid for what you picked up and dashed out. The sight of rejected soulmates was generally considered disturbing, so anyone watching could just attribute your rush to that.

Were you paranoid?

Mayhaps a little.

You've justified it by the fact that you're probably soulmates with Batman and 4 robins, so paranoia is practically a requirement for your soul.

____

Hello ^ ^ welcome to my soulmate au! I do hope you enjoyed.

If you have any questions about the au, please feel free to reach out :D

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jaysgirlx · 1 year ago

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You, while playing with Jason's hair: Do the scars still hurt?

Jason: All the fucking time.

You: Do they hurt, when I touch them or-

Jason: No no no, it's more of a mental thing…sometimes when you touch them they bring back bad memories before I…

You: Then why don't you ever pull away?

Jason: Because I know you're not trying to hurt me, I know that you're safe? I don't know the fucking words for this…

*He rests his head on your shoulder*

Jason: Just don't leave.

You: I never will Jay.

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streetlamp-amber · 4 months ago

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first kicks

batfamily x batmom!reader

word count: 1.9k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: family fluff, pregnancy NOTES: i wanted to write more batfam fluff this time with jason included. very sorry if jason is ooc, most of my knowledge of him comes from fics lol

Rainy Sunday afternoons at Wayne Manor were usually spent with you and your sons in the living room, occupying the big U-shaped sectional sofa. Sometimes Bruce would join you three, resting his feet on the coffee table as he worked on his laptop. Today was one of those days.

You were helping Dick do some research on the internet for a science school project that was due next week while Jason laid on his stomach on the other side of the couch, reading a Where’s Waldo? book by himself. Your husband sat in the other corner of the couch, doing some research on the latest villain terrorising Gotham. You didn’t mind if the work he was doing was for Batman, as long as he spent some time with the family outside of the cave, you were satisfied. Especially since the Wayne clan was about to expand in a little more than four months. Plus, with your belly growing bigger as the weeks went by, it was becoming harder for you to do some tasks around the house. Tasks that you didn’t want to ask Alfred for help with since it was your husband’s job to be at your beck and call through the pregnancy. Bruce obviously didn’t mind and loved helping you, he just sometimes tended to get lost in his Batman work for long periods of time.

The television was playing in the background, a football game between two teams that you didn’t really care about was taking place but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t work well without some sort of background noise and this was doing the job.

”So Dick, have you chosen which natural disaster to base your research project on?” Bruce asked your eldest while closing his laptop and joining him on his other side, making the twelve year old squished between his parents.

”We’ve narrowed it down to three: the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami, the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and Hurricane Katrina,” Dick answered, clicking on different tabs of each of the natural disasters as he named them. “I want to do my research on a popular one so I can easily find all the information I need.”

”Smart, isn’t he?” You smirked at Bruce as you mindlessly threaded your fingers in Dick’s dark hair who continued scrolling on the internet.

“Never thought otherwise,” your husband said, mirroring your grin. “Jay, have you found all the Waldos yet?” He leaned forward to ask Jason.

“I’m almost done,” the six year old easily dismissed Bruce, not even bothering to tear his eyes away from the pages.

“It’s best not to bother him when he’s searching for Waldo,” you informed your husband in a low volume.

Bruce nodded his head in understanding and redirected his attention back on Dick. “So, how are you gonna make your choice, chum? You could write them down on three pieces of paper and do a draw,” he suggested, leaning his arm on the back of the couch behind Dick, his fingers playing with the neck of your tshirt.

“Dad, I don’t need to write it down on some paper,” Dick sighed, a little annoyed. “You can do that on the internet now.”

“You can?” Bruce asked, surprised. Your husband was really tech savvy when it came down to work related to Batman, but silly, random stuff like a drawing roulette was not part of his internet knowledge.

You leaned your head on your left hand that was propped on the back of the couch and soothingly rubbed your round belly with the other. You watched with a soft smile Dick showing Bruce how to generate a random picking wheel to spin on the internet. Moments like these were the ones you cherished the most, domesticity wasn’t always the norm around here when you had two vigilantes living under your roof so you always tried to savour them whenever they happened.

The calmness in you was interrupted when you felt movement under your right hand.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, eyes round like saucers as you looked down at your bump and raised up the hem of your shirt to make sure what you felt was right.

“What?” Bruce immediately turned his attention to you. “What is it? Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

“I think the baby just kicked,”you said, raising your head to meet his eyes.

“The baby just kicked?” He repeated in disbelief.

You shook your head ‘yes’ just as you felt more movement. “The baby kicked again.”

Bruce rapidly stood up to sit by your side while Dick discarded his laptop before placing a hand on your belly and Jason left his book to climb on your husband’s lap to be closer to you. All had a hand on your stomach, staring at it expectantly, waiting for another kick.

“I don’t know if the baby’s gonna kick again,” you told them.

“Well that’s just not fair,” Jason whined.

“We just need to be patient,” Bruce said. “I’m sure the baby will do it again.”

And sure enough he was right.

“Oh my God! I felt it! I felt the baby kick!” Dick exclaimed, though he kept the volume of his voice to a low level as if he would scare the baby away if he screamed.

“I wanna feel it too!” Jason cried.

“Here Jay, put your hand there,” you told your youngest as you gently grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to a different area of your belly, closer to Dick’s hand.

“Maybe if we keep talking, the baby will kick again,” Dick suggested.

“That’s true, babies can hear us from inside the mother’s belly,” Bruce agreed with him.

“They can?” Jason looked at you quizzically.

You chuckled at his confused face as you brushed his hair away from his forehead. “Yeah they can, it’s not completely soundproof in there,” you answered him.

“That’s why Dad is always talking to your belly?” Dick asked.

You fully laughed at this. “Yes, that’s why Dad talks to the belly. You can too if you wanna.”

“We can?” Dick perked up then leaned closer to your bump. “Hi baby, I’m Dick. Your big brother,” he said.

Jason also leaned forward. “And I’m Jason, I’m also gonna be your big brother.”

“Yeah but I’m the big big brother, I’m the oldest,” Dick argued.

“But I’m gonna be a big brother too!”

“Boys,” Bruce intervened. “No arguing around your mother. The baby will hear enough of that when it joins our lives, let it have its peace while it’s in the womb.”

A series of kicks started at that moment, making Dick and Jason gasp in surprise at the movements they felt under their hands. Bruce turned to you and the two of you shared a look full of love.

“That’s our baby,” he said to you, almost in a whisper, while Dick and Jason continued marvelling at the fact they could feel their sibling.

“That's our baby,” you repeated in confirmation. Nothing could've erased the smiles on both of your lips.

“I love you,” Bruce said against your forehead before leaving a soft kiss there and pulling away to share a short peck on the lips with you.

“Ew! Gross!” Jason interrupted your moment. Your sons weren’t the biggest fans of you and Bruce’s displays of affection for each other.

You giggled at the boys’ antics but still took a second to say “I love you” back to your husband.

“Someone should get Alfred so we can share this moment with him,” you suggested to the kids.

“Not it!”

Jason and Dick quickly shouted, the former being the fastest to say it.

Dick groaned before he stood up from the couch and jogged out of the living room. The faster he would find Alfred, the faster he would be back next to you. “Alfred! The baby is kicking for the first time!” Dick called through the manor for your butler.

“He knows he doesn’t need to scream, right?” Bruce asked you. “Alfred can hear the boys break something all the way from the other side of the house.”

“Oh, let him be. He’s just very excited about the baby kicking,” you lightly reprimanded him with the corner of your mouth pulling up in a smirk.

You detached your gaze from your husband down to Jason who now had both of his small hands on your belly, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ and his eyes round with wonder in them.

“This is so cool,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Looks like you’re gonna have some competition Jay, that baby sure is kicking a lot,” Bruce jokingly commented as the kicking didn’t stop.

You chuckled as you remembered all the times you’d stop by the gym room to find Jason relentlessly kicking at Bruce’s punching bag. For a six year old, he already had so much anger pent up inside his little body and it worried you sometimes. But ever since Bruce brought him back to the Manor, Jay had been getting better. The amount of vases thrown at the wall had drastically decreased since then, both to yours and Alfred’s reliefs, and he instead would run to the gym room and let out his anger on the punching bag when needed.

“I can’t wait to play fight with you,” Jason whispered loudly to your belly with a smile.

“No,” you immediately said.

“Best you stick to play fighting with Dick for a couple more years, buddy,” Bruce told your son.

Jason pouted. “But he's always pulling some acrobatic shit–”

“Language!” You scolded him.

“But Ma! Dad and Dick say it all the time!” Jason cried out defensively. “That’s not fair,” he retracted his hands from your belly to cross his arms over his chest.

“Well Dad and Dick, and you too apparently, will not be saying words like that around the baby,” you warned. “Capiche?”

“Capiche,” Jason mumbled.

“Capiche?” You repeated, now glaring at your husband.

“Hey, I’ve really been refraining on the bad words ever since Dick joined us,” Bruce argued but you raised your eyebrows in a way that said this wasn’t what you wanted to hear. “Capiche,” Bruce sighed out, knowing he wasn't going to win this fight.

“Master Dick, slow down a little. There’s no need for running,” you heard Alfred’s voice approaching down the hall.

“But Alfred, the baby is kicking!” Dick reiterated.

Your oldest ran in the living room, his hand firmly holding Alfred’s who tried to keep up behind him.

“I heard you the first ten times, Master Dick, the baby will still be there no matter how fast we get there,” Alfred argued.

“Yeah but it might stop kicking,” Dick said and the two sat on the couch to your unoccupied left.

“Don’t worry chum, the baby’s still kicking,” Bruce told him while looking fondly at your belly.

“Please Alfred, feel the baby,” you said to your butler with an inviting smile, grabbing his hand that rested on his knee and gently squeezing it. “We want you to be part of this moment too.”

Alfred’s hand joined the others on your bump and the old man smiled at you and Bruce as he felt the tiny bumps moving around under your skin. “This is sensational.”

“Isn’t it?” You smiled back at him, content to have everyone you wanted to share your baby’s first kicks with.

Your little family of five (soon-to-be six) remained on the couch until the baby grew tired and stopped kicking, much to Dick and Jason’s dismay. Alfred went back to his tasks, the boys to their laptop and book, and Bruce wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you cuddled next to him, watching over your children and just enjoying the normalcy of this Sunday afternoon.

Domesticity used to be rare at the Wayne Manor, but not anymore. And you, for one, were very happy about it.

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i-yap · 7 months ago

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I just love thinking about jason x reader

Big bulky jason who has so much trauma and issues and needs and why would you even dedicate your entire life being patient and kind with him

But that same jason refuses to let u out the bed. The jason that will press Your feet after HE is the one who just went crime fighting

Jason who Hates being separated on his days off and will sit beneath the table between your legs hugging your waist with his on your thighs if you're doing work or meeting or studying

Jason who literally Hates work, vengeance, revenge, mafia stuff , crime fighting , saving the world ..basically anything that makes him spend time away from you.

Jason who prolly just leaves all this behind and genuinely works at processing his trauam . Becomes a literature teacher in a nice university. Settles down with you and have a normal life...give you the life you deserve

Not before saving up enough from mafia/batpay to give you the best luxury

Jason who just wants to stare at you , Hold you, get kisses from you forever

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occasionalsnippets · 17 days ago

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Hmmm vague sort of batfam & fem(?) reader idea in broad strokes and probably incorrect lore and characterization.

