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yannawayne · 2 months

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iv. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established Relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

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The room falls into a stunned silence, every gaze drawn to your disheveled, bloodied appearance.

You attempt a casual wave, but it comes off as weak and awkward. Blood drips from your bruised knuckles, each drop splattering with a muted plop onto the polished floor. “Hey, everyone. Sorry, I’m late.”

Jason’s eyes flare with a dangerous glint of green as he barks, “What the fuck happened, kid?”

A typical dinner at the Waynes.

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Wednesday, 6:54 PM - Catwoman’s Apartment, Gotham City.

Three Days Later

THE ROOM IS QUIET except for the occasional rustle of clothing as you pack your things. You carefully fold your favorite hoodie, tucking it neatly into the suitcase. Next, you grab a few pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, and your worn-out sneakers.

You pause, your fingers lingering on a framed photo resting on the edge of the dresser. It's a snapshot of you and Damian at a carnival, his arm slung over your shoulder, his lips gently pressed against your head.

It’s been three days of radio silence between you and Damian. Three days of not speaking, which is practically a record for your relationship. And just when you were starting to get used to the peace and quiet, Bruce had to go and invite you and Selina to a celebratory dinner tonight. A gourmet guilt trip.

With a sigh, you place the photo gently on top of your clothes. Then you move to your desk, gathering a stack of notebooks crammed with sketches and half-finished plans scribbled on napkins and crumpled scraps of paper. You tuck them into the side pocket of your bag, carefully arranging the chaotic collection so that it all fits.

The door creaks open, and Selina steps into the room, her arms crossed with a proud smile playing on her lips.

“Packing up for your big adventure?” she asks.

You look up from your suitcase, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. It’s only for a month, but it feels like I’m leaving for a year.”

“A month isn’t so long.” Selina walks over, her feet thudding softly on the floor. She picks up a small figurine from your desk, examining it with a thoughtful expression. “Think of it as a chance to stretch your wings and maybe learn a thing or two.”

“Thanks.” You smile and turn back to your packing, reaching for your suit. The sleek, black material glistens under the soft light filtering through the window. You run your fingers over the spider emblem stitched into the back, feeling the familiar texture beneath your fingertips.

“You’re not seriously thinking of bringing the suit, are you?” she asks.

You hesitate, feeling the weight of the suit in your hands. “I thought I might need it. Just in case.”

“Well, you’re not planning on fighting crime in Stark Tower, are you?” she snarks, hands finding her hips as she gives you a look that clearly says she’s not buying your excuse. “This internship is a chance for you to have a life outside the vigilante shtick. It’s good for your future. A chance to live a normal life.”

“Normal? Mom, I stopped being normal the day I got these powers. There's no going back to that.”

“Maybe not,” Selina concedes, running gentle fingers through your hair. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have something close to it. You deserve to have options, to see what else is out there for you.”

You meet her gaze, your resolve unwavering. “I hear you. But I think I need to bring it. Just in case something goes wrong.”

Selina sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “God. You are just as stubborn as me,” she says, rising to her feet with a resigned smile. “Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind about this internship. Give it a real shot, okay?”

“Promise,” you hum, feeling a small sense of relief. As you reach for the suit to tuck it into your bag, your phone buzzes insistently.

Quickly, you glance at the screen.

Morgana:

Busy tonight? There’s a shipment near the docks. Tech equipment from what I see.

You could infiltrate. They have valuable info.

It's… Black Mask.

For a while, you stare at the phone, your thumb hovering over the screen, itching to swipe through the new messages. But Selina is still standing nearby. With a soft cough and a resigned exhale, you place the phone face down on the floor, deliberately ignoring the message for now.

You turn your attention back to your suitcase, refocusing on the task at hand. Selina watches you with a knowing look but doesn’t press further. The silence in the room is filled with the subtle rustle of fabric and the soft clink of zippers as you continue packing.

“Ready for tonight?” Selina asks.

You nod, though a knot tightens in your stomach. Bruce’s congratulatory dinner feels less like a celebration and more like an impending test, especially with the unresolved tension between you and Damian hanging heavy.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” you reply, attempting to sound confident.

You zip up the suitcase, taking a moment to glance around the room. Everything seems to be in place, but you double-check, making sure you haven’t forgotten anything essential.

Selina nods approvingly, then steps closer, bending to pull you into a hug. “I’ll go get dressed. You do too, alright?”

Selina leaves the room, her footsteps fading into the distance. Turning back to your suitcase, you rummage through the clothes, pulling out a pair of well-worn jeans and a red jacket. After slipping on some socks and sneakers, you reach for a black shirt. But as your hand hovers over the fabric, your gaze is drawn to your suit laid out on the bed.

The spider logo on its back glares at you, its eight-legged emblem almost seeming to reach out with an imperceptible pull, as if urging you to embrace your other self.

After a moment of inner conflict, you give in. You carefully pull on the suit beneath your clothes, the snug material wrapping around you like a second skin. With the suit in place, you slip on your black shirt, followed by the jacket and jeans. You tuck your mask into the pocket of your jacket.

Wearing a superhero suit under your clothes for a fancy dinner—definitely not a sign of insanity. Totally normal behavior. Call it creative paranoia.

With everything packed and ready, you head downstairs. Selina is still in her room, and you catch sight of her as she steps into view, looking a touch more formal than you in a sleek, off-shoulder black dress that hugs her curves. It’s short, tight, and elegant.

“Done already?” she hums, moving to her vanity and starting on her hair and makeup.

You nod, leaning against the doorframe and giving your hair a casual tousle. “Yeah, figured I’d keep it simple. Not sure I’m in the mood for fancy.”

Selina glances at you through the mirror, a small, reassuring smile curling her lips. “You look great. And don’t worry too much about tonight. It’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” you murmur, more to yourself than to her.

The clock on the wall reads 7:00. You have three hours before the dinner, and Selina, always the early planner, will be occupied with her preparations for a while.

Pulling out your phone, you check Morgan’s message again. If you played your cards right, you could handle the shipment bust quickly and still make it to the dinner on time.

Clearing your throat, you push yourself off the doorframe and tug your hood back on. You head downstairs, making sure to keep your movements casual and unhurried, as if nothing out of the ordinary is about to happen.

“I’ll be heading out for a bit. I want to get some flowers for Alfred,” you call out, your voice carrying through the house.

Selina glances up from her vanity, an eyebrow arching in curiosity. “Alright, but don’t be too long. We need to leave once the driver arrives.”

“Got it,” you reply with a quick nod, turning and heading out of the room. You make your way downstairs, slipping out the front door and into the crisp evening air.

Once you’re in the privacy of a nearby alleyway, you waste no time. Tugging off your shirt, you shove it into the pocket of your jacket, feeling a rush of adrenaline. You slip on your mask, adjusting it carefully until it fits snugly, the familiar material settling comfortably against your skin. Your jeans, jacket, and sneakers stay on for practicality, and you plan to put the black shirt back on later.

With everything in place, you secure your earpiece and gadgets, pressing the earpiece into position and activating it. The familiar hum of your tech springs to life, and you’re ready to move.

The city’s sounds fade as you slip into the shadows.

“Morgz? You there?” you call out, already scaling up the side of a building.

A crackle of static precedes Morgan’s voice. “Yeah, I’m here. You on your way?”

“Just about to leave,” you reply, grabbing onto a ledge and pulling yourself up. “Any updates on the shipment?”

“It’s scheduled to arrive in about 30 minutes. The tech equipment is being unloaded from a truck into a warehouse. Security’s decent, but nothing you can’t handle. You’re only 15 minutes away from your spot right now.”

“Got it,” you confirm, reaching the rooftop and taking a moment to scan the area below. “I’ll keep you posted. Thanks for the heads-up.”

You launch into action, web-slinging towards the docks with a focus on speed. Normally, you’d be showboating and performing flips, but tonight, every second counts. The journey takes a bit longer than expected—20 minutes instead of 15.

As you approach the docks, you spot a boat pulling up to the edge, its silhouette cutting through the darkness.

“Surprised you even took this up,” Morgan’s voice murmurs through your earpiece. “Thought you weren't allowed to patrol on school nights.”

“Technically… I’m not,” you reply, weaving between buildings and adjusting your trajectory for a swift descent.

“Yeesh. Going rebellious already?”

“Teenage angst, remember?” you quip, a grin forming beneath your mask as you prepare to intercept the shipment

Landing on a rooftop adjacent to the warehouse, you take a moment to plan your entry. The warehouse is a large, industrial building with a few tall windows and a side door that looks like it’s used for deliveries.

Security cameras are mounted on the corners of the building, rotating every now and then. You quickly survey the area, noting the guards' position.

There are a couple of guards patrolling the perimeter, walking in predictable patterns. One guard is stationed near the side door, checking his watch occasionally. The other two are more mobile, taking turns walking around the exterior and scanning the area.

Beyond the security, you see five workers moving boxes from the boat to the warehouse. The open doors at the far end reveal crates of tech equipment being unloaded.

You activate your earpiece. "Update. Three guards outside. Five active workers. They've got cameras. Can you get those down for me?"

Morgan's voice crackles through your earpiece. "On it. Give me a sec."

You watch the cameras, waiting for them to go offline. The guard near the side door looks at his watch again, oblivious to what's about to happen.

After a tense moment, Morgan's voice comes back. "Cameras are down. You've got about an hour before the system kicks in again. Oh. That and there are about 5 more guards inside."

"Perfect," you hum.

You time your movements with the guards' patrols, slipping through the shadows. You approach the side door, keeping low and quiet.

Inside, the warehouse is dimly lit, with stacks of crates creating narrow pathways. The workers are busy unloading the truck, their focus on the task at hand. You crawl up the walls swiftly and silently.

You spot a terminal near the back of the warehouse, its blinking lights indicating it’s connected to the inventory system.

Time to get to work.

“I'm at the terminal. What’s next?” you whisper into the earpiece.

Morgan’s voice comes through with a steady tone. “Plug in the flash drive to copy the inventory data. While that’s running, find the main control panel for the security system and plant the tracker. This will help us monitor future shipments.”

You nod, even though she can't see you. "Got it. Flash drive first, then tracker."

You slip to the terminal and plug in the flash drive, which hums softly as it starts copying data. Glancing around to make sure no one is watching, you head to the security control panel hidden behind some crates and quickly plant the tracker.

"The tracker is set," you inform Morgan.

"Great job. The data copy should be done soon. Once it’s finished, you can pull the flash drive and get out of there."

