#bruce please just stop getting kidnapped | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solelifauna · 2 months ago

Note

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

#batfamily #yandere batfam #platonic yandere #neglected reader #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere cassandra cain #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #john constantine #yandere john constantine (kinda)#batfamily x neglected reader #batman #batfam #batfamily x reader #justice leauge dark

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 3 months ago

Text

SILLY LITTLE BAT

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

sinopsis ⸺ In the shadowed halls of Wayne Manor, a girl lost among the darkness seeks the connection she never had. Her mother, a kleptomaniac with a broken heart, vanished, leaving only echoes of empty promises. Surrounded by a family that never sees her, her pain turns into a deafening silence. The void left by her past traps her in a limbo of solitude and sorrow.

One dark night, seeking her own way, she became what she once despised. Now, like the albino bat rejected by its own flock, she flies alone in the twilight. Her pale skin glows in the dark, but her heart still yearns for the warmth of a home she never came to know.

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

Chapter Guide! Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is—so there might be some grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. This is the first part of a story I’m writing for a friend (Isabel, I love you, you brat), and also an experiment to see what it’s like to write on Tumblr. Please support me! :"((

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

Your mother was not a good woman, and that was an undeniable fact, heavy as the shadow that covers Gotham City at nightfall. She was a creature of the underworld, one among the specters that wandered under the yoke of crime, walking among dangerous names like Selina Kyle or Harleen Quinzel, yet always remaining in the background, never reaching their fame or infamy.

She was nothing more than a kleptomaniac and a mythomaniac, doomed to live by cunning and deceit. She took advantage of the men who crossed her path, from the lowest criminals, like The Penguin, to the most powerful man in the city: Bruce Wayne.

You never called him Dad. To you, he was always Bruce, and on the rare occasions you addressed him, you did so with distant formality, "Mr. Wayne." Richard, your adoptive brother, found in him a father figure, while to you, he was just another shadow in the mansion, that huge, cold house you arrived at after your mother’s death.

You remember how, time and again, you tried to warn your mother to stop stealing, to stop lying, that those dark paths would inevitably lead her to Arkham Asylum, surrounded by all the lunatics you feared so much, or even worse: to death. But she always responded with a playful smile, stroking your head with her delicate hands, adorned with stolen jewelry and crude tattoos. "Those are just fantasies of an eight-year-old girl," she would say sweetly, while her ring-laden fingers assured you that you needn’t worry, "I will always come back for you," she promised, "because you are the only thing more valuable than any diamond I’ve ever held."

But the cruel truth was that was the last time you saw her. That night she left, and she never returned. It was then that the last vestiges of innocence faded with her absence. From that moment on, you ceased to be a child.

And that was one of the few things you understood with absolute clarity. There were no more empty promises, no more caresses tinged with lies. All that remained was the silence of a life fading away, like a stolen jewel that never returns to its rightful owner.

The only thing you knew after calling the police when your mother didn’t show up after two days was that they found her corpse in a back alley far from Gotham, showing signs of having been beaten and bruised by some underground gang.

Commissioner Gordon searched the entire house for illicit substances and signs of debts to mobsters, but he only ended up finding documents, stolen jewelry, and letters from your mother that were never sent, and most importantly, DNA evidence implicating that the city’s millionaire was your biological father.

From then on, your life was stained with eternal gray, that muted shade that erased all traces of light or shadow. There was no more white or black, only a silent fog that, day by day, enveloped you and dragged you into a madness that seemed inevitable. Gotham itself seemed more alive than the place you called home, although "home" was never the right word.

You didn’t love any of the Wayne family members. Bruce, your biological father, never listened to you. To him, you were always just another shadow, a ghost in the vast mansion that he prioritized over his other children, his "true" heirs. There was always something more important, something more urgent, and your presence faded among the cold walls and the echo of his hurried footsteps. With each passing day, you became more invisible to him, as if your very existence were a mistake he preferred to ignore.

Richard, the perfect brother, was kind on some occasions. He spoke to you courteously, but when you needed him, when you asked him to attend one of your performances, there was always an excuse, something that kept him away, as if your passion and accomplishments were insignificant details in his heroic life.

Jason, on the other hand, despised you from the start. He saw you as an intruder, a child of gold—but not of that pure and valuable gold, but of a dirty and false one, which he always mocked with disdain. And although you never cared for him, when he died, silent tears rolled down your face. It wasn’t out of love, but out of respect for what he represented, for the brutal reality of his fall.

Tim, in contrast, was the most indifferent. To him, you were a nobody, so irrelevant that you weren’t even worth a glance. Spending time with his friends or being the Robin of the moment mattered more than you did. You lived on his periphery, in a limbo where neither your name nor your face seemed to exist.

Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara… at least they treated you with politeness, but you knew they didn’t really remember who you were. They saw you, smiled at you out of obligation, but deep down you knew they had no idea of your name, your story, your struggle to be more than a shadow in that world.

The worst of all was Damian, your younger half-brother. When he arrived at the mansion, Alfred introduced him to you with that serene formality he always had, and you, driven by an almost desperate impulse, tried to reach out to him. You wanted to offer him the support and affection of an older sister, that warmth you would have longed for in his situation. But all you received in return was a cold response: a katana piercing your abdomen. I wish I could say it was just a metaphor, but no, that wound was as real as the blade that cut your skin.

You would have liked to think that the pain was symbolic, that Damian had only rejected your affection with harsh words or his usual arrogance. But no, it was much more than that. The only thing you received in exchange for your attempt at fraternal love was a stab, a scar you still carry not only on your body but also in your soul. Because in that brutal gesture, you understood that the blood that united you also separated you, sharper than any weapon. And that was how you tried to connect.

You strived to stand out, to learn, to shine in your own ambitions, wishing that your success would be enough to earn you a place, a bit of affection. But no matter how hard you tried, it was never enough. Your talent crashed against indifference, your achievements faded into the air, as if they had no weight in the lives of others.

The only light, the only beacon in that storm of gray, was Alfred. The only one who smiled at you with genuine tenderness, the only one you truly loved. To you, he was the real father, the one who was always there, expecting nothing in return, offering you a silent but firm love. You did call him father, and his presence was the only thing that kept your sanity, the only thing preventing the gray from consuming you completely.

But even that love, so genuine and deep, was not enough to fill the void that your own family left you. And in that void, you continue to float, trapped between the girl you were and the woman you are trying to be, searching for a place you can truly call home.

Y/n's small room, though modest, had always been her refuge. The walls were adorned with unfinished sketches, trophies from various activities, and some paintings she had completed with dedication, showcasing her passion for both manual and performing arts.

The dawn light filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the space in golden tones, giving it a warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the rest of Wayne Manor.

On the desk, a small cake rested on a plate, simple yet made with love. Beside it, Alfred, with his usual understated elegance, watched Y/n with a mixture of nostalgia and concern. He, the only one who seemed to remember her birthday, offered her a delicate professional drawing set, wrapped in smooth, elegant paper.

"Happy birthday, Miss," Alfred said with a gentle smile, although his eyes reflected a sadness that was hard to conceal. "I know how much you love art, so I thought this would be helpful for your new projects."

Y/n took the gift in her hands with a genuine smile. It had been so hard for her to find moments of joy lately, but Alfred's gesture filled her with a warmth in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She placed the gift into one of the many brown boxes she had prepared for her upcoming move.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's perfect," she said, examining the set carefully, as if each detail were a reminder of the affection he held for her. "It will help me a lot... although, well," she sighed, as if searching for the right words. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Alfred raised an eyebrow, attentive, as she continued, glancing at the small space that had been her home within the vast mansion.

"Today... today is not just my birthday. It's the day I leave here." Her voice was firm, yet there was a sense of liberation in it, as if this were a long-awaited step. "I am finally no longer a Wayne. I go back to being a L/n."

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and dense. Alfred clasped his hands, striving to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I can't help but feel a certain unease hearing this. Are you sure this is what you want? This house, though empty in many ways, has always been your home..."

"Home?" Y/n looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "This house has never been my home, Alfred. Not like it was for Dick, nor even for Bruce. I have always been a stranger here, the daughter of a woman who never fit into this world, the bastard child. My mother taught me to find my own path, to not cling to what doesn’t belong to me... and being here, being called Wayne, has never belonged to me." Alfred sighed softly, turning his gaze toward the window. He knew there was truth in her words, but that didn’t lessen the pain of her leaving. "I know it’s hard to understand," Y/n continued, "but for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, Alfred. I’ve graduated, college is just around the corner, and I want to start anew. I want to find what truly makes me, me... not what others expect of me."

The old butler remained silent for a few moments, nodding slowly. He knew he couldn't retain her, that it was not his place to interfere in the young woman's dreams. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the house being even emptier without her. "I just wish you find what you’re looking for, Miss. And if you ever need a place to return to... this door will always be open for you."

Y/n stepped closer to him, gently hugging him, something she had rarely done. "Thank you, Alfred," she whispered against his shoulder. "You will always be my family, but I need this. I need to discover who I am outside of this last name."

The old butler felt the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace a little longer before letting her go. He knew that deep down, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her leave.

"Alfred, can you call the movers? I’ll be leaving tonight," Y/n said as she closed the last box with trembling hands, her gaze lost in the empty corners of the room she once considered her refuge. The butler, ever serene, nodded with his unwavering calmness.

"Don't worry, Miss, I assure you they will be here on time." His voice was soft, almost an echo of the ancient walls of the mansion, as if he himself were part of that structure that had seen so many comings and goings, so many lives broken and healed in silence.

Alfred turned halfway to leave, but Y/n's voice stopped him, broken yet sweet, like a melody at sunset. "Alfred..."

The man turned slowly, his eyes filled with paternal warmth, though always contained behind a formal gesture. "Yes, Miss?" he replied, with that tranquility that had always brought Y/n peace in her worst moments.

She took a breath, feeling how the words she had kept for so long fought to come out, to break the shell she had built since childhood. "I’ve never told you, but... thank you. Thank you for being the father I never had, for being there when no one else was."

For a moment, the silence in the room was heavier than all the accumulated boxes, deeper than any word. Alfred, who had been a witness to so many confessions and secrets in that house, stood still, his eyes shining with an emotion he rarely showed. "Miss," he murmured, his voice slightly choked, "it was an honor and a privilege to take care of you. If I ever gave you anything close to what you deserved, then my life has had true purpose."

Y/n smiled sadly, nodding slowly. "You did, Alfred. You did. And for that, I will always carry you with me, even if I leave here."

The butler slightly bowed his head in respect, swallowing any emotion that might betray his composure. "Wherever you go, you will always have a home here, Miss."

"I know," she said, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t return.

And as Alfred left the room to make the call, Y/n let out a long sigh, as if with it, she were leaving behind a part of herself, a part she could no longer carry with her.

Life in Gotham is like constantly walking on the edge of a razor blade. The city never sleeps, always alert, always dangerous, and for someone with the Wayne surname, the risks multiply. It has been a year since you left the mansion, trying to erase any ties that bound you to that life, desperately wishing the name would fade into the echo of the dirty streets and crumbling buildings. But it's not that easy. The name Wayne remains an indelible mark that the media and the people of Gotham refuse to let fade. The forgotten child, the silent accident of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And although you try to live as if you don’t exist under that shadow, the weight of the legacy haunts you.

You left with little, barely enough money to rent a small apartment in one of the worst corners of the city. You share the space with a friend, a plant-loving girl who has filled every nook of the place with leaves and pots, as if trying to make green defy the constant darkness of Gotham. You get along well with her; her love for nature is almost an antithesis to the chaos of the city, and she has taught you that even in the hardest concrete, something can bloom. She always accompanied you on the coldest, loneliest nights, giving you a warmth that, although ethereal, was very welcome. But still, life is not easy. You barely survive, spending the little you have on cheap food and paying the rent. There are days when the cold seeps through the poorly sealed windows, and you wonder if it was really better to be in the mansion instead of this little trench. However, you prefer this rough freedom to the soulless luxury of Wayne Manor.

Freedom, however, comes at a price. It wasn't enough to distance yourself, to change your life, or even to always carry a knife for defense. Gotham does not forget. People recognize you in the shadows, whisper your name, and approach you, sometimes with curiosity and other times with disdain. You have been beaten more than once. Some just for being a Wayne, others because they think they can extort you, even though they have no idea you can barely get by. The scars on your body bear witness to those beatings, but you refuse to give up. You get up every morning, despite the pain, and continue on your way. You don’t need Batman. You don’t need Bruce. You learned long ago that he wouldn't come to save you.

That night, like so many others, you were heading to the subway for your night shift, with the hood of your coat covering your face, trying to go unnoticed. The sound of the tracks echoed in your ears, a constant reminder of the city's hustle. You had gotten used to walking fast, avoiding eye contact, as if each step was a small battle won against the city. But this time, something was different.

"So it was true, the little Wayne girl is roaming the city... how lovely." The raspy, mocking voice rang out beside you, cutting through the heavy air of the train station. The man speaking wore a suit that, at first glance, seemed elegant, but there was something about his extreme thinness, his skin clinging to his bones and his disheveled hair, that made him look more like a specter of Gotham than a distinguished figure. A ghost from the shadows that had stalked you since you set foot on the streets.

If it weren't for his gaunt appearance and unsettling aura, you might have mistaken him for one of your father's employees. "I'm not a Wayne anymore," you said disdainfully, your voice sharp like the edge of a dagger refusing to be touched. "If you want money, I don’t have any. And Mr. Wayne wouldn’t give a cent for me either."

Your gaze drifted to the station clock. 8 minutes until the train that would take you away from this corner of Gotham, far from the shadows and faces that always seemed to recognize you.

The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that sent chills down your spine. "I don’t want your money, pretty girl," he replied, moving closer, invading your space with the same familiarity that Gotham’s filth slipped into every corner. "You’re worth more than that." You felt his calloused, scarred hand rest on your hip, with a pressure that was neither violent nor friendly. The contact filled you with disgust.

7 minutes.

You clenched your fist, your jaw tight as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I don’t want sex either, idiot," you spat, your words loaded with contained fury. Your hand subtly slid toward your bag, where your knife lay, waiting to be used.

6 minutes.

The man didn’t flinch. In fact, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "And I don’t want that either, little girl," he murmured, his cold, deep blue eyes scrutinizing you as if they could read every dark corner of your soul. "I want something more from you."

5 minutes.

"What do you want then?" you asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even as the ice of fear began to creep down your spine. Your eyes scrutinized him, searching his gaze for any hint of his true intentions, but all you saw was darkness.

4 minutes.

He let out a long, chilling laugh, tightening his grip on your hip. "Do you know what I want, Y/n?"

3 minutes.

His voice dropped, as if his words were a cursed secret the wind refused to carry away. "I want you."

2 minutes.

The world seemed to stop. You knew there was no time to run. There was no time to pull out the knife or to scream. It was as if the clock itself had conspired against you, reducing those last minutes to mere seconds.

1 minute.

The blow was sharp, a flash of excruciating pain at the back of your head. The cold metal of the station, the hum of the city, everything faded abruptly. The last thought that crossed your mind, before the world vanished into darkness, was that this time, you didn’t expect Batman to save you. It wasn’t a mere thief or a street threat that was taking you.

Gotham, with all its cruelty, always had new ways to remind you that there is no escape.

That night, when the Gotham subway stopped at the station, there was no one to pick up.

The mansion felt emptier than ever, like a deserted and cold labyrinth, where each hallway seemed to stretch into an infinite tunnel, devouring the light.

The silence was overwhelming, an oppression that enveloped every corner, as if even the ancient walls had run out of words. It was so heavy that the few who remained in the mansion couldn’t help but move uncomfortably, trying to fill that void with something, anything.

Bruce Wayne walked through those same hallways with a strange feeling, as if something was missing, though he didn’t know what. An unease, a persistent discomfort that he couldn’t shake off.

He had been like this for months, with that absence haunting his mind, a gap he couldn't identify. And then, suddenly, like a gust of icy wind, the truth struck him.

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

How long had it been since he last saw you? When was the last time he heard your laughter, the one that always seemed too sarcastic, too filled with resentment? He stopped abruptly, frowning. Why couldn’t he remember you? He couldn’t bring to mind a clear image of your face, not even how you used to look at him... why? How could he have forgotten you like that?

Damn.

It was as if time had stopped. It had been a year, maybe more, since he had really thought about you. He felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest, a heavy, silent guilt that dragged him into the abyss of his own negligence. Not knowing what else to do, he began to check the rooms, one after another.

Each door he opened was another blow to his conscience. Where was your room? The more he searched, the more confused he felt. The mansion was enormous, but how could he have forgotten where you slept? How was it possible that he didn’t know where you lived in the house where both of you grew up? Had you been here all this time?

Each door he opened was identical to the last, as if all the rooms had fused into one.

None showed a trace of you.