Thinking of titling it something like “my brother’s father” or “my brother’s brothers” or “my brother’s father (and brothers and sisters and family and-)”

It’s a little something like this:

You are the first born child of Jack and Janet Drake and you are 3 years old when they tell you you’re going to have a little brother. He’s small and round and so very tiny when you first meet him. You barely process anything your parents tell you beyond the fact that his name is Timothy Jackson Drake. You’re an older sibling now and you’re ecstatic about it even if your parents mumble about how you’re a mistake and Tim isn’t.

(Things feel a little familiar though… just maybe…)

Anyways! You take classes (which are really just lessons from your parents) on how to be all prim and proper for Gotham high society while your little brother is snoozing as a little baby. At some point you debut in some gala and meet Bruce Wayne in passing who is… something. Ditzy. A little charming but quite bizarre. You think there’s supposed to be something else but, ah, you can’t remember what.

Tim gets bigger and so do you. By the time he turns 3, you’re certain you’ve carried him around more than your parents have. It seems wrong, somehow. But, Tim’s shaping up to be a little genius and you’re thrilled when he toddles after you more than he does to your parents. He gets a similar schedule and classes and eventually he debuts in high society as well.

There are rumours beginning to circulate that something is lurking in the shadows of Gotham City…

Haly’s circus comes to town. It’s a family trip to go and see them. The flying Graysons are amazing and wonderful and you and Tim get to talk and take a photo with the Graysons and see a quadruple somersault and-

The Graysons go splat. Falling to the ground like birdies shot out of the sky. Your parents do not usher you and Tim out fast enough to avoid seeing the aftermath of the disaster. As you leave, you catch a glimpse of Bruce Wayne, watching, with a sad look of resignation lingering on his face.

Things are quieter after that. Your parents begin to leave to go on long archaeological adventures and you’re left in the care of a rotating cast of babysitters who never stay long. They leave you with a mostly empty manor, unrestricted internet access, their contact information, and a black credit card.

Something more concrete about what has been running around Gotham and taking down criminals begins to take form. The Batman. Or just Batman maybe. Some nights you can see a light shining against the cloudy Gotham backdrop, a signal to him. Tim seems super interested in this Batman so you gather up newspaper clippings and take photographs of the signal when you can.

Every now and then your parents drop back in to socialize with high society Gothamites and bring you and Tim to galas to be cooed at but otherwise, they’re “too busy” for the two of you. Phone calls barely last a few minutes. Celebrations are missed on the regular. You think that it’s only going to get worse.

You continue to glance at Bruce Wayne and his new charge, Dick Grayson, at galas. They’re a riot from what you can see from the parties and news tabloids. Despite the short amount of time Dick Grayson has been with Bruce Wayne, you can tell Wayne cares deeply for him. They’re... fascinating.

Robin debuts by Batman’s side in traffic light colours, scaly shorts and a whole array of acrobatic moves and witty comebacks. Tim is enamoured by the dynamic duo and you think you might be too.

Your parents stop sending babysitters because “you’re old enough to take care of yourself and Tim, aren’t you dear?” which- Wow. Just, wow. You are ten years old. This is not your responsibility. You suck it up and pretend like you're making them proud by being "mature" and "responsible".

You go grocery shopping. You find recipes and learn to cook. You clean the dishes and pull up a stool so Tim can watch how to do it properly as well. A housekeeper drops by every now and then but the two of you don't talk to them.

Sometimes you think about calling the Waynes who are just next door and asking Mr. Pennyworth what you should do. You never do but you see him around when grocery shopping at times which makes you long to ask all the more.

You watch your parent’s company emails with increasing interest. School is dreadfully slow and there's nothing better to do. Your parents have mentioned once or twice at galas and during lessons that they hope you’ll inherit the company one day.

You still remember the lessons they teach you. Who to speak to. How to determine their worth. Whether you should climb atop them, crush them beneath your heel, or hold their hand and stand by their side. Those days you feel like your mother. Sharp as broken glass. Waiting to press against someone unsuspecting.

On Tim’s birthday, he asks to go out and see Batman and Robin. It was inevitable in hindsight. You give him a camera, a safety lesson, dress him up in clothes to blend in and head out with him. You’re absolutely sure if you said no, he would sneak out anyways.

And thus begins Tim’s (and yours by proxy) illustrious career as a stalker.

To sum up your thoughts, Batman and Robin are amazing. Sort of up close and sort of personal (a few rooftops away), you and Tim take plenty of photos and jot down notes on them every couple nights when you’re sure there’s nothing important for school the next day. It’s exhilarating.

On a night both you and Tim aren't out, Robin does a quadruple somersault. Tim, who had taken to coding and hacking, gets security footage of the night. The gears start cranking in your head.

Another few nights stalking out the duo. Another few nights that bring you closer and closer to Wayne manor.

Tim shakes you awake one night, hovering over you, saying it’s something important. You blearily sit upright and ruffle his hair out of habit.

“Dick Grayson is Robin,” he says with absolute confidence that you could be proud of.

“Dick Grayson is Robin...” you echo and with dawning horror, you say at the same time as Tim, “and Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

And you lean back into your bed, let the gears click into place, and pass out.

In retrospect, that made a lot of sense. Both about Batman and you. But wow. The Drakes f*cked up real bad. You are not supposed to exist. One very private breakdown later because "Oh no, Tim is going to become Robin and a Wayne and he's so f*cking stupid sometimes-"

You're taking things very well.

Newfound (old-recovered?) knowledge aside, you still have to go to school, make sure Tim is doing okay, and continue stalking Batman and Robin. You and Tim have even figured out their patrol schedule recently so really, it's not like much has changed.

The next little while goes by in rapid succession.

Batgirl, Barbara Gordon, debuts. Robin and Batman get into some kind of argument. Batman goes without Robin for a while and Nightwing debuts in Bludhaven. Jason Todd is adopted by Bruce Wayne. A new Robin flies.

You see him in school at times as a mere passerby in a different age cohort and Tim who’s in a lower grade sees him even less often as Jason Todd. As Robin 2 though, you’re seeing him almost every single night. He’s different than Dick Grayson was, obviously, more cuss words and less acrobatics, but still Robin. The light to Batman’s shadows. Magic.

He catches the two of you on a rooftop once. It’s still early in the night and you’re rooting around in your bag for the extra memory card when you hear Tim squeak and something thump on the rooftop.

“It’s a bit late to be out right now, isn’t it?” he asks.

You find the memory card and slot it into your camera. “Late night photography.”

Robin doesn’t look impressed but hey, you’re not the one going out late at night to fight crime.

Tim, who is tucked by your side glances up at you. You nod and nudge him forward.

“Robin!” he calls out. “Can I get a hug?”

Well, you know Robin. You know Jason Todd. He won’t deny your little brother a hug. So as the two of them step forward, you raise the camera and take a picture. You smile as you look at the developed photo later at home. One for you, one for Tim, and one for the Waynes if it ever comes to pass.

Some nights you let Robin spot you and Tim. The three of you chat and get some food before he's pulled away by crime. You make him promise not to dig into the two of you. He agrees.

Things are quiet for a while or as quiet as Gotham ever gets. You wait for the other shoe to drop. Something bad is going to happen soon. You can’t exactly recall what or when but you know something and-

Robin- Jason Todd dies. Barbara Gordon is paralyzed. The Joker is still alive, still having the last laugh at the end of it all. You hate it. You hate him.

Tim throws himself into some kind of frenzy to hide the pain just as Bruce Wayne loses himself in his grief. Batman does not kill but he comes very close in this time. The hospital records climb. You bring more and more medical supplies because if you don’t interfere these people, often petty criminals, are going to die before the police ever arrives.

"Batman is going to kill himself if this continues," Tim tells you.

"And what," you say because you think you know how this is going to play out, "do you want to do about this?"

The answer, it turns out, is to find Dick Grayson. In true Tim Drake fashion, he stalks him (or rather, he stalks Starfire), hacks into a database or two, and finds his address in Bludhaven. You probably shouldn't have encouraged this kind of behaviour but ehhhhhhh... it's fine.

Since you aren't inclined to allow Tim to head to Bludhaven on public transportation alone, you go with him. You can imagine it's quite a sight when Dick Grayson opens the door to two teenagers who tell him that they know who he is and that "Batman needs a Robin".

It's a very awkward car ride back to Gotham with too many questions like "Where are your parents?" and "What do you mean they're halfway across the world?" and "How old are you?".

He won't return as Robin. You didn't expect he would. Despite that though, he allows you and Tim into the Wayne manor where the two of you meet Mr. Pennyworth officially. He's cool and probably not paid enough in your opinion.

Dick Grayson shows the way to the Batcave as Tim explains what the two of you know. Dick Grayson leaves as Nightwing, not Robin like Tim wanted him to be. The three of you wait and wait until all communication with Batman and Nightwing have disappeared.

"I'm going to become Robin," Tim declares. “It’ll only be for a short while. Until Batman recovers or someone else becomes Robin.”

“Right,” you say dryly. “Just a short while.”

And that, perhaps, seals his fate. You allow Tim to go out as Robin just this once with Mr. Pennyworth as you navigate the Batcave and prepare everything in the medbay and start monitoring comms. If there's anything you know about vigilantes, it's that they always end up injured at the end of the night.

You have a plan though for the future. A very stupid plan perhaps but a plan nevertheless.

You’re going to be Robin too. Not always (vigilante night life isn’t really all that appealing to you) but lord knows you can’t trust Tim to not go out and do things even when injured.

At the end of the night, Batman, Nightwing, Mr. Pennyworth and Tim return to the Batcave where you are sitting disapprovingly on the chair by the batcomputer.

“This is…?” Batman’s voice is low and as harsh as gravel.

“(Y/n) Drake,” you answer sharply, feeling remarkably like your mother in some ways. “Let’s discuss how things are going to go with Robin, shall we?”

It’s your first real introduction to Batman and at the moment, you aren’t impressed but at the very least, you know he will do his best not to allow Tim to die. Tim will be Robin and eventually, Bruce’s son. But not now. You will not allow this Batman to be Tim’s father (not that you think he wants to right now) when he’s still mourning the loss of Jason Todd.

In many ways, Tim’s transition from stalking to fighting is easy. The Drake manor was never somewhere the two of you spend too long at anyways between school, nighttime photography and staking out at Barbara’s library to do work so heading over to the Waynes for training whenever there was time was easy. It’s just like another extracurricular to be picked up.

Tim trains and you convince Bruce Wayne to let you follow the same routine. He caves easily. So, so, easily.

But besides that, when your parents return briefly from a trip, you convince them to let you meddle with their company more for a little variety in your life more than anything else. You’re pretty sure the company is on track to going right under which- oof, that’s what happens when you’re off at random archaeological digs and don’t participate in the important decision making.

Although Tim is not yet allowed to be Robin yet, Bruce Wayne still goes out as Batman, still solves cases, still has not processed the grief. Taking care of him, you find, is very much so like taking care of another child. Replace his coffee with decaf, cross your arms disappointingly and drag him away from the batcomputer, double down and sic Mr. Pennyworth on him, make sure he’s staying hydrated-

The list goes on and on. More than a few times, you catch Tim repeating your actions which is cute and gives you hope that maybe he’ll also take care of himself when the time comes.

Mr. Pennyworth is great, as usual. He makes snacks when you and Tim come over, cooks meals you’ve never tried to make before, and teaches you about guns. Having him around is, perhaps, the first time in a long time you have had responsibility lifted off your shoulders.

Barbara Gordon is every bit as strong and fiery as you recall from the times you have seen her in the distance. She is also very much so enjoying having Tim be her little protege in tech. You come around from time to time to see if there’s anything new but hm… timeline is farther in the past than “back then”. Some things that are outdated to the you of before are still brand new here which means some of your previous knowledge isn’t particularly helpful.