You head back to the terminal, keeping an eye on the workers and guards. The flash drive's light blinks, signaling it's almost finished. After a few tense moments, the light turns solid.

"Data copied," Morgan confirms. "You’re clear to go."

You pull out the flash drive, tuck it into your pocket, and start heading toward the exit, blending into the shadows. Just as you reach the door, you hear voices nearby.

“Hey, did you hear something?”

Your heart stops as the guard’s flashlight beam sweeps dangerously close to your hiding spot. You freeze, pressing yourself against the cold metal wall, barely breathing.

“Probably just a rat. Let's check it out just in case.”

You curse silently under your breath, watching as the guards start moving in your direction.

The first guard steps closer, his flashlight scanning the area. You silently crawl up the wall, positioning yourself above him. With a swift flick of your wrist, you shoot a web at the flashlight, yanking it out of his hand and into the darkness.

“What the—” the guard starts, but you quickly web his mouth shut and pull him up towards the ceiling, wrapping him tightly in webbing and securing him to the roof. You knock his head against the metal, and he passes out.

The second guard, alarmed by the sudden commotion, turns his back to you as he draws his weapon. The rifle fires, but your spider sense helps you dodge the shots.

Cursing, you shoot a web at his feet, yanking his legs out from under him and sending him crashing to the ground. Before he can react, you web his hands to the floor and sling his weapon away.

Dropping from the ceiling, you slow your landing with a web and slam your foot down onto his head, knocking him out.

Despite the quiet disposal of the two guards, the earlier rifle shot already alerted the other workers and guards in the warehouse. You hear shouts and hurried footsteps approaching.

“Someone’s here! Find them!”

Guards scramble, their flashlights slicing through the darkness, casting erratic beams that dance across the warehouse walls. You sprint away, weaving between crates and machinery, but a new threat emerges from the shadows—a massive, burly man, easily twice your size. He’s built like a brick wall, his muscles straining against his uniform, and his face looks like it’s been chiseled out of stone, etched with a permanent scowl.

“Who’s messing around in 'ere?” the giant roars, his voice reverberating through the cavernous space. He brandishes a rifle, and from the looks of it, he seems to be their leader.

You glance at your watch—damn, it’s been two hours already.

Only an hour left.

Still… you could probably get one fight in before leaving.

…

Swinging out of the shadows, you land in front of the giant, hands on your hips.

“Hi, Mr. Villain!” you call out, catching a punch he throws and giving his hand a playful shake. “I’m Spidey, your friendly neighborhood nuisance. Always nice to meet someone with such a ‘heavy’ presence. Looks like you’ve got a bit of a security problem here—totally my bad.”

The giant snarls at you. He fires his rifle, but you deftly dodge the bullets. With a swift move, you fire a web at his feet and arms, pinning him momentarily to the ground. The rifle is knocked from his hands, clattering out of reach.

The guards scramble to regroup, and you spring into action. Flipping back into the air, you disarm the remaining guards—quick web blasts here, a roundhouse kick there, an uppercut thrown. Each guard crumples under the assault, slamming against the walls one by one, webbed together in a tangled heap.

There’s a snap as the leader breaks free, roaring in fury and charging at you. You duck under his swinging arm and fire a web at a stack of crates. The crates topple and crash into his path, heavy wood and metal smashing together. He stumbles, cursing and flailing wildly.

“Careful there! You might just crush your own merchandise,” you taunt, sidestepping his erratic swings.

In that moment of distraction, you snatch his gun away with a quick webshot. But as you turn to face him again, a jolt of pure adrenaline slams through your veins, sharp and unrelenting, like an electric shock.

The world sharpens into hyperfocus.

DANGER!

Your instincts scream at you to move. You leap to the side, but it’s already too late. A shadowy figure springs from the darkness, their knife catching a deadly glint in the harsh warehouse lights.

The blade slices through your suit, leaving a searing, agonizing wound. You stagger, clutching your side as blood seeps through the torn fabric and pools on the cold concrete. With a pained grimace, you muster the strength to shoot a web at the attacker, slamming them against the wall with a forceful swing.

“Spidey?! Come in. Shit. What happened to staying stealthy?” Morgan's voice crackles through the earpiece. “PEPPER, run back their vitals on me.”

A mechanical voice responds through your earpiece. “Vitals are stable. The wound is a deep six-inch laceration on the left side, with moderate blood loss, but the suit's padding has helped. The injury missed major organs and arteries. Immediate first aid and stitches are recommended.”

“Looks like I’ve got a new scar to show for tonight,” you heave, trying to ignore the throbbing pain as the giant stalks toward you. “But I’m not done yet.”

The man's roar shakes the warehouse.

“You think you can take me, you puny spider?!”

You lift your chin, tilting your head with a smirk. “Puny? That’s funny. I’ve taken down bigger.”

The giant lunges, brandishing a scrap of metal like a battering ram. You barely dodge, feeling the whoosh of air as it swings past. You retaliate with a web shot to his face, but he roars and swats it away, his massive arms tearing through your webbing.

“Careful there, big guy,” you quip, “I’m not into heavy metal, but thanks for the offer!”

His hand clamps onto your chest, lifting you off your feet with an alarming strength. He hurls you against a stack of crates, the impact slamming you into the wall. You slide down to the floor, dazed and with blood trickling from a split lip.

While you're down, the giant strides toward you, his heavy footsteps shaking the ground like a mini earthquake. You struggle to rise, just as he launches a flying knee. Your senses scream, a blaring alarm urging you to move.

!!!

With a yelp, you roll to the side, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow that hits where you had been seconds before.

“Hey, watch it! I’ve got places to be after this!” you yell.

Before you can react, a powerful punch slams into your face, sending you spiraling backward.

“Owie. That one’s definitely gonna leave a mark,” you groan, pain radiating through your skull. Desperately, you shoot a web at his legs, hoping to slow him down. The webbing holds for a moment before he rips through it with sheer brute force.

Groaning, you shake off the dizziness, rolling your shoulders to loosen them before pushing yourself back to your feet.

“Alright,” you mutter, taking a deep breath. “Clearly, the webs aren’t working. Guess we’re sticking to fists. Put ’em up, big guy.”

Laughing with a guttural, mocking tone, the giant charges at you. As he lunges, you brace yourself and bring your fist up to guard your face. With a burst of power, you jab forward. Your knuckles connect with his face with a sickening crunch, the sound of bone shattering and flesh splitting echoing through the warehouse like a thunderclap.

JAB!

The man staggers back, his head snapping violently to the side, blood spraying from his jaw. Before he can recover, you launch into a spinning kick. Your leg connects with explosive force, slamming him into the wall with a resounding thud.

You follow up with a powerful jump, driving a kick into his ribs. The impact echoes with a sickening crack. He roars in pain and collapses, slumped against the wall.

With quick reflexes, you shoot a web at a high pipe, coiling it tightly. You yank the pipe down with all your strength. It crashes onto the giant with a resounding clang, the impact knocking him out cold.

You take a couple of deep breaths, blood and sweat mingling on your clothes and face as you survey the wreckage. The giant groans weakly—alive, but definitely out of commission for the moment.

“Looks like the big guy’s all out of steam,” you murmur, wiping the blood from your brow with a grim smile. “Now, time to find that exit before my own steam runs out.”

With a final glance at the chaos you've left behind, you swing toward the exit. The cut on your side throbs with each movement—though it's slowly healing, the pain and blood are still very much present.

"Spidey? You alright? What the fuck, you just beat that guy within an inch of his life."

“He’ll live,” you huff as you swing through the streets. After fumbling around for a while, you pull your phone from your jacket and curse at the time.

Only ten minutes before the car arrives.

“Uh, Morgz, do me a favor. Where’s the nearest flower shop?”

"Christ. You just busted down an illegal tech deal and now you're out for flowers?" Morgan’s response comes through the earpiece before you hear some typing. “There’s a florist two blocks from your current location. I’m sending you the address. But—You really need to take care of that wound.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you reply. There's a ping as the location pops up on your phone. “Just need to pick up some flowers. Trust me, it’s important.”

You adjust your swing to head toward the florist, landing quietly in the alley outside. With quick movements, you slip off your mask and start changing. You discard your jacket, revealing the bloodied suit underneath. The suit’s dark color masks most of the stains, but it's still a grim sight.

Pulling on your shirt over the suit, you try to conceal the worst of the mess. The sticky, wet feeling of blood against your skin is unpleasant, and you grimace as you adjust the shirt. Finally, you slip the jacket back on, hoping it will help you blend in and give you a semblance of normalcy.

Taking a deep breath, you straighten up and glance at your reflection in the nearby puddle. The image staring back at you is a disheveled mess: hair tousled, face bruised and bloodied, jeans stained with grime and blood, and a jacket barely concealing it all.

“Not my best look,” you bite your lip. “But it’ll have to do.”

With a sigh, you step into the flower shop. The bell above the door jingles softly, and the warm, floral scent is a welcome relief from the warehouse’s stench.

The florist looks up from behind the counter with a curious glance. His eyes narrow slightly as he takes in your disheveled appearance but he doesn’t seem particularly fazed.

In Gotham, a bloodied teenager is probably just another Wednesday.

“Evening,” the florist says, his voice carrying the neutrality of someone accustomed to the oddities of city life. “What can I do for you?”

You give a quick nod, trying to keep your tone casual despite the blood still seeping through your shirt. “Need something nice. Simple. No need for anything flashy.”

The florist nods and starts arranging a bouquet of flowers. You drift over to a corner and find yourself looking at some daisies, their bright, cheerful colors a stark contrast to your current state.

“Spidey? How’s it going?”

“Alright,” you shrug, though she can’t see it. “Can I get a rundown on my vitals again?”

Morgan’s voice hums and there’s the sound of clicking keys. “Vitals are stable. The cut is slowly healing, but you’ll need to properly bandage and get some of that stitched later Happy to say you're not going to die bleeding out.”

She pauses, and then adds, “You’ve got a couple of broken ribs though.”

You blink in surprise and pat at your sides, feeling nothing. “Really? Guess that’s my pain tolerance working overtime. Didn’t even notice.”

“Please tell me you’re getting that treated first,” Morgan says, a hint of concern in her voice.

“Nope,” you reply, moving to pay for the flowers. “Already running late. Mom will kill me if she finds out.”

Morgan’s voice is laced with skepticism. “She’s going to find out anyway.”

You sigh, trying to ignore the twinge in your side. “I’ll just say it was a mugging.”

