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acid-ixx · 12 days ago

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ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

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shortnsweetsposts · 17 days ago

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*Bat!reader and Batman arguing*

Bat!reader: Every bitch can't be your son.

Batman: ...

Batfam: *Gasp*

Damian: They're right actually.

Bat!reader: Bruce, I didn't mean-

Batman: How could you say that to The Batman.

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luludeluluramblings · 4 months ago

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

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

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

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A/N: I’ve been hyper fixated on Batfam and DC in general for the past two months, and this is what my brain has been cooking. This is based on an fem!OC I made, but I converted it to GN!Reader. Or attempted to. Might write an official one with the oc. I don’t know. I’m new at this stuff and doing this on mobile to boot.

Warning(s): Yandere themes, Obsessive behavior

Reader grows up happy, healthy, a safe away from Gotham

Momma and Daddy (step-father) adore their darling reader

Daddy is kind and understanding; gives good advice, encourages reader, comforts reader after nasty break ups

Momma is sassy and a bit possessive of her baby reader

Momma never tells reader anything about their biological father (He was a big city playboy that missed the court date for custody is all she said)

Reader has a much younger half-brother from Momma and Daddy, who reader also adores

Little Brother’s are annoying, but you have so many interest in common

Suddenly Momma and Daddy are dead; (tragic accident or murdered)

Reader’s Bio Father, Bruce Wayne is called and flies into town via Private Jet and whisk you off to Gotham

Bruce can’t get custody over half-brother due to Reader’s step-grandparents fighting him.

(They tried to keep Reader too, but blood is thicker than water in the eyes of the court. And, Bruce has enough money to make that water run dry)

Bruce isn’t exactly like Momma described, he’s distant and a bit cold with reader. (Like he doesn’t know what to do.)

Bruce gets upset when Reader talks about missing Momma and Daddy, especially when Reader talks about Daddy.

Bruce doesn’t introduce Reader to the family right away.

Reader doesn’t see anyone, but Bruce and Alfred for the first week at the manor.

Bruce avoids reader, but gets upset when Reader ignores him

Reader starts researching their new family. Everything they can find in the media, even the company.

(Family Buisness funds the Justice League? Gotham gains a new Vigilante almost every time Bruce gains a new kid? Jason Todd’s death and reappearance. Suspicious…)

Reader finally meets the others.

First up Cassandra.

Quite, but watches reader like she knows all of reader’s secrets. (That’s terrifying.)

Reader’s instincts scream that she’s dangerous (Reader trusts those instincts.)

Reader is still nice, they get along. Cass rather be alone, but it’s cool. They’re cool.

Second up is Duke.

Duke is great. Official bro. Passes all the vibe checks. (Most normal one in this house.)

Reader’s meta abilities go haywire around him, so Reader needs to be careful. (Reader’s not sharing that secret yet. Not till they share what Reader suspects is their secret)

Third, Dick and Barbara.

Dick is a whirlwind, coddling and pitying, treating reader like a sweet helpless child then leaving. (He’s a busy popular man)

Barbara is polite, but a stranger.

Reader tries to be friendly, but can’t get past the stranger stage.

Fourth Stephanie.

Stephanie politely ignores reader, but reader genuinely wants to hang out. (Similar interest, close in age. Please, can we be friends? ……….)

Reader says they’ll keep trying (It happens… eventually….)

Fifth, Tim.

Tim just brushes Reader off with a blank look and disappears.

Reader can never find Tim. (Always in the cave, at work, on patrol. He’s a busy busy busy sleepy man that avoids even the mention of Reader)

(Stephanie hangs out with Tim though, but they still ignore reader. It’s fine. Reader is fine. It doesn’t hurt.)

Sixth is Jason.

Jason is mean.

Calls reader spoiled, says reader a an ignorant privileged princess, Daddy’s pet, a brat, etc.

But, then leaves when reader starts to snap back.

(He looks like he’s struggling not to strangle reader almost every time reader sees him.)

Seventh is the youngest and reader’s half brother.

Reader is excited to meet him, reader already has a younger half-brother. Having two sounds even better!

Damian is cruel

It breaks reader’s heart.

Damian either ignores reader, or mocks reader viscously. He’ll push and shove and throw things at reader. (Won’t draw a weaponed though, he’s past that.)

He brushes off all of Reader’s attempts at sibling bonding.

All this goes on for a few months.

Reader tries so hard to get close to everyone, but they’re either avoid her, ignore her, are cruel, or they just don’t have the time.

Reader’s life in Gotham is… different.

Reader’s a commodity, and, surprisingly enough, most people like Reader

School Friendships form, which reader worries are because they’re a Wayne child

(Which is true, but not in the way Reader thinks; hint: it involves other types of night avians)

Teacher’s appreciate a humble Wayne (Damian goes to the same school, Reader is a relief to teach)

Reader is quite talented, not a prodigy, not extraordinary. Just extremely approachable.

But, like all good things there is a downside.

Reader wants to spend time with their new friends.

They’re invited to Galas, lunches, brunches, vacations, shopping, etc.

And Reader WANTS to go

But, Bruce won’t let them

It’s not safe

(Which Reader understands, that’s why they never really explore Gotham, but still brunch couldn’t hurt, right?)

So Reader has no one to lean on or connect with. It’s isolating.

Instead Reader spends hours talking on the phone to their old friends and family back in their small town.

There’s a silver lining though: Things are going to get better before they get worse

So much worse

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gotham-daydreams · 13 days ago

Text

The Red Dawn

Yan!Batfam × Cop!Reader

[General Warning: Reoccurring of suicide, May contain uncomfortable context such as mentions of cults, occult like practices, gore (mild mentions to heavy descriptions), blood, insanity, obsession - and general yandere behavior. You have been warned.] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader.)

New trouble arises in Gotham as mentions of a 'Red Dawn' happening on Devil's Night spreads. With a take down of a small group leading into an even deeper mystery, it seems the Batfam must dawn their masks and look into even the most darkest corners of Gotham - as something dirty, and potentially dangerous, is at play once again.

You, a transfer from Metropolis, are also following the case. Only time will tell what exactly will happen next, as this 'Red Dawn' is just over the horizon. As there are only 3 days left.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

[Something to Note]

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Trying something new in the spirit of Halloween while I get some things done, and also just trying to challenge myself a bit here :]

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deaddovedecadence · 1 year ago

Note

hello ! I hope you’re well I wanted to ask you if are planning to do something about the platonic batfamily ? Thank you for your work, you’re literally my favorite blog 🥰. (sorry if there are spelling mistakes)

Ah thank you for the question i love it so much! What we’re doing today is breaking down each yandere and how they treat you in order

Alfred: very gentle, very caring. He makes you think that he’s on your side only to betray you if you ever try to run away. His loyalty is to the health and well being of the family and if you left it would nasty for all parties involved. He isn’t overly possessive, and is the most likely to let you out and about (so long as you’re with him or another trusted member of the family)

Bruce: At least you were a tool for making up with his son, but he grew to see you as his own child. You’re younger then Dick so he treats you as such, and is very unlikely to let you out of his grip,/let you out of the house because he’s paranoid. He’s the ultimate possessive yandere, wanting to keep you safe in the house at all times. He’s like this with his children too but because they’re fighters/have proven themselves it’s a lot different

Dick: Good luck with this. Dick sees you as someone who deserves childhood, who deserves to be young, so he treats you younger then you actually are. He’s very possessive, and almost doesn’t realize that you’re capable of taking care of yourself and he’s ver y smothering because of that. He’s the type of yandere to be in his own world and not really see. things as they actually are..

Jason: Caretaker to the fucking MAX. He likes. taking care of people and things that he considers his and you are absolutely one of those things to him. He needs to tak3 of things because it makes him feel real, feel. focused again especially when he’s tired of angry. The least likely to ever hurt you but will break you mentally if he has to.

Cass: does not get it, at first. She doesn’t understand why her family wants something that she perceives as helpless as one of them. Cass is all about getting her shit done and you interfere with that. It isn’t until she sees Jason visibly relax around you and stay in the same room as bruce that she understands. You keep things stable which means that you need to stay. She‘ s obsessively, can be cruel and uses physical punishment like forced dancing or sparring to keep you in check if you leave or deny your place in the family.

Tim: Oh good fuck. Tim is pretty close to yandere in canon, he’s terrifying, possessive of what he thinks is his and cruel as hell. with you he’s cruel cold, only to turn gentle when he deems it the right moment. Tim wants to break you because that means that you won’t run away and try to go and be somewhere else (with someone else). Tim is sadiastic and if he and damian are working together it’s best to go and beg jason for sanctuary from them.

Duke: Honeslty you aren’t sure whether he’s like you or like them at first because Duke is so easy doing, listens to your problems so well and makes. you feel like you’r valid for being angry. It’s all true what he says, it’s just that he also is on his family’s side about you and is slowly working his way into your heart in a way that the others can’t because they’ve never been where you (and he) has. Duke is the gentle yandere unless you really manage to make him angry by getting hurt in any way.

Damian: I wish you the best of luck. Damian is the son of thalia and bruce. His ver y nature is to be possessive over anything that he considers his and you are his. You’re his older sibling in a way that Dick is, someone to be trusted, someone to ask questions too, but that does not mean he’ll let you escape. If anything the thought makes him infuriated and he’s likely to blow up. Damian is obsessive, and sadistic, willing to do anything if it means that you’re safe at home with him.