Oh well. It’ll catch up eventually.

Dick Grayson’s presence in the manor is spotty. It always feels like he's going to try and corner you about you and Tim's living situation which a. is none of his business right now and b. you have it under control.

It's fine to leave Tim to him because Tim is super happy to be hanging out with him (the first Robin!!) and Grayson is doing that weird sort of "I want to be a good brother to new Robin because I wasn't good to Jason at the start and I want to be better this time-"

Whatever. Misplaced guilt complex aside, Grayson still gets into arguments with Bruce Wayne about a myriad of things so he never stays too long at the manor. You work real hard to make sure Tim doesn't overhear those arguments.

Man, you hope they get it together soon.

The pro of having a new set of adults in your life is that now you can off load things to them like picking Tim up from school when you have other extracurriculars.

You, texting Dick Grayson: hey, can you pick up Tim today?

You, texting Alfred Pennyworth: hi Mr. Pennyworth. can you pick Tim up from school today? Thank you!

You, texting Bruce Wayne: Pick up Tim up from school. Do not be late.

Things are going pretty well in your opinion. The two of you train with Mr. Pennyworth, then Batman, then Nightwing. Tim bonds with the members of the Batfamily, you remain ever so slightly distant but still involved and things are going pretty well.

Then, you get an urgent phone call.

Janet Drake died and Jack Drake has fallen into a coma.

It’s as though the world stops when you find out. You… you didn’t know this happened. Sure you assumed something must have happened for Tim to be adopted but you… you hadn’t thought it would be this soon.

You tell Tim.

You plan a funeral.

You become the teenage CEO of Drake Industries.

The world continues on.

Tim officially becomes Robin which you suppose is the start of a new era. You give him a very lengthy talk about it and tell him to let you know if he plans on staying nights over at the Wayne manor when you're busy with company work.

He's old enough to be responsible for himself, right? You always kind of see him with the rose-tinted glasses that comes with raising him basically most his life.

Tim goes out every few nights as Robin and gets more and more involved with Batman's vigilantism and the various cases in Gotham. You spend countless hours on work and school and try your best to help out in the Batcave when you have the time. It's rough the first couple weeks but you trust in Oracle, in Nightwing, in Mr. Pennyworth and in Batman to keep Tim alive.

And then, of course, Tim gets injured.

"You don't need to coddle me," he complains when you block him from the entrance of the Batcave.

"Right, Mr. three broken ribs and a stab wound." You stare at him, unimpressed. "Go rest up, I'll fill in for you."

He startles. "Wha-? What do you mean fill in- Hey!"

You hand him off to Mr. Pennyworth, shut your laptop, head down, and get suited up. Batman, who is sitting by the batcomputer, impressively does not flinch when you approach but you can tell he's hesitant and maybe a little shocked? You aren't as good at reading him when he's Batman as Tim is, unfortunately.

You roll your eyes regardless.

"Why do you think I asked to be trained alongside Tim? Let's go."

Your own first run as Robin is fascinating. Dangerous? Yes. Exhilarating? Also yes. No one notices that you're not actually Robin 3 which is a little annoying because yeah, Tim hit his growth spurt and is steadily climbing in height but you're still taller than him!

That aside, you know being Robin isn't sustainable for you. Definitely only a backup plan so you let Tim keep the reins on that. Jim Gordon is pretty cool though.

At some point, Batman brings Tim up to meet the Justice League. A couple weeks later, so do you. Almost everyone thinks you and Tim are the same Robin. Neither you nor Batman correct them.

You think Bruce Wayne is starting to feel better when you catch him giving those sad little orphan eyes to Tim when he isn’t looking. The grief has ebbed. The cruelty faded. It’s not enough for you to be satisfied.

“Go to therapy Mr. Wayne,” you say. “Tim will not be a replacement for Jason Todd.”

And- yeah, you’re being a little mean because you know that isn’t the way it actually is. Despite that, he still flinches at your words.

"You should also make it mandatory for all heroes at the Justice League by the way," you add.

“I don’t need-“

“Liar. You obviously do. If you’re worried about the whole secret identity thing, find a way around it, especially if the Justice League is going to be getting it as well.”

He sighs quietly and turns away.

“By the way,” you call out as he walks away with increasing speed, “if you don’t find a solution within the next three months, I will make a solution.”

He walks faster.

“You can count it as a threat!”

Less than three weeks later, he goes to therapy. It also becomes mandatory for every hero. Every single one. He also, very awkwardly, offers his help with running Drake Industries if you ever need it. You count it as a win.

The days continue on. You rework Drake Industries to an acceptable standard, spend countless hours at meetings and stare longingly at the coffee shops you pass by. There are always cases upon cases to work on.

Jack Drake awakens from his coma. Your life is thrown into chaos once more.

He’s a bit different now, probably because of the whole near death thing, and he’s weirdly more interested in “being a family” now. You scoff a little at his attempts. You’re old enough and remember enough that the neglect and unwilling role of a “parent” you’ve been put through is enough to make you disillusioned with fixing this family. You’re not cruel- he’s not a terrible father but he’s 10 years too late to be making an attempt now.

You snub him for company work. Tim snubs him for vigilante work. With nothing else to do, Jack Drake turns to dating a younger woman. You hire a housekeeper, Mrs. Mac, to help care for him. It’s just the way things are.

Spoiler appears in Gotham. She and Tim have this kind of... thing going on you think. Tim also has this thing going on with another girl or something. You don't really want to know but you give both of them a sex ed talk anyways. You read over her case, whatever is going on with Cluemaster, and leave it up to Batman and Robin.

On one of your stints as Robin, you pick up one Cassandra Cain.

You vaguely remember something about her being officially brought into the Batfamily before Batman got lost in time but you aren't really too clear on the when that happened. Was it supposed to be now? Whatever, it's probably fine. It takes quite a bit to coax her over (hmmm she seems more partial when you’re Robin compared to Tim so you were working overtime for a bit as Tim took on a different case) but eventually it works.

Regardless, it's a pretty terrible case. A child (nevermind she's around the same age as you) assassin brought up to be a weapon by David Cain and Lady Shiva. Doesn’t understand any language other than body language. Wants to become the next Batgirl (?)

Well, at least Bruce Wayne might be happy to have a daughter. Barbara is too old and has a good father. Spoiler hasn’t “officially” revealed her civilian identity and probably isn’t willing to be actually adopted. And well, the less that’s said about you the better.

Tim joins a group of teenage superheroes. You meet them too and there isn’t much to say but they’re nice and figured out you weren't Robin-Robin pretty quickly. You think you may have given them a heart attack though when they realized you were an imposter.

A bit later, a few months maybe, as you’re sitting in the Batcave, working on a case Nightwing asked for help on, Tim stumbles back into the Batcave with a slightly dead look on his face.

"Don't let me become evil gun Batman."

“?”

“Just… please.”

Did he meet an alternate universe version of himself or something? That’s a thing that happens often enough in DC right.

“Sure, okay, don’t let Tim become evil gun Batman. I’ll write that down.”

At least he seems relieved at your promise even if you don’t really understand what being “evil gun Batman” would entail.

“Oh and don’t become Batman just in general. Or like Bruce Wayne, okay?”

Batman offers to train Spoiler officially. Therapy must be doing something good to Batman because he asked you first if he should tell her Robin's identity before beginning training instead of just doing it. You call him a f*cking idiot and that settles that.

Stephanie Brown and Tim begin dating for real. It's um... a bit tumultuous. But, they have their little identity reveal and you get to meet her as yourself finally so, yay?

And of course, all good things must come to an end. This time it’s Jack catching Tim sneaking back home as Robin.

You’re away at a company meeting when it happens and by the time you get home, the dust has already settled and a deal has been made. Secrecy in exchange for giving up Robin. This won’t last, of course, but it’s better than other alternatives you suppose.

In the meantime, Stephanie Brown becomes the fourth Robin.

Her stint as Robin was very short if you remembered correctly. Months of training, something about disobeying orders and a gang fight. Also something about dying…? You keep an eye on the situation as Tim goes off to school for real for the next while.

Sure enough, Batman fires her and she sneaks out to deal with the criminal underworld. Thankfully, you've asked Oracle to keep an eye out on that so the moment she leaves, you're able to head out as well. You tell Mr. Pennyworth you’re going on a “ride”, half-suit up (can't also be Robin here!), borrow the Batmobile keys and rush off according to Oracle’s instructions.

It's chaos which is to be expected really. The entire time you're driving, you're cursing Batman out under your breath.

"F*cking Batman... can't keep a Robin to save a life." You turn a corner. "And here I thought therapy would make him better at communication."

Truly a Sisyphean task to make the Robins believe they aren't inadequate. You hope that by the time Tim goes back to being Robin, Batman will pull his head out of his ass.

Anyways, you head to where Robin is being held, crash through a couple of things and hit Black Mask with the Batmobile. Whoops, you think you decelerated enough to not break everything in his body. You get out of the car, toss Robin into the backseat and drive off to see Dr. Leslie Thompkins.

“What- can you… even drive???” Robin 4 asks as she bleeds heavily on the nice leather seats of the Batmobile.

"Don’t worry about it, I got my driver's license ages ago." You wave around the card as you break several traffic rules at once.

Eventually, you arrive at Dr. Thompkin’s clinic where she is able to be treated. While you linger beside the Robin as she is being treated, Dr. Thompkins apparently found it fitting enough to air out all of her concerns regarding child vigilantes and Batman to you. You really don't think you should be the one she should be telling this to.

Towards the end of the treatment, Batman shows up in the shadows, like always. Speak of the devil and he shall appear and all that.

"So, you've heard her thoughts," you say because you don't doubt he'll have heard everything already despite only showing up now. "Make yourself clear. Speak before you do something irreparable to each other."

With that, you usher both him and the doctor outside to speak properly. On the operating table, Stephanie Brown breathes, her chest falling and rising slowly and steadily. You end up falling asleep in the clinic.

In the aftermath, Stephanie Brown pauses vigilante activities to recover and Tim returns to being Robin. You and Jack Drake have an enlightening conversation about that but that's a story for another time. Oh, also, Stephanie Brown and Tim break up. It happens. At least it seems to be a mutual agreement.

Things enter equilibrium once again. You graduate high school, enrol in university part time, and immediately throw yourself full time into Drake Industries which has grown into a powerhouse you’re very proud of.

Stephanie Brown goes back to being Spoiler. Cassandra Cain goes out as Batgirl. Barbara Gordon is Oracle. Dick Grayson continues on as Nightwing. Tim is Robin and Bruce Wayne is Batman. Everything is steady for another little while.

However, the Joker is becoming a problem. You've observed enough of the happenings in Gotham to understand which things you can categorize as "threats" or "things that can be handled". The League of Assassins? Fine, handleable. Important for other things later on. The Court of Owls? Fine, you're working on purging some things that the others aren't aware of.

But the Joker? There are enough birdies in the Batfamily now that you're starting to worry.

So, what should you do?

You plot. You plan. Everyone is busy enough with cases (crime never stops in Gotham after all) that you're relatively undisturbed. It should be fine, you think. Harley had broken up with the Joker ages ago, you don't have qualms about killing, and you don't have to follow the "no killing" rule since you're not really part of the Batfamily. Besides, it's not like you're doing this as Robin.

A week later, you put your plans into action.

In truth, it's so easy you’re almost disappointed. All that planning just for tonight. You’re well aware of how swamped everyone will be with numerous rogues coming out to play. But the Joker will be preoccupied, hidden beneath the chaos he would normally thrive in.

Luring him out is simple. Killing him even more so. You like a little bit of poetic justice so a crowbar is the way to go.