“Do you really think she’ll believe that?” Morgan asks, her tone dry.

You let out a small, pained chuckle. “In Gotham, maybe. But realistically…no. I’m just hoping to buy myself a little time before it all catches up to me.”

With the bouquet in hand, you head back out into the night. You tuck the flowers into your free pocket and swing off into the darkness. As you soar through the city, you reach for your earpiece and say a quick, “Goodnight, Morgz,” before shoving it into the pocket of your jeans.

Just as you near the bridge, your phone rings. You glance at the screen and curse under your breath—Selina’s calling, and from the look of it, she’s been trying to reach you multiple times over the past hour.

Yeah, you’re fucked.

You answer the call, forcing a casual tone. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

Selina’s voice comes through, clearly agitated. You can hear her huffing as she closes the apartment door, the background noise of a car engine rumbling outside. “Where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting forever. We’re all set to head out.”

You quickly scan the streets below as you swing past, trying to gauge your location. “Uh, I’m on 2nd Broadway… actually, make that 3rd Broadway. And… 4th of Broadway! I’ll be there in… twenty minutes tops. Almost there, Mom!”

There’s a pause.

“... Are you swinging?”

“Nope,” you lie smoothly, narrowly dodging a pigeon that flaps angrily past your face. “Just a bit of a detour. You know how it is.”

“Honey. I can hear the wind. Are you really swinging around? It’s a school night. You know the rules—”

You wince, knowing you’ve been caught. “Just… had a few things to take care of. I’m on my way. Promise. Actually, why don’t I meet you at Wayne Manor instead? I’m near the bridge. Ya know, the one by the docks.”

There’s another pause on her end.

“Why are you near the docks?!”

You avoid the question, trying to keep the conversation moving. “Long story. Look, I’m running late. Can we just meet at Wayne Manor? I’ll explain everything after dinner.”

Selina’s frustration doesn’t ease, but she sighs. “Fine. Wayne Manor it is. But don’t think for a second you’re off the hook, young lady.”

You nod, even though she can’t see it. “Understood. See you soon. Love you, Mom!”

༻⊰───⋅

BEEP.

Selina scowls as she ends the call and heads down to meet Alfred. The gritty streets of Gotham greet her, the cacophony of sirens and street chatter providing a harsh backdrop to her mood.

Alfred, noticing her irritated state, opens the door for her with a raised eyebrow. "Good to see you Miss Kyle. May I ask where the young miss is?"

Selina forces a smile, trying to mask her frustration. “She’s… handling something that came up last minute. She’ll meet us at the manor.”

"Very well. I trust she’ll be punctual." Alfred says, a hint of concern in his eyes, but he says nothing more. He closes the door behind her as she slips into the car, adjusting her coat and glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

The engine starts, the low hum blending with the city’s background noise. As the vehicle pulls away, Selina leans back against the cool leather seat, her fingers drumming lightly on the armrest, her mind already racing through the conversation she knows is coming.

You were dead meat.

༻⊰───⋅

After nearly an hour of high-speed swings through Gotham, you finally touch down in a secluded area near Wayne Manor. You're breathless and disheveled, your earlier efforts to look presentable having fallen short. You quickly scan the area, making sure the security cameras don’t catch your arrival.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you adjust your clothes and press the doorbell. The chime rings through the grand entrance. You glance at your phone and wince—you're an hour and thirty minutes late.

The swinging took longer than expected, and to make matters worse, you had to intervene when this ginger reporter was being robbed. You couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Now, as you wait by the gate, you hear footsteps approaching from inside. The door swings open to reveal Alfred, who freezes for a moment, his eyes widening at the sight of you—bruised, bloodied, and clearly worse for wear. You lean against the gate, your fingers curling around the metal.

“H—Hey, Al.”

“Goodness me!” Alfred exclaims, hurrying over to the gate and pulling it open wide. He rushes over, opening the gate wider and pulling you inside with a practiced ease. His gaze sweeps over your injuries, concern etched deeply into his features. “Miss Kyle, you’re in quite a state!”

You manage a tired smile, carefully pulling the bouquet from your jacket. It’s in rough shape—torn petals, crushed blooms, and snapped stems. It looks like it’s on the verge of dying.

“Sorry I’m late,” you say, wincing as you hold up the sad arrangement. “These… are for you. I, uh, ran all the way here. I hope I’m not too late for dinner.”

Alfred takes the flowers with a gentle smile, his concern momentarily overshadowed by a touch of warmth. “Thank you, Miss Kyle. However, I assure you it’s fine. The others have already started eating. They won’t mind if you—”

“It’s fine! This is just…,” you pause, pursing your lips as you scramble for a plausible excuse. You force a smile, shaking your head and pulling your jacket hood further over your face to hide the swelling bruise around one of your eyes. “Hah, you know how Gotham can be.”

Alfred gives you a sympathetic glance but says nothing more. “Very well. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the dining room.”

He guides you through the grand hallways, your footsteps echoing in the vast space and mingling with the soft murmur of conversation. As you reach the dining room, the door swings open, revealing a table set with care and already abuzz with activity. Selina, Bruce, and the others are seated, their animated conversations abruptly halting as they turn to look at you.

The room falls into a stunned silence, every gaze drawn to your disheveled, bloodied appearance.

Selina’s eyes narrow into slits, her irritation barely concealed behind a strained, tight-lipped smile. Bruce’s complexion drains to an ashen hue, his eyes are wide as saucers, looking like he’s about to pass out from shock. He casts Selina a panicked glance, which she meets with a weary sigh, her hands momentarily covering her face as if trying to shield herself from the mess. She looks utterly drained.

Jason’s eyes flare with a dangerous glint of green as he barks, “What the fuck happened, kid?”

Next to him, Cassandra’s face is blank. Her fingers fidget with her utensils as she shifts her gaze rapidly between you and Selina, trying to piece together the fractured narrative from your battered appearance and Selina’s body language.

Bruce, who had been quietly observing, stands up and approaches you with slow, measured steps.

“You’re hurt,” he says, his voice a deep, resonant murmur. His hands, surprisingly gentle for their strength, settle on your shoulders. His eyes, usually as inscrutable as the dark depths of a stormy sea, now soften with the tenderness of a lighthouse guiding you through a night. “What happened, kiddo?”

There’s a strange, twisting sensation in your gut, flaring just beneath your ribs. A lump rises in your throat, and despite your best efforts to stay composed, your eyes begin to well up.

“I—” you begin, but the words falter. Your gaze drifts across the room and locks onto Damian’s eyes. They’re like emeralds, gleaming with a ferocity that seems to pierce through the walls you’ve built. Though he remains silent, his piercing look conveys a thousand unspoken thoughts and emotions.

A wave of shame is crashing into you, pushing your words back down. “Just… a rough night. Got into a fight.”

Bruce’s eyes narrow, and a wave of seething anger ripples through him. You try to ignore it.

“And who was this?” he demands, his voice a controlled, simmering growl.

“It’s okay. It ended up alright,” you try to shrug it off, forcing a casual tone. “Really, it’s not as bad as it looks. Just a run-in with some rando on the street.”

Everyone’s reactions vary, but it’s the look in Selina’s eyes that strikes you the hardest. Selina’s weary gaze peeks out from behind her hands, and the sight makes your face crumple.

“Pull off your hood,” Selina commands, icy and devoid of warmth. As she straightens in her chair, her blood-red nails dig into the mahogany table, turning her knuckles as pale as frost.

You keep your gaze fixed on the polished marble floor, scuffing the dried mud across its pristine surface. The silence in the room grows heavier with each passing second.

“Take off the damn hood and show me your face!”

Scowling and clenching your jaw, you yank the hood off. As it falls away, the full extent of your injuries is laid bare. Selina’s eyes widen as they take in the black eye, the bruises, and the cuts that mar your face. Her shock quickly morphs into a deepening scowl, her lips trembling as she fights to control her rising anger.

Everyone waiting for the outburst that is sure to follow.

Instead, Selina’s hands fly to cover her face, and she looks as though she might fall apart at any moment.

Bruce stares at you with something akin to horror.

Before anyone can react further, Damian abruptly stands, his chair scraping against the floor. Without a word, he strides over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you out of the room.

His muttered words are barely audible, “I’ll take care of their injuries.”

Bruce moves back to Selina’s side, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulder as he tries to offer comfort.

You can hear his soft, reassuring whisper as you walk away, “You can stay for the night. It’s too late to head out now. Give her some time.”

Selina, her face still pale and troubled, nods gratefully, her gaze tracking Damian as he helps you toward the manor’s second floor.

Damian ushers you into his room, the door closing behind you with a decisive click. He motions to the bed, and you sink onto it with a heavy sigh, the weight of the day dragging at your limbs.

You watch Damian retreat to the bathroom, your gaze lingering on the raw, bloodied skin of your knuckles, tinged with a gnawing sense of guilt.

Moments later, he returns with a first aid kit in hand. He kneels before you, reaching out to tug off your jacket, but you quickly shake your head, not wanting him to discover the suit beneath.

“I’m going to change in the bathroom,” you rasp. Damian silently nods, moving to his closet and pulling out one of his cotton shirts and boxers. He hands them to you with a resigned sigh and leans against the wall beside the bathroom door, giving you the privacy you need.

You take the clothes from Damian and head to the bathroom. As you push open the door, the dim light casts long shadows across the tiled floor. You deliberately avoid meeting your reflection in the mirror, not wanting to confront the full extent of the mess you’re in.

Once inside, you drop Damian’s shirt and boxers onto the floor, followed by your jacket, shirt, and pants. The fabric makes a soft rustling sound as it lands. With a deep, steadying breath, you begin peeling off your suit, slow and painstaking.

As the suit peels away from your skin, the blood and sweat that have soaked into it reveal the severity of your injuries. You wince as the cut on your side comes fully into view, a raw, angry red line that stretches from just below your rib cage to the middle of your side. It looks even worse up close—jagged and still oozing a bit despite the healing process.

You quickly change into Damian’s boxers, opting to keep the shirt off for now. You carefully bundle your suit and hide it under your jacket and pants, folding it as neatly as you can manage. With a deep breath, you step back into the room.

Damian’s eyes narrow as he assesses the cut on your side, now reduced to a four-inch scar due to your enhanced healing abilities. His gaze is hard, and you can almost see the weight of the lecture that would have come if he’d seen the injury in its original, more severe state.

“Sit down,” Damian finally speaks, his voice firm. He begins to open the first aid kit, movements slow. You drop your ruined clothes in a far corner and plop back down on his bed, rubbing your hands together nervously.