#yandere #yandere writing prompts #yandere batman #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere jason todd #yandere dc #platonic yandere batfam #yandere x gn reader #dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #duke thomas #damian wayne #batfam #batfamily #tim drake #batboy tag

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siddyyyyyyyy · 2 months ago

Note

Imagine Damian with a sunshine reader but they sometimes turn into a whole new person with jay from the kubz scouts humor "I swear if this doesn't work I'll take off ___ headband wipe my ass with it put it back on bird box style and give myself pink eye" 😭

Anyway good night/morning

Don't forget to eat and drink well!!

Strange Kind of Humour

Older!Damian Wayne x Reader

wc: 1.2 K summary: you hate bugs (sorry for the people who love bugs) warnings: lots of bad words. a/n: thank you so much for the request and sorry for the late reply, but this is really funny and had to educate myself on that kubz scouts guy (i watch him regularly now) i couldn't really come up with such creative words, but this is the best i could do. enjoy! (divider)

75% of all animal species are insects, most of them have wings and can fly. However, only some of them look cute and are not some venomous, useless, shit-eating bastards who are trying to get into your stupid tent.

Someone came up with the perfect idea to go camping for two days, to finally relax from everything that‘s been going on. Bruce was very reluctant but eventually got blackmailed into joining, not having any possible way of working since you are all in the middle of the woods, trying to have fun.

Damian invited you to go with him, actually begged you, so he isn‘t alone with all these lunatics, and you‘ve never been more happy to join a trip. He knew you would be happy to join, just hoping the others won‘t make fun of him for being ‚soft‘ for you, or else this small family-trip will end up in a blood bath. So far, it‘s been actually pretty good so far, you had something warm to eat, having grilled together, had something vegetarian for Damian. You talked a lot with Dick and Tim, noticed the funny dynamic between Jason and Tim, befriended Cass, and made fun of Damian together with Duke as he failed to build the tent up three times.

Now, that everyone has tents and sleeping bags, you can all take a rest for the day and sleep. If it weren‘t for the bugs trying to fly in and annoy you both. Damian didn‘t seem to mind much, just curling himself up in his sleeping bag so no one can disturb him. But this is enough.

»I swear to god, if these little shits won‘t stop coming in, I will pull my fucking hairspray and a lighter out and burn this whole fucking forest.«

You mutter under your breath, but Damian caught wind of it. Of course he did, he is laying right beside you. His head shoots out of the sleeping bag, looking at you in the dark.

»How about we don‘t?«

Damian suggest quietly, slightly puzzled on how annoyed you are over such a thing. It‘s just bugs.

»I‘m sure they will leave us alone sooner or later. Just put your sleeping bag over your head.«

he tells you, hoping to soothe you down and hope that you won‘t be disturbed for the night. It‘s just one night, after all.

You huff out and do as told, shifting to put your sleeping bag over your head, curled up like him in his own bag.

zzzz

You want to punch that mosquito right then and there. Normally you would just brush it off and try to get it away, but this won‘t do anything since you are literally in a forest, camping. It only makes sense for bugs and insects to be there.

It‘s silent for a moment before the high-pitched buzzing starts again, already done with this.

»Look, I‘m gonna get this thing, track its whole family down and behead every single one-«

»Okay, how about we relax and open the tent for a moment so it can fly out, hm?«

He finally sits up and wraps his arm around your shoulder to keep you seated in your sleeping bag. No matter how many times you curse and say out-of-pockets things like that, it always surprises him when you do that. It usually happens whenever you are annoyed or upset, and right now he is pretty sure you are exasperated. Which doesn‘t make this any better.

Eventually, he managed to lay you back down to sleep after a few moments, having some annoying buzzing around, but it‘s nothing too bad. You both fell asleep after a while, getting woken up later in the morning by a scream. Damian immediately goes to check, peeking out of the tent and cursing himself for not bringing his katana to the trip.

Looking out, he sees Tim at the small camp fire, holding a stick out at a… racoon? What the hell is a racoon doing here? Don‘t they live somewhere else than.. oh, well.

Damian sighs out, getting out of the tent to help him out.

»Relax, Drake, they don‘t bite… usually.«

Tim looks to Damian briefly before staring back at the racoon wide-eyed, still pointing the stick at the innocent animal that was just curious on what these big people and tents are.

»What do you mean ‚usually‘?!«

Damian finally gets fully out of your tent, keeping his eyes on the racoon while approaching it slowly. He ignores the literal panic radiating off of Tim, gently shooing the animal away, but it just stays on its spot, not budging.

It‘s then, when you wake up, having caught some of the conversation between the brothers. You finally peek out of your tent as well, gasping as you see the racoon. The round, fluffy animal keeps its dark eyes on Damian, just sitting relaxed while your boyfriend is trying to shoo him away.

You didn‘t gaps out of disgust, but out of surprise and awe. There‘s not a lot of days you see a cute racoon, a stubborn at that as well. Sure, it‘s a wild animal, but why does it look so squishy then?

Coming out of the tent, you stand beside Damian, trying to get closer to the animal. Damian tries to get you behind him, but you have none of it.

»You need to step back, this is a wild animal— «

»No! Look how cute he is, I just want to pet him quickly!«

You protest, definitely blind by hthe cuteness of the racoon. Damian huffs out, turning to look at you.

»What are you? Snow white, or something? Just step back, let the poor thing run away.«

You whine in protest, really wanting to pet the racoon still. The small argument wakes the rest up as well, having thought it‘s nothing bad at first, but hearing that you both won‘t stop bickering, it made the others curious.

»What the hell is up with you guys?« Jason grumbles tiredly from his tent, still sitting in it but peeking out. Damian turns his attention to the voice, sighing out in defeat. Eventually, you take the opportunity to get closer to the racoon while Damian distracts himself with Jason, arguing with him now.

You get disappointed as the racoon runs away from you, not havnig been so brave after all. With a small huff, it all falls back to normal, the trip comes back to what they consider normal, eating some breakfast before playing frisbee all together. It turns into a competetive game, everyone including Bruce, trying to catch the frisbee and make the other drop or not even catch it in the first place. It‘s a bit chaotic, but it‘s never not chaotic with them. Not that you complain, you really like their dynamic overall and that they are all so sweet to you, although they do tease Damian a lot whenever he is affection with you.

A bright orange, plastic hits your side, yelping at the sudden collition. Of course someone had to accidently hit you with the frisbee. Duke gasps, immeditialy feeling guilty and really wants to sink into the ground at how embarrassing it is. Especially with how Damian glares at him, looking ready to kill.

»Damn, you trynna get me killed?!« You shout before this could escalate, throwing the frisbee back to him, landing at against his stomach with a grunt.

The tension melts away and you proceed to play the game until one finally wins, making the rest groan in defeat.

a/n: how you enjoyed it!!

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atlasthegreatest · 2 months ago

Text

Silent Glances and Secret Smiles / Cassandra Cain x Gender Neutral Reader

Headcanons about Cassandra and vigilante reader.

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

— How did they meet? —

The first time Cassandra met Y/n was during one of her patrols in Gotham.

At the time, Y/n was still working as an enforcer for Jason (who still used the Red Hood identity), handling business in the most dangerous parts of the city. They had a reputation among the underworld as someone fiercely loyal to Jason and just as formidable in a fight.

One particular night, Cassandra was tracking a gang involved in human trafficking. Unbeknownst to her, Jason had also sent Y/n to deal with the same group, intending to send a message and shut them down for good.

They had stumbled upon each other in the middle of the operation—Cassandra moving silently in the shadows, and Y/n taking a more direct approach.

Initially, there was tension. Cassandra recognized them as one of Jason's enforcers and prepared herself for a possible confrontation. But as they quickly realized they had a common goal, Cassandra decided to see what they were all about, allowing them to work side by side.

They managed to rescue the victims and “incapacitate” the traffickers without much talking to each other – relying purely on instinct and body language.

At the end of the mission, Cassandra became curious about why they were doing what they were doing, considering their connection to Jason. She didn’t ask them directly, but her posture and the way she observed them spoke volumes.

Y/n, sensing her curiosity, explained – just enough – that they weren’t in it for power or money, but rather for reasons linked to a sense of justice.

Hearing their words, Cassandra saw something in them that she recognized in herself – a desire to fight for something greater, even if their methods were different. Her respect for them began at that moment, seeing beyond the title of “enforcer” and realizing their potential for good.

Over the next few weeks, Cassandra and Y/n’s paths continued to cross. They would run into each other while on patrol, at crime scenes, or in the middle of fights. Each encounter involved a bit of hesitation, a bit of curiosity on both sides and a growing sense of familiarity. Cassandra appreciated their straightforward nature, while they admired Cassandra’s skills and dedication.

Their relationship took a turn when Y/n saved Cassandra from an ambush she hadn’t anticipated. Despite their past, they risked their own safety to help her, and that action spoke louder than words ever could.

Cassandra, who doesn't take help lightly, acknowledged this with a rare and heartfelt "thank you." And this was the moment when the seeds of trust were planted between them.

– Transition to friendship and partnership–

After several encounters with Cassandra, Y/n began to question what they did. They watched as Cassandra fought for justice without the gray morality that Jason and they were used to operating under. Over time, they confided in Cassandra about their doubts, and she listened without judgment.