The bats may not be able to kill the Joker for thematic reasons but you can.

The Joker laughs and laughs at nothing at all. He doesn’t know who you are. You think you almost crack a smile when you’re finished, his head bashed open and blood splattered against the floor. You wipe out the body, all the evidence and head back to the cafe to complete your alibi.

Midway through your fifth meeting of the night, you remember, “hey isn’t Jason Todd supposed to come back to life and get mad at Batman for not killing the Joker?”

You’ve encountered the League of Assassins in passing as “Robin”, made vague comments in Talia Al Ghul’s direction about “hidden parentage” and about how "the League is dangerous for children isn't it?" but you realize you’ve never really dug about Jason Todd. Well, um, it’s probably fine. You’re pretty sure you’re way too late to help him now with the whole revival thing anyways.

You go to bed at sunrise and rest with a weight lifted off your shoulders.

The very next day, Red Hood appears in Gotham City.

Talk about timing, huh? You're almost impressed.

Well, the good thing about all of this is that his appearance is enough to take attention off of the fact that no one's seen the Joker in a while. Relatively quickly, Red Hood takes over Crime Alley and starts messing around with the gangs and Black Mask. You end up hearing about the 8 heads in a duffle bag soon after.

As he "cleanses" Crime Alley and you work on providing help through Drake Industries to the residents undergoing this period of unrest, Gotham begins to shift uneasily. The Joker is gone, people whisper. He hasn't appeared for far too long.

Despite being stretched thin, the Bats still investigate. Mortal enemy privileges, you suppose, but you're well aware that they won't find anything.

Nightwing and Batman are the ones who conduct your "investigation", unsurprisingly. When they show up, you stop typing up company emails and sigh.

"Yeah, yeah, covering your bases, I know," you say before they begin. "Let's get on with it."

The meeting ends with "indeterminable". You may or may not have killed the Joker and while it's possible you could have, you also might not have. Schrodinger's killer if you will. You shrug and decide it's fine if they don't think you're totally innocent. Being around a family of detectives is just like that sometimes.

Soon after, Red Hood's movements sort of... halt for a bit. You think it might be because you wrecked all his plans by killing the Joker which oops, sorry, ruined his dramatic return and all that. He still clashes with the others and leaves hints dangling above their heads (you would know, you check the reports in the Batcave) but it's quite subdued.

Eventually, Bruce Wayne finds out Jason Todd's coffin is empty. Despite figuring out that Red Hood is Jason Todd, he doesn't tell anyone.

Because it's "dangerous" right now and "his safety is compromised", Tim gets grounded at Titans Tower. This is the first time your little brother has ever been grounded which is objectively, hilarious.

So, obviously, you "take a break" and go visit Titans Tower.

You're semi-suited up and masked (again, can't have two Robins here) to meet the Titans as kind-of yourself for the first time. They're, understandably, pretty shocked that you're meeting them not as Robin.

Anyways, since Tim is grounded and can't go out on patrol, he's stuck working on cases in the Tower. Looking over evidence, deciphering messages, etc, etc. He complains to you the entire time. Despite all this time, he's still the same as ever. Still your little brother. Still Tim.

Eventually when night falls, you usher him to bed with a promise to "take care of whatever is unfinished". Red Hood is coming tonight. You know he is.

In the dead of night, you wander and wait.

You arrive at the Hall of Fallen Titans. Jason Todd, in his Robin costume, stands before you.

The lights flicker.

"Jason," you tilt your head and let your footsteps echo. "You should come home."

Darkness descends.

Despite being a solid head shorter than him and nowhere near as built like a fridge as he is, you're absolutely certain that he won't attack. You're just "not-Robin" enough for him to pick up on the fact that something is wrong. You’re fairly certain he thinks you and Tim are the same person though.

Sure enough, when the brightness comes forth yet again, he has vanished.

You smile even as the alerts finally start going off.

The next day, Tim, who found out that Red Hood broke in while he was sleeping, gets kind of mad at you.

"What do you mean he was here?! Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I had it handled. Besides, it's just Jason."

"What? That's not the point!"

"It's fine," you insist. "Besides, you were so sleep deprived that it wouldn't make a different if you were awake or not."

Everyone knows it's Jason at this point in the aftermath by the way. It wasn't hard to piece together.

The Joker is officially declared "missing" but everyone knows that he's dead. You don't get accused of killing him again so you consider it a win. You do vaguely remember something in the comics about a whole separate confrontation with Red Hood, Batman and the Joker that didn't end well but um, you ruined those plans as well so you aren't really sure what's going to happen now.

Things vaguely simmer down afterwards. Red Hood is still active, of course, as well as the Bats and Birds but it's a smidgen more awkward, you think. You don't go out as Robin in this time but since everyone is still working overtime, you spend more time at the Wayne Manor then you normally would.

One morning, Jason Todd shows up at breakfast without a single word in advance.

Just waltzes through the front door and into the dining room where you’re seated, reading over a report from last night. He’s dressed like the exact same as usual just without the Red Hood mask. Seeing him up close now, he really only vaguely resembles the Robin you stalked in the past.

“Good morning,” you greet, just loud enough for Mr. Pennyworth to hear in the kitchen.

Jason remains silent for a few moments before responding. “… yeah. Good morning.”

As Mr. Pennyworth steps out, you slip away into the kitchen. You hear exclamations of joy and disbelief as you flip the eggs in the pan so they don't burn.

Tim shows up next, groggily wandering into the kitchen where you've prepared a cup of coffee. Once he's awake enough, he blinks at the scene in the living room. You watch with great interest as Tim drops his coffee mug that would have nearly shattered had you not caught it.

"That-? Jason Todd???"

"Yup." You nod and crack another egg into the pan. "Go out and say hi."

Dick Grayson walks in next and also freezes dramatically. You think he's started crying as he wraps his little brother in a hug. You nudge Tim out the kitchen as Bruce Wayne shows up. By the way, Cass and Steph are having a sleepover at Barbara's place so they aren't here.

Anyways, as that dramatic reunion is happening and you catch Jason Todd do a double take at Tim and you, you finish up the rest of breakfast and begin plating. And well, this is a good moment to remember so you snap a picture while you're at it.

*elden ring style title card*: family reunited

Whatever moral code issues they have can be dealt with later.

So, that was a whole thing. Hurrah for communication, you're very pleased that all that got resolved. Jason Todd isn't going to stop being Red Hood but they're worked something out that you don't care to be privy to. It's not perfect but it's something.

You have a couple of conversations when you cross paths. Apparently he remembered enough of you and Tim stalking him. You're kind of surprised. When the topic of Titans Tower comes up, you clarify that you were the Robin he saw there.

Apparently he did think something weird was going on back there. Good to know.

Things go badly again when Captain Boomerang breaks into the Drake manor the one night you're home. He and Jack Drake kill each other and you get injured in the scuffle. Dana Drake (the lady your father married at some point), suffers a mental breakdown and gets sent to a mental hospital in Bludhaven.

Yikes.

This is a really bad time. A really, really, bad time.

People filter in and out of your hospital room as you recover. You're like, mostly fine, you think. You'll be good after some bedrest. Anyways, you spend most of your time in the hospital planning for Jack Drake's funeral as Tim effectively bans you from doing work.

The funeral isn't really too different from Janet's. They were alright parents. Neither you or Tim are as broken up about their deaths as others think you should be. It's complicated.

However, this brings about the next issue. You and Tim are orphans now. Although you're an adult (barely), Tim is still a minor which means someone has to be listed as his legal guardian. He made up a fake uncle or something in the comics, right? But, since you exist, wouldn't you just be listed as his legal guardian now?

"Bruce offered to adopt me," Tim tells you one day as you're organizing the Drake manor.

"Oh, congrats?"

"I'm not sure if I want to be adopted though."

"You don't have to give him an answer right away." You shrug. "Think about it."

You do know that he does enjoy being at the Wayne manor for reasons other than vigilante business. He fits in well with the family and your mandated therapy for vigilantes and heroes has been good for everyone. You've been around enough to decide that Bruce would be a good enough dad.

"What about you?"

"Hm?" You blink. "What about me?"

"Are you going to let Bruce adopt you too?"

What.

"Why would he adopt me?"

Tim looks back at you in confusion. "Why wouldn't he adopt you?"

"I'm an adult?"

"Adults can still be adopted if there is a mutual agreement between parties."

"I'm not part of your vigilante party."

"I think he wishes we all weren't."

"I don't think they would all want me around?"

You were pretty sure the others thought of you as a weirdo who barged into their home to keep watch on Tim. You're mainly around because you're Tim's sibling and while they've bonded well with him, you're a whole different story.

Isn't it weird to also have someone who's just "Tim (little brother coded)'s sibling" also become their sibling?

Despite it though, Tim looks at you, aghast.

"Wait, we're getting off topic, this is about your adoption. No one's even offered to adopt me or anything-"

"No, we're continuing on this topic-"

It ends in a mild argument, really. Not seeing eye to eye and all that. Apparently though, the interactions between the two of you have frosted over enough that everyone starts commenting on it. Luckily (or unluckily depending on who you ask), the ice that formed gets broken by an unexpected variable.

Damian Al Ghul shows up at the doorstep of the Wayne manor.

You're the one who opens the door since everyone is preoccupied. Of course, you recognize him instantly. He really does resemble Talia and Bruce. Still, this is... a bit early isn't it? He's like, a literal child.

He greets you by your full name, hands over a stack of papers (which were DNA tests and a letter from Talia) and introduces himself.

"Okay," you sigh. "Come in. I'll call Bruce and he'll do his own DNA test just to be certain. Mr. Pennyworth can make you something to eat if you'd like."

Damian lifts his head dismissively. You can already tell he's going to be a brat but he's young enough that it's still cute. After calling Bruce who rushes back, doing DNA test and confirming that "yeah this is real", Damian is brought into the fold.

Man. The number of assassins and people trained by assassins in this household is rising yet again. You decide to firmly leave the matter of Damian to Bruce. His child, his problem. While he has a breakdown about this, you push him off to talk about it in therapy and start working with Alfred to get everything for Damian in order.

Damian doesn’t settle easily in the Wayne manor. He’s prickly, self centered and very proud of his parentage and training. You'd know. He's already gone on his spiel about "the blood son" and "becoming Robin" and all that.

Tim, who has temporarily stopped being mad at you because there's a new variable, is skittish.

"What if they give him Robin?" he confides in you.

"They won't," you say. "He isn't even allowed in the cave yet. Plus, the title is yours right now, if they do give it away, I'll deal with it."

"Family" dinner rolls around. Jason is here, surprisingly. Apparently he and Damian knew each other from the League. So naturally, Jason is his favourite sibling (or rather the only one he acknowledges).

You had planned to grab a plate and sneak off into your room to finish reading the quarterly budget reports but Alfred got a hold of you first so you’re stuck at the dinner table as Damian argues for why he should be allowed to become Robin.

“Damian,” you interrupt midway through the same argument you’ve heard several hundred times, “you haven’t even hit double digits yet. You’re far too young to be going out at Robin at the moment. Besides, you haven’t been properly trained as Robin nor are you aware of the rules. You’re unfamiliar with Gotham, patrol routes, the rogues and far more than you may imagine. There is more to being Batman’s partner than just whatever you’ve learned at the League. Although you may be ahead in terms of physical abilities, you lack the experience.”

You take a deep breath. “In addition, you have yet to balance the public attention that comes from being Bruce Wayne’s child. Your civilian life must be sorted out before any vigilante activities may occur."

You've been around Wayne Enterprises. His PR team is in a constant state of being on fire.