A beat passes as Damian finishes cleaning the wound and reaches for the anesthesia, preparing to start stitching you up. You shake your head and push his hand away. “I can take it.”

“No,” Damian scowls and continues his work. He applies the anesthesia despite your protests, injecting it around the wound to numb the area. The needle pierces your skin with a sharp sting, followed by a dull, throbbing sensation as the anesthetic begins to take effect.

He sets the syringe aside and picks up a pair of sterilized tweezers and needle and thread. You watch as he carefully makes the first stitch, his hands steady and precise. The thread pulls tight, closing the wound with a series of tight, even stitches.

His long lashes flutter over his hooded eyes with each focused blink, his emerald gaze intense and filled with concern. The warm ambient light of the room casts a gentle glow on his deep tan skin, accentuating the chiseled contours of his face in a soft, almost ethereal light.

The beam of light highlights the light almost invisible scar that stretches from his cheekbone to his crooked nose, tracing the elegant curve of his cheekbone and the strong, defined line of his jaw. Your gaze drifts to his full lips, noting the perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip.

His hair is meticulously styled, with longer strands on top falling in inky, sleek waves across his forehead, remnants of gel catching the light. Damian’s thick, well-kept hair frames his face like brush strokes, adding to his strikingly handsome appearance.

Unable to hold yourself back, you raise a hand to cup his cheek. Damian hums, a low, soothing sound that rumbles in his chest. He keeps his eyes focused on your wound but tilts his head slightly to press a soft, tender kiss to your wrist.

With the stitches complete, Damian shifts his attention to bandaging the wound. He secures the bandage, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary as he smooths out the edges. Finally, he raises his head and meets your gaze, eyes conveying everything he can’t say aloud.

Exhausted and overwhelmed, you slump into Damian’s embrace, dropping your hands onto his shoulders. He responds instinctively, taking your hands in his. Large, calloused fingers gently lift yours, pressing a tender kiss to each of them before moving to softly kiss your bruised knuckles.

With a whisper of your name, Damian draws your hands over his shoulders. You smile, sinking deeper into his embrace, arms draped over his strong back. Damian holds you close, lifting you off the bed as he pulls you into a hug. His arms wound up around your waist, pulling you tighter against him.

“You know, trying to keep secrets from me is pointless,” Damian murmurs, a thinly veiled threat in his words peppering kisses up the side of your neck. “I am the son of the greatest detective in the world. I will find out what happened.”

You chuckle softly, feeling the tension ease a bit. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just let me hold you, you insufferable know-it-all.”

Damian’s grip tightens slightly. His forehead rests against yours, hearts swimming in his emerald eyes. “You’re lucky I tolerate your nonsense. But seriously, you need to start talking.”

“Maybe later,” you reply, smiling against his shoulder. “Right now, I just need you.”

༻⊰───⋅

An hour later, it’s already 1 AM, but you and Damian are still awake, watching a show on his television. You’re curled up together on his bed, the flickering light from the screen painting the room in shifting hues of blue and gray, casting gentle shadows that dance across the walls.

You rest your head against Damian’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close. Despite the late hour, the warmth and comfort of his embrace keep you from drifting off.

“This show is surprisingly bearable,” Damian murmurs.

You smile, nuzzling closer. “Told you it was worth a watch. Thanks for staying up with me.”

Damian’s fingers gently stroke your hair, each touch a soothing rhythm against your scalp. “Of course I’d do it, even if it means enduring your rather questionable taste in television.”

You scoff, pretending to be wounded. “Questionable taste? This show is a gem. You just don’t want to admit I’ve expanded your horizons.”

Damian raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Expanded my horizons? More like subjected me to a marathon of pedestrian entertainment.”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite his words. The episode continues, the soft hum of the TV blending with the comforting rhythm of Damian’s breathing. The earlier tension and worry seem to dissolve into the background, replaced by a quiet intimacy.

Damian’s hand moves slowly, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. His thumb begins to trace gentle, deliberate patterns on your back. You shiver slightly at the unexpected sensation, a delicate ripple of warmth spreading through you. His touch is soft yet firm, spelling out something with careful precision.

Though you don’t fully grasp the intent behind his touch, Damian’s fingers trace a delicate script across your skin, inscribing the words of Talia’s favorite Arabic love poem onto your back.

“My life shall be sacrificed for her beauty,” his thumb whispers across your skin, “my blood shall be spilled freely for her, and though I burn for her painfully, like a candle, none of my days shall ever be free of this pain. Let me love, oh my God, love for love’s sake, and make my love a hundred times as great as it was and is.”

The gentle pressure of his touch, the rhythmic way his thumb moves, slowly eases you into sleep. As each verse of the poem is imprinted on your skin, you find yourself drifting off, nestled against his chest. Damian tenderly presses his lips to your temple, wishing you sweet dreams.

༻⊰───⋅

Thursday, 3:02 AM - Damian's Room, Wayne Manor.

Dick moves stealthily down the moonlit hallway, his footsteps muffled against the plush carpet. He reaches Damian’s door and pushes it open with a gentle nudge. Despite his careful approach, the old hinges protest with a loud, protesting creak, shattering the quiet of the night and immediately stirring Damian from his sleep.

The sudden noise jolts Damian awake, his reflexes kicking in. His eyes snap open, and in a heartbeat, his muscles tense as he instinctively tightens his protective embrace around you. The world outside fades as his focus zeroes in on the intruder.

Damian’s gaze narrows into a steely glare as he locks onto Dick. In a seamless, fluid motion, he throws aside the blankets and reaches beneath the bed, his hand closing around the hilt of a gleaming katana.

Without hesitation, he draws the blade with a swift, practiced flick, sending the katana arcing through the air toward Dick.

SHINK!

Dick stumbles back, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. The katana thuds harmlessly into the wall beside him, its sharp edge embedded in the wood just inches from his head.

"Such a dramatic wake-up call… Good morning to you too," Dick grins, clearly used to this routine. “Alright. I know it’s late, but Selina is still up. I think she wants to talk to Y/N.”

Damian’s snarl is a low, dangerous rumble. “If you wake her, I will cut your hands off.”

Dick raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by the threat. “Come on, baby bird. It’s not that big of a deal. Just let her know she’s needed.”

Damian’s eyes remain locked on Dick, a burning intensity that could have melted steel. Yet, after a long, tense moment, he grudgingly nods, the anger in his posture easing ever so slightly. With careful precision, he unwinds himself from the cocoon of blankets that envelops you, making sure not to jostle you awake.

!!!

But as Damian shifts, your senses stir, your eyes fluttering open to the dim light of the room. Your hand moves instinctively, reaching out to grasp Damian’s wrist, your fingers curling around him with a surprising strength. The sudden contact startles Damian, and he pauses, his gaze softening as he looks down at you.

Confusion and concern flash across your face as you murmur, “Dames?”

He pauses, his gaze softening as he looks down at you, his eyes reflecting a tender regret. “It’s okay. I apologize for waking you, but Miss Kyle is calling for you.”

You tense immediately, and Damian feels a pang of guilt unfurl in his gut for disrupting your rest.

You sigh softly and rise slowly, wincing slightly as though the wound still bothers you. Although your injury has healed, you keep up the act, unwilling to make it too obvious that you’re fine. You know you’re on thin ice, and the last thing you want is to make things more suspicious.

Damian instinctively moves to support you, his hand steadying your back with a reassuring touch as you rise. Dick, lingering at the doorway, casts an apologetic glance your way.

Damian helps you to your feet, his touch steady and reassuring. He retrieves his soccer jacket from a nearby chair and drapes it around your shoulders with a gentle, almost reverent touch. The jacket, well-worn and carrying the faint scent of his cologne, envelops you in its soft, reassuring warmth.

As you and Damian approach the door to his room, you hesitate and turn to him.

“I think I need to handle this alone,” you say quietly. “Can you wait here?”

Damian's eyes narrow slightly, and he hesitates, his protective instincts flaring.

“Are you sure?” he asks, running a hand up your back.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Yes, it’s better this way. I’ll be fine.”

Damian’s expression softens reluctantly. “Alright. I will be right here if you need me, beloved.”

You watch as Damian retreats to his room, his hand sliding around the katana lodged in the doorframe. With a smooth, deliberate motion, he withdraws the blade, the metal glinting momentarily before the door closes softly behind him. Dick, meanwhile, falls into step beside you and guides you down the corridor. His presence is steady and reassuring, a calming force in the tense atmosphere.

As you walk, Dick leans in slightly, his voice a low murmur. “Your mom’s been on edge all night. I’m… not sure what’s going on, but she made it clear she wanted to talk to you immediately.”

You nod, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. “I figured as much,” you reply, trying to keep your tone steady.

Dick’s expression turns serious, but a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You really gave us a scare,” he says, his tone softening. “Just remember, as a future Mrs. Wayne, we’ve got your back, no matter what.”

You chuckle softly, the warmth of his words offering a small measure of comfort. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself for the conversation ahead as you reach the door to Selina’s room.

You turn the knob and push the door open.

Tall windows, framed by heavy drapes, stand slightly ajar, allowing the Gotham breeze to drift through the room. The curtains flutter rhythmically, whispering softly against the glass panes. Selina stands by the window, her silhouette etched sharply against the city’s glittering skyline. Her back is to you, tense and rod-straight.

The door clicks shut behind you, and she turns her head slightly, her gaze meeting yours with a cool, unreadable intensity.

"Are you going to start talking, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?”

“I was just—” you stammer, struggling to find the right words. “I passed by, okay? I saw the situation and I had to intervene—”

Selina cuts you off with a sharp twist of her head. “I have eyes. I know what happened. I was informed about a tech shipment—an underground tech shipment by the docks. It was infiltrated. They found all the men webbed. Webbed. To the walls and floors. Don’t lie to me, honey.”

You sigh, the weight of the truth settling heavily on your shoulders. “Yeah. Okay,” you admit, your voice trembling despite your efforts to stay composed. “It… was planned.”

Selina’s eyes narrow dangerously as she strides towards you, heels clicking sharply against the floors. Her silhouette, framed by the soft, muted glow of the city lights filtering through the window, looms larger than life.

“Did you have a single clue as to whose men those were?” she demands, her voice slicing through the silence like a whip crack.

“I knew,” you say quietly, “I knew they were connected to Black Mask. It was a tip-off, and I thought if I could just—”

“You thought? You thought what? That you could handle it alone?” Selina’s eyes flash. “This isn’t some playground for you to experiment with your powers. You’re dealing with dangerous people—people who won’t hesitate to kill. And if you get yourself hurt—or worse—what good are you to anyone?”