With Cassandra’s encouragement, Y/n finally made the decision to leave their enforcer days behind. Cassandra was the one who stood by them when they made the difficult decision to turn away from the darker path.

From there, their partnership blossomed. Working together more officially, they found that their dynamic worked well, a balance between Cassandra’s quiet intensity and his more direct approach.

They began to spend more time together outside of missions, training, sharing stories, and finding common ground.

— How did they realize their feelings?—

After being together several times, Cassandra and Y/n began to notice the little things about each other that stood out. Cassandra admired their determination to change and their willingness to stand up for what they believed in, even when it was difficult. And Y/n was captivated by Cassandra’s quiet strength, her empathy, and her ability to find the light in even the darkest situations.

Their connection deepened through subtle gestures.

Cassandra would bring them their favorite drink or snack during stakeouts, or patch up their wounds after a tough fight.

And Y/n, in turn, would share stories from their past to make her smile, or silently stand guard while she practiced her moves in solitude. These small, consistent actions built a sense of comfort and trust between them.

After a while, they began sharing more personal stories. Cassandra opened up about her past with David Cain and her struggles to find her own identity, while Y/n talked about their time with Jason, their troubled and abusive relationship with their family, their regrets, and their hopes for redemption. Each conversation seemed to peel back another layer, revealing more of themselves to each other.

They also bonded over their own complicated experiences of having complicated relationships with family figures—David Cain and Lady Shiva, and Y/n with Jason and their family. They understood each other’s inner conflicts and provided support in ways that only they could. Y/n began to see that they could be vulnerable with Cassandra, and she learned that she could trust them emotionally, something new for both of them.

Whenever they were on missions together, Cassandra and Y/n began to show signs of protective instincts that went beyond mere partnership. Cassandra would often stand between Y/n and danger, and they would do the same for her, sometimes arguing over who would take the greater risk.

They began to spend more time together outside of missions—training, grabbing food late at night, or just sitting in comfortable silence. Their moments together began to feel more intimate, fraught with unspoken feelings that neither of them were ready to address.

— Who realized their feelings first? —

As surprising as it may seem… both of them.

One night, after an intense mission, Y/n was badly injured, and Cassandra found herself unusually shaken. She tended to their wounds with an intensity that surprised them both, her hands lingering a little too long, her eyes conveying more emotion than her words ever could. Y/n noticed the concern in her eyes and felt a warmth spread through them, realizing how much Cassandra cared.

Could Cassandra, not used to feeling so strongly about someone, begin to realize that she might be falling for them? She felt comfortable and safe around them in a way she had never experienced before. And Y/n, picking up on the signs, decided to take a chance.

— The Confession —

One night, after a successful mission, they met on a rooftop overlooking the city. Y/n, feeling the weight of the unspoken tension between them, finally gathered the courage to speak. They admitted that they had grown to care for her deeply and wanted to see where their connection could go.

Cassandra, in her typically quiet but candid way, admitted that she felt the same. She wasn’t used to articulating her feelings, but her body language – leaning in closer, touching their hands, and the slight smile on her face – spoke volumes.

They shared a quiet, tender moment, the city lights reflecting in their eyes as they realized they were both ready to take this step. Their relationship grew gradually, with more stolen moments and shared smiles. They navigated the challenges of being vigilantes while learning to open up emotionally to each other.

Cassandra found herself feeling a little lighter, smiling more often, and Y/n felt like they finally had someone who truly understood them. They bonded over the little things, like training sessions that ended with lingering touches, or nights where they talked until dawn. They didn’t need grand declarations; their love grew through actions, silent companionship, and being each other’s haven in a chaotic world.

– What’s the dynamic of their relationship like? —

Cassandra and Y/n have a relationship built on deep, nonverbal communication. Cassandra isn’t always comfortable with words, and Y/n understands that. They don’t pressure her to say more than she wants to. Instead, they’ve learned to read her body language, expressions, and the subtle nuances of her movements. Likewise, Cassandra reads Y/n’s emotions and thoughts in the way they stand, gesture, or react to situations.

They are perfectly comfortable sitting in silence together, whether on a stakeout or just relaxing at home. They don’t need constant conversation to feel connected. Sometimes the most meaningful moments are when they are just existing together, sharing a space without the need to say a word.

They push each other to grow. Cassandra gently encourages Y/n to forgive themselves for their past, to trust their instincts, and to be more open about their emotions. And Y/n encourages Cassandra to express herself more, to understand that she doesn’t have to carry everything alone that is worthy of love and happiness.

In the field, they are perfectly in sync. Cassandra’s agility and quiet, stealthy approach balance Y/n’s more direct and strategic style. They work as a perfect team, always knowing where the other is, and always ready to cover for each other.

On missions, they share the leadership role. Sometimes Cassandra takes charge, especially in situations that require stealth or a delicate touch. Other times, Y/n takes the lead, particularly in planning or strategic missions. They respect each other’s decisions and understand that they are stronger together because of their different strengths.

Since neither of them is particularly demonstrative in conventional ways, their affection often comes through in small gestures. Cassandra might lightly touch Y/n’s arm as she passes, or Y/n might gently tuck a stray strand of Cassandra’s hair behind her ear. They hold hands in subtle, private moments or brush against each other when no one is looking.

They often engage in light-hearted sparring matches, testing each other’s reflexes and fighting skills. Their “fights” are full of light-hearted banter and laughter, each trying to outdo the other while enjoying the thrill of the challenge. Cassandra relishes the moments when she can surprise Y/n with a move they’ve never seen before.

They are fiercely loyal to each other. They both come from backgrounds where trust was hard to come by, so having someone they can trust completely is invaluable to them. They never question each other’s commitment or dedication, knowing that they’ve found someone who will support them no matter what.

They’re always learning from each other. Y/n teaches Cassandra things about the world that she may have missed, like how to navigate social situations or enjoy the small pleasures of everyday life. And Cassandra teaches Y/n how to slow down, listen to their instincts, and find peace in quiet moments.

They both value their independence and respect each other’s need for space and solitude. Y/n understands that Cassandra sometimes needs time alone to process her thoughts, and they never take that personally. Likewise, Cassandra respects their need to work through their own problems in their own ways.

— Intimacy in their relationship —

Their journey to intimacy would be gradual. Given Cassandra’s background, she is not immediately comfortable with physical affection or expressing emotions in the traditional sense. And Y/n understands this, understanding that intimacy is not just about physical closeness, but also about trust, vulnerability, and emotional safety.

Over time, they have developed their rhythm of intimacy. It starts with smaller gestures – Cassandra learning to accept initiating hugs, gentle touches, or holding hands. Y/n never rushes her, allowing her to set the pace. Slowly Cassandra becomes more comfortable with physical affection, learning to find solace in the warmth of their embraces and enjoying the closeness they share.

Even as their relationship grows, they remain relatively reserved in public. Cassandra and Y/n are not big on public displays of affection; they prefer to keep their relationship private and special. However, in private moments, they are more open—sharing tender kisses, soft touches, or just holding each other in comfortable silence.

The physical intimacy between them, when it happens, is meaningful and deliberate. They both understand that this part of their relationship is about trust and connection, not just physical pleasure. Cassandra, with her history, needs to feel completely safe, and Y/n makes sure she always feels respected and cared for. They take their time, always checking in with each other, and always communicating their needs and boundaries.

— How did Jason react to their relationship?—

When Jason first noticed that Cassandra and Y/n were spending more time together, he was suspicious. At first, he thought they were just close friends. But he quickly realized there was something more, especially when he saw how Cassandra’s gaze lingered a little longer on Y/n or how they seemed to care for her in a way that went beyond friendship.

His initial reaction was one of surprise and a bit of discomfort. Jason had always been close to Y/n, and in some ways, he felt a bit protective of them. He wasn’t sure how to feel about them getting involved with Cassandra, whom he saw as part of the BatFamily—people he had a complicated relationship with.

True to his nature, Jason’s next move was to tease the two of them. He would make playful comments whenever they were together, saying things like, “So when did this happen?” or “Wow, that’s so cute, I never thought I’d see the day!” He watched their reactions carefully, trying to gauge how serious they were with each other.

As he saw them together more often, Jason began to notice how much happier and more at peace his friends seemed. They smiled more, were less tense, and seemed genuinely content. Cassandra also seemed to be more expressive and more open in her quiet way.

Despite his acceptance, Jason still slipped into a sort of “big brother” mode. He’d talk with Cassandra one day, saying something like, “Look, I get it. You two are good together. But if you hurt them—well, you know I won’t take it lightly.” Cassandra, unfazed by the clear threat, would calmly meet his gaze and reply, “I won’t.”

He’d also pull Y/n aside for a heart-to-heart, making sure they were genuinely happy and understood what they were getting into. Once reassured, he’d give them a lopsided smile and say, “Well, as long as you’re happy, I’m happy. But don’t think I’m not watching.”

Sometimes, he’d even offer relationship advice in his unconventional way, like, “If you two ever get into a fight, remember that communication is key. Or, you know, throw a punch and then talk.”