None seemed to have a hint of your presence. Didn’t you decorate your room? He thought frantically, didn’t you even mark it as yours? Panic began to take hold of him. Anxiety wrapped around him like a fist tightening on his chest. Were you still living in the mansion? Or had you left without saying a word, like a shadow fading at dawn? But... no, you hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t said you were leaving. Or had you? And if you had, why didn’t he remember? How could he have ignored you for so long that now he didn’t even know if you were still under the same roof?

“Ah!” he exclaimed in a whisper, unable to contain the dread he felt.

Frustration consumed him from within. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, and the echo of his voice faded into the empty walls. He tried to remember something, anything about you, about the last time they spoke, about how you were... but everything was blurry, as if his mind was betraying him, hiding you behind an impenetrable fog.

How could he have forgotten so much?

He brought his hands to his head, trying to calm himself, but only felt more confusion, more desperation. The mansion, which had once been his home, now felt like a strange and foreign place.

Had you been the one who made it feel like home? The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. Just more questions. More uncertainties. Finally, he let his arms fall, exhausted. He had checked almost all the rooms and had found not a trace of you. Not a clue. Not a sign that you had been there. And at that moment, something dark and painful began to settle in his heart.

Had you ever really been there?

Then something caught his attention as he passed by the cleaning room. In a dusty corner, next to a forgotten bag, something was protruding. Something small, old, and faded. He bent down and pulled it from the dirty clothes. It was a stuffed animal, or what was left of one. The faded black of its suit left no doubt. It was a figure of Batman, but worn down by time, battered to the point of looking forgotten.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on the small piece of fabric hanging from the doll's neck. A tag.

Your name.

Your name, handwritten, in ink that was already fading.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat, a mix of guilt and rage. How could he have forgotten something so important?

He clutched the doll tightly, as if doing so would return a piece of you to him, but instead of comfort, he only felt more emptiness. Where were you? He ran to Alfred, who looked at him with a mix of concern and pity.

"Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice breaking. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The butler, with his always serene face, seemed to age suddenly. A long silence settled between them, as if time was fading away. "Mr. Bruce, I didn’t mean to..." Alfred lowered his gaze. "I didn’t want to burden you with that truth, but... it’s time you know."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. Truth? What truth?

"She left almost a year ago. She didn’t say where. She just... she took all her belongings, though they weren’t many, and left. She said she didn’t want to be a burden. That you and the other family members had too many things to worry about."

Bruce took a step back, as if the words had physically struck him. Did she have enough age to leave? A burden? Never, not for a second, did he think that of you, of his little daughter who, even though she wasn’t wanted, he embraced under his wing just like Damian.

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

No, he refused to acknowledge it; he just... he hadn’t spent time with you because Gotham needed him!

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

Where was Bruce Wayne when his only biological daughter needed him?

"Alfred, do you know anything about Y/n?" the hero asked, worry clear on his face.

Alfred didn’t look at him; he only stared into nothingness. "...I haven’t heard anything about her for two months...

And honestly... I'm starting to think...

that she might be lost to us forever..."

A/N — This is definitely apart from being my first official Tumblr post, it is also my first DC post and especially the first from the Lord of the Night xD

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

Isabel, I dedicate this to you, my love. Eat more to be well, you fucking anorexic, don't suck.

take a bath!

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!

2K notes · View notes

luludeluluramblings · 3 months ago

Text

Smalltown!Neglected! Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Seven

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m not sure if I’m satisfied with this. But, I doubt I’ll ever be satisfied with this. I want Reader to come off as more Bruce like with the emotional suppression and planning. And, this was my actual first and third attempt at dialogue. I’m gonna need some practice. But, I tried.

A/N: Up next we get some yandere!Bats vs. yandere!Smalltown action. (Holy frick is that gonna be hard to write.) I’m also going to start work on the Dick Obsession now. Gotta fight the temptation to write the Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader story while this is still in the works.

Warning: Yandere Themes.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

As the coming months passed by, Reader could feel Gotham starting to wear on them. Or, they at the least Wayne manor starting to wear on them. They haven’t been given permission to leave the manor since the kidnapping. Not even to drive their truck for some unhealthy, but soul healing fast food. Of course, that doesn’t stop the other residents of the house from leaving whenever they wish.

They see the Bat Burger wrappers in the trash the morning after another soundless night in the manor. God, how they’d love to try it one day.

But, as time moves on something draws closer. An important date. Reader’s legal eighteenth birthday. They’re excited, by all means. But, there’s something significantly more important coming sooner.

Reader’s Younger Brother’s Birthday was just a week before Reader’s. There had been many fond memories made while growing up with the week between the two different dates being filled with fun and excitement. (And love.)

With such an important date coming up, and with Momma and Daddy no longer being here, Reader had plans to make it a fun week.

They just have to convince Bruce to let them go back to Smalltown. Just for the week. They’re all too busy to spend time with Reader anyway, besides this is important to them. They’ve stayed in the manor like asked. They’re grades are good. They do their chores. They don’t ask for much. It should be perfectly reasonable to request to let them visit back home.

But, just in case, Reader approaches Dick next time he's in the manor and is smothering them in affection before he goes to disappear into the library.

“Can you help me convince Bruce to let me go, please, Dick?”

It’s a simple request. And, it makes Dick’s heart melt a bit. Reader’s the only one in the family to easily give into his affection and to have them finally ask him for help in such a sweet polite voice was heart melting.

Wholeheartedly, he agrees and he is rewarded. With Reader bouncing into his arms with an impressive amount of enthusiasm that he hasn’t had a chance to see previously. Probably due to always being so busy. Maybe he should make more time for Reader if they shower him with such genuine gratitude and affection like this.

The thought lingers in his head as he makes his way towards the Batcave. A spring in his step despite the glares he receives as he makes his way down the stairs.

The manor cameras had caught the entire thing, leaving the occupants in the cave to get a front row seat to Reader being sweet on Dick.

He can’t stop the tiny smug smile from forming on his lips as Barbara gives him a disapproving ~~jealous~~ look. Or, the look of straight bitterness on Damian’s face. The mild satisfaction from Duke’s face being as blank as Cassandra’s. Stephanie’s forlorn expression. The way that Jason looks like he wants to shoot him with the gun he’s cleaning that makes him want to laugh with glee..

Tim doesn’t even look at him. Too annoyed with Dick as he sits at the Batcomputer furiously clicking and typing away on something.

Bruce had been out at the moment for League Business. But, the entire family now has a competition forming. Whoever could convince Bruce for Reader would win. The prize being the winner possibly getting showered in Reader’s affection. And, the hope of visiting Reader’s hometown with them. The very idea of it makes some of them shudder with some particular emotions.

The bombardment of pleading and puppy-dog eyes began almost as soon as Bruce stepped back into the cave. It was nearly comical how everyone petitioned Reader’s case.

Hell, Bruce was nearly convinced they should all make the trip when Tim threw his bid in.

Pulling up all the research on Smalltown and how apparently harmless it was. He even managed to remotely bug Childhood Friend’s Brother’s phone just to double check.

That’s when things spiral.

Right at that very moment, a call comes through to the phone. It seems harmless at first. The guy talking to his boss. The two had immediately talked about Reader returning to town. As if the two knew without a doubt that they were coming back.

That sparked suspicions, but it's not what ignited the fire.

The fire came when the two started talking about Reader's time in Gotham. The whole kidnapping incident. Childhood Crush admitted that Reader tried to down play the incident to Nana. After which his boss ask a horrifying question.

"Do you and Grand Daddy need some help killing this guy? It might be a bit harder than the last one y'all killed."

The last one.

Immediately the phrase makes questions arise. But, once again things get worse.

"Nah, we'll let him live. He's from Gotham. He'll probably never come out this way. And, if he does them we'll drag him out where we drowned the last sorry son of a bitch. He was just in it for the money."

"That's right. The other guy just wanted to kill Reader to keep 'em for himself. Still..."

It was difficult to give the rest of the conversation their full attention after that.

It was like the blood had crystalized in their veins. Both cold fury and hot rage filling them till it seemed to shred their minds apart.

There was no way in heaven or hell or high water that they were possibly going to let Reader go back to that vile little town filled with monsters. As if Gotham wasn't filled with abominations of it's own designs.

Without a moment to delay Bruce Batman jumps into action, barking orders for Tim, Barbara, and Cassandra to start digging up everything imaginable on Smalltown. Every resident, every social media post or mention, every single person that has ever lived there, visited, and gone missing. "Find me the name of the bastard that nearly took my child to the grave. I want the memory of them wiped of the face of the earth as their bones rot in it."

The other's are ordered to cover his patrol and redouble their efforts to capture the remaining Gotham Rouges by any and all means necessary The Court of Owls is low priority until more is uncovered about Smalltown and what the hell happened.

Reader's usual pacing around the unoccupied halls of the manor conversing on the phone is interrupted by Bruce Batman stalking towards with a violence simmering under the surface of an obsidian mask. Easy to shatter and sharp to the touch. Before a words is even spoken the phone the lifeline is ripped from their hands and shattered under a pair of designer loafers.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You could only stagger back as you watched his foot trample over the well used phone. You hadn't even chance to hang up the conversation you were having, when Bruce had come barreling down the extravagant hall way you roamed so often you 'd already practically memorized the brush strokes on each painting and the pattern of the wood grain on the walls. Not even the chance to put a hold on the plans you were making before it all came to an abrupt halt without your blessing.

For a moment your just baffled. Looking at the shattered phone screen with pieces of glass and plastic on the ground before looking up at the shattered facade your father Bruce wore.

His face was deathly still. Not even a twitch. It gave him an inhuman like visage that set off the same warning bells that Jason Red Hood had made you hear.

So that's where he got it from.

You can't help put think, trying to form the words to question his actions and confront him. It isn't long before he gives you the excuse explanation for his unwarranted action himself.

"You're not going." Is all he says. His voice was cold enough to burn.

It doesn't take a genius to know what he's talking about.

"If this is about me getting Dick to help convince you-"

"Dick agrees. Everyone agrees. You are not going." The interruption is rude, but the words sting. They thought that everyone else would be on board with it. Even the members of the family that didn't care for their presence should have been on board with it.

"I'm not asking for a vote. I was asking for your permission and yours alone." Another attempt.

"I am saying no. I am your father and you will listen to me about this." The totality found in his icy voice makes them finally feel that helpless. Like nothing they say will improve this situation. That continuing to smile will not solve a damn thing.

"What did I do?" The resentment that has locked up tightly inside beings to swirl. Ire churning into gales. The long withheld temper becoming a tempest. "What the hell did I do to make you treat me like this?"

"This has nothing to do with you. This is my decision on the matter. You need-" The sound of a notification going off interrupts his words, but they don't stop the ringing in you're ears. Even after Bruce abruptly dismisses himself, muttering about getting you a new phone, before moving towards the library. Again.

For once, you don't bother cleaning up the shattered pieces on the floor. Leaving them on the ornate carpet in the lavish and deserted hall. You have planning to do. Restraint is gone. Holding back is over. It's time to take things into your own hands. They want to ignore you, fine. You'll leave and you'll fucking live without them.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Consequently, incoming weather reports start showing some unusual patterns on the news that week. Meteorologist say there's a massive possibility of a potential hurricane brewing off the coast. Everyone is on edge. (Gotham is already a disaster as is. No one wants another one on top of it.)

Reader's not to worried. They grew up with Hurricane parties. Besides the manor has it's own power grid says Alfred. Gotham's power grid is a bit more vulnerable, but luckily the Hospitals and Arkham are on different power grids. Everything should be alright. (Everything should also go according to plan.)

The next time Dick comes by, Reader is a bit short with him. Giving him a disgruntled look that breaks his heart a little and makes it melt. Try as he might he gets nothing other than their annoyance. Even when he finally admits it was Tim's fault they had been denied the chance to go home. It does make them pout even more, how cute. Even when he gifts them a newer phone. Their not stupid, the damn thing is probably bugged to high heaven. And, it's missing all their old contacts since Bruce slammed the SD card under his big bat toe.

Their clearly in a foul mood and everyone is being subjugated to the silent treatment. As their birthday, and their younger brother's birthday, draws closer and closer, a dark cloud seems to hang over them and Gotham.

In a moment born from guilt and ignorance, Bruce buys them a car as an early birthday present. A grandiose little luxury model. With all the bells and whistles. It's even in their favorite color. Not that anyone in the family asked what it was. (Tim might have had something to do with it. After all he did get them banned from traveling. Not that he feels guilty. No way in hell was he letting you go. Especially without him or the others.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

"It seems kinda wasteful." You can't help saying it. To tired of putting on that pleasant people pleaser mask for once.

"I know it's a bit extravagant, but since everyone has their own car I thought you should have your own too." Bruce had such an eager smile on his face. Like the whole incident with the crushing your hopes and your phone never happened.

To bad you haven't forgotten nor forgiven.

"Still a waste. I'm not going to get to drive it anywhere." Vinegar coating your tongue as you look at the sleek design.

You can hear everyone around you stop cooing and praising the gift. There's no need to further elaborate your point. He gets it. The family gets it. The very earth you stand on gets it. You're not leaving this house. There's no need for the tank of gas to be filled. Or the damn thing to be charged since its some fucking electric hybrid, and probably filled to the brim with all sorts of nasty little tracking bugs.

You could have left it at that. But why not sink that needle deeper into his chest. Not a knife. Never a knife. You want your words to sting and stick. No taking the cut and letting it heal overtime. Let it be tattooed on the skin.

"Besides I already have Daddy's old truck. I don't need this." Don't those words hit like a strike to the soul. Bruce grows visibly still at them. That practiced mask going up and hiding the tells from all of them. Except Cassandra. There's no hiding things from her. They're all laid bare in front of her and she can tell everyone has somethings to say. While you have something to scream.

"You could at the very least be grateful for Father's gift" Damian spoke. He had been so well behaved to far. Keeping quite and watching with attentive green eyes. He could tell this wasn't going to go in the family's favor. He didn't necessarily blamed you for being disgruntled. But, would it kill you to give them a smile. They missed those. Hell, he missed those.

Something in you crackled, but you managed to hold you're tongue. The side-eye you gave him, however spoke enough volumes for you instead.

Astonishingly, it was Duke that set off the electric charge.

"I mean, it is a really nice car. You sure you don't want to take it for a spin?" You can here his attempt at trying to defuse the static in the are, but as fond of him as you are compared to the others, it just sets you off.

"Oh, and where to exactly?" You can't help but snort. "Down the driveway and back?"

"You're acting like a brat." Jason throwing in his two cents. Of course he would say that. And, he's rewarded with a voltaic look from you eyes and a snarl from your lips.

"I. Don't. Care." The words echo in the massive car garage. Bouncing of the walls and the other sleek fancy model cars in it. Your apathy and anger is reward with quiet.

It doesn't last long.

"Let's all just calm down." Dick steps between them, trying to play reconciler. All it serves to do is make you feel more isolated. The way he steps between you cuts you off from the rest of the group and makes it seem like he's singling you out.

"I am calm!" The words coming from your clenched jaw.

"They're the one acting like a spoiled little-"

"Jason, enough." Bruce finally steps in. That stoic look still on his face. Internally, he knows he miscalculated. He made a mistake, and it's humbling to know he can still make them at his age and with all his experience. Still, he wears the mask. He's too busy recalculating and coming up with another plan. Perhaps he was putting to much focus on the wrong thing. That didn't stop him from glaring at that classless truck in his garage.

"Of fucking course Daddy's princess gets away with acting like a brat." Jason doesn't stop though, looking directly at you. Always looking at you. Everyone is always looking at you. But never speaking these days.

"Fuck you." You whisper. Caution and hesitance thrown into the stirring winds.

"Uh-oh, looks like the princess finally snapped." That sickly green look appearing in his eyes. God, does he love this. He knew they had some fucking bite in them. Some spice. Something that made them even more delicious. That just enhanced their sweetness tenfold.

"Jason. Knock it off." Barbara murmurs after Cassandra places a hand on her shoulder. Signaling the direction this could easily head in.

"No, I don't think I will." He sneers, making an attempt to step around Dick and get in your face. It's Tim and Stephanie that try to stop him this time. Both muttering to him and trying to get him to calm down.

You can clearly see it. Their family dynamic. Clear as day. It's right in front of you for you to watch unfold while you stand on the outside looking in. Only getting stray remnants of it when they deem you worth it. You're always worth it though, silly little sugarplum. They’re just terrible at showing it, you poor poor thing. That'll change soon, don't worry. Actually, you should worry.

There's no need to stick around any longer. No fucking need at all. Your feet echoing as you leave the room filled with strangers family and cars. You're leaving. You're going home. And you're going home tonight.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

That night, the news is blaring over Gotham. A sudden hurricane off the coast is set to hit by nightfall. People are being asked to evacuate, already there is panic in the streets.