You lower your eyes, feeling the sting of her words as if each one were a reprimand meant to cut deeper. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Sorry isn’t going to undo this mess!” she snaps, her hands gripping the edge of a table.

A hand tangles itself into her hair, strands of hair failing over her gaze. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through? What you’ve risked by acting recklessly? I’m not just scolding you because I’m angry. I’m scared. You’re my responsibility”

Your anger surges, and you shout, “I know, Mom! I know!” The words escape before you can stop them.

Selina’s expression shifts from anger to hurt, her eyes momentarily softening before hardening again. “Don’t take that tone with me."

“Excuse me?” you snap, stepping closer. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever lost something? Every time I bring up my mother, you just give me the bare minimum! I was going to start digging eventually.”

Selina’s eyes widen, a mix of hurt and frustration flashing across her face. “You think I’m holding back information from you? I’m trying to protect you! When your mother died, I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone else I cared about get hurt."

“We’re so past that! I’m already knee-deep in this world,” you say desperately, your voice rising. “Mom, look at me! Just look! I have Spider DNA in my veins. My boyfriend is a vigilante. I’ve faced kidnappings and attempts on my life ever since I was born! You can’t keep treating me like a child who needs to be sheltered from reality.”

“I raised you! ” Selina screams, raw and primal, the words tearing from her throat with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned. “I gave up everything to keep you safe, to try and shield you from the worst parts of this life because I couldn’t bear to lose you too!”

Her voice shatters mid-sentence, the tears slipping from her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them back. But she doesn’t stop, pushing through, her words tumbling out in a frantic, desperate rush. “Every time you put yourself at risk, it’s like ripping open a wound that never heals! Don’t you get that? I can’t—I won’t—lose you, too!”

The raw emotion in her voice shatters your anger, melting it away like ice under a warm sun. You step forward, your movements gentle as you grab onto her shoulders, guiding her down into a chair.

“I know, Ma,” you murmur, your voice softening as you try to soothe her. “I know it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry.”

Selina breathes heavily, her anger still simmering just beneath the surface. “I know. I know you’ve been through so much. It’s just—I don’t want you to be a target for Black Mask. He’s a fucking monster, and I didn’t want you to be in his crosshairs.”

“I’m already in his crosshairs,” you whisper, bending down and reaching into your sock, where you’ve hidden the flash drive containing the information you retrieved from the warehouse. You had tucked it in earlier while changing in the bathroom.

“This,” you continue, holding up the small device, “is information on all his future activities. This was the mission I had earlier.”

Selina’s eyes widen in alarm, her fear quickly reigniting into fury. “Have you put no thought into the rules I set? Putting yourself in that kind of danger—”

“Danger I’m already in,” you cut her off. “Danger I’m about to face.”

"Y/N," Selina hisses out in warning, her eyes flashing dangerously, fangs glinting in the moonlight like a cornered cat.

“What? You think you can stop me?” you scowl as she stands. “I’m done playing by your rules. And if you get in my way, I won’t hesitate to take you down.”

Selina’s eyes narrow, and a scornful smile twists on her lips.

"Prove it."

“What?” you manage to choke out.

Without a word, she launches herself toward you. Her foot whips out in a sharp, hard kick, sending you reeling backward. You hit the small balcony with a heavy thud, the harsh chill of the metal biting into your skin.

A pained grunt escapes you as you scramble to regain your footing, the cold air wrapping around you like a bitter embrace.

"Prove it, honey," Selina taunts, her voice dripping with contempt as she saunters toward you. She draws her claws with a slow, deliberate motion, the metal gleaming ominously in the dim light. “Show me you’ve got some fight.”

Before you can fully recover, Selina is on you again. You barely evade her claws, landing heavily on the cold metal railings. The chill bites into your feet, but you push off the railing with a powerful leap, ready to re-engage.

Selina's leg sweeps toward you with brutal intent, aiming to knock you off balance. Reacting quickly, you shoot a web to the railing, swinging yourself back into position and avoiding her strike.

You retaliate with a hard kick to her chest. The impact sends Selina sprawling, her body slamming into the ground. She rolls to absorb the blow, springing back up.

Her eyes flash with anger as she leaps from the balcony’s ledge, executing a high-spinning kick. You twist in mid-air, grabbing the edge of the balcony to dodge her attack and pulling yourself back onto solid ground.

“If you try to stop me, if you try to control me, you’ll only push me further away,” you shout, breath coming in sharp bursts. “And I promise, I’ll fight back with everything I’ve got.”

"Then fight!"

As she swings at you again, you snatch her wrist, twisting it with a sharp, decisive motion. With a sudden push, you force her own claws against her, the cold metal slicing into her shoulder.

Selina hisses in pain, her body recoiling as she shoves you away. The razor edges of her claws carve a deep, angry line across her shoulder, a vivid stripe of crimson blooming against her skin and staining her outfit.

The sight of it catches you off guard, a sharp pang of guilt gripping you as her pain registers. You stand frozen, eyes locked on the streaks of red that disrupt the perfection of her skin.

“Mom—” your throat tightens. “I’m so—”

Selina starts to smile, a small, almost reluctant grin that slowly grows wider. The sight is so unexpected that it momentarily takes you aback. Then, much to your surprise, she begins to laugh—a rich, genuine sound filled with a mix of relief, amusement, and something deeper you can’t quite place.

“You think this is funny?!” you exclaim, bewildered and on the verge of anger.

Selina looks at you with a bitter smile, her laughter fading. She clutches her bleeding shoulder, her expression softening as she lets out a long sigh.

“You really are my daughter,” she murmurs.

You slowly ease from your defensive stance, confusion furrowing your brows.

“Alright, fine. Point proven,” she continues, voice gentler now. “Trying to cage you would only make you fight harder to claw your way out. Literally. I should know better than anyone how that feels.”

“O… kay?” you mutter, still grappling with the sudden shift in her demeanor. “So, I guess we’ve proven my point. What now?”

“Now,” she says slowly, “we talk. Like sane adults. No more clawing each other’s faces off.”

༻⊰───⋅

An hour later, both of you sit on the edge of the bed, cradling cups of warm jasmine tea from the tea set provided in your room—because, of course, each guest room in the Wayne Manor has one.

The steam rises gently from the cups, warming your fingers and offering a soothing contrast to the cool air. Selina sits across from you, her shoulder wrapped in bandages.

As you sit on the edge of the bed, you fill Selina in on everything that’s happened: the mugging with Morgan, the shooting when you saved her, and the whole "guy in the chair" thing. You’re honest about all the other stuff and the support you’ve received, but you leave out the fact that Tony Stark knows your secret identity, keeping that bit to yourself for now.

Selina stares at her cup of tea, her eyes wide with disbelief. The steady ticking of a clock fills the room, punctuating the silence as she processes what you've just shared.

“So, you’ve been pulling all the strings?” she asks. "Orchestrating all of this?"

You lick your lips, choosing your words carefully. Orchestrating is a strong word. More like everything is falling into place. But that does sound better.

“Something like that,” you say, nodding.

Selina blinks, taking a slow, contemplative sip of her tea. “Trying to rein you in would be a lost cause at this point,” she says, setting her cup down. “So, what exactly is the plan from here?”

You place your cup back onto its saucer with a soft clink, the porcelain’s gentle chime briefly breaking the quiet. “I need to dig deeper into Black Mask’s operations. With Morgan’s help, I’ve got the tech and the intel, but there’s still a lot we don’t know.”

Selina nods, tracing a finger along the rim of her cup, her gaze distant. “Batman will notice. The moment you step out into the city proper, you’re going to be a target. And once you’re on his radar, a contingency plan will be set.”

You stay silent, fiddling with your fingers.

Selina’s gaze hardens. “And that’s what worries me. Bruce is just a man—no powers, no special DNA. But if he sets his mind to something, he can take anyone down. I don’t want you caught in that crossfire.”

You open your mouth, but Selina cuts you off.

“That’s why I’ve had my own contingency plan in case Gotham ever fell apart.”

You glance at her, a thread of dread weaving itself into your thoughts. “Contingency plan?”

Selina nods, her tone heavy. “When I first took you in, my plan was to leave Gotham as soon as possible. But then the Catwoman thing happened, and I got… sentimental. I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Still, I made sure we had a backup.”

“Backup? What do you mean?”

Selina’s expression softens slightly. “I bought an apartment in Metropolis. It was supposed to be a safehouse—somewhere to go if things got too dangerous here. I even set up fake identities for us, just in case we needed to disappear fast.”

“Metropolis?” you ask, your disbelief coming through with a half-smile. “Seriously?”

Selina winces, her expression sours. “Yes, it was meant to be a last resort. If things ever got too out of control, or if our secrets got out, it was our escape plan. I didn’t want us to be hunted down. I wanted us to have a safe place to go.”

She cracks her knuckles, releasing some of the tension in her hands.

“It’s still an option if things get too messy. But for now, I’ll help you as much as I can here."

༻⊰───⋅

Damian walks up the stairs, his steps muted against the polished wood. In his hand, he clutches a thick blanket he’s taken from the storeroom. The absence of your presence has made his room feel uncomfortably cold, and he refuses to go back to sleep without you there.

As he nears the guest room where you and Selina are deep in conversation, he slows his pace, the soft hum of your voices drifting through the slightly ajar door.

He knows he should respect your privacy—a lesson he’s learned the hard way after being caught tailing you during patrols more than once. But his curiosity tugs at him.

He lingers outside the room, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, straining to catch snippets of the conversation drifting through the slightly ajar door.

“That’s why I’ve had my own contingency plan in case Gotham ever fell apart.”

The voices are muffled, but Damian can detect the guilt in Selina’s tone.

“Contingency plan?”

There was a pause.

“When I first took you in, my plan was to leave Gotham as soon as possible. But then the Catwoman thing happened, and I got… sentimental. I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Still, I made sure we had a backup.”

“Backup? What do you mean?”

“I bought an apartment in Metropolis. It was supposed to be a safehouse—somewhere to go if things got too dangerous here. I even set up fake identities for us, just in case we needed to disappear fast.”

Damian freezes.

"Metropolis? Really?"

Selina’s voice carries a note of sorrow. “Yes, it was meant to be a last resort. If things ever got too out of control, or if our secrets got out, it was our escape plan. I didn’t want us to be hunted down. I wanted us to have a safe place to go.”