And despite being happy for them, Jason has an uncanny knack for interrupting their alone time. He often appears unannounced, sometimes with perfect timing to interrupt a tender moment. For example, Cassandra and Y/n might be about to share a quiet, intimate kiss on a rooftop when Jason suddenly poses next to them with a loud, “Hey! I hope I’m not interrupting anything!” (He usually is.)

—How do they deal with conflict? —

Given their backgrounds and intense personalities, they occasionally have misunderstandings. Cassandra's limited verbal communication skills and Y/n's own baggage can sometimes lead to moments of frustration or misinterpretation. For example, Cassandra may withdraw after a difficult mission, needing time alone to process her feelings, which Y/n could misinterpret as her emotionally withdrawing from them.

A common source of conflict is their mutual protectiveness. Cassandra and Y/n have a habit of throwing themselves into dangerous situations to protect others, often without regard for their safety. This leads to arguments over who gets to take risks. Y/n can become frustrated when Cassandra takes on too much danger without consulting them, and vice versa. They may argue over who should have a backup or how much danger is acceptable.

Despite these conflicts, they rarely have heated arguments. They are both relatively calm and composed by nature, and their disagreements are usually resolved quickly. They have learned to communicate with each other in a way that doesn't turn into shouting matches. Instead, they talk things out, even if it takes a while for them to calm down at first.

Jealousy is not a common issue in their relationship, but it does happen occasionally. Cassandra is not naturally prone to jealousy; she is secure in who she is and trusts Y/n. However, she can sometimes feel a pang of insecurity when she sees Y/n interacting closely with someone from their past life, especially if that person has a flirtatious or familiar dynamic with them.

Y/n, on the other hand, is usually calm, but can feel flashes of jealousy when they see other vigilantes or heroes (especially those who are more outgoing or charismatic) taking an interest in Cassandra. They know that she is beautiful, strong, and unique, and they occasionally worry that she might connect better with someone more traditionally outgoing or expressive.

Even when they fight or feel jealous, they always fall back on reassurance. They don’t let misunderstandings linger. Sometimes, instead of arguing, they turn tension into a clear-headed challenge. If they disagree over something minor—like who saw the clue first or who had the best strategy—they can settle it with a practice match or a lighthearted bet.

– Bonus –

They often spend quiet evenings reading. Cassandra, who is still brushing up on her reading skills, likes to sit with or on Y/n’s lap while they read aloud to her. They might take turns reading a favorite book or comic, enjoying the peacefulness of the shared experience. Sometimes Cassandra reads aloud to practice, and Y/n listens patiently, gently helping her with words she stumbles over.

Cassandra and Y/n enjoy listening to music together. They might share a pair of headphones or sit close together while music plays from a small speaker. Cassandra enjoys the rhythm and emotion of music, and Y/n introduces her to different genres, explaining lyrics or meanings that she finds interesting. Occasionally, they dance together in the privacy of their home, gently swaying or moving to the beat.

They enjoy watching movies or TV shows, especially action movies, martial arts movies, or anime. Cassandra enjoys observing fight choreography, often pointing out flaws or impressive moves. And Y/n loves to hear her feedback and often asks what she would do differently in certain scenes. They can cuddle under a blanket, share popcorn, and quietly enjoy each other's company.

They love taking long walks through the quieter areas of Gotham or, if they need a break from the city, riding their motorcycles to the outskirts. Cassandra enjoys the feel of the wind and the speed of the ride, and Y/n enjoys the sense of freedom that these moments provide. Sometimes, they go to a secluded place where they can relax away from the chaos of the city.

#gn reader #cassandra cain x reader #dc #orphan #batgirl #jason todd #red hood #gender neutral reader

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intriq · 1 year ago

Text

dc universe characters but your their ex, and they want you back

could be hurt/comfort, maybe fluff. angst? idk, unsure about how to label this one chief

if you want to see any other characters in here, lmk via comment or send me an ask! [they are always open for requests n stuff, so feel free to send them] and i'll make sure to get them in here!

Also, big thanks to my beta readers: Lilac, Void, My bestie, and bat brat apollo! they helped make sure these didn't fall too out of character.

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎ㅤ╔⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤╗

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤBruce...

...at first, didn't realize just how miserable he'd feel after you guys broke up. Well, after he broke up with you.

He thought that you being possibly tied in to his life as Batman would make things oh so dangerous, and that maybe you'd be better off without him. And that just maybe he'd be better off without you.

But boy was he wrong.

After day one, he missed your presence.

After day three, he started missing your touch. Hugs, kisses, cuddles, the works.

After one week he missed seeing you whenever he came back to Wayne manor after patrol or whenever he'd had a long day being out and about Gotham, whether as just his regular self or patrolling the streets, fighting crime as Batman.

By week two, not even focusing on patrolling could keep you off his thoughts. It didn't exactly help that he knew your schedule. Actually, not even just knew. He had it memorized.

So he'd find himself particularly drawn to patrolling the area around where you lived more often, sometimes even doubling back to the area. Sometimes even three times.

Of course, it took a full month [and seeing you going on your first date since the break-up] for him to take action. He'd started sending gifts at first. Small things that you liked, whether it be books or lots and lots of flowers.

Then the gifts just got more and more expensive, more grandeur. After all, he is a billionaire, so it wouldn't hurt his bank account. Plus, it was a gift for you. So why wouldn't he?

If you still didn't take him back then, he starts sending you texts. Just cute little things such as "i miss you" and whatnot.

And then the in-person confessions, gift giving, and what-not started after. He'd drop by [after making sure no one was around to see at least three times] your apartment while he was in his full Batman getup, bringing you some smaller, easier to hide away things like bracelets and necklaces.

And during the day, he'd be where ever he'd knew you'd be. Whether it was your apartment, your job, anywhere, he'd personally come deliver you yet another gift.

Takeout from your favorite place? He's brought it to you for lunch.

He saw you post about something [whether it be a stuffed animal, jewelry, etc] on social media because it's cool or cute? It's been hand delivered to you by him.

"I saw you talking about how much you wanted these, so I got them for you. Why..? Because I miss you."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤTim...

...was devastated when you broke up with him. He didn't realize that all this work being a vigilante that made him miss out on oh so many dates had taken as big of a toll on your relationship as it did.

And by the time he'd realized, the cracks had already formed, and you'd broken up with him. You wanted a partner who could meet you half-way, even if he was a little busy at times.

But that didn't stop him from immediately trying to win you back. Gifts? You've got it. Whether they were bought or handmade, it didn't really matter. He'd get you something.

Not to mention the texts, phone calls, voicemails, everything. He's going the full nine yards to show you just how sorry he is, and just how badly he wants you back.

"I know I've said I was sorry so many times, but I really am! I promise I'll do everything in my power to be there for our date nights, so please take me back.."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤDick...

...definitely wasn't expecting for you to break up with him. Sure, he's been in plenty of relationships before, but he'd never expected you to get the courage to tell him you wanted to break up.

He didn't even realize he missed you as much as he did until one night while patrolling, a month or two after your break-up, he saw you walking along the streets of Gotham.

And damn were you still as pretty as the first time he saw you. In fact, scratch that, as pretty as the last time he saw you. Which was when you broke up with him.

So from then on, when Gotham is just a little less quiet and he can afford to do a little slacking off, he walks with you. You had this weird routine of walking for an hour at night, anyway.

At first he made small-talk. Asked you how your day was, why you were taking a walk [he already knew why. he just wanted to hear that pretty voice of yours more!], how you'd been since the break-up, if you were seeing anyone [this was extremely important and he'd express why after a bit of prompting], as one does.

Then it ramps up to him telling you how much he missed you, how pretty and attractive you were still, the works. He then ramps up to just blatant flirting, maybe even making sure he was touching you in some way, like an arm around your shoulder. Or maybe even subtly holding your hand under the premise of him wanting to show you something that you didn't know the way to.

And after that, if you still didn't miss him enough to take him back? He's just obvious. Asking you on dates, showing up to your home with gifts, everything. He'll go the whole nine yards for you, just so you'll take him back.

"Aww, c'mon! Just one date, sweetheart. Please? I promise that if you don't want me back after just one date I won't bother you again."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤJason...

...definitely didn't want to admit he wanted you back until it's been nearly six months since you broke up, and words going around that your starting to date again.

This pisses him off, for reasons he wasn't sure about.

So before you know it, he's popping up just about everywhere. Getting him to admit he missed you and regretted the breakup is no easy feat, and you'll likely not ever get him to admit it out loud.

I can't really see Jason making any grand or large gestures, just small little ones that maybe have some sort of sentimental value.

He'd probably drop by your home every now and then. If he's hurt in some way, you bet your ass he's right there on your fire escape, knocking on your window to let him in.

Even if it's just something so incredibly minor he could take care of himself, he's using it as an excuse to see you again.

While he's not totally experienced with being overly romantic, he's got his moments of being just a little bit sappy.

"Why go through the hard work and trouble of finding someone else if I'm right here?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤBabs...

...wasn't expecting to miss you after you two broke things off. She figured she'd be fine on her own, but she was quickly proven wrong.

I can see her giving gifts, but she'd be more-so trying to spend as much time as she could with you. Texts, both early morning and late night phone calls, voicemails about how much she regrets breaking up, and probably more.

Lot's of "I miss you" and "I still like/love you" texts, maybe some "Can we please get back together?" texts mixed as well.

She'll make how much she misses you known.