As much as they don't want to leave things unresolved, the family has no choice, but to respond. Making sure evacuations go smoothly. Keeping the mobs at bay in the stores. Checking that the Arkham inmates are both secure and safe.

It gets worse when the reports further come in. There was lightning spotted off the coast. A lightning storm predicted to hit before the hurricane. That would double the difficulties everyone in Gotham was dealing with.

Most everyone, but Reader.

With the family busy they had plenty of time to pack a few belongings and necessities for a long drive. Glowing eyes taking inventory as the electricity crackled under their skin and the distant skies. Brewing excitement in their chest as the skies filled with dark clouds. Some might think it ominous. But, for Reader it was freedom.

In Gotham that ominous feeling continued. It was as if Gotham itself knew what chaos was about to unfold. Chaos that it would have reveled in if not for the impending feeling of loss found not only in the empty streets, but in Wayne Manor.

As the wind started to wail, nightfall seemed to come earlier with how dark the clouds made the sky. Rain poured in sheets. Most of the Bats took cover, but when the lightning began to strike is when things really when to hell.

By luck or something else, the Gotham power grid was hit. Shutting down over half the city in the first moments of the storm. The downpour hadn't even soaked the concrete when it struck.

The darkness washed over the city and the family knew it was going to be a long long night.

Barbara, in Oracle mode in the Batcave, was focused on keeping everyone updated on new alerts and any looting. She didn't have a chance to glance at the manor cameras and see Reader walking through the halls with a bag on their shoulders before. Multiple strikes of lightning reverberated through the manor. They could be heard echoing all the way down in the cave.

And, they caused the power to go out.

It was only out for twenty minuets. Twenty long minuets of Barbara and Alfred trying to fix the power and get everyone back in contact with each other.

A lot can happen in twenty minutes. Like a garage door opening and closing manually. Like someone driving down the long driveway out of the security gate without being noticed. Like someone could escape without notice in those twenty minutes.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury @lilyalone @addie-r-u-ok @space1crow @imaginarydreams @dhanyasri @rosalietodd013 @rissareader @rando2509 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @interobanginyourmom @heyitsaloy @myanyan-me @animegoddess15 @resident-cryptid @schaarfyx

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #yandere dc #platonic batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #smalltown!reader #yandere jason todd #yandere bruce wayne #yandere cassandra cain #yandere tim drake #yandere stephanie brown #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson

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nightingale-prompts · 3 months ago

Text

Saving Batboy

First | Previous | Next

It was as though he was being led through the city. Dick seemed to know exactly where he should go next as he drove.

Dick turned off his location as he closed in on Joker's location. If anyone had doubts about what would happen tonight they knew now. The clown dies tonight.

Batman never did it because he knew there would be no coming back once he crossed that line but he was not Batman.

Tim knew the moment Nightwing's symbol disappeared that he had found Joker's location. He knew he could track him still based on where he was before but he held off. The last time Dick crossed the line and killed the Joker, Tim was there to stop him. In the time since Tim had grown to regret it. Especially after Jason's return. He should be avenged after everything that happened.

Tim never put much thought into what happened when he was kidnapped just like Danny. Joker Jr was just a nightmare and everyone pretends it didn't happen. His past self doesn't exist to him and the gaps in his memory are better as they are.

If Dick was really going to finish this then Tim wasn't going to stop him. Bruce's code was his code alone. What of the Robins that suffer for it? What about his kids that he loves to the point of self-destruction if they die?

It was clear to Tim now. Batman isn't strong enough to kill Joker. If he can't handle it, someone else would.

Maybe Dick just cared more. Or maybe he had seen this happen too many times to sit by and let it happen again. The cost be damned.

Tim took a deep breath. He knew it was a bad move but he shut down the bat computer. No one could locate each other for the next 10 minutes. Enough time to give Dick the lead he really needs. All the comms are down and no information can be shared.

Tim looked up and saw Alfred putting down a cup of tea for him. Tim felt like a child caught doing something wrong under Alfred. But Alfred nodded wordlessly before turning to leave. He cast a forlorn glance at Jason's robin uniform before ascending the stairs.

****

"I was hoping Batman would come for the little bat. Oh sorry, I mean the boy." Joker mocked holding Danny by the back of the neck.

The teen's body was limp. His silver locks stained a rusty brown from dried blood. Blood covered his back and legs. If there had been any doubt if the wings were real there is none now.

"…" Nightwingwing said nothing. His fist clenched.

"You know I debated skinning him next. That fur of his would be a lovely shawl. It's so soft. But it looks like I won't have the time now." Joker provoked, running a hand through the boy's white neck fur.

"Get your hands off him." Nightwing demanded, his eyes locked on Danny for any signs of life.

"You know I am so curious what he was doing here. I was about to build a new trap here for fun when I stumbled upon this little guy here. Practically gift-wrapped. Did he run away from you? Just like you did from good ol'papa bat." Joker's smile widened sickeningly "This all feels so familiar, doesn't it little bird? Are you going to finish what you started?"

"I'm never letting you hurt my family again." No witty one-liners. No games. This bad joke ends today.

****

Batman had scoured the area. He memorize the last location Dick was before the system went down. He wasn't these kids' father for nothing he knew what they were doing.

When sound came back he had already made it to the abandoned factory. The comms rang back to life as the sounds of crying came through.

"Nononono…please no. Wake up. Please wake up." It was Dick's voice. "It's okay. I'm here now. So just wake up. We need to get home soon. Your favorite show will be on soon. WAKE UP! YOU CAN'T DIE!"

Batman bolted to their location and found Dick hovering over Danny trying to resuscitate him.

His son looked at him with pleading eyes.

"I can't hear his heart. He's not breathing." He let out a shaky breath. As distressed tears ran down his cheeks.

Bruce knelt next to them. Danny didn't react to the pressure on his chest. The pain should have at least caused an involuntary jerk if he wasn't too far gone.

Bruce signaled Dick to move back as he checked Danny's pulse again. Nothing. And he wasn't breathing. Bruce looked at his son. Deep down Dick probably knew.

"I'm sorry. He's gone." Bruce said simply as he took off his cloak.

Danny looked so peaceful. Like he was sleeping soundly. Bruce hated that his own suspension had been the thing that had prevented him from having a relationship with his own grandson. He felt foolish to not realize that of course Danny and Batboy were the same. It was a brilliant disguise. But he'd never get to say this to the boy.

Bruce wrapped the boy in his cloak.

"Come on. We'll fix this." He told Dick, carrying Danny for him.

The journey back to the manor was silent until.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said.

"Don't. Just Don't. He's my son. Its my fault." Dick rasped his voice scratchy from crying.

Bruce felt a bitter sting. That was exactly what he felt when he lost Jason and what happened with Tim. When Damian lost his life. These pains didn't go away.

When they arrived back in the Batcave Bruce laid Danny's body on the table. The others were notified about what happened and had already gathered.

Barbara looked like she had bawled her eyes out as she hugged Stephanie.

Damian had pressed himself close to Tim as the older brother told him that it was going to be okay.

The new hole in the wall was clearly Jason if his bloodied knuckles were any clues.

Cassandra paced the floor deep in thought. She was moments away from starting a new crusade.

Duke stared off into the distance. His anger boiling under the surface. All he could think about was the number of lives ruined by the Joker and even in death he took another.

Dick stood still as a statue. Thinking about if Danny could be brought back and even if he was his wings were gone. What if he was gone for good? Could he live like that?

Never had he understood Bruce more than in that moment.

Bruce braced himself for what would come next. He had a plan to bring Danny back at any cost.

But suddenly a sound broke through the tension.

A sneeze.

A fucking sneeze.

It came up from under the cloak.

Everyone snapped to look at the body hidden under the cloak. It shifted under the heavy black blanket groggily and yawned. Then Danny jumped up twisting to feel his back.

"What happened!!" He yelped.

#dc x dp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #nightwing #dick grayson #dc comics #bruce wayne

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year ago

Text

[each batkid getting kidnapped]

Jason, reading the kidnappers' demands to a camera: Hello, my name is Jason. I have been kidnapped...

Kidnapper: *points a gun at Jason*

Jason, shoving the kidnapper away: Can you stop pointing the gun at me? It’s fucking annoying.

———————

Dick, reading to the camera: To ensure my safe return home please pay us one million dollars...

Dick: Wait... one million dollars?

Dick: *glares at the kidnappers*

Dick: Is that it? Is that what you think I’m worth? No, I’m not having that. That’s ridiculous.

[later]

Dick, to the camera: To ensure my safe return home please pay us five hundred million dollars.

Dick: Now that's more like it.

———————

Damian, walking around the kidnappers' lair: What a mess. You guys could really tidy up more here.

Kidnapper: Wait, what?! Where are your handcuffs?

Damian: Got them off. They were too loose.

———————

Stephanie: So, what made you chose me out of all those bats? It’s my attitude, right? Tell me I am right. Oh, I am so right.

Kidnapper: Can’t you shut up for a second?

Stephanie: No need to be rude. Just making some small talk.

Kidnapper: *reconsiders life decisions*

———————

Kidnapper: We didn’t get the money. You are going to die now.

Tim: Gentleman! Let’s be civil about this. Let’s make a deal. You surrender and you won’t get hurt. How does that sound?

Kidnapper: And how do you intend to hurt us?

Tim, innocently: No, no. I can’t hurt you.

Tim: But my family can. Say hi!

Harper and Duke: *bursts in and beats everyone up*

Tim: You should have accepted the deal.

———————

[at home]

Cassandra: Took you a lot longer than I thought to save me.

Helena: What the hell? You needed no one to save you. You could have taken them out hours ago.

Barbara: We waited. Looked like you were having fun.

Cassandra: Aww, I did have fun.

Bruce: I'm so done with all of you.

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the-daydreaming-show · 10 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 — “I am, I have been, and I was born hungry.”

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: An abandoned son makes a decision. The cared for son is taken away.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫(𝐬): Bruce Wayne X ScarletWitch!Reader; Jason Todd x Batmom!ScarletWitch!Reader; Tim Drake x Batmom!ScarletWitch!Reader; Jason Todd x Tim Drake.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: kidnapping, mention of PTSD, weapons, threats (silent), drugs and forced drug use, death of Janet Drake, and mention of Jack Drake in the hospital, Jason is mansplaining, manipulating and manslaughter his way through this sequel.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: This took a while because I had a precise plan for this sequel, but writing this chapter, something possessed me and changed everything. So, now I'm not sure what's going to happen, it's all in destiny hands now on!!!

Thanks to our beta reader, the wonderful @igotmessymind for her work, as always, I appreciate you very much!!

Now, I would like to make a special mention of @andieperrie18, who made a playlist base on the Batmom Scarlet Witch.

And I need you to admire this masterpiece, because this playlist doesn't just include songs. NOO, It also has dialogue between Batmom and Bruce at the beginning, and it's just gold. Also go to check the other playlist in her channel, they have some good stuff. The small talks and slow dancing with Bruce Wayne is one of my favorites!!!

So, thank you very much to you @andieperrie18 for your love and the dedication it took to make this playlist. I don't have enough words to show my adoration and gratitude for this playlist. So everyone, please go give them love to the playlist while reading this chapter!!

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐬 / Prelude / Next Part

Jason knew he was not walking on good ground. He hadn't been since he was revived in the Lazarus Pit. He hadn't been when he had killed criminals to try to control Gotham's crime. Nor when he had to escape from Arkham Asylum after Batman had locked him there, under the excuse that it was best for him.

Lies.

All were lies.

He knew it now more than ever as he looked at his wall.

Jason was sitting in an old chair facing the wall, where a variety of photos, newspaper clippings, maps, and notes were displayed.

Seeing that wall told him that he was definitely slipping into a new territory of madness.

But-he-couldn't-stop. It was like he was on a slide, and he couldn't dig his heels in to stop. A part of him didn't want to stop.

Just as he hadn't wanted to soften the news of his return to Bruce, that part of Jason wanted revenge with every atom of his true self. And now it was pushing him towards that wall.

Another part of him, though, didn't want to do this. It was the part that still made him want to put his hands in his mouth to eat his cuticles, like he had done as a child. That part wanted to approach you on the street, and calmly let you explain why you hadn't sought him out. So that he could move on somehow, in a way that would make you proud of how Jason had handled everything.

But you had abandoned him.

After Bruce found out he was alive, Jason had hoped that once he told you all of it, you'd show up at his door. Jason had been ready to listen to your logical arguments and leave the whole killing thing behind.

¿Who cared about revenge and Gotham if there was a chance to get back with his mom?

Not to Jason.

You didn't; you never showed up.

And now the part that wanted revenge was screaming too loud for him to hear anything else.

So there he was, sitting in a chair, arms crossed, as he carefully admired the wall he had created.

There were pictures of you picking up Timothy Drake from school, taking him shopping, hugging him at galas, and chatting with him at fashion events. Events that you had probably only been invited to, but you had convinced the team to let you take someone else, the same way you did with Jason when he was young. You probably took him to eat at your favorite restaurant every Friday after school, like they did with him. You probably also turned off the light in his room every night after saying goodnight, like you did with Jason.

No shame; you had given everything that was Jason's to that boy.

That's why you weren't looking for him when you found out he was alive. You had replaced him with that kid, the same way Bruce had, and you deserved the same kind of punishment.

You deserved his revenge. And you will receive it.

You were in your office, in your brand's office building, a few blocks from Wayne Tower, where your entire clothing brand has done most of its business since you married Bruce. The official and original store of your brand is still in Metropolis, where it all started, but you moved the main offices to Gotham when you got married. So all of your children spent time between Wayne Tower and your building.

Usually, that was where they ended up after school.

Tim was supposed to go there after school. Typically, you would go pick him up. But that day he was staying a few extra hours at school for his Debate Club, and he would walk with his friends to their houses and meet you before you left the office that afternoon. So you were surprised when, as you were evaluating some new designs, your phone lit up with your youngest son's phone number.

“Mom,” Tim’s voice immediately sounded on the other end of the phone when you answered. He sounded nervous.

“Tim, honey,” you said, looking up at the clock. “Did I forget to pick you up?”, and immediately, your mind goes into paranoia, convinced that Tim had asked you to go look for him, and that's why he was calling you, and you had forgotten.

“No, no. Mom, it's fine,” he assured you quickly. You could hear chatter in the background, like someone was encouraging him to talk. “Mom, do you know today is Friday, right?”

Obviously, you remembered that it was Friday. On Fridays, when Tim came home from school, the two of you would go out to dinner at your favorite restaurant as a traditional mother-son activity.

“Yes, I've noticed,” you said, closing the sketchbook to give the boy your full attention.

“And we always go to eat at Julián's on Fridays after school, without fail,” he continues explaining. You assumed he was going somewhere, so you murmured an affirmation. “Well, you saw Dylan, my chemistry classmate. He and others are going to eat at a pizzeria near the school, and they invited me. After eating, we are all going to go to his house to play video games. If you're okay with that, I would like to go. Or I'll just go eat and go back home early. I-” Tim was already in babbling territory; you could barely contain your laughter when you interrupted him.

“It's okay, Tim. I don’t mind a change of plans, darling,” you assured him, and you could see his shoulders relax even from your building. “I'll take advantage and visit your father's office; I'll ask him to accompany me on an impromptu date.”

“Okay, okay. Yes, that sounds good.” Tim was smiling as big as he could, while around him, his classmates were singing victory for the afternoon they had organized. “I'll let you know where we are and call you when it's time to come home. I love you.”

Before you could tell him that he didn't need to tell you exactly where to be and at what time, Tim hung up the call, too excited about the whole thing. To which you inevitably laughed, happy that Tim had an activity, say a boy his age, and that he was so excited about it. You had met Dylan a couple of times; he was a good kid, so you were sure everything would be fine.

Jason watched Tim walk with his friends all night.

After observing him for weeks, he realized that the chic lived based on a fairly consistent routine. One that repeated itself almost around the clock for some reason, but Jason suspected that it had to do with the post-traumatic stress the boy must have had after the Joker's attack on his biological parents the year before. The boy's mother was six meters underground, and his father was on medical care for life because of all this. Jason almost felt bad for him. Almost.

This also meant that you and Bruce were very aware of the boy's routine, so if Tim were to disappear for even a couple of hours, it would ruin your plan. So he chanced it, waiting for the ideal moment to feed his need for revenge.

So when the sixteen-year-old decided to leave school one afternoon in the company of a group of other kids his age, he was clearly not on his way to your office like he usually did.

Jason took the phone out of his pocket and gave the order to start.

The group of friends went into a hidden, but sufficiently crowded, pizzeria a few blocks from the house of the boy Dylan, to whom Tim seemed closest in the group.

Jason had quickly discovered that Tim was a smart kid. He was too smart for Jay to trick him or accidentally cause him to fall into a trap of some kind.