Damian remains frozen in place.

Hunt? Who was hunting you down that made Selina think it was necessary to move rather than seek help from his father? Did she not trust Batman's abilities? Did she not trust his?

His grip on the blanket tightens until his knuckles turn white, the rough fabric digging into his palms like a searing brand. A bitter, acrid taste rises in his throat, mingling with the bile of frustration and helplessness.

Had he not proven his devotion enough? Each time he threw himself into the fray, each time he fought with everything he had, did she still doubt his ability to protect you? His every act of defiance, every sacrifice, should have been proof—shouldn’t it?

Did she think that running away was the answer? Did she believe that abandoning Gotham and leaving him and Bruce out of the fight was a better choice? Her secretive plans, her carefully crafted illusions of safety, were they really a solution?

Panic starts to claw at him, twisting his insides into a tight knot. Or maybe it was because of him?

Gods, he knew you were too good for him, but was he so inadequate that she thought hiding you away was the only option? The thoughts gnaw at him like ravenous insects, feasting on his insecurities. He can almost feel the raw, hot sting of failure as it eats away at him from within.

He remembers the first day he was left with Bruce, the way his own father looked at him, the way his brothers looked at him—like something about him was inherently wrong.

He was the outsider, the boy who had to claw and tear and rip his way into their world, proving his worth to a family he barely understood, a family that barely understood him.

Every mistake he made, every bout of uncontrollable rage, felt like blood on his hands—dark, sticky, and impossible to wash away. Another mark on his name.

And now, Selina’s confession feels like another blow to his fragile sense of self-worth. If even she doesn’t trust him, if even she thinks he’s not enough to protect you, what does that say about him?

His legs grow numb, his head spins with disorientation. The edges of his vision blur, and each breath comes in shallow, frantic bursts. He stumbles forward, driven by an overwhelming need to escape. His body moves on its own, carrying him towards his room.

Was he what Selina was protecting you from?

The thought strikes him like a physical blow, leaving him reeling. The blood, the violence, the cold efficiency with which he was taught to kill—it all comes rushing back. Damian was trained to be an assassin, raised by the League of Shadows to be a weapon, a tool of destruction.

He feels numb as he stumbles into his room, the familiar surroundings doing little to comfort him. He collapses onto the floor, his legs giving way as he sinks to his knees. Clutching the blanket to his chest, he tries to draw some warmth from its fabric, but it feels like an inadequate shield against the cold, hollow emptiness that gnaws at him from within.

The voices of doubt and self-loathing grow louder, echoing in his mind. Damian doesn't know how long he's been sitting on the floor, trying to control his breathing. Time seems to blur, each second stretching into an eternity. His thoughts spiral, a maelstrom of fear and insecurity, until he hears the soft creak of the door opening.

You stumble in, and he freezes.

Your eyes widen as you take in his disheveled state, the blanket clutched tightly in his hands, his face pale and eyes wide with panic. You rush to his side, dropping to your knees beside him.

"Dames," you whisper. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He tries to speak, but the words catch in his throat. Instead, he shakes his head, unable to meet your gaze. He doesn't deserve to.

You hush gently, raising your hands to his face. "Can I touch you? You’re having a panic attack, baby."

He nods, his breath still coming in shallow gasps. Your hands are warm and steady as you cup his face, your thumbs brushing lightly against his cheeks.

"Look at me," you murmur softly. "Focus on me. Breathe with me."

He struggles to follow your instructions, his eyes locking onto yours. You take a deep breath in, exaggerating the motion, and slowly exhale. He tries to mimic you, his breaths hitching but gradually evening out.

"That's it," you encourage. "In and out, nice and slow. You're doing great."

Damian's grip on the blanket loosens slightly as he continues to focus on your breathing, finding a semblance of calm in the steady rhythm. Your presence anchors him, drawing him away from the chaotic storm in his mind.

"You’re safe," you whisper. "I’m here with you. Just keep breathing."

Gradually, the tension in his body begins to ease. He leans into your touch, his forehead resting against yours. The panic that had gripped him so fiercely started to ebb away, replaced by a fragile sense of security.

He sits there, the silence heavy around him, before his voice breaks through it, rough and raw. "Are you scared of me?" he asks.

The question hangs in the air. He doesn’t mention what he overheard, but the question reveals the depth of his doubt.

You gently brush a strand of hair from his face, your eyes soft with understanding. "Scared of you? Damian, I’m not scared of you."

He clenches his fists, the blanket still wrapped around his hands. "I… I can’t seem to do anything right. It’s like I’m always falling short."

"You’re not falling short," you reassure him softly. "You’re human, and you’re trying your best."

You lean in, your lips pressing against his in a tender, reassuring kiss. As you pull back, your eyes are filled with a deep sorrow.

"Can I ask what brought this on?" you whisper.

Damian takes a deep breath, his gaze shifting to the floor as he gathers his thoughts.

“I overheard part of a conversation between you and Selina,” Damian begins, his voice sharp and dripping with bitter resentment. “She spoke of a contingency plan involving an apartment in Metropolis and expressed concerns about someone hunting you down. If… If she felt the need to protect you from something by leaving, does that mean that I’m not enough? That I’m not capable of keeping you safe?”

His words come out with an edge. He meets your gaze with eyes darkened by hurt and anger. “I wanted to be someone you could rely on, someone who could safeguard you, not merely another liability. But now it seems I’m just… inadequate. As if my dedication and efforts amount to nothing.”

You start to speak, but Damian interrupts. “Who’s hunting you down? What’s going on? Beloved, I’ve let you into my life—please, let me into yours.”

“I know, baby,” you say softly, running a hand through your tousled hair as you try to gather your thoughts. “Alright, okay, I need to tell you about something important. It’s about the spider vigilante, alright? There’s something you need to understand.”

“Again with this?” Damian scoffs, his hurt evident as he starts to rise from the floor. The movement makes you panic, and you grab his arm, pulling him back down.

“Nonono, wait,” you say urgently, trying to steady your voice. “Forget that for now. There’s something else I need to talk about—something personal. It’s about me, and I need you to listen.”

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “Okay. There’s a lot more going on than you realize. I’m investigating Black Mask. He’s got some operation threatening Gotham, and it’s connected to everything that’s been happening lately. I’m trying to figure out what he’s up to, and…”

You pause, struggling to find the right words. “And I might have something to do with that vigilante spider you’ve seen around.”

Damian’s eyes widen in surprise, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. He stands there, his mind racing as he pieces together the implications of your confession.

The increased absences, the unexplained injuries—suddenly, everything starts to make sense. He can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner. How did he not connect the dots? The vigilance, the secrecy—it all makes sense now.

You’re the one being hunted.

Brows threaded together, Damian steps closer, taking your hands in his. His fingers brush over your skin, gently massaging small circles.

“I understand,” he says with a grave tone. “I suspected as much. You don’t need to explain yourself, beloved.”

You smile in relief, misinterpreting his seriousness for support of your dual life as Spidey.

“I was going to tell you,” you say, your tone warm and reassuring. “Just… couldn’t find the right moment.”

Damian’s eyes soften, but a steely resolve glimmers within them as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering.

If the spider is the threat, then it’s the spider he’ll take down.

༻⊰───⋅

Thursday, 7:53 AM - Stark Industries, Gotham City.

Hours later, Damian pulls up to the sleek, glass-fronted Stark Industries building. The structure towers above, its façade a mesmerizing expanse of reflective glass panels that catch and scatter the sunlight, creating a dazzling play of colors. A polished steel entrance welcomes visitors, a bustling crowd already walking in and out.

As the car comes to a smooth stop, he turns to you with a soft, reassuring smile. You reach over, pressing an affectionate kiss to his lips.

His fingers gently brush your cheek as he murmurs against your lips, “Be careful.”

“I will,” you beam, pulling back to meet his eyes. “Promise.”

With one last lingering look, Damian reaches over to unlock the car door. You open it and step out onto the curb, unloading your bags. Damian gives you a final wave as he shifts the car into gear, gliding smoothly down the street and disappearing into the city’s bustling flow.

You clutch your bags tightly in your hands. Exhaustion pulls at your every muscle—patrol, the fight, and the travel have left you feeling like you're on the edge of collapse. After everything that went down last night, you can’t help but feel a bit relieved about the month off from school, courtesy of your internship.

Bags under your eyes betray the sleepless night, while the oversized shirt and sweatpants you’ve borrowed from Damian make you look more like you’ve just rolled out of bed than a professional intern.

Technically, you did roll out of bed, having snagged only about three hours of sleep.

How the hell did Batman and the Robins manage to juggle this kind of life week in and week out? Right now, you feel like death is just a breath away, waiting to claim you.

“Hey, kiddo!” Tony Stark’s voice calls out from a distance, cutting through your fog of exhaustion. “You planning to stand there and stare at the building all day?”

He steps out of his sleek convertible, tossing his keys to the valet with a flick of his wrist that’s more showmanship than necessity. As he strides towards you, his eyes do a quick sweep over your state.

“I offer you the top spot in my program, and this is how you show up?” Tony says, giving you a light shove on the shoulder.

You give a weary sigh and shuffle alongside him into the building. “Good to see you too, Mr. Stark.”

Tony continues with a smirk, “Don’t worry, you’re not the first intern to look like they’ve been dragged through a war zone.”

He leads you into the sleek, glass-walled elevator, pressing the button for the upper floors. The elevator hums softly as it ascends.

You turn to him, trying to muster the energy to keep up with his banter. “So, where’s Morgan?”

“Working on your new tech stuff,” Tony replies. “She’s buried under a mountain of circuits and cables. If you’re lucky, you might get to see her emerge from her tech fortress.”

The elevator doors slide open, revealing the upper floors of Stark Tower. Tony leads you down a pristine, modern hallway where glossy surfaces catch the ambient light, enhancing the tower’s futuristic vibe. He stops in front of a door adorned with a sleek plaque bearing your name.

You gawk at it, your sleep-deprived brain barely processing the sight. “Damn.”

Tony pushes open the door, revealing a spacious, elegantly furnished room. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the cityscape, and the room is equipped with a large, comfortable bed, a sleek desk, and a cozy seating area.

“Welcome to your new digs,” Tony says, gesturing grandly. “I’d say it’s a bit of a step up from your old place. Given your current state, though, I’d suggest you take it easy for now. Rest up, and maybe try to look less like you’ve just walked off a horror set, okay?”

Despite your exhaustion, a small but genuine smile tugs at your lips as you take in the surroundings. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. It’s really… nice.”