"Please come back, I miss our little movie date nights."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤStephanie...

...is just like Jason in a way, when it comes to realizing she misses having you around.

But she does come to terms with the fact that she misses you. She'll be a little hesitant to admit it in words, but she'll make it known in small gestures.

The breakup was definitely amicable, so you two are kind of just awkwardly still friends. But any time you two hangout, it borderlines being a date.

Movies? Only if it's something that will remind you of stuff you two liked to watch together when you were dating.

Going for a walk? She'll make sure you two just so happen to pass by a spot you guys went to for your first date.

She'll even still pretend to "accidentally" call you by the nicknames she had for you whilst you were dating.

But if even that doesn't work, she'll just start making you two "hangout" at places you've gone to for dates before.

"Wow, this place hasn't changed a bit since the last time we were here, huh? Brings back memories."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤCassandra...

...of course, isn't really sure what to do when she notices she's missing you. You were probably one of her first relationships, which just only adds onto her confusion of what to do.

She'd probably go seek Babs and Stephanie out for advice, asking them what they think she should do. Just what she should do.

After getting advice from the two, she thinks it over for a little bit before she starts anything. She probably also tries to feel you out to check if you feel the same way she does.

And if you do, or if she finds out your unsure, she starts giving you small gifts. And I mean small. Just mostly little trinkets and knickknacks that she finds while out and about.

Buttons? Pins? Small figurines, no bigger than the palm of your hand? She's getting them for you.

Of course, this is to help her just get a little confidence before she drops the question about getting back together.

And when she does drop the question, she tries to make it sound like she's being genuine. She probably brought another small little gift, maybe one of your favorite snacks.

"I know you said you liked these when we were together, right? I know you may think I wasn't really.. paying attention, but most of the time, but I promise I was. And I'm sorry I didn't do that great of a job of showing you that I cared about you. Please take me back?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤKate Kane..

...is both similar to Stephanie and Jason. While she'll think she's better off without you, there's almost a constant reminder of you somewhere in her world.

And it just draws her back to you.

It's very much a push and pull sort of thing with her, as some days she's fully willing to admit just how much she misses you and wants you back, while others she'd never admit to even a word of it.

She'll also bring you sentimental gifts sometimes. Mostly just leaves them somewhere she knows only you will find them with a little note attached.

Though the contents of the little notes will greatly vary from "I miss you", "I know you like these so I got them for you", to just her name sometimes.

Saw these and thought of you. -K

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤDinah Lance...

...is most definitely bold and maybe even a little bit flirty. When she realized that she definitely wasn't ready to move on from you quite yet, she put all her effort into wooing you back.

She'd probably try to play off the fact you two are suddenly running into each other at things you like, it's really just so she can see you again. Making you unintentionally [but kind of purposefully] think of her again whenever you thought about the things you like.

After a bit of this, though, she just downright starts asking you out to dates. If she knows certain places hold sentimental value because they were your favorite date spots with her, she'll ask you on a date to there again.

"Oh? Didn't know you were coming here today. Maybe it's a sign you should just let me take you on a date today."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤHelena Bertinelli...

...wasn't usually the type to dwell on her exes. But you? You were all that was on her mind after the breakup.

While she spends many a night deleting text after text, trying to come up with the right set of sentences to tell you just how much she misses you and wants you back, she does eventually send something.

And from there she just gets a little bolder.

Lingering touches, like her hand grazing against yours if you are handing her something. Staring at you for just a few seconds longer than needed, all that stuff.

It does take her a bit of time to get the confidence to just straight up asking you out on another date, though when she does, she's already got it all planned out.

"Do you still like that one restaurant we went to for our anniversary? .... Why? Oh, well, I wanted to make sure I didn't need to cancel the reservation I made."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤDiana

...didn't have thoughts of missing you. At first.

She did start thinking of you again when you two were assigned on a mission together. And all it did was really get you stuck in her head.

The way you looked, whether it was the way you fight or just generally how you look in your vigilante costume? It just kept replaying in her head over and over again.

So now anytime your out and about doing your own thing, under your vigilante guise? She's found an excuse to be joining you.

Whether that excuse is "you looked like you needed help", or "my patrols been pretty quiet, so I thought I'd join you", she's always got some excuse you can't argue back about.

Eventually she starts dropping hints about wanting to get back together with you. But whether she's good at dropping these hints or not is entirely up to how oblivious you could be.

Eventually she just tires out of dropping hints and just makes you look at her when she just drops the question. Think of the classic "grabbing your chin and turning your head to look at them" kind of deal.

"How about we go out this Sunday, hmm? ... Yes, on a date. What, did you think I was going to ask you to patrol with me or something?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤDamian...

...most definitely is stubborn when it comes to your break-up. He doesn't even want to entertain the thought that the reason he might be so grouchy whenever he sees you talking to someone else, or hears about how you may be crushing on someone else, is because he misses you. And is jealous, of course.

Even the sheer mention of your name around him, whether it be from his older brothers [mainly Dick because he is most certainly the teasing older brother type], he get's all grouchy and almost pouty.

He does try to help you out around school, though. He may act all mean and cold towards you, he'll act like he's "reluctantly" helping you out.

"you can't be trusted to carry this stuff," he'll try and say as he takes that stack of chairs, books, whatever it is in your hands away to do it himself. His hidden little agenda is that he's hoping you'll miss him because of him helping you out.

His "compliments" aren't always easily understood as such, though. "You didn't do terrible, for once" he might say as he hands you your graded test.

In order for him to get the courage to ask you out again, though, will definitely take some coaxing. [And maybe some teasing from Dick, too]

But when he does, it's a 50/50 chance of him saying it in a sweet way, or in his usual cold and almost brat-like demeanor.

"If I take you out on a date, will that get you to shut up for at least five minutes?"

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎ㅤ╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

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slasher-fucker-and-sucker · 6 days ago

Note

could you do Cassandra Cain headcanons with a gn S/O whose body language Cassandra can’t predict or read, (I saw this idea from an interesting fanfic)

Cassandra Cain x GN S/O with Unpredictable Body Language Headcanons

1. Cass is accustomed to reading people like open books, but with you, it’s different. You’re hard to predict—your body language doesn’t seem to match your words or emotions in the ways she’s used to. This mystery makes you fascinating to her, and she finds herself more drawn to you because of it.

2. She takes her time getting to know you, observing the subtle cues you do give away and learning to pick up on the patterns unique to you. Over time, she begins to trust her instincts with you, even if she can’t always predict what you’re feeling or thinking right away.

3. Since Cassandra relies so much on non-verbal communication, she starts to focus more on the subtleties in your voice, your choice of words, and your habits. She realizes that you have other ways of expressing yourself, even if they’re not the ones she’s used to.

4. Whenever you surprise her with an unexpected reaction, she finds it oddly endearing. Sometimes you’ll smile when she expects a frown or respond in a way that she didn’t see coming, and it makes her laugh or smile in return. You keep things fresh and unpredictable for her.

5. Cass begins to be more expressive with her own words and actions, realizing that relying on subtle body language cues won’t always be effective. It’s new for her, but she wants to make sure you understand her feelings, even if she can’t always read yours as easily.

6. Despite not being able to read you in the typical way, Cass finds a rhythm with you. She’s still perceptive of your habits and what makes you feel comfortable, and she grows to appreciate the unpredictability. You find your own unique way of communicating and being in sync.

7. Occasionally, Cass will ask you directly how you’re feeling, something she rarely has to do with others. She trusts you enough to be honest and appreciates the openness you have in sharing what’s on your mind when she asks.

8. Cass sometimes likes to tease you about how hard you are to read, telling you with a playful smile that you’re her “puzzle.” She doesn’t mind, though, because she finds you worth the challenge.

9. There are times when she enjoys the silence and unpredictability, where she simply appreciates being in your presence without needing to understand every subtle movement. The mystery adds an extra layer of connection, and she finds it grounding in an unusual way.

- Because she can’t always predict when you’ll lean in or reach out, she finds every affectionate gesture from you a little thrill. Whether you squeeze her hand or hug her unexpectedly, she treasures each display of affection.

10. Cass senses that you sometimes feel self-conscious about how different you are from her usual interactions. She always reassures you that she loves you for exactly who you are, no matter how different your communication styles might be.

- Over time, Cass finds herself understanding you in ways that go beyond body language. Even if you’re hard for her to read, there’s a deeper, instinctual understanding that grows between you. She values the unique connection you share, knowing that it’s one-of-a-kind and something she could never find with anyone else.

#cassandra cain x reader #cassandra cain x gn reader #cassandra cain headcanons #batfamily #dc comics #batfamily x reader #unpredictable reader #body language #cassandra cain imagine #batfam imagine #cassandra cain x s/o #fluff fanfiction #unique reader traits #reader headcanons

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lokalblackie · 9 months ago

Text

"-In other news, Gothamites rummage to pack their bags because a sudden wave of death has spread through the nocturnal streets of the more crime ridden parts of Gotham. The spontanious deaths of three of Gotham's supervillains has put citizens in a panic. Is this the rise of a new crime lord or... something worse?"

News reporters everywhere scrambled to get a few good words in before this story gets swept under the rug. Before exaggerated headlines like; "NEW GOTHAM CRIME LORD HAS PEOPLE ESCAPING TO CALIFORNIA OF ALL PLACES?!" are forgotten in the matrix. Before this story isn't relevant anymore.