But he had also discovered that Tim was, like Bruce, an idiot for justice.

He had watched him risk his life more than necessary for civilians while he ran around as Robin, when Jason from afar could have found about five ways to save the civilians without getting in the way. Tim jumped in to save them with his own hands every time there was a lethal risk. It could be that the weight of not having helped his parents was still eating him alive too.

But one way or another, Jason would use that to his advantage.

Jason walked into the pizzeria, followed by five other men he knew Tim would recognize. It was because he had gotten them out of jail, especially because Robin had dragged them and put them there, with the aim of getting them to help him. The proposed men didn't know he was there for that reason; they were just doing their job for the money, unaware of the mental games Jason was playing with the teenager.

And Tim Drake understood what was going to happen the moment he saw Jason. She looked him in the eyes and smiled as she casually glanced at the table of the group of friends, who were still wearing their school uniforms.

“Timothy, little one,” Jason greeted casually, putting his hands in his pockets and watching as Tim's eyes went to the way that movement revealed the reflection of a gun on his hip. “I've been looking for you!!”

Jason knew exactly how Tim would react and looked at the situation. They had both been trained by the same man at the end of the day. They were a reflection of each other, and that is why it was a dangerous game. “Are you hungry, Timothy? Because I am starving.”

Jason wasn't talking about the pizzas, and Tim knew it quickly. But he couldn't do anything, not with Jason so armed and clearly accompanied. Both were surrounded by so many civilians, and Tim's friends. His new friends, who had been patient with him and had accepted him into his group, which he had been joining since they were children. But they still tried to integrate him and invited him to things, again and again, until that day he accepted for the first time in months.

The table had fallen silent at the extra situation, but Tim seemed to know the stranger who had sat down, so they didn't say anything. But Dylan, as kind and caring as he was, saw the way the color had drained from Tim's face. So he spoke.

“Don't worry, Dylan,” Jason told him, which took Dylan by surprise since he had never told the stager his name, and he got genuinely worried now. “He just needs something to drink; he's just dehydrated. Timmy works a lot and doesn’t take care of himself.”

While talking to Dylan, Tim watched as Jason grabbed his glass of soda that he had been drinking while they waited for the pizzas. Without anyone else noticing, Tim watched as Jason dropped a pill into the drink, which was probably intended to knock him out, or at least drug him enough to make it manageable for Jason.

All without anyone else noticing, just so he could see it and know what was going on. He was faced with the reality that he couldn't do anything, and he couldn't fight, not at such a potential price. He was trapped.

It made Tim feel alarmingly alone, despite being surrounded by people.

“Here, drink something.” Jason handed him the glass, where the gas from the soda easily hid the bubbles that the pill made as it dissolved. “It will do you good.”

The two stood face-to-face for a moment as the older brother offered the glass, and Jason didn't need to make the threat for Tim to understand.

Or Tim drank the soda and voluntarily sedated himself. Or he would get him out of there in a much more aggressive way. And some bullets could be lost in that situation, so Jason could make sure that his friends were the ones who received them.

Tim could see the decapitated bodies of Black Mask's lieutenants, found shortly after Red Hood appeared in Gotham, before Bruce discovered his identity.

So he grabbed the glass and brought it to his mouth. Tim gave Jason a last pleading look, to which the boy just smiled sweetly. And your youngest son just wanted to scream for you, but you didn't know Jason was alive, and you suspected that's exactly what Jason wanted.

He wouldn't put you in danger.

Bruce would handle everything; Tim trusted that.

Tim downed the glass of soda in four gulps and didn't remember anything else after that.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @some-lovely-day @simonsbluee @yuki-chan23 @miyakana @myst3batz @otchae @d3m0n8ch1ld @marsenbie @mynameisnotlaura @andieperrie18 @totallynotme420 @igotmessymind @amarawayne @calsjack @kodzukenmaaa @mellowdiy @noah-uhhh-what @blarba-girl @dead-sane-stuff @huhuhhuhh @ashlynnmalfoy @kimmis-stuff @undecided-shipper @justafanficsreader @poppyalice2001 @holdyuhmuda @jiabae @mara-moon @avitute @lafrone

#batfamily x reader #all for us #jason todd x batmom #batmom #tim drake x batmom #batmom!reader #batfam x reader #dick grayson x batmom #scarletwitch!batmom!reader #scarletwitch!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batfam imagine #batfamily #batfamily x batmom

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krirebr · 11 months ago

Text

Caught Up in Your Trap

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You spend your first day in your new home. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, human trafficking, drugging, training, punishment, isolation, injury, forced intimacy - Just trust me when I say that this is dark. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: Oh my god, you guys. Uh, happy sin day, I guess?? 🤣 Because I am apparently incapable of just leaving a one-shot alone, this is a prequel to I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas spurred by some unhinged 4 AM thots. It is definitely the darkest thing I've written so far. Whoops.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who was not only the fantastic sounding board she always is, and let me ramble on about all my research into furnaces of all things but also helped me figure out the title for both this fic and the greater AU it's now a part of (🤦🏻‍♀️ Seriously, Kris, just stop!). Hat tip to Bruce Springsteen for both, as well. I'm sure he'd be thrilled. 😂

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Andy pulled up at the address he’d been given, more surprised than he should have been that it was an abandoned warehouse. Of course, this sort of deal would be completed there. He should have known from the sorts of channels he’d had to go through to set it up. Connections left over from his days in the DA’s office. Well, that wasn’t the side of the law he was on anymore.

He walked into the large open space that made up most of the building to find a man standing in the middle of a few folding chairs. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and was wearing sharp but tight clothing. He wasn’t who caught Andy’s attention, though. No, that was you, slumped over in one of the chairs, wearing the clothes you must have been taken in. Even like this, he could tell your pictures hadn’t done you justice. You were absolutely perfect. Or you would be, once he was done.

“Barber!” the man called out, a satisfied smirk raising his mustache. “How nice of you to join us!”

“Hansen,” Andy answered evenly. He nodded at you, “She ok?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Just on enough horse tranqs to move her across the country without her realizing it. She’ll only be out for another day or so.”

Andy walked over to you. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I check for myself. With the amount of money I’m paying you.” Hansen gestured for him to go ahead, so he placed a gentle hand on the pulse in your neck, pleased to feel that it was strong and steady. He took a step back and opened the untraceable banking app on his phone. He clicked the transfer button, moving an ungodly amount of money from his numbered account in the Caymans to the account Lloyd had given him. “Alright,” he said, “the money’s in your account.”

The other man snapped his fingers and someone appeared out of the shadows, holding a tablet. “And I’m sure you don’t mind,” Hansen said as the new man tapped his screen, “if I check for myself. With the amount of work I’ve done for you.”

They all waited in tense silence for the confirmation of the transfer to come through. Andy couldn’t take his eyes off you, eager to finally get you home. After everything he’d been through, this was what he deserved. The perfect wife, the perfect family, the perfect life. And he was going to do it right this time, taking full control until he had exactly what he wanted. Nothing left to chance. It was costing him a pretty penny, but it was worth it.

The man with the tablet nodded at Hansen, who clapped his hands together. “Alright!” he said. “Let’s get this done. My men will get her settled in your car while we finish up.” Two more men came out from the edge of the room and started to put their hands on you. Andy couldn’t help the growl that came out of him. Hansen laughed. “Don’t worry, Mr. ADA, they won’t hurt your precious new wife. You have my word.”

Andy gave a hesitant nod, as they carried you out of the warehouse, clicking the unlock button on his car fob so that they could get you settled. He didn’t take his eyes off you until you were gone.

Hansen reached down and picked up a thick folder. “Everything you’ll need is in here. Everything for her new identity, all in order, all immaculate. Marriage license. Anything from her old life you might need. Although I’d get what you need from those quickly and then burn them.”

Andy took the folder and briefly paged through it. New birth certificate, social security card, IDs, passport. Everything he’d need to start your new life. He put the folder in his briefcase. “Thank you. Anything else?”

Hansen smirked again. “Eager to get started?” He leered in the direction you’d disappeared. “Can’t say I blame you.”

Andy cleared his throat, not appreciating the way Hansen was talking about what was his. “Yes, I would like to get us both home. Are we done here?”

“Sure sure. You have a good time now,” he smirked.

Andy gave him a curt nod and then exited in the direction Hansen’s men had taken you. There was no sign of them by his car, but you were laid out across the backseat. He opened the door and leaned in to brush a gentle finger across your cheek. He wouldn’t be able to relax until you were secured inside his home. It was so close now.

This wasn’t your room. You’d woken up some time ago (you couldn’t say how long ago exactly. There were no clocks, no windows) in the most comfortable bed you’d ever felt. You thought it might swallow you up, it was so soft. Luxurious. The whole room was that way. Beautiful. Rich. You were dressed in a satin nightgown that wasn’t at all like anything you owned. You tried very hard not to think about the fact that someone must have changed you. The door was locked from the outside, a small keypad right under the doorknob. You tried banging on the door. Yelling for someone. Nothing. A quick exploration of the room hadn’t yielded anything either – the two other doors were also locked, a dresser held only men’s clothing. So you’d spent the last who knows how long just laying in the bed, trying not to panic or cry. You weren’t very successful at either.

The most disturbing thing you’d discovered since you’d woken up here was the set of rings on your left hand. One featured a large diamond, the other was a simpler band filled with comparatively tiny diamonds. The bands were fused together like you remembered your mom’s engagement and wedding rings being. It took a long time to normalize your breathing after that discovery.

Just as you were about to drift asleep again, for want of anything else to do, you heard a few soft beeps, the lock click, and the doorknob move. You leaped up and huddled in the far corner of the room between the wall and the bed, holding a pillow in front of you. There was nothing else in the room to use to defend yourself. Even the lamps were bolted down – you’d checked.

The door slowly opened and a man walked in. He was tall, over 6 feet, and broad. He had dark, soft-looking hair, and a well-kept beard. He wore a gray cotton tee and jeans. If your adrenaline hadn’t been spiking, you would have found him so handsome. But as it was, you pushed yourself further into the corner.

He was carrying a tray, which he set down on one of the nightstands. From your vantage point, you could see a glass of water and a bowl. You weren’t feeling inclined to take anything from this man.

Your eyes cautiously tracked him as he came around to the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice deep but gentle.

You didn’t say anything, just kept watching him. He leveled you with a stern look that sent a chill down your spine. His voice was much more rigid when he said, “I expect an answer when I ask a question, sweetheart.”

You ignored him again, instead asking, “Who are you?”

He took a deep breath, flexing both hands. Extreme irritation passed over his face before it was replaced with a practiced calm. He sat at the foot of the bed and patted the space next to him. “Come sit,” he said. You didn’t move. “Now,” he growled. Something in his tone made it clear, not only that he would move you himself if he had to, but even more so, that you didn’t want it to come to that. You got up and sat on the far edge of the bed. He reached over and grabbed your arm hard, dragging you into his side. You cried out but he shushed you. “Alright,” he said, “I will answer your question once you answer mine. How are you feeling?”

This was the most scared you’d ever been. You had to take a few deep breaths before you were able to say. “I have a headache and I’m a little nauseous. And I’m very scared.”

He gently took your hand in his and cooed at you. “That’d be the drugs they used to knock you out. You’ll feel better when they’re completely out of your system. Eating will help. You can have some soup once we’re done talking.” He paused, for what you didn’t know. You didn’t say anything. He smiled. “You can ask your question now. Good girl waiting for permission.”

Your head swung to look at him. That hadn’t been what you were doing. Had it? You were woozy and scared and just trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. That was most important, so you let his comment go and repeated your question. “Who are you?”

He squeezed your hand. “I’m your husband, sweetheart. My name is Andy.”

That was the answer you’d been terrified of since you’d seen the rings on your finger. He was fucking crazy. He had to be. The best you could do right now was to get as much information out of him as you could. “And where are we? Is this your house?” You were trying to keep your voice steady, but you could hear the tremor in it.

“This is our house, sweetheart. Just outside Boston.”

Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up in panic. “Boston?? No– That’s– How did I get here?!” This was even worse than you thought. You were nowhere near home, nowhere near anything familiar.

He just looked at you for a moment with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded and said, “Ok, I’m going to be honest and explain it to you, because I think it will help you understand your place here. But in the future, you need to know that I don’t appreciate having to explain myself. Good wives don’t question their husband's actions. Now, since I’m going out of my way to make this clear for you, I expect you to sit quietly and listen. Can you do that for me?”

You clenched your hands into fists, wanting to rage at him for how he was speaking to you like a child, but you knew you needed this information. You needed everything you could get if you were going to get out of here, so you tried to control your breathing and nodded.

He looked at you like he wanted to scold you for something, but then visibly changed his mind and began. “I’ve had a hard life, the last few years especially, I’ve been through a lot. Things haven’t turned out the way they were supposed to. I wanted a family. I thought I had one, but– It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, and then I lost even that. I wanted to try again, but I couldn’t put in all that effort without a guarantee that I wouldn’t wind up with nothing again.

“I’m a lawyer. I used to work as an ADA and now I’m in defense. In both jobs, I’ve made a lot of connections with people from different walks of life. Through that, I found a man who provides a service – if you let him know what you’re looking for, he’ll find you a person who fills those needs. So I told him that I was looking for someone to build a family with, a good wife. He presented me with a few options, and I chose you. For a hefty price, his men picked you up and brought you here. They also put together all new paperwork for you, a whole new identity. The old you doesn’t exist anymore, do you understand? You’re Mrs. Barber now, property of your husband. I bought and paid for you. I own you, every part of you.”

You saw his hand start to move toward your thigh and you jumped up, quickly pressing yourself against the wall. You just stared at him for a moment and then the panic truly hit you, but this time, it was accompanied by blinding anger. “That’s human trafficking, you complete fucking psycho! The fuck is wrong with you?!” Once you’d started screaming, you couldn’t stop. “You can’t just buy a wife, you fucking cuck! I’m a person! People are going to look for me!” He stood up and came at you and you swung out with your fists, your nails, your knees, whatever you fucking could. You connected a few times, drew a grunt from him before he somehow pinned your wrists behind your back. You screamed as loud as you could, but it did nothing.

He frog-marched you out of the room as he said, “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this so soon, but you need a timeout, honey. Some time to calm down in the quiet room, and then we can try again and go over the rules. You just need some time to think by yourself.”

You tried to pay attention as he pushed you through what looked like a little apartment: a living room, a kitchenette. He stopped at an innocuous-looking door with a keypad on it, just like the one in the bedroom. He turned you away so you couldn’t see as he entered the code, one hand still keeping your wrists in a bruising grip. Before you’d even realized he’d opened the door, he was shoving you into the room so hard you briefly left the ground. The door slammed shut behind you. You hit the floor hard and groaned. You stumbled up onto your hands and knees. You heard another beep, then the grinding of a lock. Then nothing.

The room was pitch black. You weren’t even sure where the door was now, as there wasn’t any light coming through the cracks. You crawled around, trying to get an idea of the space. It was small and empty as far as you could tell. But there was a low rumbling noise that seemed to fill the room. You couldn’t pinpoint the source just from listening, it felt like it was coming from everywhere. The floor under your hands was bare, concrete. Your hands brushed through cobwebs and other detritus you couldn’t see. You cautiously held a hand out as you continued to try to map out the room, terrified you’d smack your face right into the wall. It made contact with something hot and sharp. You pulled it back with a hiss, pain radiating through your palm. You felt the first few wet drops. Shit. You were bleeding. You’d cut yourself. Fuck. “Hey!” you called out as loud as you could. There was no answer. “Hey!” you tried again, “I’m hurt! I’m bleeding!” No response. “WHAT THE FUCK?” You were screaming now. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! LET ME OUT!” Nothing. God, this room was already lightproof, maybe it was soundproof, too. He wouldn’t be able to hear you, wouldn’t know you were hurt. You couldn’t tell how badly you’d cut your hand so you raised it above your head, hoping that might at least slow down the bleeding. It was dirty you were sure. God, how long did it take for cuts to get infected? You hoped you wouldn’t find out. You didn’t even know what you’d cut it on. What if it was rusty? Shit, when was your last tetanus booster? You couldn’t remember exactly. Fuck. You really didn’t want to die from tetanus in some random basement in Massachusetts. A tear rolled down your cheek. He couldn’t leave you in here too long, could he? No. He would come get you soon.

You had no idea how long you’d been sitting in the dark, your knees pulled up to your chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other still held in the air. Your shoulder was so sore, but you were too worried to lower your hand. You wished you could see the cut, know exactly how bad it was. You wished you knew how much time had passed. With no frame of reference, no external indicators, you were afraid you’d lost the ability to tell the difference between hours and minutes. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. How long was he going to leave you here? He had to come back soon. He had to. You took some perverse comfort in the fact that he’d spent a lot of money on you. That had to mean that he wouldn’t just leave you here. He’d want a return on his investment. You tried to ignore the chills that thought gave you.