“Fine.” Damian scoffs but settles petulantly in his seat. "I suppose not all of you are incompetent. You are as well spoken as Mother described."

Talia Al Ghul? Talking about you? Can’t be anything good. You decide to ignore it and continue stuffing food into your mouth.

Damian gets enrolled in school. It’s going to be a little awful and he’ll hate it but it’s necessary. You make a goal to motivate him. If he gets good marks, he’ll be allowed into the Batcave. It’s an acceptable trade off.

Surprisingly, for normal issues regarding school, Damian starts going to Tim for advice. It's a good thing you think? They snipe at each other (very sibling coded) but there aren't any murder attempts yet.

Damian gets less prickly. He likes art. He likes animals. He'll reluctantly play along during Galas and let the old people try to pinch his cheeks and coo at him. It’s an improvement.

The topic of Tim’s potential adoption hasn’t come up again. When Jack Drake was in a coma, the two of you were technically placed under Bruce's care (or Alfred's rather) but everything right now is kind of still up in the air. Maybe if you ignore it long enough it won't exist.

The days churn on.

You check your calendar.

Meeting with Talia Al Ghul tomorrow at 3 PM.

At least she went through the Drake Industry protocols to book a meeting, you think optimistically. And at least it's not Ra's Al Ghul. It's been pretty quiet on that end actually, you would've been worried if Talia didn't show up soon.

You're still not sure why she booked a meeting with you and not Bruce though.

The meeting occurs in your office at the main Drake Industries building. There's a lot of small talk. A lot of skirting around topics. It's the same as every other time you've spoken to Talia. The two of you discuss Damian for a bit.

And then Tim breaks into your office. Actually, it's more like Tim and Damian and Bruce (all of whom are in civilian form) but you digress. Talia and Damian (and Bruce) exchange words (you've already said he seems to be doing well but this is probably better for them) before she decides it's time to go.

"You know how to book another meeting," you say as you wave her off. "I will let you know how it goes with Linda from accounting."

She nods in a suitably appreciative way that reminds you of your mother, "Of course."

You answer some questions about how many times this has happened before shooing everyone else out of your office so you can do work.

Later, at night, Damian approaches you.

"You were always her favourite of Father's other children."

"Favourite?" You look away from your laptop and fight the urge to grimace. Tim is Ra’s Al Ghul’s favourite so you aren’t really sure what being Talia’s favourite could mean. But most importantly… "What do you mean of Bruce's other children?

"Are you not Father's ward?"

"No? I've never been adopted by Bruce."

"Yet Grayson and the others refer to Drake as their brother."

"That's Tim. You don't see them calling me their sibling, do you?"

"Hm."

As he turns and walks away with a contemplative expression, you can't help but feel as though you had picked the wrong dialogue option.

The fic sort of set up like a 5+1 thing (five times Bruce is not your father and one time he is/five times the bats are not your family and one time they are).

Roughly, part one would start to the end of Dick Grayson as Robin. Part two is Jason up until Tim's first night as Robin. Part three is training to Stephanie's end as Robin. Part four is killing Joker to Jack Drake’s funeral. Five is post-funeral until the end.

And then of course, there's the plus 1. It's mostly set up as like an outsider POV, observing you from the perspective of others. Despite your narration indicating that you're "not that close" to the Batfamily since you aren't a full-time vigilante, that's not really true.

Your POV focuses a lot more on "plot events" and your work dealing with Drake Industries but there's a whole bunch of things outside of that where you're just hanging out. You go shopping with everyone, you bake cookies with Alfred, you teach Cass language, you take Tim to skateboarding competitions, you give everyone Christmas presents, you do so so much outside of what you consider “really important”.

Despite what you think, you’re a really good sibling actually and you have gotten close with everyone in the Batfamily. If only you could see it. Of course, it doesn’t really kick in how you think of yourself as an outsider until the whole adoption thing. Did all that time spent together not get through your head?

Some part of it might be the rough start when you and Tim first became involved. Your relationship with everyone is… complicated. More than complicated.

You spent hundreds of days and weeks bringing Bruce back from the brink after Jason’s death. You dealt with the brunt of the damage he caused in the time just to make things easier on everyone else. It’s not an exaggeration to say you remade Bruce, remade Batman, in the image you wanted. It’s a complicated dynamic. He concedes to you often, too often for the two of you to really hold a normal parent-child relationship in any sense.

His reflection on his interactions with you and Tim are also super complicated, especially since when Tim first got involved as Robin, Bruce was stewing in grief and really did not want the two of you to be around. He does appreciate you but winning your appreciation afterwards is difficult.

You've also spent a lot of time when you first met Dick to basically plaster in his face "even if you're mad at each other, Bruce still cares about you and you should come back to the manor sometimes". Although you encouraged Tim to hang out with Dick, you never really sought him out that often on your own. You always seem a little confused when he spends time with you, as though you're an obligation to him.

Jason's memories of you and Tim from before his death are spotty at best. He remembers vague feelings. Giving Tim a hug. 2 figures running along the shadows of rooftops. Hiding along the edge of the room at galas to avoid people and finding you and Tim there as well. It's enough that it's impacted his time at the League and his feelings after his dip in the Lazarus Pit.

Much of his anger was directed towards Batman more than it was towards the new Robin. Especially after recalling some of the bits and pieces of who the Drakes are. Talia's "favouritism" towards you may have helped a bit.

It's only really after he kind of rejoins the Batfam and you and Tim chat with him does everyone realize how far your stalking went in those early days. The two of you had alluded to following Batman and Robin around in the past but Jason really brings to light the amount the two of you knew before you and Tim actually got involved. It's a... conversation for sure.

You've spent much of your life basically raising Tim, you’re almost equally his parent as you are his sibling despite only being three years older than him. And well-

Across the multiverse, Tim finds that there are hundreds of thousands of constants.

You are not one of them.

He has met many alternate selves, enough that there are protocols for when it happens. There is always Batman. There are superheros. There is Tim Drake.

There is no (Y/n) Drake.

He has not come across a single universe where you exist. None except for his. It's a difficult truth to swallow.

In those glimpses of other worlds, he sees how different things could have been, how many things have fallen apart without you. How fundamental you are to everything.

But he knows you. He knows you better than anyone else so he isn't surprised when Damian says that you do not believe yourself to be part of the family.

The rest of the +1 segment is sort of your induction into the Batfamily for real and everyone making is very clear that they do view you as family (an effort spearheaded by Damian who snitched to everyone). You stop repressing a bit and admit to it eventually. The adoption topic comes up again where you're like "it's going to be a PR nightmare" and everyone's like "it's fine dw about that".

I think towards the end, both you and Tim decide that you're both okay with being Bruce's wards but don't want to really be adopted-adopted. Some stuff after that would probably be passing on the Robin mantle to Damian, Tim becoming Red Robin and maybe a Duke cameo towards the end as well.

Some additional notes:

There are some other dynamics with you and the other characters in the +1 section but uhh i haven't decided what kind of dynamic. There would be more slice of life stuff in +1 segment though.

Tim did not go to boarding school because Jack and Janet decided you could take care of him well enough. In addition, the Drakes moved to become neighbours with the Wayne early because baby you stared at the Wayne manor often.

Your relationship with Jack and Janet is complicated. Very complicated. You resent them a bit more than Tim might just due to the whole being parentified thing.

There's more gala shenanigans early fic w/ Dick and Jason before you and Tim get officially involved with the Batfamily. Like passing candy around, hiding from other rich people, etc.

Tim was Robin every single Halloween since Robin debuted. You helped him update the costume every time.

You go to Tim’s parent teacher interviews. It’s only a little awkward when the teacher in question was one of your previous teachers. No one goes to your parent teacher interviews.

Anyone who has had a crush on Tim or been in a relationship with him has gone through the very Bisexual experience of also having a crush on you. It's a rite of passage really.

You’ve accidentally Pavlov-ed Bruce. Kind of. He tends to straighten whenever he hears your voice. It's a remnant of when you were essentially nagging him all day while Tim was training to be Robin. You haven’t noticed but everyone else has.

Actually, everyone has an automatic response to when you scold them. It's kind of the same as when Alfred scolds them.

You are Tim's favourite sibling. No competition.

You might also be Cass's favourite. She was very sad to find out you didn't consider yourself family.

Tim figured out you killed the Joker at some point and you know that he knows. He hasn't told anyone and covered up any remaining evidence that helped him piece it together.

You've spoken with Jason about if he wants to legally come back to life and enroll in university. He does come back to life legally eventually but hasn't enrolled in anything yet.

Everything about the Joker is still kind of up in the air but you admit to Jason that you killed him at some point.

It is well known that there's normal Robin 3 and scary Robin 3 (you). There's a bunch of theories about why Robin 3 is scary sometimes but most chalk it up to occasional mental breaks from dealing with Batman during that specific time period where Batman was terrible.

Although Tim is probably the best detective in the family, everyone knows that you "just know things" sometimes. They've come to just not question it when you say certain things must be done.

There's a bunch of background company plot stuff while you're working on Drake Industries. Like beefing with Lex Luthor and other billionaires, running your charity events, trying to fill out the spaces where Wayne Enterprises hasn't been focusing on and so on.

Even after Jack Drake awakens from his coma, Drake Industries is still really your company. He doesn't involve himself with it.

the main Gotham job prospects aren't great. It's either working for a company run by a teenage CEO, a company run by a billionaire playboy or becoming a henchman.

You get kidnapped often enough that you've gotten to know the goons and henchmen. You've also convinced them to unionize.

Again, despite your whole thing about "not really being that close with the batfam", there are traces of you everywhere. The medbay organization system? Yours. The fact that everyone in the Justice League is mandated to go to therapy? Your work. A good chunk of the emergency codes? Also yours.

You and Alfred have an ongoing back and forth of: "Mr. Pennyworth", "Just Alfred, Master (Y/n)", "Please, just (Y/n)"

You have your own room in the Wayne manor. So does Steph.

You lowkey micromanaged everything in the early days of Tim becoming Robin. If anyone were to ask you, you'd say it was a necessity. You still kind of micromanage everyone's schedule to make sure they all get a sufficient amount of sleep.

The rogues who are aware of the whole Bruce Wayne is Batman thing break into your office at Drake Industries pretty often. You'll get them all to book their meetings officially eventually.

When you go out as Robin, you try to swing around Crime Alley since it's what Jason used to do.

The Justice League does eventually become aware of the fact that you and Tim are indeed different people posing as the same Robin. Superman and Wonder Woman were already aware prior to it being officially revealed.

You respect Alfred a lot but you also think he lets Bruce get away with a lot and that he isn't harsh enough sometimes.

The majority of the time, you're on comms with Barbara while the others are on patrol. When you're busy with other things, you work on it in the Batcave in case an emergency pops up.

Damian goes to you for help about what to do at galas and such events since you've been at that game the longest out of all the batkids.

You don't know much about what happens when the others meet alternate universe selves. Everyone tends to stay quiet about it. You always think "surely it's not that bad is it?".

Spin off idea: 5 times other people thought you were Tim and one time people thought Tim was you. Featuring: Teen Titans, the Justice League, Jason Todd, Batman, the rogue gallery and the various employees of Drake Industries and Wayne Enterprises.

A couple of au ideas: 1. you get sick and Tim calls the Waynes. Early adoption stuff; 2. you catch Jason digging out of his grave and is like “shit okay guess I’m doing this now”; 3. You become an intern at Wayne Enterprises a bit before Jason dies. You get stuck there even after your internship is after.

So, yeah. Isekai with incomplete knowledge. Family Drama. Unreliable narrators. That's the fic concept I'm probably never going to write.