Podcasters and commentary media outlets are getting their few good theories in too. Saying things like; "Y'all, the government is messing with us. Scarecrow ain't dead. It's probably the same fake terrorist attacks Hitler implemented to get the German's under his rule. Don't fall for this trap y'all."

And homeless druggies are getting a few couple bucks out this story too. Charging journalists a big buck for false news. The street scammers are jumping for joy right now. "I was there! I saw it happen! It was one of them Russians. The Soviets are comin' for us."

Bruce was amused. Everywhere he went, this shit was smeared. Popping up in his face as if he hadn't seen the other hundred different pop-ups of this story yet. He thought what any other reasonable citizen thought. "This shit's gonna disappear in a week. Trust me bro"

...

Its been a week.

People are still on this?! Maybe it is serious... Should he take a look into this? Nah it's fine. Give it another week or so. It'll blow away like all other "viral" stories...

...Right?

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acid-ixx · 4 months ago

Note

How do think readers relationship with each of the batfam would be had they not been neglected?

what if...? ft. domestic headcanons w/ your family

series masterlist &. request masterlist — long post ahead !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 6400+ words, no beta i'm genuinely insane. help i literally thought abt this yesterday !! i may or may not post a drabble about this one specific dream the reader had about where they had a normal relationship with the batfam but at the same time i want to implement it in the next chapter instead so have food for thoughts instead! slight spoilers below. also please do comment and reblog if u like this ! ^^ supporting my writing just makes me further motivated to write even more !

if you were never neglected by your own family, then i could say that the process of them turning yandere would be a tad bit better or worse. i'm saying, because of your past and because of an incident during your elementary years (that could've been avoided if your family actually never ignored you; so let's assume that that incident actually never happened but it opened a gateway for an even more protective family) the batfam could easily be either a dream or nightmare.

let's say it was bruce and dick who had picked you up from the police station. the moment he sees his own firstborn child, all his thoughts would circulate from just how broken and hopeless you absolutely looked, how the injuries litter throughout your entire body, the way your empty eyes stare at anything.

the child, his child, looked exactly like him all those years ago. he knows just how painful it is to bare losing all your loved ones.

he wouldn't hesitate to approach your form, immediately picking you up and letting your head lean on his shoulders as dick follows in tow, cooing about his significantly younger sibling.

that would be the first time dick would call you his baby bird, with the way you'd stare at him with mixed emotions in your eyes.

if him and dick were to hear about what happened to you inside your old apartment from the police (drugged and abused by the same men who took your mother away from you), then be guaranteed that batman and nightwing would be more brutal during their patrol afterwards (dick would even take more weeks off from bludhaven just to care for his younger sibling), even going as far as formulating a plan for your captors, having oracle stalk each and every person involved in your life.

if anyone thinks the vigilante would abide by his no-kill rule then they're wrong, because he'd turn a blind eye for once if dick were to brutally stab someone at any moment. why? because batman will not settle until his own child's attackers are thrown into putrid prison cells with no guarantee that they'll see the light of the day. the criminals should be grateful that red hood isn't even in the picture yet.

your father would be more perceptive of your emotions if he had never neglected you. he will always be the one giving you rides, he'll shield you away from the mass media trying to take photographs of you— and you're getting carried throughout the manor if your little body were to even express fatigue.

bruce wayne wouldn't admit it, but he absolutely cherishes you and your youth. he had adopted dick and grayson when they were above the age of ten, when they were already growing some sort of consciousness about the world they live in. but you? you're so small and you have so much to learn, your innocence is something bruce would protect. you'll be absolutely coddled by your father, your grandfather figure, alfred, and your oldest brother, dick. even future members of the family knows just how important you are maintaining their sanity.

that means you have the manor in the palm of your hands. you had a nightmare tonight? don't worry, your dad would always be one step ahead of you and would immediately be in your room. hell, if you were comfortable enough, you'd be sleeping in the same bedroom as your dad for the first few years you'll live inside the manor. he'll read you bedtime stories if you want and even have alfred prepare you warm milk or chocolate before you go to sleep. his entire schedule would also be centered around you, making sure that he would always arrive on time from business meetings to have dinner with you, and coming home early from patrols. if he leaves the manor before you're set off to sleep, then he'll be giving you a good night's kiss whilst alfred would be the one substituting for your nightly bedtime stories.

you may call him overbearing once you start to notice the signs the more you grow older, but your father will always track your sleep schedule - he even makes you wear a watch that records your heart rate - from the moment you drift into dreamland to the times you get nightmares— he makes sure the food you eat before dinner is light, booking appointments with nutritionists to make sure you're healthy. he even does specialized training with you, for self defence and to also maintain a healthy lifestyle.

and dick grayson? his visits to gotham would be more frequent. even if his relationship with bruce is strained, he'll always be in the manor faster than you could say 'i miss you' to your older brother on the phone. he loves coddling his baby bird, especially since you were adopted right after jason's death; dick doesn't want a repeat of the past, always making sure you get proper cuddles and affirmations.

spending time with dick means you get all the power to draw on his arms or face or make arts and crafts with him. he enjoys it when his baby bird is at their comfiest state so even if you were seated on the floor, there would always be cozy blankets that count as your chairs and snacks right beside you. you could ask him to get something for you and he's right at it.

he would be the older brother who normalizes physical affection in the household. dick would constantly kiss your cheeks, your foreheads, and any injuries you would obtain (a habit that even bruce adopted once your dad realized how it's an effective way to soften your cries and ease your heart). he's not afraid of picking you up even! always tossing you to the air under alfred or bruce's supervision whenever you feel down. dick would always hold your hand, too, as an assurance that your beloved older brother is always there for you.

you'd probably ignore all the red flags he carries around because of how early he shows off his signs of obsessiveness. so don't question it if him and bruce wouldn't allow you to go to sleepovers with your other friends or if sometimes, just sometimes dick feels the need to just have you in his arms for hours without end after particularly brutal patrols. you're the only person holding him up and if he doesn't breath in that reminder then he might just lose himself.

your brother would literally prioritize you over anything else. he can and will pick you up from school, he makes sure nobody in your class is there to bully you, he'll spoil you with sweet treats whenever bruce is too busy with business meetings. he wants to be seen as your favorite ever since he's discovered himself to be your idol, so he'll always show off his acrobatic skills for your eyes only.

whenever dick would say "i love you!" it always translates to, "if you want me to, then i will give you the world." which means he'll drop anything he's doing right now the moment you invite him over to design your diaries or sketchbooks.

your talents very early on would be heavily acknowledged by your family. that means any single drawing or craft you'd do, whether poorly done or not, would be stored in very protective places or shows off in every crevice of the manor. any father's day gift from you would be framed in bruce's personal office, a personal reminder to him that you are the light at the end of the brooding tunnel he puts himself in. so even if he can't always be there for you, he will always have you in his mind and in his heart.

your existence in the manor would prove to be a healthier way for bruce to cope, for him to get his mind off of the loss of his second child. whenever he looks at you, he'll always be filled with a determination to protect gotham from any further danger, to save the city - if not himself, then for your sake, for his baby to feel safe whenever they would walk on the streets, for his baby to feel protected whenever you two would eat in fancy restaurants or go shopping for your diary's supplies.

criminals would immediately get the message that messing with you means getting on the bad side of both batman and nightwing. you may be the child of bruce wayne, (name) wayne, but if they even think of kidnapping you for ransom then they should pray; pray because if batman's baby even gets a single nick, a single droplet of blood on their body then they're gone. there's no such thing as holding back if it comes to you.

now, your older sister figure, barbara gordon, despite her constantly being busy because of her role as the oracle, would find ways to at least entertain you whenever you would visit her in the batcave. if you feel like your father's overprotective nature and your older brother's coddling is too much, then she will be offer you solace by her side. she may not always be physically there but you two are as close as you are to the other members of your family because you're a creative one. it's not often barbara gets to spend time with someone like you who enjoys having her as a muse for your art pieces. she allows you to also style her hair, and if you like to design clothing, then she'd be your model for as much as you want.

barbara is also your go-to for when dick and bruce are both unavailable. she lets you watch her hack through multiple security systems, explaining concepts that you don't understand. and, because she's the most emotionally stable out of all of them, you'd prefer gossiping to her about your school's drama compared to dick, as she actually gives you helpful advice!

well, little do you know that she had already hacked your school's camera footage and wired multiple recorders on your bag but you don't have to know that! after all, barbara wants to keep the only sane person in the household safe and happy. she's not openly obsessive towards you, but whatever secrets you have that don't compromise your safety are secrets she promises she will bring to the grave. that means if you ever have a crush on a someone then she will hide it from the others.