You’d been crying on and off. It made you feel pathetic but what else were you supposed to do? The panic, too, ebbed and flowed. You’d been trying to keep your breathing even, trying to ignore how small the space was, how dirty, how dark. Deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. It wasn’t doing much to calm you, but at least it gave you something to focus on.

Just as a fresh wave of tears overtook you, a blinding light came in, directly opposite you. You squinted and raised your uninjured hand in front of your eyes, but that didn’t do much to help.

“Oh sweetheart,” Andy’s voice cooed, before gently lifting you by your arms and herding you out. He half-carried you through the finished part of the basement while your eyes continued to adjust. Before you knew it, you were back in the bedroom you’d started in. He gently sat you down on the edge of the bed and crouched in front of you. You felt dazed. The room was too bright. You didn’t know how you could keep breaking the record for the most scared you’d ever been. There had to be a ceiling, a limit. You’d hit it soon, wouldn’t you?

You still had your hand raised and cradled to your chest. Andy touched your wrist and you flinched. He raised an eyebrow in question and you whispered, “I got hurt.” He sighed and gently tugged at your wrist again. This time you let him guide your arm down, moving your hand so you both could see it. It was a little grimy and definitely red, slightly swollen maybe. There was a little dried blood, but not much. The cut was so much more shallow than you’d imagined when you were trapped in that room alone. You felt incredibly foolish. You’d thought you were going to lose your hand over a glorified paper cut.

Andy carefully moved his thumb over a raised patch under the cut that you now realized was a minor burn. “Did you touch the furnace?” The furnace – that’s what’d been making that noise. That’s what you’d cut yourself on. That’s where he’d thrown you. What the fuck? You were lucky you hadn’t hurt yourself even worse. You looked up from your hand to see him frowning at you. “Why would you do that? Sweetheart, you have to be more careful. That was a very stupid thing to do.” He got up and walked into the ensuite, opening a cabinet under the sink.

Was he seriously scolding you for getting hurt in a dangerous room he’d locked you in?? The rage from earlier was starting to return, but it was still tempered by your fear. You did your best to keep your voice even when you replied, “It was completely dark in there. I couldn’t see anything.” A little growl came through your words, but it wasn’t anything compared to what you were actually feeling.

He came back holding a small first-aid kit. “Well then that’s a good reason to keep your hands to yourself, isn’t it?” He sat down and opened the kit, pulling out a few wipes and beginning to somewhat roughly clean your hand. “Sweetheart, I’m here to take care of you. That’s my job as your husband. But I need you to be a good girl and not put yourself in harm’s way.”

“You threw me in there!” you said, your voice starting to get louder, despite your best efforts to keep calm.

“Because you were bad and needed a time-out!” he yelled back at you. He threw the dirty wipes into the trashcan beside the bed and took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. He grabbed an ointment from the kit and began applying it to your hand. “That’s why we’re going to talk about rules now. They’re there to keep you safe and both of us happy. When you don’t follow them, something like this can happen.”

You didn’t say anything. You had to be smart if you were ever going to get out of here and antagonizing him wasn’t smart. He didn’t seem to expect a response anyway as he just silently placed a bandage on your hand and then got up and put the kit away. He came back and sat right next to you, turning so he could look into your eyes. You tried to turn your head away, but he grabbed your chin and forced eye contact.

“Alright,” he said, his tone already so fucking patronizing. “A good thing that came out of your little tantrum is that now we know the areas we need to focus on most for improvement – manners, respect, and attitude. I did some thinking during your quiet time too, and I’ve adjusted your training schedule to focus on these things. It’ll be good for both of us.”

What the actual fucking fuck? “Training schedule?” was all you managed to get out.

Andy nodded. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that we’re in the basement right now. I have a beautiful big house upstairs that I can’t wait to show you. But you’re going to have to earn it first, prove to me that you know how to be good, that I can trust you before we can go upstairs. That’s what the training will do. I’m going to teach you exactly how to be perfect for me, everything I want, and in return I’m going to give you a perfect life, so much better than what you had before. We’re going to be so happy together, sweetheart. I promise.

“Now, it’s going to take time. I understand that. And I’m going to be patient with you. I know what your life was like before. I know that you probably never expected that you’d ever get to have this. Change can be scary. Dreams coming true, it’s scary. But I’ll be here to guide you through it all. I’m going to give you everything and all I ask of you in return is that you be good for me. That’s all.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to sob. What the hell was this? How could this man, this stranger, be so completely deranged? Be smart, you chanted to yourself. Be smart be smart be smart. And if you opened your mouth now, you knew exactly what would come out. So you kept it shut and let him continue.

“So first, let’s talk about your tantrum. I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way. The language and the names, it’s unacceptable. So, no swearing going forward. And I think a good rule for you while we’re downstairs will be for you to address me as Sir. Once we’ve moved upstairs, you’ll be allowed to call me Andy, but whenever we’re down here, it’s Sir. Do you understand?” He looked at you expectantly. You clenched your jaw and nodded. “I expect a verbal response when I speak to you, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you gritted out. He raised an eyebrow at you and his gaze hardened. It took you a moment to realize your mistake. “Yes, sir,” you corrected yourself.

“Very good. As your husband, I expect you to give me the respect I deserve. That’s something we’ll work on. It’s very important that you don’t question me. I know what’s best for you and you need to trust that I will give you whatever information you need to have. If I haven’t told you something, it’s because you don’t need to know, ok?”

He paused again. What kind of Stepford hell was this? What had you done to deserve this? You took a deep breath. Then another. And another. Then, finally, you were able to force out a “Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “You’re so smart, sweetheart. You’ll be upstairs in no time. Now, you’ll start learning your routine tomorrow. I’ve taken some time off work for our honeymoon, so I’ll have plenty of time to get you settled and acclimated. We’ll go over wardrobe and makeup requirements in the morning too. Now,” he slapped his thighs and stood up, “your soup from earlier went cold, so how about I go get you a fresh bowl while you take a quick shower and get all that dust and grime from the Quiet Room off you?”

You held back a grimace at him calling that room that, as he walked over to one of the other doors and unlocked it. He talked to you like you were a child. All of this was so fucked up. But a shower sounded incredible. You had no idea how long it’d been since you’d had one. So you just nodded and let out a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

He beamed at you. “Everything you’ll need is in the bathroom. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

You stood and waited til he was out the door, listening to the beeps and grinding locks once he was gone. Shit. You were really fucked. You went into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. There was no lock on the inside. Of course, there wasn’t.

You didn’t waste much time in the bathroom, desperate for a hot shower. You vaguely registered that the counter was stocked with all sorts of beauty aids – expensive lotions and serums like he’d bought out a department store beauty counter. The shower too, was equally well stocked. So much fancier than the Target sale items you usually stocked your bathroom with. But the shower felt incredible and that’s what you chose to focus on.

When you were finished, you came out of the shower to see that the bathroom door was open. You could hear Andy moving around in the bedroom. You shuddered and quickly wrapped a plush towel around yourself. There was a fresh nightgown waiting for you, soft pink, all silk and lace. You grimaced and wondered what you’d need to do to get a pair of sleep shorts and an old T-shirt to sleep in. Probably more than you were willing to do, if it was even possible. You dried off quickly and slipped the nightgown on.

When you exited the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed, the tray of food sitting next to him. There was a bowl of soup and a cup of water, along with a small plate with a few crackers. The dishes and utensils were all plastic. Nothing you could hurt him with. You sat down and watched him carefully as you lifted the tray onto your lap. He didn’t say anything so it must have been allowed. Your hand shook as you brought the first spoonful up to your lips. The soup was warm, not hot, certainly not scalding. Another hope dashed. Throwing it at him would only result in him getting wet. And angry. Not worth it.

As you ate, you realized just how hungry you actually were. The nausea from whatever drugs you’d had had covered it up, but you were starving. You barely even tasted the soup, you just needed to eat. God, how long had it been since you’d had food? You wouldn’t bother asking Andy. You knew he wouldn’t give you an answer.

After he watched you eat for a few minutes, he said, “What do you say, sweetheart?”

God, he used that word like it was your name. It made you want to scream. You swallowed down all your anger and a spoonful of soup before you said, “Thank you, sir.”

He gave you a satisfied smile. “See,” he said, “I knew you had good manners.”

You shoved the spoon into your mouth to prevent any sort of comeback. This fucking asshole. Luckily he let you eat the rest of your meal in peace. But he never took his eyes off you.

Once you were done, Andy put the tray on the dresser and then declared it bedtime. You watched him cautiously, as he went to the dresser and took out a pair of boxers and a cotton tee. He changed right in the middle of the room and you turned your head away. You caught flashes of skin, that if he’d been anyone else, in any other circumstances, would have had you drooling. It was becoming hard to breathe again. What else would he demand from you tonight?

You chanced a glance back up at him to find him changed and staring at you. You swallowed nervously. “Come here,” he said firmly, holding his hand out to you. You slowly, so slowly, made your way to him. As soon as you were in reach, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you the rest of the way in so that you were nestled into his chest. “I know,” he said, stroking one hand down your back, “that we’re both thinking about our first time together, but I’d like to wait.” He ran the fingers of his other hand down the strap of your nightgown, slipping onto your bare skin. “Give you a chance to get fully adjusted. Give us both a chance to get to know each other.” His voice slipped down an octave as his fingers traveled across your chest. Your body bowed to get away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “Give us a chance to enjoy each other.” His breath hitched as his hand traveled down to your breast, the other hand on your back had stilled, holding you close, stopping you from getting away. He moved his head as close as he could to yours and whispered, “I want it to be special.” Then, before you could try to back away, he was kissing you. It was firm and demanding, giving you no option but to let it happen. He angled his growing erection into your thigh, and with the way he was holding you, you couldn’t lean away from it. His tongue forced its way into your mouth and you couldn’t help the way you whimpered. It felt like it might go on forever, when he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m so happy you’re mine,” he whispered.

And then he was out of your space, leaving you trying to breathe again, alone in the middle of the room, as he climbed into the bed. You just stood there, unsure of what to do, your lips still tingling. Once he was settled on the side of the bed closest to the door, he called your name. “Come to bed now,” he said, and there was no mistaking it for anything other than an order. You ducked your head and climbed onto the bed, terrified of what might come next, but also desperate for sleep. This day had left you exhausted and confused and scared and so angry. It was all too much.

You tried to lie down as close to the edge as you could, but he pulled you in close so that your back was flush to his front, his arm thrown over your waist. “I'm so proud of you,” he whispered into your hair, “getting through your first day without having to go to the punishment room.”

Your mouth went completely dry. A room you hadn’t been to. Somewhere worse than the quiet room. “What's–” your tongue struggled to form the words. You took a breath and tried again. “What's the punishment room?” You caught yourself at the last minute and added a quiet “Sir.”

His hand caressed your side. “You keep being my good girl and you won't have to find out.”

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@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @foulpersonahandsvoid

#dark andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x female reader #defending jacob #dark fic #dark!andy barber #dark!fic #reader insert #chris evans fanfiction #ce characters #fanfic #trapped au #kris wrote something

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toast-on-dandelioms · 4 months ago

Note

I could like to ask for a request it ok you don’t do it!

So I was thinking about Yandere Batfamily x MaleGojo reader like a reference from Gojo of JJK the same figure and the same goofy personality and charming personality like he was not their family or blood relative or anything they just fell really hard for M! Gojo reader for his personality and eyes like they even kidnapped him and they all fell for him since M! Gojo is between his 19-20s and he like dumb he just let it happen cause he like attention and he got a lot of ego so he just like “Meh I get free stuff and gifts and like in a mansion for free” even thought M! Gojo is really rich he just goofy.

Ok so, I am incredibly sorry it took me so long to write this, I never had the right idea until now but I hope you like it!

Dividers made by @thecutestgrotto and by @cafekitsune

Also I wrote this when I mostly didn't sleep so, whatever weird thing reader is thinking it's totally my fault but I am not apologizing for it.

The pronouns for the reader will be he/they, so if you don't like it, don't read it.

Wc: 6k

Fyi (my own warnings for yall): reader is an egomaniac, Bruce flirts with yall, inappropriate thinking from yall, I decided the ages please don't take them seriously, the ages are only used for this ask only,

Ages:

Bruce: 45 - Dick: 27 - Jason: 23 - Tim: 20 - Stephanie: 20 - Cass: 22–23 - Damian: 15/16 - Duke: 19

age of reader: 20

Tw: big age gap, Bruce Wayne, romantic yanderes (except Damian, he's a minor in this story), drugging and spiking food, mention of unwanted touch, inappropriate thinking, mention of death, mention of grooming and sex trafficking, MINORS PLEASE DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS ONE BECAUSE SOME THEMES MIGHT BE BAD,

You were a model. A symbol of beauty that people paid money to use to promote their products. People adored you thanks to your eyes, a blue so intense that even the rarest sapphire looked like a common one compared to your eyes. Well, it was thanks to your eyes that you were a model, they seemed to attract people. You were proud of your eyes and your face, you knew they were the reason why you were famous and you made sure to never ruin it. You were proud of being a male model. At least, that's what you felt before you went to Gotham.

You were in the car with your agent, Katelyn, who was still talking about things you weren't allowed to do in Gotham, which made you incredibly bored since that's what she all talked about ever since you accepted the job and was told to go to Gotham with Katelyn.

One thing that stuck to you from her annoying nagging, especially since she wouldn't stop talking, was that you weren't allowed to be near the billionaire Bruce Wayne, even though he was the one who hired you to be the star for his new products At least, that's what you remembered since you tuned out Katelyn's voice after 20 minutes of her talking.

You weren't sure why you weren't allowed near the billionaire but you didn't really care, from the photos you searched online of him you didn't see anything interesting so you decided that he wasn't worth your time. The only reason you chose to do this was the pay.

When you finally arrived at the hotel you immediately demanded a cocktail while waiting for Katelyn to check the two of you in the hotel.

As you waited near the bar in the hotel, you saw a few individuals who were trying to subtly stare at you, to which you didn't care since you were used to people staring. But, as you also looked at them with no shame whatsoever, you noticed that they were all wearing or using a Wayne product.

The oldest individual in the group was a man with pitch black hair and who was sitting on one of the many sofas in the lobby. For a few seconds, you could've mistaken him for the younger version of Bruce Wayne when he was, maybe, 25 or 26 years old. His wrist was decorated with a chunky watch that had seen increased sales after Bruce Wayne promoted it, which was probably how the man had heard of it. If you were to guess, the watch was probably one of the limited edition that not many people bought since only 10 were released of the special line. You knew that because you cried when you found out the watch was sold out and you weren't able to buy it.

The second oldest, another black haired man, who was leaning on a wall near the first man, with a weird white streak in his hair but was built like a soldier, especially with how muscular his arms were even though he was wearing a jacket, probably a leather one but you weren't sure since he was a bit far away.

You did know it was a Wayne jacket because you just saw that same leather jacket and design on the magazine you were reading on the plane while ignoring Katelyn and told her to order one since you wanted it.

Another man was next to the watch guy, which you almost didn't see until he suddenly appeared to try and grab a cup of coffee out of the watch guy’s hands.

You did see he was using a laptop, which made you a bit confused since you could see a W and also a D, but from some bits of Katelyn's lecture about Gotham’s rich people that you were listening to, you don't remember anything about the Wayne and Drake’s companies merging or a collaboration.

As you continued to stare at them while sipping on the cocktail you finally received, you noticed a kid, maybe a teen but you didn't really care, who was talking on the phone the entire time with an angry scowl on his face that made you wonder what angered such a young person.

Strangely enough, you did know who the kid/teen was. He was Damian Wayne, also nicknamed ‘Wayne’s poodle’ after you heard of his obsession with animals and how many he has in his Manor.

You gave him a quick glance, a bit surprised that he was the one openly staring at you before smiling at him, trying not to laugh when he looked away with a visible blush on his face.

After seeing Damian Wayne in the lobby, you were quick to assume that the other three men you looked at before were the other children of Bruce Wayne.

You set the cocktail on the bar and walked away to Katelyn, glad she was done and grabbed the key to your room before walking off, not caring about them being at your hotel.

You took the elevator to your room and came face to face with a blonde girl and an black haired asian. You politely smiled at them and stepped to the side so they could exit the elevator before entering it, quickly pressing the button to close it since you could feel the black haired girl stare on you the whole time.

While waiting in the elevator, you did wonder who all the people in the lobby were before shrugging and going back to playing on your phone, not caring about them anymore since they weren't important.

As you waited for the elevator to arrive at your floor, you suddenly felt it stop a few floors before yours, and when you looked up you saw an African American kid staring at you, his mouth slightly open.

You looked at him and chuckled softly at how surprised he was at seeing you, finding him cute since he kept stealing glances at you the whole time you were in the elevator.