With a casual salute, Tony heads towards the door. “Anytime. Now, go on and get some rest. I’ll let Morgan know you’re here. If she manages to claw her way out from under her tech mountain, she might swing by to say hi.”

༻⊰───⋅

A few hours later, you’re well-rested and dressed in a much more presentable outfit: a crisp white button-up shirt with the first few buttons undone, tucked neatly into flared slacks, and paired with white sneakers.

After one last check in the mirror, you give your appearance a satisfied nod, then rub the last remnants of sleep from your eyes. You head out of your room and make your way toward the elevator.

Pressing the button, the elevator doors slide open with a smooth, hydraulic hiss. You step inside and swipe your ID card against the scanner. The elevator's high-tech screen lights up, displaying a seemingly endless list of floor options. You whistle as you scan the array, finally selecting the tech room.

Just as the elevator begins its ascent, a voice suddenly speaks up, making you jump with a startled yelp.

“Good morning!” the voice says cheerfully. “Welcome to Stark Tower. How can I assist you today?”

You quickly recognize the voice as FRIDAY, the building’s AI system. You’ve read about it in papers and seen it on TV before. The holographic interface on the screen activates, displaying a friendly, animated avatar of FRIDAY. The AI greets you with a warm, digital smile and a cheerful tone.

“Oh. Hi!” you respond, a bit thrown off. “I’m, uh, just heading to the tech room.”

“Understood,” FRIDAY replies smoothly. “I’ve already noted your arrival. The tech room is on your left once you exit the elevator. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can help with, sexiest vigilante.”

You blink at the nickname.

“That’s definitely Morgan’s touch,” you mutter.

The elevator doors slide open, revealing a workshop that looks like it’s been hit by a tornado of technology. Equipment is strewn everywhere, and tangled wires snake across the floor. In the center of the chaos, a few remains of a fire extinguisher lie scattered. Morgan is crouched in the middle of the mess, her hair a wild tangle and her face streaked with grease and soot. She’s working intently, completely absorbed in her task despite the disorder around her.

You clear your throat, and Morgan looks up, freezing mid-action. Part of her shirt is charred, and a small flame flickers from one of the devices she’s holding.

“Let’s be honest,” she says, waving a wrench at you, “you’ve seen me in worse shape.”

Shaking your head, you step into the room.

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” you remark, your eyes scanning the cluttered area.

Morgan quickly puts out the fire and brushes a few stray wires out of her path before standing up and stretching with a groan. “You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had. Between the latest tech malfunction and the mini-explosion, it’s been one chaotic circus.”

“Should I even ask what set off the explosion?”

Morgan chuckles dryly, wiping her hands on a grease-stained rag. “Oh, just a little experiment gone wrong. Nothing major. Just some excitement to kick off the day.” She steps over to you, grabs a case from a nearby workbench, and hands it to you with a grin.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued, as you take the case from her. With a click, you open it to reveal a pair of sleek, high-tech glasses.

Morgan plucks them from the case and holds them up with a grin. “For you. They’re packed with all sorts of features—real-time data, targeting assistance, and even advanced communication options. Basically, they’re your new best friend in the field.”

You slip the glasses on, adjusting them to fit comfortably. The world immediately sharpens, and a translucent display overlays your vision, showing various readouts and notifications. You gasp in awe, your amazement reflected in Morgan’s fond smile as she watches your reaction.

She then moves to grab another device—a metal-looking belt that covers your entire stomach. At its center is a spider emblem. She clasps the belt around your waist and gives it a reassuring pat.

“Tell it to go on,” Morgan instructs.

Confused, you turn to her. “Huh?”

“Just think of a suit wrapping around you and command it to do so.”

You give her a skeptical look but decide to give it a try. Closing your eyes for a moment, you focus on the idea of your suit materializing.

“Activate?”

Immediately, you feel a tingling sensation as nanoparticles begin to stream from the belt, enveloping your body. The sensation is oddly comforting, like being wrapped in a warm, secure embrace. The suit materializes in shimmering panels, stretching and shaping itself around your form. The glasses transform into a sleek helmet, molding to fit your head with a satisfying click.

The entire process takes mere seconds, and when you open your eyes, you’re fully suited up.

The suit fits perfectly. The color is a deep, vibrant red that covers the majority of the suit. Black accents trace intricate web patterns that start from the center of your chest and radiate outwards.

The chest emblem is a bold, black spider, its legs extending across your torso and seamlessly merging with the web patterns. The helmet, now a sleek, black mask with a smooth, glossy finish, features white eye lenses that glow faintly. The same high-tech display you saw in your glasses is now visible in the helmet.

Morgan grins, clearly pleased with the result. “Not too shabby, right?"

"What. The. Fuck."

 ༻⊰───⋅

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #batfamily #dc robin #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne imagine #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batman

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charlotteking23 · 3 months

Note

Hi! Your stories are hilarious and amazing! I was wondering if you could write a story about Batmom secretly meeting with Gotham City Sirens (Selina Kyle, Harley Quinn, and Dr. Pamela Isley) and for a private girls night where they accidentally cause havoc (intense barfights (harley), impromptu jewelry store heists (Selina), shady alley deals (batmom), plants going crazy (Pamela), and massive amounts of sweets being "stolen" in metropolis (batmom had to stop the others from eating everything). All of which the batfam has to clean up. They follow the destruction and see what they think is batmom's ✨️Villain Debut✨️ (not really) so they go back to the manor and they stage an "intervention" for batmom. When she gets home bruce and her boys start scolding her and the Sirens for their behavior only for the girls to share a look and burst out laughing. They reveal that they were helping batmom get gifts for each of them. They went to that particular bar because they had a well aged vintage bottle of whisky that Alfred enjoys from time to time. The "shady alley deals" were from them going to a local seedy bookstore that had been open for over 100 years to get one of the only surviving copies of Jane Austen's complete works that she annotated herself. They went to that jewelry store because they were helping to make the remaining pearls of Martha Wayne's necklace into a set of cufflinks and a tie clip for Bruce, and to turn a few of Batmom's family heirloom peices into a ring that was secretly drawn by dick to propose to Kori with. They went to that confectionery because Conner mentioned they had the best coffee brew and an "espresso cake" made with extra strong espresso for Tim. That plant nursery had specific and highly nutritional feed and supplements products for Batcow, Titus, and Alfred the cat to keep them healthy. This makes them all tear up and wholesome fluff can happen.

Sorry for the length 😅 😬

Villian Debut

Y/N slowly walked out of the house as quietly as possible, opening the manor gates and hoping in her car. She drove around the quiet streets of Gotham, it was night only those who were bad were up causing chaos in the city. It was easy to sneak out since the boys were out patrolling Gotham, and Alfred was sitting in the common room sipping his cup of tea.

Y/N drove to a secluded area parking her car near a warehouse. Upon entering she met up with the infamous Gotham City Sirens. It was a girl's night with Selina Kyle, Harley Quinn, and Dr. Palmela Isely.

"Y/n, your finally hear", Selina Kyle said walking up to Y/n and hugging her sideways. "The sirens are back together", Harley said dragging Palmela's wrist and joining the hug. "guys we saw each other last week but as much as I enjoy the hug we have work to do.

Selina was driving in Y/n's car while Y/n was in the passenger seat turning on the radio. Harley and Palmela were in the back putting their hands in the air having the time of their life.

Their first stop was the bar, One of the best bars open in Gotham City. As they walked in all eyes were on them, I mean it was the infamous Y/n L/n, Selina Kyle, Harley Quinn, and Dr. Palmela Isely. The four girls walked up to the bar all sitting down and ordering.

Everything was going fine till "Hey baby, you want to go somewhere" " The guy said laughing with his equally ugly friend while holding a beer.

"Excuse me, Do you want to go I can beat the living shit out of you", Harley said standing up and drowning her drink in one go ready to take the guy down. "Babe, You're a girl you can't take us dow-" Harley took out her bat and whacked the guy in the face before the guy could finish his stupid sentence. She repeatedly hit him all over his body aiming straight for his dick. Selina was still sipping her drink while Y/n was taking a video as Palmela Isely cheered for Harley.

Yeah, so they got Kicked out of the bar but it's okay because Harley was literally about to kill the guy. Next, they went to the "Shady Alley deals".

Bruce p.o.v

"Guy's there's trouble at a bar?", Bruce said checking the alarm.

"why a bar out of everything, I mean at least do something interesting", Jason leans on Dick whining about how bored he is.

"Jason will you shut up", Damian said slapping him.

They made it to the bar entering they saw a man on the floor beaten up badly.

"Who the fuck could do this", Jason said watching Tim check the drunken man's pulse.

"he's fine but way too much alcohol in his body", Tim disgusted quickly wiping his hands on his pants.

"What happened"? Dick said but was astonished to hear a girl had done this because he was being a pervert.

"Go boss bitch", Damian said walking up to Bruce.

" They must have left already, I wonder where this girl went", Bruce questioned dragging the drunken body outside to the emergency care.

Girl's p.o.v

"Aww, this is so boring", Harley said leaning against the bookshelves.

The girls were at the shady Alley deals trying to buy Jane Austen's complete works that she annotated. But the guy refused to sell them this piece claiming it was too precious. I mean that's why it's called shady.

"Look we need this copy now, how about 2,000 for the whole copy", Batmom said with annoyance.

"look lady, these are valuable and you don't seem like the person to take care of them", the stupid guy said.

With a loud dramatic gasp, "Oh know you didn't", Poison Ivy said dramatically.

"he's in for it", Selina said filing her nails.

"Look I work day and night taking care of 4 children and one husband, this is the only time I get a day off so you better give. me. those. books. or else! and trust me you don't want to know what else is.", Batmom yelled grabbing the guy's collar and pulling him face to face with an angry batmom.

"here, take it pls don't hurt me", the guy said closing his eyes in fear.

"Thanks", Batmom said skipping with the books in her hand to the car.

Time Skip

"where to next", Selina said driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on her phone.

"Oh of course the jewelry store", Harley said pointing at the sign.

"Ok here's the plan Selina you go get the pearls", Batmom said looking at Selina.

"huh, why me"

"You are literally a cat, plus I am too clumsy, Harley too loud and Ivy refused to do it", Batmom said.

So Selina carefully went in through the roof slipping in where no one could see her. Walking through the store towards the back, she sees the pearls. She stops taking her white powder compact from the back of her pocket blowing some revealing lasers. If she stepped on one she could set off triggers of alarms. Manuering through them jumping over them, backflipping, crawling till she reached the glass box. opening she switched it out for a cat collar successfully taking the jewels.