#family dissonance au #<- calling it that for now #mumblings #from me #thinking about concepts #batman #batfam #dc #dcu #dc x reader #batfam x reader #dcu x reader #platonic #tim drake #batfamily #bat family x reader #reader insert #written in second person #my writing

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lycheeloving · 8 months ago

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thinking about the yandere!batfam choosing outfits for you to wear... usually you'll get to decide what you want to wear yourself (out of the clothes that are available to you, a pretty big selection to keep you happy), but sometimes they'll do little favors for you in exchange for you wearing what they want you to wear, like some kind of doll.

Maybe Tim will let you watch a movie that Bruce has deemed "inappropriate", but you'll have to wear a frilly dress that you normally wouldn't touch with a 10 foot pole, because he thinks you'd be "so adorable" in it!

Sometimes Dick will go outside with you for a short time (in a very secluded spot and you have to hold his hand the entire time, maybe even be tied to him), but in exchange he makes you wear his Nightwing hoodie. He loves seeing you in his clothes, and if it's his own merch as well he's just about ready to die from cuteness aggression.

It's about evenly split if you'll have to wear something cute and expensive, or merch and/or clothes belonging to whoever is choosing for you. Bruce probably won't participate in this because "he won't compromise on his rules", but he might bribe someone else to do you a favor he usually disagrees with and in exchange ask you to wear the cute dress he bought for you that you refuse to wear. Hypocrite.

#but just thinking about the clothes that'd be available to you is so nice...#the most expensive and fashionable clothes... anything you want you can have... fuck yeah #lycheewritings #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere #reader insert #x reader #yandere!batfamily #yandere!batfam #batfamily x reader

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sheep-from-rad · 29 days ago

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Imagines: Batman x Social Media handler! reader Note: I'm making a series soon I'm just making sure the plot is right.

Being the Batfam’s public and private social media handler is the weirdest job that you’ve ever handled in your life. You were a vigilante forced to stop being one after dealing with life-threatening injuries and now you’re handling half of Barbara’s job. Honestly you don’t have complaints. The pay is good, the benefits are good, the bonuses are top tier, and Alfred makes snacks whenever you’re in the mansion for work.

Monday at 3:00 a.m., you’re at the Batcave next to Tim who is nursing his third cup of coffee. He’s reading cases and cross examining evidence while you’re on your own computer watching thirst edits and making sure none of the angles are too close to their faces that can compromise their identities. From time to time Tim would peek on your computer to make a weird face or just straight up comment about he’s not caffeinated enough to watch 30 more minutes of Robin edits. You both agree that Dick deliberately poses after every landing or every after fight for the edits. Also Nightwing’s butt has its own hashtag.

Tuesday you’re sitting with the Batkids at the Wayne manor common room as you read aloud the thirst posts and DMs their accounts had received, it had become a little tradition. Damian thinks it’s repulsive but he stayed to watch the horror filled expressions. To his own horror however, he learnt that the ones who received the most thirst posts and DMs are Jason and Bruce. Apparently a lot of people like Red Hood’s ruggedness and no nonsense approach and a lot of people are attracted to masked men.

Wednesday you’re in the cave with Stephanie and Duke with the weekly meme watching compilation (the purpose is to make sure that they don’t accidentally say something in public that can be hinting their identities. If they did, you’ll have to send the vid to Barbara to have it scrubbed off the internet) . It has also become a tradition that Alfred now makes a lot of popcorn whenever Wednesday rolls. Scrolling on the Gotham video media, when you search the terms ‘Batman’, ‘Robin’, or anything hero related, you will first be greeted by the headlines or recent news. Scrolling on next pages, you’ll be greeted by meme compilations. Stephanie really likes the ‘Batman being a tired dad: A compilation’. It currently has around 100+ videos on it. Duke finds it really fun to watch ‘Red Hood and Robin bickers while Signal patrols in the background for 30 minutes’.

Thursday is relatively slower than other days. You sat at your normal desk job at Wayne Enterprise as the social media manager. Luke Fox would sometimes pass by your desk to pass some secret documents to be sent to the cave but most of the time you just spent your hours sitting in front of the computer while listening to the ‘10 hours of Gotham rain occasionally broken by Nightwing slipping on my house’s roof’. At lunch break, Dick would swing by to get the names of the crazy fans from the DMs to make sure they don’t do anything crazy (ps he’s always annoyed because his request from Barbara to have that 10 hour asmr video removed is always denied).

Friday you’re sitting on the Wayne gardens munching on the snacks Alfred made while Cassandra sits next to you. Tomorrow’s your day off and now you’re just making a weekly report. Cassandra poked you as the Wayne men came barreling out of the backdoor for the weekly competition of who gathered the most edits/fanfics/fanarts this week. To their surprise, this time there were no competitions. They were instead greeted by Bruce who lectured them about fighting while on patrol (also Stephanie won this week)

masterlist

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elizzsush · 5 months ago

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“Fuck you Comic Con nerds!” | DC - Batman WIP

Batfam X Isekaied Reader

— in which you, a DC fan gets isekaied into and gets saved by boy wonder. Only to get mad at him and B… it’s only after you calm down (still mad at them) you piece together what actually happened… but should you tell them?

AU: Soulmate (?), isekai Rating: Sfw

Note: You and Damien are the same age and shit. I don’t really remember how old he is but for the sake of fanfiction let’s age him up to 18 (or down I looked it up and it said he was 37? I have no idea where that info was from comic are confusing)

Warning: Y/N swears a lot and makes a like one sexual joke? _________________________________

One minute you were in the greatest, most magical place in the world: Six flags. And the next you were in the sewer. To say you were pissed and totally confused was an understatement. Those funnel cakes by the entrance were calling your name- you were gonna get one before you left! Now instead of that sweet cake smell it was replaced with the smell of shit and piss and whatever else lived in the sewer.

Sixflags was suppose to be relaxing- doctors orders. You just needed to relax and distract from-

You were in the sewers. You dreaded to think about what you may have stepped in while on your quest to find a manhole cover.

So yes, you looked like an idiot in a Superman cape carrying a Wayne enterprises mug wondering around the sewers. The mug was half off and made you feel like you existed in the world of DC instead of the regular merchandise… and the cape was because who doesn’t get a cape when they go to six flags? Or at least bring the cape they already bought with them. Looking back, you blamed the mug. Anyway, you were wandering around this horrible sewer with water greener then green. It seriously looked toxic… when you heard this horrible roar…

You glanced back from where you came- looking towards the sound, when you heard it again. So, like any sane person. You broke out into a sprint.

Bad ideas, because it heard you and was coming closer now.

You seriously doubted you would be able to outrun this thing for long. It was getting closer and rapidly. But, thankfully, luck was on your side- because you saw a manhole cover!

Climbing the ladder you pushed the thing open-

Only to almost get ran over by a fucking car! “Watch it!” You cursed at the speeding car, a certain finger proudly in the air as you climb out. Momentarily forgetting about the creature that was chasing you. Remember that you slammed the man hole cover shut in a hurry.

But, did you think you could compete with some monster when it comes to the battle of strength? Yeah, didn’t think so either. It blasted the manhole cover off of its neat little spot and you hurry back and away from the road. “What the- oh my god.” You breath in relief when the thing was too big to actually climb out of the sewers. “Killer croc… okay… I’m losing it… whatever it is…” you try and breath out to collect yourself but you were interrupted by the sound of a very angry lizard man… thing. Crocodile? “Okay fuck off!” You shouted angrily at the villain and rip your cap off. “Abusive aunts or some shit is hard but by god your annoying!” You huff and run away because that just made him more angry and you didn’t want to stick around for that.

You did run away while waving two fingers at him, each from the middle of two of your hands but that was neither here nor there. You just needed to walk away and clear your head-

And…

You bumped into someone on your little escape. A chest of a fucking cosplayer. “My day couldn’t be going worse- oh my god, Fuck you Comic Con nerds!” You swore at the boy in black, red and green. “Six flags was suppose to be fucking relaxing!” You swore at him and turned away to go the opposite way only to bare witness to the snarls of a certain croc

“get back here!” He made the fucking ground shake.

“Fuck you and your shitty Damien cosplay, I am out of here.” You turn and ran from him only he to met with the silhouette of a bat… man, it was fucking Batman. “Oh I wonder who it is? Bruce Wayne, no fucking duh, Go fight the idiot on acid and leave me out of it.” You hissed because you were cornered. You tend to lash out when your cornered. He approached you quieter now. “…Oh um, I’ll take the crocodile, thanks.” You spoke as you backed up only for him to make the ground shake harder-

“Fine! Boy wonder then god damn. At least he’s hot!”

“How do You know our names?” Boy wonder piped up. He was suddenly standing beside you.

“Are You dense or really into role play?” You hissed at them. “I don’t know what kind of budget your little prank crew is working with but screw off!” Just then the crocadile managed to ruin the ground around him and break free- resulting in Batman and Robin to fight him and you-

The sane one to run away, “I’m so suing six flags for this- didn’t sign up for their fucking role-play shit.”

—————————————

Okay, so after adjusting. You were no longer in six flags- nor some rich nerds cosplay special effects whatever. Hell you didn’t even somehow end up on a movie set shooting for the next Batman. “Gotham more like god dammit, right?” You joked to yourself, and the old women next to you. She just looked at you weirded out and oddly disappointed before shaking her head. “Okay, Fuck me then.”

So, yeah, you were feeling a lot of emotions. Hey, you can adjust to this! Because no way in hell was getting back to your world worth being involved in whatever episode or comic plot this whole thing was. Yeah no, fuck that. You made a checklist.

1. Get out of Gotham (metropolis was lovely, Superman was cool-)

2. Get enough money to fuck off to some corner of the world no one knew about.

And finally 3. Live peacefully knowing you’ll never get that funnel cake.

The only problem? You didn’t have any money, food, shelter, phone, money again, or anything besides the clothes on your back. And you were craving funnel cake. Yes, you were poor in Gotham. That was basically a death sentence.

At least you had a mug. A stupid, useless mug. Hey, at least you can beg for change with it! “I should rob people.” You mutter to yourself because, that seemed like a good easy way to get money- the old women next to you however eyed you warily and moved her purse. “Not you, we’re cool Margaret.” You sent her a wave and a wink and got up. This plan would work.

It was this or sell the Justice leagues names to villains. Which- hey that could make cash and make you dead!

—————————————

Despite what people will tell you, stealing is fun.

Who would have guessed- your a natural pick pocket! If pick pocketing was running past women and tugging their bags away. “My bag! My purse!” Okay, maybe you had a bit of a sick sense of humor but you were desperate! And you made 132 dollars and 25 cents. Had it been two days? Yes, had you been pepper sprayed twice? Yes again, but you avoided it!

The only regret you had? Why hadn’t it been marvel? Marvel just seemed easier to live in. Yes the world did end but it bounced back! You sighed and threw a penny in the air. You were honestly tired. Two days was a long time to go without a bed. You couldn’t get a job either, you tired and needed so much to prove you were a serial killer or a thief- which included a birth certificate you didn’t have and so much more. Background checks would be the death of you. Even at that small cafe you met Margret? Yeah it was Margret. “Well we’ll well, if it isn’t Gotham’s newest petty criminal.”

You dropped your penny. Leaving you with 24 cents.

It was Jason fucking Todd.

“If I die, at least make it by those thighs.” You said solemnly, accepting your death. “I mean seriously, you squat or something?” You did a wolf whistle and now you were being detained. Okay, you tried.

You never claimed to be better then a man. And if you did you lied.

“I got her B.”