You smiled when he glanced at you once again and finally said.

"Y'know if you were just going to stare, a picture will last longer dearest." You giggled, smiling softly as his skin went a dark shade of red.

"I- I wasn't staring-!" He stammered, the slight quiver in his voice giving him away.

"Mhm, so the wall behind me was just soooo interesting you had to keep looking right?" You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him as you crossed your arms.

The boy stared blankly at you for a solid few seconds. "....yes." He replied in a completely serious voice, which prompted a flurry of laughter from yourself.

You walked out the elevator when it finally reached your floor and winked at him when he looked at you, continuing to walk to your hotel room and finally changing, after entering the room, after hours of being on an airplane with Katelyn.

After adjusting to Gotham’s nightlife and also enjoying the city without any rogue attack, you finally walked in the WE building to do the photoshoot about whatever product you needed to advertise.

Did you care about the product? No but you just wanted to be paid so you didn't care.

As you walked inside the building with Katelyn next to you, needing her to know where to go and also to give the makeup crew a list of the makeup products that you were allergic to and a bag with substitutes if they didn't have any in hand.

You entered the elevator, completely ignoring Katelyn and her instructions and just waited to arrive on the floor where the photoshoot or whatever you needed to do was, playing a stupid game on your phone while waiting.

When you finally reached the floor, you followed Katelyn without saying anything, a small smirk on your face as you saw many people looking your way and staring.

You entered the photoshoot and ignored the other model, already annoyed since she wasn't as good as you but you could manage since your beauty was enough to make this session perfect.

As you entered your makeup station you completely disregarded the fact that the Bruce Wayne was standing near the station, not caring if he was staring since you knew why he was staring. I mean, who could blame you?

You were perfect and a symbol of beauty that so many people wanted for their own pleasure.

During the photoshoot you could hear people talking about the poses and what to edit in between photos, making you annoyed since you wanted everything to be perfect and your co-model was getting reprimanded most of the time.

You also noticed how Bruce kept staring at you the whole time you were in the photoshoot, making you wonder if he was interested in you before shrugging and going back to sippin on some water since you were on break after your co-model Mercy Jacques, yes he wants people to use both names, kept messing up and even destroyed a prop.

Time passed slowly while your annoyance kept growing before you finally gave up when Mercy Jacques accidentally dropped a heavy prop on your leg while doing a weird pose, making you incredibly angry when he didn't even apologize.

You got up and wanted to punch the man, not caring if it would create a scandal. No one could treat you like an inferior model when you were one of the best in the whole country.

As you prepared to punch him, someone suddenly grabbed your arm and held you from behind, completely stopping you from even trying to hit Mercy Jacques, making you even more angry.

"Calm down sweetheart, anger isn't a good look on you," a voice whispered against your ear, the person's gentle breathing making a shiver run down your spine.

You picked up the sound of movement and felt the hands clutching your waist loosen as the person came to stand by your side.

It was Bruce motherfucking Wayne.

"Mercy Jacques, I'm afraid we can no longer work with you. Please see yourself out." He said simply, the taught smile on his face was much too sinister for your liking.

You pulled away from his arms after Mercy Jacques was escorted out the room before looking at Bruce, a small smirk on your face before quickly acting like a damsel in distress from the prop that fell on your leg, a bruise was already forming which helped your act.

Were you doing this to get pity and also to make sure Mercy Jacques’s reputation would be in shambles? Also yes, you already knew Katelyn was making sure he would never find a job in Gotham.

She was good at ruining people's lives, that's why you kept her around even though her voice was incredibly annoying.

As you faked being incredibly hurt, you used Bruce’s closeness to lean onto him, secretly using the opportunity to feel the chest of the man and being a bit surprised at how muscular the man actually was.

Unfortunately for you, you didn't see how dark Bruce’s eyes got when you leaned on him and acted all hurt,

You pulled away when you heard Katelyn call for you and noticed her close to Bruce so you pulled away from him, a bit reluctant since you were still touching his chest and body with no shame whatsoever.

You turned to her and just made a motion with your hand to make her cut the session so you could go back to the hotel and relax in a nice bath and turned around to go to the makeup station so they could clean your face.

You barely managed to take even a step before you suddenly felt Bruce’s hand wrapping around and grabbing your wrist, which made you think of another body part he could wrap his hands around.

You looked at him with a half surprised half whatever dirty thing you could think about his hands before realizing he was talking and you completely ignored what he was saying to focus on his hands and how good they must feel on your body.

When you finally clocked in to listen to what he was saying, you just heard the last part.

“So, what do you think sweetheart?” he said, his voice was a deep baritone, the type of sound that would have anyone on their knees within seconds of meeting this man, which, in all honesty you would do everything if he called you that in that same voice.

Unfortunately, you couldn't just admit that you weren't listening to the richest man you knew, the man who hired you as his model so you just put on your best fake smile.

“That sounds amazing Bruce, can I call you Bruce?” you asked, a bit confused and almost panicked when the man stared at you in silence.

You almost cried when he finally laughed because you were scared as fuck that you somehow offended him by calling him by his first name and he was gonna kill you.

“I’ll pick you up at 7 at your hotel” was the last thing he said to you before walking off after patting your shoulder, making you almost kneel down since god damn his voice and smile was too much.

You waited until he was far away before immediately turning to Katelyn, who you knew was near and probably heard everything.

You quickly walked up to the poor innocent woman and grabbed her from her shoulders, your eyes staring right into her soul and seeing her deepest and darkest secrets before asking in a desperate tone “what the fuck did I just agree to?”

To which the woman sighed, already knowing you got distracted by the man and how hot he was in your eyes before finally telling you what you agreed to do. “You just agreed to go to dinner with Bruce Wayne, the man I told you to not interact with because of the type of scandals he might cause you if the two of you are seen together.” her voice sounded so annoyed but also resigned at the fact that you never listen to her.

You stayed silent when she started her usual rant about you needing to be more careful and knowing when to listen before noticing you were just looking into whatever was in front of you with a dreamy look on your face.

“OI Romeo! Stop day-dreaming and go get the makeup off! Your date is in 2 hours and I know you will go no matter what so at least let me pick the suit”

You immediately nodded and hugged her, kissing her on the forehead before running off to the makeup station in heels, making Katelyn wonder how you could do that since she couldn't even walk with normal heels.

It was almost 7 pm and you were finally finishing putting on some makeup, making sure your suit was the right colors so it could make you look gorgeous for this date.

Did you care that he was probably gonna use you as a one night stand? No, you were gonna use him to have a pleasurable night and also to make your friends back home jealous.

When it was finally 7 you quickly went to the lobby of the hotel, stopping when you noticed the same people in the lobby when you first arrived, who were all staring directly at you. (Except Damian)

It almost felt like you were standing nude before the people in the hotel, my body bare for their piercing gazes to lay upon. I've always felt absolutely secure in my body and looks, you knew you were hot and felt pride in knowing that. But their unwavering eyes still made you feel insecure, like they were scrutinizing every tiny detail about your appearance, making you feel like you were being criticized by your parents when you weren't the best at a photoshoot.

You shivered and quickly pulled your eyes away from them, trying your best to simply ignore the gazes that you could feel still stabbing into my back.

You smiled in relief when you saw Bruce arrive in a Lamborghini and you hurriedly ran outside, continuing to feel their gaze on your back as you reached the car at the same time Bruce was walking out of it.

You smiled at the older man and thanked him when he opened the door for you, sneakily glancing back to the hotel and seeing all those people staring at both you and Bruce.

You swiftly sat in the car and looked inside, amazed at how amazing the car was and didn't notice how Bruce looked back at the lobby of the hotel and smirked before walking around the car and driving off with you.

In the car you didn't say much and just looked at the road, sometimes stealing glances at Bruce and admiring his body in his suit, especially how his pants were perfect since they were tight enough to show his bulge.

God you so wanted to see him without those pants. You wanted to see all his body without his suit, wanting to feel how strong he actually was and if the rumors that you heard from other models about him being a god in bed were true.

You finally stopped imagining Bruce naked when he pulled up at one of the fanciest restaurants in Gotham where it's impossible to get a reservation there. Katelyn tried and you watched her cry when she failed, a smile on your face as you watched her tears ruin her makeup, enjoying her pain.

You got out of the car and gracefully grabbed Bruce’s hand, especially since you were wearing very high heels that made Katelyn make a weird face at how narrow the heel was but you didn't care.

The heels made the outfit perfect and also helped you be at the same height as Bruce, you refused to let that man have the upper hand with his height if you change it.

You walked inside the restaurant while holding onto Bruce’s arm, the classic fake smile on your face for any photographers who were near the restaurant and for the staff, even winking at the waiter who led you two to a secluded table.

You thanked the older man, who didn't look a day over 30, when he slightly pulled the chair out to help you sit down before pushing it near the table.

You were a bit surprised he got a reservation at this restaurant before scolding yourself mentally because he's a billionaire, he probably threw some money and got a reservation. You were now wondering who lost their reservation tonight to make space for Bruce Wayne.

As you sat down you smiled at the older man, knowing that he invited you here to flaunt his new catch and how he only wanted you because you were pretty and young.

Did you care? No, you were used to it and you were gonna use everything you had to go to bed with him and get paid for your silence afterwards. That's what always happened when a rich person was attracted to you and by now you started to use it for your own gain.

You were used to rich and powerful people being attracted and using their wealth to have you for a while, they only wanted a pretty thing and not you. You just knew that if you slept with them then you would get more modeling contracts and more publicity.

(TALK OF GR*PE AND OTHER BAD STUFF, SKIP IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ IT)

You think you were 11 when it started.

The exact date was hazy in your mind, you just knew that after spending an hour or two with a photographer, alone, that your parents told you was famous for not giving any models a break during photo shoots, was now giving you special treatment and kept touching you in weird places during the photoshoot.

You can still remember the agonizing pain in your arms from struggling against the man’s grip on your wrists to keep you still, the strain in your throat as you kept begging, pleading and downright crying while asking him to stop and to let you go back to your parents; you can still smell his horrible breath on your face when he told you to shut up before kissing you.

You were 12 when it developed into a weekly occurrence.

You could remember everything even though you wished you couldn't, you could still feel that man’s touch and hearing his laughter as your body was being used for his own pleasure against your own will.

12 years old and being forced into acts even adults would feel ill at the idea of. At the time you were rising in fame thanks to a few small roles in some shows and movies and alongside your modeling gigs that kept pouring in.

You were 14 when you told your parents for the first time.

You remembered the confusion and feeling ashamed when you told them about what happened, not understanding why they just told you that you did a good job and that doing that meant that the producer liked you and was going to give you more opportunities to make the world see your beauty.

You never understood why they didn't help you. Why your mother just looked at you with no emotion in her eyes as you cried when you told her what that man did before telling you to stop crying and that you had a photoshoot with that same man in two hours.

You could still feel the pats on your back that your father gave you when he saw how many modeling gigs you had been offered by that man and just told you to keep it up.

You were 15 when you began to give up on finding any help.

You slowly stopped telling your parents and just let the photographers, stylists and directors do what they wanted when you realized that your parents didn't care about you and just cared about the money you were making for them.

You were 16 when you stopped believing in finding help altogether.

You stopped trying to understand and just gave in the pressure that everyone kept putting on you. You created a mask from the pieces of your broken self and just kept going.

You stopped fighting, you stopped pleading for them to stop and just used their greed and lust for you as a way to advance in life. You knew it was wrong but you didn't care, no one ever taught you or told you what was right and what was wrong.

You were 17 when you learnt how to pretend you liked it.

You convinced both yourself and others that it was okay, the way you'd been treated for your adolescence. If you had no problem with it and tricked yourself into believing it was what you wanted, it wasn't wrong.

And it worked.

You pretended to enjoy it. You pretended to adore the fame and money you got from what you did. You pretended to smile happily at your parents as they told you there was another meeting you had with the director later that day. You pretended to look forward to those meetings.

You pretended so much you forgot how not to. Your personality, likes, interests, everything about you was completely fake. But the world is easily swayed by fakeness if it's decorated with rhinestones and glittery gowns.

Like a mannequin in a boutique window, beautifully dressed in high-end clothing, with jewelry adorning the delicate neck of the faceless creature. Thousands of eyes gaze upon the mannequin, almost as if they're awaiting its demise.

(no more talk about gr*ape for now, will inform if there's another)

As the night progressed you noticed how Bruce never made any comments about your body or what you could do for him, making you a bit frustrated since you knew he was attracted to you.

You saw how he looked at you, you felt his eyes linger down when you walked beside him. You weren't oblivious of it. You knew what he wanted but you hated how he kept asking you questions about your life and hobbies.

Why was he actually so interested in you?! He’s just another old man wanting to flaunt to his rich friends that he fucked a model so why is he doing all this?!

You kept drinking wine and starting to act drunk, thinking that maybe he was one of those old men that would use you when you were intoxicated and then manipulate you into thinking that you also wanted it.

Plus, no one knows it thanks to your influence in the media, but you weren't a lightweight. You trained yourself to act drunk after two glasses of wine so that people would never know that you were an easy person.

After the waiter brought the check and left you were fuming and got too tired to act like you were interested in him after a whole dinner with him not insinuating anything that you should do for him.

You got up, the chair screeching as it suddenly moved, and glared at him, too angry to keep acting like your stupid ass self that is too focused on their fame and ego to care about others.

“...how many mind games are you going to play” - you pointed a finger right to his face, your voice shaky from frustration and anger -“huh? How many TİLL YOU SLEEP WİTH ME?! I know what you want! Everyone I ever met that wanted to go to dinner with me always wanted the same thing! Answer me!! And don't you dare waste my time!”

You kept glaring at him before feeling a tiny prick on your neck and before you could look you started to feel drowsy, like when your parents used to give you a glass of water that tasted weird when you were younger.

You pointed a finger at him before mumbling out a “you sick fucker, you could've told me you wanted to do it with me sleeping” and then collapsing on the floor, your fall being stopped by Bruce.

Bruce: he has always been interested in you after he saw you at your first big runway after you turned 18 and was finally free of your parents control.

He saw you walking on the big stage, your hair all messy in the wildest haircut possible that he guessed you did, complete with a wild outfit and the wildest makeup he ever saw.

He forgot what the theme of the show was because he only remembered you and how, even while wearing rags and looking like you just went through the most heartbreaking breakup, you looked like the most beautiful man he ever saw in his life.

After that day he just kept going to whatever event you were also in and enjoyed watching you from afar, he even had a full room in the Manor ready for you after he heard you talk about the perfect bedroom to relax but also have stuff to do so you could still be productive.

Next to that same room there was the room filled with almost every photo, magazine clips and whatever he could find about you plastered on the walls.

He slowly became more obsessed with each day that passed that he wasn't with you, his love for you growing into an unhealthy obsession that he actually sent people to spy and take care of you in your company while also finding out everything about your past as a child model.

He did ruin the lives of every director, photographer and almost every person in the modeling industry who used you in a sexual manner after he did some digging since he needed to know everything about you, wanting to be the perfect husband for you when he will finally marry you.

Even though he never talked to you and was double your age, he didn't care. He wanted you.

(Everyone’s obsession for you starts when you turn 18, if you got confused sorry)

Richard/Dick: he was the first one who got influenced by Bruce’s obsession with you after just 3 months since he was living at the Manor during that time because there was a case that he couldn't crack and was using the batcomputer to find some more clues.

He accidentally walked in on Bruce admiring one of the many runways that the older man registered and just watched from the doorway as the TV played in the background, staring at how beautiful you looked while walking, staring directly into the camera and in Dick’s soul.

After that day he started to research on his own and eventually stumbled into Bruce’s obsession room about you and didn't feel disgusted or weirded out when he saw all the photos and magazines photos about you and didn’t feel connected to Bruce when he realised that he and the old man shared an obsession.

No, he felt jealous at how it was Bruce that first found you and not him. Bruce had the privilege of having you for himself before he found you and he hated that.

But he also managed to one up Bruce by being the first of the two to get a photo with you after disguising himself as a waiter during a gala, especially because he knew the man flew to the city where the gala was held just to see you, even if you were with an old guy who looked like he could be your grandfather.

Did he rub it in Bruce’s face right after, especially when he knew the man was there and especially when he knew that the man still didn't approach you because he didn't know every single thing about you? Yes, yes he did and he did it with pride since he managed to one up Bruce.

He also killed the man before going back to Gotham with his old man,making sure that old bastard suffered through every moment and felt everything, especially when Dick started to slowly break his fingers, making sure he broke them so much that the man would never be able to use them even after surgery and therapy.

Plus he wouldn’t need to use them given that Dick killed him at the end by strangling him as he insulted him, making sure the man could see his face filled with joy as he was strangling him.