... that is until you actually end up trying to get into a relationship too early for even her eyes then she won't hesitate sending out the signals to bruce and the others. she can't afford exposing her younger sibling to heartbreaks and emotional attachment towards strangers! so do forgive her if there are times where you feel like there's someone constantly watching your back, because she is that someone; with all the intentions in the world that you wouldn't have to go through what she did with the joker or any other villains who could whisk you away from their arms.

it's obvious that, of course the oracle will use all the power in her hands to guarantee all eyes are on you, so that there would never be an opening for any danger towards you. even if you do know that she's the one in-control of the strings, there's not much you could do but accept it.

then there's tim drake. your brother who had stalked batman and nightwing just to prove a point. his parents are alive and he's fine being on his own, but fuck it if he prefers being in the wayne manor! once you're introduced to tim, he's immediately researching about the first biological child of bruce wayne. and thank god bruce requires the two of you to become familiar with each other because you're just so interesting to him, you and your curious eyes, your small habits— the way you shift in your position as your father's hands are clasped on your shoulder protectively.

tim can already feel himself blast off in excitement just solving the mysteries about you! yet he doesn't know it in himself that the longer you spend time with him, the more the urge to just stitch himself into your very life grows stronger.

if you were never neglected by your own family then you would instead be analyzed constantly. tim is just another set of eyes constantly watching you, but unlike the others, he picks off every single detail about you to a T.

you, your interests, your hobbies, your favorites, your friends, you name it; he will have an entire collection of case files on everything, picking apart your very mind to the seams. it's like he's eating up the information about you, spending sleepless nights researching about a movie you two would watch soon, because the look of amazement in your eyes feeds the growing love he has for his sibling.

at first he'd never understand why bruce and dick seems so smitten towards you other than the case regarding your mother. but he slowly starts to understand why— because just like him, you're perceptive of his well-being. if dick isn't around then you're always the one hanging around his room, visiting him with snacks in your arms or an invitation to watch a cartoon show.

he likes doing your assignments for you, especially your projects even if he neglects his own duties for his own school. and despite how emotionally constipated or unaware he seems, he's obsessed with your personal life. that means you don't even have to rant to him about school drama or your friends or crush because he can and will know it. what he doesn't like, though, is when your attention is towards anything but him. he may not be the most physically comfortable to cuddle but he will offer you his jackets which he would end up not washing right after you use them, instead he wears them, feeling closer to you than ever.

it even lulls him to sleep for the times you're unable to sleep over at his room.

tim may not know how to comfort you like dick whenever you wake up from nightmares but he does know ways to avoid them; he knows a lot of strategic methods to get you drowsy after a moment's panic.

bonus points if you cuddle him afterwards! he loves the warmth that you emanate, loves it when your body leans against him and makes him feel so important. tim loves it when you snuggle him unknowingly, tightening your already bruising grip on him, he loves reciprocating it too, feeling a special bond with his sibling that not even his parents could offer.

though he doesn't openly tell you that he loves you, he does so in his own ways! you don't want to see an entire photography room dedicated to his younger sibling— most pictures contributed by tim. you don't want to see the terabytes of files that are all about you and your interests, millions of video imagery of just you sketching or writing diary entries, sometimes eating or rambling senselessly. you don't know it but tim loves playing the videos of you in the background, especially the ones where you're humming a tune or singing a lullaby; those are his favorites.

it's not his fault that you're just so interesting to him, that your presence is so comforting, that you're the only person closest to him that has the ability to make him melt into you, unknowingly succumbing to your spoiled wishes.

jason todd comes into the picture later, and he is a very enraged man. he's mad at his replacement, at bruce, at you, at the entire universe.

at first he just doesn't understand anything. he doesn't understand why bruce finds it so easy to not only replace his status as robin but to also bring in another child, who's valued and loved more despite not taking the mantle of robin. he's mad at just how quick he was replaced, how it seems like bruce never avenged him, and yet if he threatens your safety then the old man suddenly turns violent towards him?!

jason wouldn't bring you into the fray, because you're unaware of the entire situation, but fuck, he doesn't understand why you are just so cherished when he'd watch the news and sees your picture plastered all over the reporters' walls, talking about the child who bruce never allowed to separate from his side. they talk about how you're the sheltered one, the hearthrob of all media with just how clingy the billionaire is towards his supposed younger sibling.

he's not jealous, he gets why bruce is protective and smothers himself all over you; but he hates feeling replaced, feeling discarded and forgotten by the very man who'll avenge your death if that ever happened.

hence why he has to see it for himself, has to see you for himself. it's a coincidence, a miracle actually that he just seems to easily find you by the kitchen of the manor— a manor whose aura is now different from last time, it seems like it now reeks of life, of personality. clearly you were the main cause of all of this.

you could simply be reading a book and sipping your nightly tea, but jason would soon realize just how... vulnerable you are at the moment. you find him hiding in the shadows and all you offer is a wide stare with no sense of self defense whatsoever. it's the same vulnerability that he sees off the cruelest streets of gotham. you're exactly like the innocent kids who get brutally murdered without justice, just like the children who have never once gained penance for the torture they had to experience just living off of personality.

jason isn't a dumbass, living near the crime alley means hearing the gossips of every citizen. your name, or preferably your last name is famed even in the underground. your mother is infamous for catching the attention of most crime lords by running off with their cash, successful staying hidden to care for her child, just right until she met her untimely demise. you lost her early just like how he lost his mother early as she had fallen victim to drug overdose.

he'll discover why gotham's vigilante seems to be so protective over you. the way you carry yourself, the warmth you give off as you offer him your leftover dinner despite not

you told him that your dad taught you to never talk to strangers— but clearly he's not because "how else would you be able to trespass the millions of security alarms in the manor? you must've lived here before." you'll state as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, sipping your drink before you offer him a seat next to yours, unafraid of the dangers that lie ahead of you—

"you must've really been pampered by the old man, huh?" is all his reply, the voice changer of his makes him sound naturally intimidating, like he's ready to attack but no, that's not his intentions with you. he'll take a seat beside you, try to make out what book you're reading and that's when he knows that you truly have no idea that it's your dead brother who's talking to you. you have no idea of his resurrection whatsoever as you start to mumble off about the novel— he finds it quite amusing that, finally, he's not the only guy who enjoys literature in the family, even going as far as to recommend his own fair share of favorite novels to you.

once he leaves out of the window after a seemingly long session of talking, definitely aware that yes, bruce does have a microchip inserted under your skin, and the watch you're wearing has a voice recorder that sends recordings straight to the batcave's system; jason takes note to visit you more often, finding the normalcy you offer very welcoming.

he likes it, likes your mellow behavior. he'll even admit that you're the only proof that bruce can, in fact, raise a child right, even if that means tracking their entire life. but that's the old man's love language, and jason knows it in himself that he's already planning for a way to take you to ride his motorcycle at night without bruce's knowledge; just so his angel knows the feeling of gotham's breeze flowing through their hair since bruce seems to love dictating your every move.

once he does form a solid plan to take you away, even just temporarily, you don't have to worry about the criminals who litter the streets because jason made sure that nobody's gonna mess with him and his angel's bonding time together.

the youngest, damian wayne, and the second biological child of bruce is a special case. his upbringing as an assassin makes him susceptible to his fits of tantrums. the first time he steps foot into the manor is the same time he will threaten anyone around him; and that includes you, the bastard child. quite frankly, your first greeting with him would be the same as the one in the original storyline, you'll greet him with a tray of sweets in your hand and a small smile and he'll reply with a sword on your neck. but the difference would be the undeniable fact that dick and bruce immediately stopped him from even nicking your delicate skin.

dick's swearing was shut down by alfred's scolding and you, again! pulling on your oldest brother's sleeve with an assurance that you're okay.

that's the very first time he sees his father truly reprimand him with nothing but rage in his eyes. despite damian's annoying antics towards his father the entire day, it seems like you were the snapping point.

his father, bruce wayne, made it very clear that he can mess with anyone and everyone in the family but you. that you have nothing to

his only reply would be a sneer as he demands they take him to his room immediately, unable to shut you down when you offer to help bring his luggage despite bruce's firm unwillingness and dick's hesitant request that his baby bird should instead spend time in his room instead.

but it was always your word above everybody else's and damian hates that, hates that everyone just seems to succumb to your request as long as it doesn't compromise your safety. the bitterness that keeps resurfacing in his heart whenever he sees you wearing tim or dick's jacket, or if he caught sight of bruce giving you affection was a feeling he tried to convince himself wasn't jealousy.

not jealousy towards you, no, but towards them. your behavior towards him was nothing but kind, a kindness that was taught to him as weakness. he thinks you're weak and undeserving of being spoiled and yet he hates it whenever he sees his blood sibling (whom he called a bastard child so many times) become too close with anyone but him.

he hates it, he hates you and his conflicting feelings. he hates it when he pushes you away, hates it when he sees you pout after another failed attempt at trying to have your youngest sibling talk to you.

and as the days or even weeks pass by, with all your effort to try to bond with him, with the days where he can feel dick's energy drain because you insisted on spending time with damian instead of dick again, with tim's intolerable treatment towards the him because you chose to bother damian instead of that loser— are the days he feels himself actually becoming closer to you because he relishes in your insufferable behavior towards them, because you just seem so sweet to him.

damian feels that it's right that you make him the exception.

so it's inevitable that damian will eventually discover both your talents towards art and the love for nature. it's a mistake, really, when one day as he stalks through the hallways he'd find you in your own atelier, painting a portrait of a robin with a color scheme that matches his vigilante suit. the beams of sunlight seems to hit you just right because you looked so at peace with your surroundings, humming a tune, unaware of your youngest brother who has found himself at your most natural state.