“Banananannaan Batman! Da Na!” You sang as Batman’s Batmobile pulled into the bat cave. The same one you had been dragged too. “He’s the crime fighting vigilantes who works alone! Besides Robin, Nightwing, Gordon, the Justice League, batgirl, Red Robin, red hood, Oracle, Barbra, um… I know theirs more help me out jay bird?” You sang as he excited the car. “He refuses to kill the joker who’s a mass murder ands death would save thousands! It’s Batman! The hero man! Danananana!”

“How do You know?” Batman asked as he walked towards you.

“The Song? Oh I improvised. Hard to find rhymes for Batman, hero man is pretty good though, huh?” He fucking punched you! “Fuck! What the hell dude? Wait are you the angry Batman who’s quieter or the nice Batman- god it’s so hard to know which one I ended up with.”

“This is serious.” Dick Said as he grabbed Batman hand and pulled him away from you.

“Heard of coping? penis?” You rolled your eyes, “this is kinda how I do it.”

“You sold our information, or Superman’s information too a villain. Tell us why and how you knew it and we’ll let you go.” He continued, “our friend is in serious danger now because of you.” He gritted his teeth looking upset.

You just rolled your eyes and licked your now bloody teeth. “Would have sold your guys information for a lot more then I got on me. Living large with eight dogs- maybe cats? Don’t know how I feel about animals actually. Which do you prefer dogs or cats?”

“We need to know how many villains you sold us out too.” Dick said calmly, his face getting closer to your own. “Now.”

You smile and lean closer to him. “You free after this?” He backed away with a frustrated look and Batman put his hand on Dick shoulder. “Oh B is tapping in now- great!”

“Your the only person who knows who we are.” Another voice said you looked behind you and saw Damien.

“That you don’t trust. Maybe check your inner circles before punching a poor thief! God… you’d think the world greatest detective would fact check- oh wait isn’t the greatest a chimp or something? I’ve always loved monkeys- oh maybe I’d get a monkey for my pent house.”

“You have no family, no friends, no birth certificate- before last week you didn’t exist. There are no records of you being born or traveling to Gotham. Who exactly are you?” Batman leaned close to you.

You stayed silent, thinking of your options. "I was with a traveling circus..." You began, "Then one day someone rigged the equipment for my parent's routine and then batman adopted me, and that was how I began robin..." You spoke solemnly, you noticed how a certain blue suited bird man tensed up. "Aw, don't tell me we have the same backstory!" You accused the Nighwing, "well one of us is going to have to change it and I hate to tell you, but I make it work."

"She knows more about us than our names... or at least more about Nighwing." You heard a robin mutter, the red one.

"Okay being red was his thing” you look at red hood, “and you took it, so you have no place to talk about me and penis's copycat situation- Even though I totally did it first and he should change it." You nudged your head towards Red Hood, "Kinda like how you took his role as Robin, but you know what Ima stay away from that can of worms haha." You laughed awkwardly as Jason stood up from behind you and walked towards you menacingly.

"This is a Major Turn Off for me you know? The costumes just don’t do it- maybe if you strip-“ and your mouth was tapped shut.

_____________________________________NOTE: Y/N is supposed to be Deadpool coded because I was watching Deadpool and laughing my ass off earlier.

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shortnsweetsposts · 12 days ago

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Jason: Cooking together is NOT romantic, MOVE the fuck out of my way.

Reader: I'm tempted to stand in your way while you cook now.

Jason: I'll boil you next.

Reader: When he's a cannibal 😍🥰💖

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kimjun · 8 months ago

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Damian: crushes are the worst

y/n: right? i tend to act stupid around mine

Jason: you always act stupid

y/n: yeah, don't think too hard about that

#reader insert #x reader #incorrect quotes #jason todd x reader #dc x y/n #dcu #damian wayne #damian x reader #batfam x reader #incorrect batfamily quotes #batfamily #dc batman #dc x reader #jason todd is red hood #jason x reader #damian wayne x reader

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scrumdidiliyumyum · 26 days ago

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Something special ||

Prologue - > Part 1 - > Part 2

Yan! Batfam x Neglected! Reader

hope you guys enjoy!!

"Make sure to not miss any notes okay?"

You looked up at your mom despite the sunlight shining in your eyes as she smiled at you, "okay!" You trained your focus back to the piano she had guided you to, one that had collected dust in every nook and cranny, tucked into the corner of your home.

Your mom took her place behind you before resting her hands over yours. You felt her slowly guide your hands to each note, missing a few here and there piecing together a sloppily made song, one that you could barely hear over the giggles you couldnt help but let out.

Be-

You giggled more when she spend up the song, guiding your hands back and forth.

-ep

"See," your mama started, "you're getting it! I knew you would my smart little girl." She said from above you. You looked up, expecting to see her smiling brightly down at you, but-

You felt nothing but horror seeing nothing but a scratched out face.

Beep!

You shot up from your bed, sweating intensely and heart thumping wildly in your chest. Your breathing was erratic for a few minutes before you could bring it back to a normal pace. When you finally managed to calm down, you let out a sigh,

"Another nightmare." You've already had a few nightmares here and there, but recently they've become a bit too intense recently. It's not anything generically scary, but it's precious memories

Precious memories where you can never seem to remember your moms face.

It started off small, little details, a misplaced freckle here and there, before suddenly noticable things like wrong eye color. Was it really the wrong color or did you just forget?

You didn't wanna have to get up and deal with another long day, one full of advanced classes and a tad bit too many extracurriculars. As much as you hated to admit it, the overloaded work schedule was starting to take its toll on you, and you weren't too sure how to handle it.

Maybe you could rest, let yourself sleep in for the first time in what seemed like forever, even though you had some things to catch up on, maybe you could grant yourself this little mercy.

You looked up at the huge wall you passed by everytime you went to your room, littered with pictures of all the family's adventures. Dicks big flips through the air, like a bird soaring freely, Damiens standing strong showing the confidence he holds in himself, Duke smiling brightly with Tim and Stephanie. A place you so longingly wished to be placed upon.

you paused in your thoughts about deserting everything, before finally deciding to finally get up out of bed. you forced yourself to head to the bathroom and get a headstart on your day.

—

God it was too early for this

Because you tried your best to get an earlier headstart to your day, you had taken it upon yourself to drive every day to school as to not give Alfred more work, and not have to share the car with Damien, who loved nothing more than to poke, prod and criticize everything you did.

You had wanted to get to school early to get ahead on the schoolwork you had that was starting to slowly build up, along with some club work you had been given as of recently. Being in so many things and working as tirelessly as you did, it amazed people. Teachers, students, advisors.

It really was amazing to see the eyes full of admiration, something you had been longing for for years, but sometimes all you wished was to quit everything and actually hang out with your friends for once, to go to sleep without the countless responsibilities plaguing your mind.

You sighed as you pulled into the school parking lot, parking the car in front of the school and sat for a minute to mentally prepare yourself for the day ahead of you. Finally you checked your bag that was sitting in the passenger seat and fixed your uniform before getting up and out of the car.

Time for another day.

—

Even though it was tiring, studying in the early mornings at the library with the sun shining through the stained glass pane windows, sprinting to every class, ones full of hours and hours of homework, most advanced to give yourself an advantage, and trudge towards clubs at the end of every day, you made it work.

You kept everything on a tight schedule, having to keep everything on a time restraint to be able to manage everything without feeling like you were going insane. And you did, but you kept pushing as hard as you could.

But you tried to not make it seem as such, mainly for one reason.

Ms. Honey.

She was always worried about you, a lady with a heart of gold that could see the tiredness that seeped through your eyes and consumed every single part of your body. A tiredness that made it seem as if your body would suddenly one day just entirely give up on you.

She was someone who made sure that you were getting enough rest, food, and weren't overworking yourself as much as you always did.

Of course you knew that no one really cared in the end. Other than the friends you kept in your close nit circle, you knew that no one would really pay any mind of course.

But you knew Ms. Honey, and you knew that if she felt the need to, she would tell your father about all the late night studying you did, all the tears and confessions you let out to her when things felt too real, or the way your eyes would fight to stay open when you had her class, something she always noticed despite her attempts to pretend she didnt.

You didn't want him to find out, not because he would care, but because you knew he would be upset. He'd be upset that you made him seem like someone that couldn't even care for his own child, someone that was the complete opposite of his public image, and you didn't want to give then another reason to dislike you, not when you were trying so hard to do otherwise.

So you put on fake smiles, grinned so hard that it almost brought you to tears everytime. Not only for her, but eventually even your friends. Everything felt like a hassle, and that alone forced you to put on a facade to the world, one that felt heavier and heavier every day that went on.

But you tried.

You really did.

—

You strolled by the students that were ending the opposite way from you towards the door, along with the other students that had club activities. This was the one time of day that was relatively peaceful for you before it was overtaken with even more responsibilities for you to bear.

You peaked into one particular clubroom, after hearing your name being called. Your newspaper club, a club that you shared with a few of your friends, and always in a way gave you a sense of comfort. Looking in, you saw the one and only Miss Honey. You gave her a relaxed smile once she took notice of you and entered once she ushered you in with her hand.

Her eyes took on a softness once she looked at you, "Y/N, it's a pleasure to see you as always, how was your day?" You paused to think, "it was okay, y'know, the usual." She winced a little at that before returning her smile from before, albeit a little strained. "Ah, I see. Well I just wanted to check in with you, you can stay here and relax or you can go on to your next club, but nonetheless, thank you for stopping bye."

You gave her a smile before slowly retreating out of the classroom, "I'll see you around Miss Honey?" She brought her attention away from her work, and back to you, giving you a more genuine smile. "Of course, I'll see you soon."

You took that as an end to the conversation and left to your next club, letting the smile drop from your face. After you left, Miss Honey couldn't help but do the same and let her feelings come forth and settle in on her face. It truly did break her heart how sad you always seemed to be.

"I know, it must be pretty confusing for me to ask you to see me," Miss Honey stated as calmly as she could, "but I'm worried about your sister. She's been overworking herself and I know, I know she says that she's fine but, I know her and I can tell she isnt." Miss Honey paused, it seemed as though she had more to say but instead let the words die in the back of her throat while waiting for his response.

Damien let out an irritated sigh, "and why is this my problem?" Miss Honey was a bit taken back for a moment. Were they really family? After she regained her composure she responded, "well, she's your sister, is she not? I can't see why it wouldn't be." She let out a little laugh to lighten the tension but quickly regretted it seeing the cold-blooded stare she got in return.

She knew this was a bad idea, she really did, but she was just so worried. She could see it despite how much you tried to hide it. A friend of yours even let it slip how much you had been working as of recently. She brought her attention back to Damien as he cleared his throat.

"I'll... check in. But only because it was brought to my attention, so don't try and bother me with the nonsense again, alright?" She swallowed harshly before nodding her head, standing up and thanking him profusely. "Thank you, thank you really. I really do appreciate this."

Damien quickly gathered his belongings before heading back to his homeroom, to grab his stuff and go home. He honestly couldn't care less for whether or not you were okay, in fact if anything it was a good thing, finally putting good use to the last name you were given. Though he tried to ignore the small pull in his heart whenever he saw the tired eyes you shifted his way.

He couldn't let something as small as this continue, even though it was just a teachers worries, it could become something bigger, something worse, a stain on fathers carefully created reputation. And as his son, it was his job to put a pin in this.

You walked through the halls that seemed to grow longer every day. You needed to get back to your room and work on your club work. Newspaper class needed an essay on the new rules that the dean had passed along with student polls. Your photography club needed the, 'your life' collage by Friday, and you didn't even want to get started on debate.