Jason: he found out about this when he was at the Manor with Tim and Duke since the three were working on the same case given that Duke found some thugs using weird alien technology while robbing a bank that unfortunately got destroyed during the fight.

Tim got involved because he saw a gang fight that were using similar weapons thanks to Duke’s descriptions and to Barbara given the fact that she provided video evidence that perfectly showed the weapons during the fight. Unfortunately, Tim couldn’t retrieve the weapons because the gangsters spread out during the chase but he managed to capture a few for questioning where he found out that the next shipment of those weapons was gonna happen in a few nights in some part of Crime Alley, to which he asked Jason for help.

That day the three were at the Manor to see if they could find more information via the remnants of the weapons Duke brought from the first fight and were witnesses of Dick taunting Bruce with the photo while wearing a shirt with the photo of him and you right in the middle of it.

Thanks to it and the fact that Bruce looked so angry and and on the bring of punching Dick in the face that the three got to work on finding out what was happening and immediately falling in love with you during their research. (They also stopped the thugs)

Jason, at first, was surprised at how long you’ve been working in the modelling industry before starting to dig about your past and when he found out about what your parents and what all those directors and photographers did to you he was enraged since he knew what it felt like having adults you trusted use you.

He quickly went to Bruce and just told him that he wouldn't be available for a few days before leaving and after he came back the news started to talk about all those people missing and some who were found dead with a letter written with all their crimes, alongside a usb filled with video evidence of their crimes that immediately got uploaded to the internet after an hour of getting found thanks to Tim.

He did hurt your parents and almost killed them but spared them, unsure if you actually hated them so he just made sure they would be stuck in the hospital for a long while.

Tim: (you already know how Tim and Duke know about you so I'll skip it).

Tim was surprised when he found out about you because of how obsessed Dick and Bruce were about you. But he also did his own research where he then shared it with Duke since the guy was also curious about you and he couldn't hide it from him.

As he studied you and your past, like everyone else, he found himself more interested in how you stayed so strong after everything that happened.

He also helped Jason in his revenge week and made sure all the evidence about those people wouldn't get deleted by hackers or the modelling industry.

He didn't understand why he felt so close to you but after a bit of research and also with Duke continuing to point out how similar you and Tim were he started to understand.

You were a trophy kid for your parents. Your parents had you and mostly used you as a way to make themselves look better when you became incredibly famous as a child model.

They didn't care about you and they only gave you actual attention when they needed to show how good of a parent they were for the public.

And that's what he experienced with his own parents and he knew what it felt like. But the only difference between the two of you is that Tim was neglected but didn't get used for money since he was a billionaire child while you got used to your parent’s greed.

Duke: (you know, I know, we all know)

He was one of the most sceptical to fall in love with you because he didn't feel an immediate connection with you like it happened with Dick, Bruce, Tim and Jason.

Even after knowing about what happened to you he still didn't feel anything and he felt wrong because he saw everyone getting obsessed with you while he just thought you were attractive but didn't feel like the others.

After a year he finally met you thanks to a gala he went to with Bruce without the others since they already ‘met’ you by being creeps.

That gala was the start of his obsession with you.

You were ethereal and wearing one of the most beautiful white suits that he ever saw, he actually thought you were an angel at first as you slowly walked down the stairs in 4 inch heels thanks to Barbara’s telling him via comms.

After a bit of him watching you from away he finally mustered enough courage to walk up to you and ask for your autograph and you were so nice to him.

Like you didn't ignore him or act annoyed, you actually talked with him as you signed what he wanted and joked a bit about some runways you did that he loved.

And after that day he was hooked, he couldn't get enough of you that he actually beg Bruce, on his knees, to send him to any gala if you were gonna be there, even though you didn't really go to many galas unless it was something that made you interested, which was difficult to understand and use for their own gain.

But he made sure to brag about it since he had video footage thanks to Barbara.

_______________________________

I am done and I won't do the others because I don't want to sound repetitive for y'all. Please don't ask about the others though.

216 notes · View notes

nerdofspades · 2 years ago

Text

Bruce looked at the pop-up on the Batcomputer's screen.

"Explain," he growled, glancing down at Tim.

"Not much to explain," Tim answered, pulling up lines of code. "It showed up ten seconds ago."

"I'm starting a full diagnostic," Barbara said, voice filtering through the speakers. "So far, I'm not seeing anything."

"And yet..." Time trailed off glancing at the window again. It had a video queued up to play and the words "IMPORTANT: PLEASE WATCH. DO NOT DELETE" in large text at the top.

"There's a new folder labeled 'a gift for Batman,'" Tim said. "Not something any of us made."

"Clearly."

"I'm still not finding any viruses, corrupted files, or spyware," Oracle said. "The new folder was programmed to stay in a hidden partition for a few days after it was placed. Then, obviously, the pop-up to catch our attention."

"Folder also has a text file named 'security notes,'" Tim said. "Maybe our new hacker is friendly?"

"It's starting to look like it," Oracle agreed. "The video is clean. It should be safe to watch."

Bruce sighed. "Then let's see what they've got for us."

The video opened with a dark room. The background hidden in shadows, while the foreground was well lit, letting them clearly see the tired teen in the center of the frame as he took a heavy swig from his mug before putting it down.

"Pulling up facial recognition."

He ran a hand through his messy black hair and then down his face, pinching his nose and hiding the bags under his blues eyes for a moment before he dropped his hand and finally looked at the camera.

"I really don't want to do this," he said, "but you need it." He glanced longingly off screen in the direction of the mug he'd put down.

"First of all, I think I should apologize for hacking you. Or asking my friend to, technically. I just. You need to know about this and I didn't know of another way to get it to you that would be secure.

"I did at least make him promise to make a record of how he got in so you can patch that.

"That out of the way... to business? I'm Danny Fenton, for the last year or so I have also been the hero Phantom in Amity Park. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton. They are ectobiologists and ghost hunters. While extremely biased and not actually that good at catching ghosts, their tech is easily the best in the business."

"That's a positive match."

"Running a search on Phantom."

"I- fucking shit." Danny put his head in his hands again, running them back through his hair before leaning back, almost collapsing into the chair.

"This kid has... gotten into some shit."

"Everyone knows you're the League's strategist, Batman. And. I'm strong enough. I can handle my problems, that's not what I'm worried about.

"It's been about a year and I've already been mind controlled once." Danny laughed. A dry, broken, almost desperate laugh. "And that was just some lowlife that wanted to rob jewelry stores. I'm still not worried about. It's not why I'm sending you this. The magic relic he used is broken and gone now."

"Well that explains one of his problems."

"The others?"

"An attempted kidnapping and fairly standard property damage. I want to see some footage of those fights before passing judgement."

"Even more standard given he doesn't seem to have a mentor. Batman, he was fourteen."

"No. I. I've seen a version of the future. One where I go mad. Where I snap. And the Justice League can't stop me.

"I don't know if I- he kills everyone. I don't know who, if anyone, makes it out. But it's not anyone that could really do much. I... I saw ten years after he- I snapped. Earth was little more than rubble and ash. Only one city was left holding out and it was about to fall- was falling when I got there.

"I've managed to change the time line. What broke him didn't happen here. But. I can't guarantee nothing ever could.

"So. Yeah. Next best thing is making sure you're prepared. All my powers. All my weaknesses. Everything I know of that could possibly hurt me. Schematics and blue prints for anything you could need to fight me, track me, keep me out, keep me contained. All nice and giftwrapped for your convenience.

"Uh... that's everything. Why is it always so awkward to end a video? Hopefully we never see each other? I guess? Pretty sure us actually meeting is gonna be a bad sign.

"You know what. I'm gonna turn this thing off now before I say something stupid."

"Batman, who's 'Phantom'?" Superman asked, glancing up from the Watchtower computer he was working at. "Aren't we supposed to vote on new members?"

Batman grunted. "He's not a member, just someone who understands the need for contingencies."

"You know what, I'm not gonna even ask."

"Probably for the best."

#dp x dc #bruce wayne #batman #danny phantom #dc #batman's contingincies #tim drake #barbara gordon

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gaywineauntsstuff · 1 month ago

Text

Listen the ‘Bruce brought dick in to stop him killing Zucco” is fun

You know what’s more fun

The fact that Dick Grayson is the fundamental opposite of Jokers one bad day

Because he was 9 and insane

Jokers “all it takes is one bad day” meet Dick Grayson also terminally insane but in the opposite direction.

(“I had a bad day not a fan, it’s illegal now”

“Chum murder is already illegal”

“Yeah in the eyes of the law, but who follows that! I’ve decided it’s illegal for people to have bad days”

“You have to follow laws Dick. You have to”

“Says the man getting shot at by the cops bc he dresses as a giant bat monster and fights crime using ancient martial arts”

“Hnnng”

“Anyway it’s illegal now, people suffering I have decided and I’m adorable so what I say goes!”

Bruce pinching bridge of nose “Dick you can’t save everyone and change every person you meets life”

“How about! No!”

“Di-“

“Great talk Bruce! Bye bye now!”)

Like when I say Dick Grayson was the crazy Robin I don’t mean he was aggressive or cruel

No I mean this man would not be out of place in Lewis Carol’s Alice in wonderland.

He’d see all the insane shit in Gotham and go ‘that makes perfect sense’ and continue on his merry way

Like he’s the type of kid who when he’s mad at Bruce for sidelining him on a fight against the joker (and making him fight Harley)

Will pull out a chessboard, grab Harley Quinn and go “I win, you get arkhamed you win we fight”

“Kid-“

“I have a gymnastics competition coming up and I wanna show up this douche in my class- you are not breaking my legs before then. Sit down. Play chess”

“Shit kid why didncha say so”

Why does he wanna fight the Joker who will objectively injure him far more throughly

“Well it’s simple math, I grew up in a circus, I like clowns, he is the biggest disgrace to clownery I’ve ever seen bet he didn’t even go to clown college. Doesn’t even have any iconic makeup, he just has toxic waste skin?? Like not even eye makeup or a red nose?? If you wanna do thematic crime do it right? Anyway it’s my legal obligation to try at any given moment to reck the embarrassment to all things goofy and funs shit.”

—————

Bruce looking for his 9 year old ward who was kidnapped as Robin

Dick hanging upside down on semi sentient vine gesturing wildly at poison Ivy who is nodding empathically

“And the water here is not normal!! Like how do you grow plants! I used to have to take care of plants all the time and now if I water them they rot! Like right in front of me!!? And I feel so bad but?? It’s water?? Please drink it?? Mr plant”

“Oh yeah it’s because of all the toxic ace chemicals in the water, you have to triple filter it. Honestly Robin I’m disappointed, your plants should be drinking the same water as you”

“ they do tho!”

“You…drink… Gotham tap water? Batman lets you drink Gotham tap water?”

“Well no… he always tells me to use the filter but I like the tap water!! Sometimes it’s fun colors and spicy”

“oh… oh that explains so much about you..”

“No he just came like that.”

“Oh HI B I was asking miss Dr.ivy why my plants keep dying”

“Robin don’t consort with villains”

“Miss Dr. Ivy you’re a doctor right”

Poison Ivy who is violently amused “PHD not MD but yeah I am”

“So you’re smart”

“Yeasss”

“Cool!…. What does consort mean?”

————-

Annoys the riddler by going with the most out of pocket technically true answer

Think “a sparrow with a shotgun”

———-

Makes the Jokers goons laugh, louder than the joker. Even while under threats of death by sufficiently wacky murder plot

———-

#dick grayson #nightwing #batman

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simplydannie · 10 months ago

Text

Velvet and Veneer One-Shot

“It Was An Accident”

(Trigger Warning)

Artwork done by my friend @djpixelskitten. You can find her work on TikTok: dj_pixels_kitten. She captured the scene and brought it to life beautifully!! Please go check her out!!

What if Velvet and Veneer never made it to the yacht? What if Veneer decided enough was enough and took a detour? Unfortunately, Velvet hasn’t been herself… leading her and her brother to a downfall….and leaving a giant hole in Floyd’s heart

“Follow that vehicle!” Poppy cried as Velvet and Veneer drove off.

The siblings twisted and turned in the highways of Mount Rageous. Veneer kept looking back as the Trolls neared closer and closer…. Something in the pit of his stomach told him to stop, to call it quits.

On his left shoulder pad, Bruce could see the concern on the kids face.

“You can stop this you know. Before it gets worse for you and your sister.” The small Troll attempted to talk reason to him. Veneer was silent for a moment…

“I can’t. We’re to far into this.” He replied.

“And you can still get out.” John Dory exclaimed in the diamond opposite Bruce. Veneer turned back to look up at has sister; a pink pigmentation glowing around her eyes.

“Vels?” Veneer asked, concern stricken across his face.

“Keep driving!” She practically yelled. She stood up on the car. “WHATS UP MOUNT RAGEOUS! You didn’t think we’d give you a boring old stage show did you!”

The cars around them bustled in cheers.

“Vels, maybe this isn’t a good idea!” Veneer called back to his sister.

“I said drive moron!” She glanced behind them as the Trolls continue to catch up. Velvet stood back up on the car… she began to perform.

The star cameras fluttering around her as she sang. Veneer looked back at his sister again… this wasn’t her. Something began to come over him…like the effects of something began to wear off…

“What have we done?” He murmured. Veneer looked around the highways; he had to get him and his sister out of this mess… he had to get them away from the public eye.

“Kid? What are you thinking?” Bruce asked.

“Hold on. We’re taking a detour.” Veneer switched the car away from the main highway, taking a constructed path empty of other vehicles.

“What the heck Veneer!” Velvet exclaimed. All the cars stopped as they couldn’t follow them.

“Where are they going?” Branch asked. He steered Rhonda to follow the siblings. Veneer kept swerving has the road they were in was still under construction, he avoided any obstacle he could.

“Go back Veneer!” Velvet cried out.

“No! We got to stop this now sis! Just look at yourself this isn’t you!” Veneer called back as he kept his eyes on the road. The star cameras were still following them, flying around them as they continued down the road. Veneer looked at them… this was his opportunity.

“Cameras on me!” He called out. They hovered around him, Velvet looking at everything happening with a confused expression.

“Listen up Mount Rageous!” He called into the cameras. “We. Are. Frauds!” He finally said. The Trolls on his shoulders smiled proudly as Veneer finally had full control of himself. “We kidnapped and tortured our only friend.” He continued to speak. Veneer glanced back to look at Floyd in the diamond Velvet wore. A small smile coming across his face. “We signed a contract with someone who lied to us, manipulated us, and led us down a dark path, not even caring for us. We’re done!”

“No! No! Shut up! You idiot!” Eyes glowing pink she lunged for her brother.

“Wait no stop!” Clay yelled in her chest piece.

Veneer attempted to push off his sister and take control of the vehicle at the same time… swerving to and from.

“Vels stop! We’re going to crash!” Veneer called out.

“You ruined it! You ruined everything!” She said as she began to hit him.

“Kid watch out!” Bruce yelled… but it was too late. Their vehicle hit some concrete barriers. The impact f sent the siblings flying out of the vehicle. Out of instinct, Veneer reached for his sister… he hugged her close. His eyes squeezed shut, he prepared for the force of impact, hoping he could shield her from anything he could.

The went skidding, tossing and turning all over the rubble and concrete floor. Their car flying in pieces along with them. They both landed with a loud SMACK on the floor… the impact sending them rolling in opposite directions. The force of the impact made the diamonds fly out of their chest pieces, sending the small Trolls skidding in different directions….. Then there was silence.

Moments passed as Branch, Poppy, and Viva finally caught up to them…. Thats when they saw the wreckage. Rhonda came to a stop, Branch walking out to the horror.

“No! No!” Branch ran to the broken vehicle which was now on fire. “JD! Clay! Bruce! Floyd!” Branch called out as tears began filling his eyes. Please be alive, he hoped. Poppy and Viva took off the opposite direction attempting to look for his brothers.

Branch was nearly giving up hope… until…

“Branch over here!” It was John Dorys voice. Branch ran quickly and followed it. The small Troll walked upon a scene that he would never get out of his memory.

John Dory and Floyd were there in front of him, still in their diamond prison…. There laying next to them, with debris from the crash laying on top of him… was Veneer. His face scratched and bloodied… his body broken. Branch could see he was struggling to breathe.

“We got to help him.” Floyd begged…. But Branch saw what Floyd couldn’t… the Rageoun was broken, literally broken.

“Floyd..we…we can’t….” Branch began to say.

“PLEASE! HELP HIM!” Floyd begged again with tears in his eyes.

“….Floyd….” The voice was soft but audible. The small Troll turned around to see Veneer looking at him through glassed blue eyes. Floyd moved his diamond close to the Rageoun.

“….im sorry….” Veneer said softly, his lungs barely having enough air to speak. Floyd smiled softly.

“It’s all in past. Stay with me okay. We’re going to get you and Velvet out of this mess. Okay? Stay with me.” Floyd said. JD and Branch stood back watching, tears in their eyes. Veneer nodded.