he'll budge in without moment's hesitation afterwards, steering clear behind you as he analyzes your art. it would only be after a few minutes would he announce his presence in the room, expecting you to scream at him to buzz off but all you did was jump in your seat, looking back to eye the intruder only to find out it was damian all along, offering him a smile and a seat beside you.

after he does so, you'll both end up spending the entire day bombarding each other with art tips and animal facts. he'll give you comments about the bird's proportions and you give him guidelines on how to properly mix your colors without it looking muddled. it's like you two are meant to be siblings because damian swears he ended up clinging to your side after your painting session, refusing to even seat beside anyone during dinner time if it isn't you because he's not done rambling about the rainbow eucalyptus you had told him you'd seen in a nature documentary once— so it's rightfully his place to be beside you and not drake's or grayson's or even his father.

eventually you two would be as close as peas in a pod because you're seemingly the only one who knows how to calm him down, the only one with the right to raise your voice at him and to ask him of favors because you're his blood sibling. and because you both share the same blood, that means you both should share clothes that complement each other, share snacks and treats, share matching bracelets and necklaces and any jewelry, you're the only one allowed to hang around his room and him in yours.

the others find it annoying that you let him be, but what choice do they have? unless they would like to hear an earful from damian then they should stay silent because you both aren't done painting each other's nails yet!

stephanie brown is shortly introduced to you after her incessant insistence on meeting you right after stepping foot into the manor. she knows of your internet fame for being the beloved bruce wayne's 'favorite' child and she's not afraid to admit that you are indeed adorable in person! unlike your first meeting with damian, steph would immediately coddle you at first glance, insisting you call her by 'steph' and that

due to the short period of time as her robin and her being constantly reprimanded for her antics, you'd take it in yourself to become closer with her, and she accepts your offer without any complaints. she's also one of your muses for your art and it's a good thing she has a sense of style unlike your brothers who are either too flashy (you had to stifle a laughter looking at the discowing costume) or too dull. damian's fashion sense is good but he's often out during the time period you spend with steph, and even if she often doesn't stay still, you at least hsve someone to talk your ears off whilst you try to sketch the poses she chose.

her obsession towards you stems from your willingness to "match her freak" or whatever internet lingo she finds that day, but she's a fun company to be around! she's always there for you when you need to rant about anything regarding your feelings, especially since you're at the age where you're a teenager and your emotions towards your family would be all over the place and she'd relate the most towards that.

so other than barbara, you'll find yourself speaking up about any concerns you have to steph, and she turns your 'favoritism' towards her her entire personality.

but if you think of even spilling your secrets about a highschool crush to steph or news that someone had asked you out for prom them then spoiler alert! don't. like her mentor, steph will drop signs and clues and your brothers would promptly deal with that. awe, don't worry about feeling alone though or if you weren't permitted to go to your highschool prom because steph and babs will be the ones to convince bruce to throw you your own very elegant gala where you would dance with only your siblings!

see, isn't she so strategic that way? psht, you don't need a boy or a girl acting as your temporary reprieve when your entire family is there for you! steph is here for you and you did technically promise to go out with her today to go shopping so...

it's not that she isn't on your side, no! but you're very much the entire family's baby and she doesn't want you losing your attention on her, definitely not! her goofy personality towards you really does cover her intense urge to be by your side really well. unlike damian, it's not obvious that she's trying so hard to monopolize your time for herself but you're just so fun to be around and she's at her best behavior when it comes to you.

so what's wrong if she ditches her other friends to bond with her beloved sibling? it's not like they'd understand what it's like having someone who actually looks at her for her rather than just the surface level.

don't question why most of the gifts she had given you (which ranges from attires like jackets and shles, to matching bracelets, even little fidget toys) all don a shade of purple and blue! and don't also question why her gallery is filled with cute selfies of you and why your phone's lock screen wallpaper is now suddenly matching with hers.

after all, steph likes making it known that you are her favorite!

cassandra cain, when she first saw you, is, of course, silent. but she makes her presence known quickly after she has enough proof that you've no fight in your body. she may not be the most expressive in words but she is through actions.

you were actually the one who had first approached her after bruce initially introduced you two to each other, offering her a handshake and a greeting in sign language. albeit it being crusty, and her insisting that it's alright if you do the talking, it seems like you were more than willing to learn sign language just for the sake of your new sister and she likes it.

she really, really likes it, appreciates how there were no signs of malice in your movements and just how comfortable you seemed with someone who could potentially end your life with just a snap of her fingers. and yet you treat her like she's not a weapon of murder but rather another sibling who is welcomed into your own world.

you ask her if she wants to hang out with you and steph in your own personal sleepover inside your room and she accepts it because of just how comforting your presence is. it's been so long since she had last felt like she was treated as a human and you were proof that she's glad she never took the path to human carnage like her father intended her to because then she wouldn't meet someone who would soon be so precious to her.

cass may not talk a lot but she is a listener.

a listener to both your words and your body language. it's quicker for her to notice if you ever needed a hug or a catalyst for comfort. she knows your boundaries and when you need space the most. she knows it when you want to open up to her about how stuffy the manor is beginning to feel, how it feels as if they're becoming more sensitive about your social life, how you wish your friends aren't distancing themselves from you because of how intimidating your family is.

and you can say all that to her because cass, alongside duke and sometimes steph, would be the only ones keeping your deepest darkest desires to their grave. although she may not understand your reasonings on why you even felt like your family is coddling you too much (because they're not! they love you very much and she does too) in the first place, she's always the one offering you to hold her hands whenever you're going through a momentary panic attack or a shoulder to lean on whenever dick would scold you for something impulsive you've done.

unlike your neglected counterpart, cass would always be by your shadows, watching every one of your moves and to abide by bruce's order to make sure you wouldn't escape, shall you ever feel rebellious during your teenage years. you may be older than her but she's stronger than you, more experienced and can even combat your dad if she wants to.

yet she always seems to let her guard down when it comes to you because you just seem to have that alluring effect on everybody. can't you understand just how important you are to everybody? you're the most important to her, you're one of the first few people who had treated her like a human so she swears on her life to protect you from harm's way like you did her whenever she's often in a pit of despair.

cass isn't the most expressive, so she makes up for it by instead leaving signs that she really cares for you, or sometimes hiding little trinkets for you to find in your room. it's like her very own message that translates 'cass was here'.

whenever you sit beside her at the dinner table, she always slips in extra food by your plate without you looking or sometimes even filling your glass bottles with extra juice and you'll never know why until you realize that it's her way of telling you to eat more. sometimes, your clothes would go missing until you see your sisters wearing your own collection of jackets and hoodies then swapping them in your drawers for their own— you'd realize that cass got that idea from steph and you can't get mad at her or anybody else as it soon becomes tradition that you'll have an entire closet dedicating to the missing clothes you have that your siblings have replaced to their own attire.

cass really does love you and although she can't always say it out loud, you'll always have a constant reminder instead. as long as you're safe and sound then you don't have to witness the darker sides of her that she hides from you.

then finally, duke thomas. he may have been introduced to you the latest but you could say in terms of every trait, he'd be the brother you'd like to keep close for every situation. your first meeting with him is quite frankly the most normal one of them all, introducing yourself to duke through dinner. although he may be temporarily under bruce's guardianship over anything else, he's incredibly comforting to be around as he's quick to catch on your emotions but unlike the others, he doesn't push you to open up to him, but he won't leave your side at all either.

duke is the only metahuman you're probably allowed to be close with because your dad absolutely refuses you from even trying to talk with the superfamily. and duke heavily prides himself with that information, often secretly showing you his metahuman skills and answering whatever questions you have about them.

like jason, duke wouldn't fully delude himself into thinking you're innocent, that you need to be babied to the point they feel the urge to track even the food you eat— so he's your reliable source for any video games you were forbidden to play or any movies dick would consider too gruesome for you. he's chill, he even sneaks you unhealthy chips once in a while which makes him automatically one of the top in your tier list.

but don't think he's entirely on your side, because whilst duke seems the most normal to you - the only sibling who wouldn't smother you in blankets the moment you accidentally cut yourself with a kitchen knife - he's also batshit crazy for his own sibling and he'll sacrifice a lot for you two. so if you even dare try to suggest an idea that duke knows would risk not only him, but especially you, then that idea automatically is relayed to your dad and you wouldn't really want your father's gentle scolding anymore.

you can try to find a loophole to go out with him though! if you want to eat batburgers outside then you can do so when he's at his patrol, seeing as how he's the only batkid who does daytime patrol and that's way safer than eating at night, no?

so do expect spending more time with him the most outside, other than with dick and damian, but you'll be forced to sit in the sidelines where nobody can lay their hands on you whilst duke would be busy fighting crime and afterwards treating you to ice cream like he didn't just 'accidentally' and brutally body slammed a criminal into the wall for giving you heart eyes.

'most normal member of the family, my ass' would be the first thing that pops into your mind, but hey! at least you didn't have to be always locked up into the stuffy manor, right...?

at least you get to spend time with all of your siblings and a very loving and attentive father..!

little did you know that the only reason they allowed you out is to give you this false sense of independence, slowly but surely planning for the ultimate day where they truly would lock you up away from the world.

but they just can't help it, you know? the media's greedy hands are starting to take more than they could; so many eyes are on you and danger awaits at every corner in gotham— they can't afford having their beloved being pried away from their arms.

so is it truly a blessing or a curse in disguise? you don't know anymore.

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