You needed to work on homework as well, but you couldn't bring yourself to at the moment. Your brain felt like mush and you knew you didn't have the brains required at the moment to do the advanced formulas for math class, or the willpower to research more for your science fair project. You just couldn't

But you had to because-

Why did you have to?

Why did you have to work yourself to the bone everyday, to just come home to an empty manor, a place you didn't even feel comfortable enough to call a home? The people here would never read through the essays you spend hours creating, or go to your debate matches and listen to the arguments you piece together with ease.

So why did you work so hard? For a pat on the back that would never come for you, for another harsh criticism from your so called brother? could you even call someone like that your brother? Do siblings kill eachothers spirit with every word they spit at one another's way?

"H-"

You wanted to go back. To go back to that bright apartment- home. To the place that you used to do so many things with your mama in. God you missed her. Why did you have to have her, the one person who loved you, liked you taken away?

"He-"

How much more would you have to suffer before you could finally be able to live without the burdens weighing upon your mind 24/7?

"Hey Y/N!"

You jumped out of your trance before snapping your head over to Duke, who was looking at you with concerned eyes and an unsure smile. He paused to think of what to say now that he got your attention, "you doing okay?"

"..Yes?" You winced internally at how unconvinced that came out, you could see on his face that he clearly didnt believe you. "Are you sure? Damien mentioned your...dilemma."

You let out a sigh, you honestly just wanted to go to your room, "yes, I promise I'm fine- wait I'm sorry what?" Your dilemma? What dilemma? You could feel yourself starting to freak out, mainly because that was a pretty big area to cover. It could've been one of your clubs, classes, teachers-

You felt your heart drop as that last category came to mind. Had Miss Honey said something to him? You tried to think back to times where you messed up in front of her. Did she notice despite the smiles you put on for her? And if Damien told Duke already, how many other people had he told?

Dukes concerned face came back into focus, his mouth was moving but you couldn't hear a single word that was coming out of it. You felt absolutely sick. Your breathing had sped up against your will, and you were starting to see black spots in your vision.

Before you could help it, your legs buckled out from underneath you, and before you knew it all you could register was the pounding in your head and the vision of Dukes arms shooting to grab you before your head smacked against the floor.

It was really sunny that day, to the point that you felt like you were going to melt into a puddle. You honestly didn't pay it too much mind, mainly because you were much more focused on something else.

You giggled as your mom wrapped her arms around your waist and lifted you in the air from the small mattress you two shared, swinging you around while tickling you. You had replayed this in your mind more times than you could count, considering this was the day your mom passed.

You remember how happy you had been at first, despite the fact that it was just any other day. Getting up to your mom nudging you awake, having her whisk you off to the bathroom to get you all set for the big day ahead of you, making you breakfast full of as many nutrients as she could possibly pack into it, always trying to incorporate a smiley face into her finished work.

It was so simple, but so special.

It played like a broken loop in the late nights where you felt so utterly alone, nothing able to distract you. From the memories, the emptiness you felt when you saw your mom hunched over and eventually lying cold on the kitchen floor with smoke coming from the frying pan. The sadness you felt being dragged away from the home you two shared and made your own. The anger you felt whenever you failed to remember her voice.

You loved your mom, and even the memories that came with her, but this, this one specific memory hurt the most. It hurt because you never could do anything to change it. You couldn't when you were pulling on your dead moms arms to get up, and you couldn't when the memory played in your head while you tried to sleep.

You wished you could turn away- no, run away from this memory and bury it in the deep depths of your mind-

"You know mama always loves you right?"

You paused in what you were doing and turned towards her, confused on why she had stated the obvious. "Yeah I do! And I love you more than I love dessert!" You said with a proud grin. Your mom just turn her head towards you before bursting out in laughter, pure and filled with joy.

Her tone took a somber tone as she then said, "I won't always be here y'know. I know you don't understand what I mean now, but, just know that mama loves you no matter what, where, or who you are, okay?" You stared at her for a second before you smiled at her,

"Okay!"

You slowly opened your eyes, flinching from the sunlight seeping through the window into your eyes. You tried shifting your stiff muscles and rolling them around a bit before fully sitting up. You looked around the unfamiliar bed you were in, along with the unfamiliar room. The room you were in was obviously in the Wayne manor from the luxorious architecture, but if it wasn't yours, then where were you?

"Finally awake I see."

You jumped at the sudden voice, snapping your head towards it. You felt your heart drop as you finally realized who's room it was.

Damien.

He stared at you from a chair on the side of the bed, legs crossed. He didn't say anything further, and just stared at you. It was unsettling, not because it was cold like it usually was, that you were used to, but this was just staring, like he was simply observing you.

And you hated it.

You shifting around uncomfortably before saying, "what happened?" You winced at the scoff he let out as he sat more upright, "you passed out, that's what." You just faintly recalled what he was talking about, just barely. Had you really? You swore that you got just enough sleep to be okay.

"Get some more sleep tonight, or else." You looked back towards him surprised. As if reading your mind he continued, "I really couldnt care less, but I don't need you doing that at school that's all." He was starting to leave before shifting back towards you, "also, get it together and leave as soon as possible."

And with that he left you alone in his room.

—

You were finally back in your own room, away from any prying eyes and finally able to do your work. You needed to go over ypur club activities, maybe do some homework, and finally get dinner. When was the last time you had eaten.

You looked over at your phone after hearing the notification, picking it up and checking who had texted you. It read,

Aryannn 💓

> Hey Y/N, do you wanna go to dinner with me and cody?? Ik, your soooo busy these days but pleasee? 😞🙏

you relaxed seeing who it was and let out a little chuckle. You missed hanging out outside of school with them, but you had work to do, and unfortunately it was due soon which meant you needed to get a jump on it.

"Just know that mama loves you no matter what, where, or who you are, okay?"

You paused and decided to do something different than your usual.

Sorry Aryan not ton|

Sorry Aryan no|

So|

Ofc!! I'll see you two soon, usual spot?|

you didn't need to see her response as you jumped out of your desk chair with a big smile on your face, maybe for once you could let loose and have fun, let yourself not be overtaken by the piles and piles of work you have to complete.

Breathing felt easier for some reason.

—

You walked down the long staircase skipping a few steps here and there with a pep in your step. You were excited to finally be able to see those two after- how long had it been? Well, if you couldn't even remember then it had for sure been too long.

You skipped down the stairs and right as you reached the end and started to make your way towards the front doors, you noticed a blur of red to your right. You did a double take before noticing Barbara, who was seemingly just standing there by the bottom of the stairs banister.

She looked at you and smiled, which wasn't out of the usual. You assumed it would end there like it typically did, but surprise surprise when she actually waltzed over towards you and blocked your path to the door.

She smiled at you and said in a soothing voice, "hey Y/N, doing okay?" That made you cautious. Why did she suddenly care if you were okay or not? Unless-

"Did Damien say something about me? Because if so I promise I'm fine." You blurted out to her. There's no other reason why she would suddenly care about you, or atleast not any that came to mind.

Her eyes widened an inch when you said that, before letting out a sigh and rubbing her forehead. "Straight to the point I see." She said plainly, "look I know you probably think your fine, but could you please go lay down? It's dangerous, and if you pass out, in Gotham of all places, you could get seriously hurt. Please?"

You hesitated for a moment before deciding, "I'm fine, alright? I'll just be out for a little, I'll be careful." She reached out for you as you passed by her before letting her arm fall back to her side as she let out another sigh.

As she watched you walk out through the doors and saw your figure fade into the distance before the doors shut, she pulled out her phone and dialed someone.

—

You strolled down the street arm in arm with Aryan, with Ethan looking in the shops by your side half listening in, half in his own world. You felt so relaxed, being here with them talking about school antidotes, teachers that were irritating as of recently, just catching up with eachother.

Despite the fact that you were originally supposed to get dinner with these two, you guys had been going from shop to shop looking as many things possible. Clothing, antiques, video games, comics, books, technology, home furniture, you name it. The one thing you loved about being with them was no matter what or where you were, you would always be laughing to the point of pain.

You felt so happy with them.

As you guys finally walked up to the restaurant, Aryan pulled Ethan to the front and started to push him in while following him. You were about to go in after them, but felt your heart spike as you saw something run in the corner of your eye. You snapped your head towards the street but saw no one there. Your eyes lingered on the alleyway, but decided against it since alleys were typically a call for death in Gotham.

Ethan pulling on your arm brought you back, so you shook it off and walked into the restraunt with your friends.

—

You had enjoyed dinner much more than you thought you would've. Dinner was fun, filled with stories dating from a week ago, to even a few years back, memories you treasured more than anything. You guys split the bill, grabbed takeout containers and piled on as much as you could before heading out.

You guys had parted, going your separate ways after a prolonged goodbye, one that must have lasted over half an hour. You were going your way, passing a few people here and there, but still feeling a twinge of unease. It felt as though you were being followed, and although you wanted to chalk it up to nothing more than being tired, in Gotham being followed was way more common than was typically normal.

You kept speeding up, hoping to get to your car quicker, praying to whatever God's there were that it wasn't all jacked up. How stupid were you to not only leave it who knows where at this time of night, but to walk alone? In Gotham of all places. You couldn't help but berate your past self as you speed walked through the streets.

Just as you turned a corner, you felt yourself bump into a tough chest. You fell back a little before being caught and pulled back up. You rubbed your head a bit, before looking up at them and seeing his worried look, "are you alright kid? Sorry I didn't see you."

It took you a few seconds of sifting through the vigilante names and pondering on it as to not get it wrong, "...Nightwing?" He immediately lit up as you said that, "yeah, the one and only!" His tone immediately became concerned, "should you be here right now? Gothams dangerous, you should be careful."

You just stared at him in question, why were so many people worried about you recently? But as to not give him any more reason to worry, you settled on, "Yeah, well I'm okay." you did a double take as your eyes settled on your car sitting in the parking lot behind him, and mentally did a victory dance. Thank you universe.

"Actually," you started as you tried to ease on by him, "my cars right over there, so I'll be heading off now since you probably have other people to save and whatnot. Bye!" You tried to walk past him quickly but the feeling of his hand snatching your wrist made it clear that this conversation wasn't done yet.

"Wait!" He winced after he had yelled that out, coming out louder than expected. He hesitated for a moment, before letting go of your wrist. "Just... please be safe, okay kiddo? You should be more aware of your surroundings and not goofing around with friends at this time of night."

You looked at him and tried to place exactly where you recognized his mannerisms from. Pushing it to the back of your mind, you simply smiled up at him, "of course! Thank you Nightwing." After saying your final piece sprinted back to your car before he could try anything else.

When you finally reached the car, you let out a sigh of relief. Finally you were in the car, and despite the fact you had a long drive back, you let yourself have this little victory. You looked back at the spot that Nightwing was standing in as he waved towards you with a smile on his face before disappearing in a flash.

You started up the car and looked at the screen to check the time.

10:47 PM

Despite how nervous and frankly a little creeped out you had felt before, Nightwing was right. Being out with friends so late in the streets of Gotham was the kind of stories you saw everyday on the news. If anything you-

You felt your heart drop when a thought came to mind.

How did he know you were with your friends?

taglist!! : @dhanyasri, @wizzerreblogs, @chericia, @daddyissuesehe, @darktrashpoetry, @dreamsarenicer, @shadowytravelerlover, @alliwantisadonut, @lemiko0, I wrote this on nothing but hopes, dreams and Tyler's 'like him' on loop for hours. ( ´△｀)

BTW I might start writing other batfam fics but I'm not dropping this!!!

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #platonic batfam #reader insert #yandere batfam x reader #platonic yandere #x reader #batfam

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