“….. okay…..” But that was it. He stopped moving, stopped breathing. He lay there motionless, his eyes distant….gone.

“Veneer?” Floyd called out. He moved his diamond prison bumping the Rageoun lightly, hoping he’d move again. “Veneer!” He cried out again…. Nothing…Floyd placed his hand against the diamond near the boys head, wishing he could hold him one last time.

“Branch!” He heard Poppy’s voice. Branch turned to find Poppy running to him, tears streaming down her face. “Clay and Bruce are over here! But…it’s also Velvet. She’s hurt bad!”

Floyd didn’t want to leave Veneer just lying there… but he was gone… now he could only hope Velvet could be saved.

“Where is she?” Floyd asked.

They made their way to where the girl was lying. Unlike her brother, nothing was on top of her suffocating her… but she was hurt…. Very hurt…. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel her legs…. Tears were streaming down her eyes.

“It’s hurts.” She cried. Floyd ran up to her.

“I’m here Vels. We’re going to you a hospital okay?” Floyd said. He had just lost Veneer…He couldn’t loose her too. She looked at the small Troll…

“Where’s Veneer?” She asked. Floyd fought back tears.

“We’re going to get him out too.” He said. Velvet shook her head… she knew that look, she knew the tone of his voice.

“Tell me truth…” She demanded. Floyd could only look at her, letting himself cry.

“….Im sorry…” He said. Velvet bit her lip and looked away. She began to sob uncontrollably.

“…. It was an accident…I didn’t….i didn’t mean too. I don’t- I dont know what came over me. Veneer I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” She cried.

“We need to get help now.” Clay said as he saw the state she was in.

“No! No I don’t want to!” She continued to cry. “ I need my brother… I can’t do this without my brother!” She turned to the direction to where her brothers body lay… ever so slightly, she could make out his shape… “I’m sorry Vennie.” She then turned to look at Floyd. “I’m so sorry…”

She continued to cry, blood began seeping from her nose and mouth. Floyd’s heart began to pound.

“Stay with me Vels okay. I need you here… please.” He said.

“This…this is my fault. I hurt you… I got my little brother killed…I did this...” She stared up at the open highway…the clouds of Rageous began to clear… the moment she saw the sky, a peace came upon her. “….I’m sorry…” She said on last time…Taking her last breath, her eyes glued to the sky.

“Velvet!” Floyd called out. “No Velvet please!” He fell to his knees inside the diamond…

“I can’t loose both of you.”

#dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 #trolls veneer #velvet and veneer #velvet trolls #veneer #velvet #velvet and veneer trolls #fandom #trolls floyd #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #trolls angst #angst #au #trolls #trolls au

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lazycats-stuff · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, I was wondering if you could do a Ra's Al Ghul x eldest son reader, where the reader is being courted by Ra's and the Batfamily's reactions to seeing their brother receiving gifts from Ra's

Okay, I have screamed when I got this. If anybody wants me to write about Ra's, when I open my requests, please do send them. Pretty please. I just love Ra's. Also, 2.8k words! My fingers hurt, but I love it.

Summary: Ra's is courting (Y/N). (Y/N) really doesn't know how to feel.

Warnings: Ra's is sending gifts to (Y/N), Bruce is protective, everyone is protective, implications of smut, stalking(?), Ra's is a gentleman, dinner, first date, Alfred has a shotgun ready for Ra's

(Y/N) has known Ra's for a very long time. A little over 11 years now. Ra's has in a way see him grow up from being a little Robin, a little, defenseless child to a brave vigilante by the name of (V/N). He had, alongside his family had run ins with Ra's.

Ra's has tried to kill him a few times, tried to destroy Gotham City just to cleanse it again, kidnapped (Y/N) once to try to brainwash him and has an unhealthy obsession with Bruce being his heir.

He has heard it in many of his monologues through the years. It made Alfred roll his eyes and just cock his shotgun in response. It was a scary sight once, when (Y/N) was just a teen. (Y/N) knew that Alfred doesn't have a no kill rule like Bruce.

Somehow, Alfred is now the main rival of the infamous Ra's al Ghul. Over Bruce. At first, (Y/N) was concerned for his grandpa, but Alfred assured him that nothing will happen to him.

Now, (Y/N) has just started college, paid for by Bruce who made a college fund when he adopted (Y/N) officially. (Y/N) cried when he got accepted and then told that it was paid.

He still lived at home while he was looking for a job to work while in college and to get his own place and officially move out of the manor and be independent. Bruce advised him to save all of that money and use it when he starts officially working after college and to get a head start on his future apartment.

But for some reason, (Y/N) has seemed to forgotten about Ra's. He has been quiet and the family's attention was always on Gotham rouges for the last year so Ra's was not even on his mind at his point. But it has all changed one random day.

(Y/N) walked through the doors of the manor, tired from working. He took his shoes off and quickly went to the kitchen where his family was seated, looking confused, worried and angry. (Y/N) was confused and Bruce quickly walked over to his son, shielding him from the kitchen.

" Hey (Y/N), how was work? "Bruce asked and (Y/N) just raised a brow. He wasn't fooled with anything that they were trying to pull. He is an adult, not a child.

" Bruce, you know I love you, but whatever it is, I can handle it. " (Y/N) said, crossing his arms. Bruce wanted to sigh, but choose not to. He stepped aside to let (Y/N) see what was the fuss about.

He stopped when he saw flowers, a big bouquet light purple flowers. The boys stepped aside too, letting him look at the flowers. (Y/N) leaned forward, sniffing them. They were fresh, that much was obvious and they were safe to come close to them.

(Y/N) noticed a small card on the kitchen island next to it. The little card was emerald green with his name written over it in beautiful golden cursive letters. (Y/N) got an uneasy feeling, but still took the card to read through his contents.

To my (Y/N),

A sign of my love and courtship,

and a perfect gift for an elegant and dainty person.

Yours, Ra's al Ghul.

(Y/N) blinked a few times before opening his mouth, but he closed it quickly. Is this a game? A psychological trick for (Y/N) to let his guard down?

Ra's al Ghul is everything but a liar, but that doesn't mean that he won't trick you into a false sense of security.

" What the hell is this? " (Y/N) asked, turning to his family. Bruce wanted to say something, but he didn't know what.

" We don't know. It has been here when we all came back. " Damian said and he looked disturbed. He walked over to (Y/N) to hug him and (Y/N) wrapped his arms around him.

" Damian, don't take this the wrong way, but your grandfather is nuts." (Y/N) said, looking back at the card.

" These are called Asteria. They are meant for expressing the love in subtle ways. " Damian said, just hugging his older brother a bit tighter.

" Well, that is nice to know. " (Y/N) said and Jason looked outright disturbed.

" Whatever it is, I don't like it. " Tim and Dick agreed with him, voicing their agreements with their own opinions.

" Master (Y/N), I always have a shotgun ready in case of an emergencies. " Alfred said and (Y/N) chuckled at that.

" I will keep that in mind Alfred. " (Y/N) said and Bruce sighed quietly.

" I don't think I need to tell you to stay more vigilant... And I need to upgrade our security system. How do they keep breaking in? " Bruce wondered and Alfred just glanced towards the pantry.

His beloved shotgun is always ready.

" Al Ghuls can break in anywhere. " (Y/N) said, glancing at Damian with a smile on his face, trying to show Damian that he wasn't mad at him. Damian just sighed quietly, hugging his brother tightly.

" Okay, when we are out somewhere one of us will escort you. Same goes for patrol. "

(Y/N) sighed, shaking his head. " Bruce, I don't need bodyguards. " (Y/N) protested, but Bruce shook his head. " (Y/N)- "

" I can be with him father! " Damian chimed in and (Y/N) nearly gave in an urge to coo at him. Nearly.

" Dames, my baby brother, I love you, but you have school. " (Y/N) explained and then turned back to Bruce.

" I'm not having anybody tag me. " (Y/N) stated firmly.

" Okay, how about a compromise? " Bruce suggested and (Y/N) nodded, waiting for the proposition.

" You can switch to online classes until we figure it out. " Bruce said and (Y/N) shook his head.

" No. I won't stop my life because of him. " (Y/N) said and Bruce knows that there won't be a compromise with him.

" Just promise me you will be careful then. " Bruce said and (Y/N) nodded.

" If you need me too, I can drive you to college. " Jason chimed in.

" I can drive you back. " Dick added.

" And I can make sure that your phone is impossible to track. " Tim said and (Y/N) nodded.

" And I can give my blades. " Damian said and (Y/N) now cooed at Damian.

" Oh my sweet dear Dames, I knew you loved me. " (Y/N) joked and Damian grumbled something before letting go of (Y/N).

" I tolerate you at best. " Damian grumbled and (Y/N) smiled at his brother.

The next thing that has happened was a very expensive looking suit made in his measurements and in Ra's signature color, emerald. It was hanging in his room and (Y/N) simply went to Alfred who took his beloved shotgun to clear the manor.

The others were quick to ditch work or school and came home. Bruce closed off (Y/N)'s room as a crime scene and Tim quickly went down to scan the cameras. Alfred made some tea for (Y/N) who was a little bit shaken up.

He still held on his shotgun, watching his oldest grandson like a hawk. (Y/N) was shaken up because his room, his space, was defiled in a way. Sure, he didn't look for anything specific, he just left the suit, but it still felt like he has been defiled. It's the sanctity of the room.

" How are they breaking in? " Jason asked as he walked in from the garden. He scoured the area around the mansion. He didn't like this at all.

" Master Jason, they are Al Ghuls, they can break in into almost everything. " Dick said from the outside as he was still searching for clues.

" This is insane. " Damian admitted, walking in with a tablet in his hands. " Nothing on the footage. " Damian said, putting the tablet down.

(Y/N) took a sip of his tea, trying to not really think about this.

" Was anybody at home? " (Y/N) asked and they all shook their heads. (Y/N) sighed quietly.

" He has to monitor us then. " (Y/N) said and Jason clicked his tongue.

" More like he monitors you. " Jason said, making Dick smack him at the back of his head.

" Hey! "

" Don't make the situation worse. " Dick said and Jason grumbled something that (Y/N) couldn't make out.

" He is getting ballsy. " (Y/N) muttered and Alfred nodded, shotgun still in his hold. (Y/N) glanced at Alfred who was holding the shotgun over his shoulders, looking like cowboy.

" How long will you hold on? " (Y/N) asked Alfred who just shrugged.

" Until master Bruce clears your room. And until we know what the old bastard wants. "

Just the person that Alfred mentioned walked in.

" No sign of a break in, I scanned for any type of drugs, there are none, no listening devices and that's about it. " Bruce said, rubbing his face. What does Ra's want with his son?

" When he comes to Gotham, I'm going to maim him. " Bruce growled out and (Y/N) knew that it was just a matter of time when Ra's came. The others are aware of it too.

(Y/N) won't be going on patrol alone anymore.

The day when Ra's came to Gotham came about a week later. (Y/N) finished everything he needed for the day and was walking down the college stone stairs. He went to the parking lot to get his car, but stopped when he saw Ra's standing next to his car.

He looked great as always. A dark green suit, similar to the one he sent to (Y/N), a few rings on his fingers. He smirked in his usual way when he saw (Y/N). (Y/N) just clicked his tongue in annoyance.

" Ra's... "

" Did you like my gifts? I have one more on the way. " Ra's said, walking closer. (Y/N) stood still, allowing Ra's to walk closer to him. My God, Ra's since when did Ra's become so good looking? Wait... What the actual fuck is happening? Why is he thinking that way?!

" I don't know what you are playing at, but all of this has to stop. " (Y/N) said and Ra's tilted his head.

" I know you still have the flowers and I know you have the suit I have sent you. If you really wanted me to stop, you would make a point to burn them habibi. " Ra's said ever so smoothly, using the pet name. (Y/N) knows a good amount of Arabic thanks to Damian and he blushed.

" Ra's, it's wrong. I have known you since I was 8. It's fucking wrong. " (Y/N) tried and Ra's shook his head with an amused smile.

" I can see you don't really mean it. And why not give it a chance? You know I pick my partners carefully. I know you very well and I know you are strong. I want a strong partner and I know you can be that. "

" This isn't a ploy to make Bruce or Damian take over the League? " (Y/N) asked and Ra's shook his head.

" It's not a ploy habibi. " Ra's started, something shining in his eyes. (Y/N) saw the sheer sincerity and honesty behind the eyes. Those two qualities are often replaced with coldness.

" Ra's- "

" How about we give it a chance? I promise you we will be in Gotham and won't leave the city at all. " Ra's said, now in (Y/N)'s personal space, taking his hands into his, still looking into his eyes. (Y/N) swallowed as he looked down at their hands. He knows that he should say no to these feelings that started surfacing during the week.

He should say no.

" Okay. I will give it a chance. " (Y/N) said and Ra's smiled. (Y/N) looked up to see a sincere smile, the one that gave him wrinkles around his eyes.

" Can I kiss your cheek? " Ra's asked and (Y/N) nodded, not trusting his voice right now.

Ra's kissed his cheek so gently that (Y/N) wouldn't believe that he is an assassin.

" I will see you tonight habibi. Wear the suit I sent you for tonight. I will pick you up at 6. " Ra's said, glancing behind (Y/N)'s shoulder. (Y/N) turned around where his dad was and he seemed pissed.

Ra's was already gone and (Y/N) knows he will hear no end of it.

Nobody could stop him from going on the date. Damian was conflicted, but if it made (Y/N) happy, then sure. But he will go after his grandfather if he hurts him.

The rest of the family tried to get him to stay home, but (Y/N) said that he will go. Alfred said that if he gets hurt, Ra's will be dead by sunrise and won't be able to come back to life with the pit.

The others tried to agree with Alfred and Damian, but they couldn't. But they had to trust (Y/N)'s decision. And who knows? Maybe it will be a... Well, it will at least be a better story than Twilight.

And if Ra's is serious, Bruce will be make sure to test him. Damian too. Alfred will be ready with his shotgun. He has been dropping bodies for years before becoming a butler.

He is not afraid.

(Y/N) was picked up by Ra's at 6 pm on the dot. The ride was filled with a nice conversation and a lot of compliments from Ra's. The restaurant that Ra's choose was extremely fancy and (Y/N) knows that the food is good here.

The dinner was the best dinner that (Y/N) has ever had. The date went well too. Ra's and (Y/N) had a conversation about everything that came to mind and they didn't even touch on their... Other jobs, well, a better phrase would be their other sides.

(Y/N) loved it and then, Ra's took him to the hotel where he was staying. It was a penthouse, how could it not be? Then they kissed officially and then passion overtook them both.

(Y/N) opened his eyes, gently rubbing his eyes. He turned around and he didn't see Ra's next to him. He was alone in bed. Where is Ra's? He was wearing boxers and he was covered in love bites. Ra's saw how tactile he is during sex and would he leave him?

He tried to get up, but his hips were hurting. He hissed as he laid back down. He didn't want to strain himself.

After a minute, the door opened and Ra's entered with bags. He smiled when he saw that (Y/N) was awake.

" Good morning habibi. I just went to get us breakfast from your favorite place. " He said, sitting down next to him with the bags, showing him what he bought.

All of (Y/N)'s favorite things.

" Thanks. " (Y/N) said and Ra's saw something in (Y/N)'s demeanor.

" Did you think I really left you all alone without a reason? Oh habibi. " Ra's crooned at him, kissing him softly with a smile.

After they separated, (Y/N) sat up straight and started eating. It was nice and after they ate, Ra's cleaned up and laid back down with (Y/N). (Y/N) still remembers last night.

How Ra's treated him gently, kissing him gently, making sure that he gelt good throughout... And the aftercare was something that (Y/N) didn't believe that Ra's knew. He was cleaned up in the shower, then Ra's helped him with putting his underwear on and then led him to the bed where he embraced him tightly.

" So (Y/N), what do you think? " Ra's asked, hands gently caressing his body in a nonsexual way.

" I think I would like a second date. " (Y/N) said, nuzzling Ra's neck.

" And your family is okay with this? "

" Oh not really, but they trust me and if you hurt me, there will be hell to pay. " (Y/N) said, closing his eyes.

" Are you still tired? " Ra's asked and (Y/N) hummed in agreement. Ra's adjusted and (Y/N) fell asleep quickly. Ra's didn't fall asleep, instead he just watched (Y/N) and his face.

He didn't know when his feelings started for him, but he wanted to do this properly. If he did anything against (Y/N), Bruce would be there to destroy the League and Alfred would kill him.

He had no doubt about it.

But he didn't have any plans to hurt (Y/N). He will make sure to show (Y/N) that he genuinely loves him and that this is not a ploy for any of his schemes.

#dc comics #x male reader #dc x male reader #batfamily #ra's al ghul x male reader #batfamily x male reader

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