Alarms are blaring, flashing red "Damn it", Selina hisses running away.

"what's that noise", poison Ivy says, covering her ears.

nevermind let's get out of here", Selina said hopping into the cars with the girls and driving away.

"here are the pearls", Selina says

"perfect", Batmom put them into a clip and some cufflinks.

Bruce p.o.v

"there's trouble at a jewelry store", Dick said driving towards the store.

As the boys came they saw the owner in complete panic.

"Thank goodness you're here Batman, some robbers took Matha Wayne's remaining pearl necklace", the owner said in a panic.

"The ones she died in", Batman's voice grew deeper laced with emotion only those who knew him deeply could tell.

"Let's look around B", Jason said looking around for clues.

Tim was trying to access the cameras during the robbery but as expected they were wiped out.

"cat hair", Batman said picking it up.

"This could only belong to one person", Damian said with a glare on his face.

"Oh, Batman they also took some other things, a diamond it was a heirloom from the L/N family, the owner said.

All the boys could think about was Y/n and how she would react to this news.

"We need to find these robbers before Ummi finds out", Damian said ready to beat the guys up.

Girls p.o.v

"How much candy are you going to eat Harley", Selina said but Harley only shrugged eating more.

Here they were at the confectionery, it was a small cafe but it looked so pretty pink, there was an outside patio and the inside looked like those 70's diner joints.

The girls sat down at a booth obviously Harley and Ivy sat together so Selina and Batmom were on the other side.

"H-hello, what c-can I get y-you, the waiter said in fear. I mean he is serving notorious criminals, he was shitting his pants.

"Hi, we need a coffee brew and an expresso cake please, Batmom said with the sweetest voice.

" Oh and a giant cake the biggest one!", Harley exclaimed. The waiter quickly nodded running away.

"Isn't that too much sugar, you are going to get a sugar high...again", Selina said crossing her arms and leaning back towards the booth.

"Remember last time, when you crashed right into the wall because you ate too much sugar", Ivy recalled laughing at the memories.

"H-here is your order t-too g-go, have a nice night", the waiter quickly left as we paid for the meal leaving a tip.

"how much did you leave"? Selina questioned as they left the cafe.

"$200", Batmom said shrugging and getting into the car.

The girl's final stop of the night was the plant nursery, It was a big white building, looking kind of spooky in the night.

"This feels like a scooby doo episode", Harley said walking with the girls.

"Okay Ivy we need highly nutritional feed and supplement products for Batcow, Titus, and Alfred the cat", Batmom said looking at all the machines and plants in the room.

As the girls walked they heard a strange growling noise, huddling together not because they were, definitely not. For comfort just in case, a crazy plant tried to eat them.

"come here plant...yes who's a good boy you are, yes you are", Ivysaid in a baby voice.

"she does the same baby voice batmom does with her kids", Selina said.

batmom protested but only got a yes you do face or the fucking lying face. Thinking now she did do the baby voice to her kids but they were all just so cute.

Harley suddenly screamed whinning she felt something touch her feet. No one paid attention and it still continued to flow Ivy. Suddenly a huge plant wraps its vines around Harley's mouth and legs dragging her away from the group.

"Hey, where's Harley", Selina said looking around.

All the girls screamed for Harley as they looked around in different areas.

Selina felt something and before she could attack the huge pant monster dragged her away. Only now there was batmom and Ivy left.

"Ivy what the fuck is going on", Batmom said but before Ivy could answer the plant monster appeared growling towards the girls.

the monster took hold of Batmom wrapping her in vines and trying to crush her. Ivy used her powers to fight it but before she could she saw a thorn.

"oh poor baby it's only hurt...oh you weren't trying to hurt anyone were you", Ivy said pulling the torn out trying to keep the plant monster calm.

After it was calm the monster let go of Batmom and cuddled Ivy. Batmom found Selina and Harley tied up, undoing the vines the three were weirded out to see the same plant monster who tried to eat them getting a belly rub by ivy.

"This was the best girl's night ever", Harley grinned hugging the girls in a group hug tightly.

Tonight was a roller coaster, but it was fun, especially with the girls. They got in trouble with the Authorities twice no doubt the infamous Batman and her kids had already heard about the incident. But it was a memory you look back on and laugh at, doing it with those you love.

Batmom signed slowly entering the dark mansion seeing that no one was awake.

Suddenly the lights came on frightening Batmom seeing all her kids and Bruce looking at her with disapproval in their eyes. It's like looking in a mirror.

"Hi, how was everyone's night?", Batmom said trying to diffuse the situation.

"Mom, you were out with the villains Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and Selina Kyle again", Dick said crossing his arms in sadness.

"yes, but I had a good reason-, Batmom tried to explain but Bruce interrupted her.

"Y/n, you girls got in a bar fight and stole jewelry and other things", Bruce said trying to keep an emotionless expression. He couldn't believe his innocent wife could do all of this.

Soon all the kids started to talk at the same time, asking questions of all sorts. It was getting too much for Batmom wishing now she stayed with the girls for another hour or so.

"kids, you give the girls a chance to explain what happened", Alfred said as you gave him a grateful nod.

you took a deep breath before sharing a look with the Sirens before laughing out loud with the girls all clutching your stomachs. They reveal that they were helping Batmom get gifts for each of them. They went to that particular bar because they had a well-aged vintage bottle of whisky that Alfred enjoys from time to time. The "shady alley deals" were from them going to a local seedy bookstore that had been open for over 100 years to get one of the only surviving copies of Jane Austen's complete works that she annotated herself. They went to that jewelry store because they were helping to make the remaining pearls of Martha Wayne's necklace into a set of cufflinks and a tie clip for Bruce and to turn a few of Batmom's family heirloom pieces into a ring that was secretly drawn by dick to propose to Kori with. They went to that confectionery because Conner mentioned they had the best coffee brew and an "espresso cake" made with extra strong espresso for Tim. That plant nursery had specific and highly nutritional feed and supplement products for Batcow, Titus, and Alfred the cat to keep them healthy.

"see you big goofs all this was a big misunderstanding all the things we did were for you tonight", Batmom said to her family with tears in her eyes holding all the girl's hands.

"Don't worry Ma I never doubted you for a minute, Jason said smiling at his Ma.

"Really, Because when you first heard about Mother Time with the SIrens you were crying out that your Mother betrayed me", Tim said looking smugly.

Jason only huffed at Tim crossing his arms in annoyance before Damian came up and hugged his Ummi burying his head in her chest.

When Damian released his Ummi, Bruce walked up to his wife kissing her with so much passion. Bruce couldn't believe his wife did all of this for him and his kids. Oh, how he loves her.

"I love you", Bruce said quietly for only her to hear.

"I love you more", Batmom whispered back pecking his lips.

"Heyyy, who's up for a sleepover", Harley said shouting while hugging the sirens.

Oh Boy

#batman #batfam x batmom #batfam x reader #batmom #batmom imagine #batmom imagines #batmom!reader #bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #tim drake #harley quinn #catwoman #selina kyle #pamela isley #poison ivy #harleen quinzel

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myerssimp21 · 3 months

Text

Knight's Captive (YAN!Arkham Knight)

Huddled in a cramped cupboard within the shattered remnants of an abandoned cafe in Gotham, you held your breath, praying the Arkham Knight's militia wouldn't find you. Outside, the chaos of the city being occupied by the Knight's forces echoed through the walls.

Through the slats of the cupboard door, you glimpsed the boots of soldiers sweeping the area. Fear gripped you as their footsteps drew closer, their voices mingling with the clatter of debris.

"Clear this place out. No one stays," one soldier barked, his voice cold and authoritative.

Just as panic threatened to overwhelm you, the Knight's modulated voice crackled over their comms. "Hold. Wait," he commanded, his words tinged with a metallic edge. Unknown to you, he activated his heat vision to scan the area, ensuring the vicinity was cleared of threats. "There."

"Look what we found, boss. A lost little lamb," one soldier jeered, suddenly pulling you out of your hiding place after a moment of tense silence, gun precariously pressing against your temple as he laughed at your shaking.

"Hold your fire," the Knight's voice cut through the mockery, approaching you. His interest was piqued by your strange presence amidst the city's turmoil.

"Why is a 'good girl' like you still in Gotham?" the Knight's tone was curious but mostly smug as he interrogated you, observing you clutching your Gotham University sweater tightly. Your sweater implies you're a student, and your clean appearance starkly contrasts the chaos surrounding them.

"I couldn't evacuate in time," you admitted tearfully, your voice barely above a whisper, seeking refuge in your sweater as if it could shield you from the harsh reality of these uniformed men sneering and the presence of their intimidating commander.

There's a beat of silence, and you hesitantly turn your teary eyes up to him, meeting the fearful mask with an expression that makes him hesitate to turn you loose into the streets. Someone like you clearly wasn't meant to be out there with the others, among the animals who either stayed or migrated to Gotham after the city was evacuated. You'd surely become a toy for the sick fucks out there who would delight in a pretty piece of prey like you, not to mention the cloudburst that would leave Gotham uninhabitable.

The Knight tilts his head slightly, considering your words and the vulnerability etched across your face. "Finish sweeping the cafe. Bring her," he instructs his militiamen, his voice firm and commanding. Most of them move to set up a checkpoint, leaving you to be roughly escorted by a militia commander as the Knight leads the way back to the armored vehicles waiting outside.

En route to militia headquarters in the back of an armored vehicle, silence hung heavy between the Knight and you. You glanced at him timidly, your fear palpable in the tense atmosphere.

"Are you going to hurt me?" you asked, your voice barely audible over the rumble of the streets outside although you tried to speak up.

The Knight regarded you with a cold, calculating gaze. "Stay out of the way of my men and don't cause any problems. You'll be fine," he replied, his tone icy but tinged with an underlying tension.

As the vehicle rumbled through the war-torn streets of Gotham, your thoughts raced with fear and uncertainty. Why had fate led you to this moment? What did this Knight want with someone like you?

As you pulled into the heavily defended checkpoint you assumed was his headquarters, the radio in the vehicle buzzed with a voice frustratedly announcing a diamondback had been hit but was still operational.

"Alpha Target is engaging. I need to go," the Knight stated abruptly, his focus shifting away from you and back to the ongoing battle against Batman. You quickly hopped out of the car, not wanting to get in between him and his mission, and are pulled along by the armored man who has been yanking you along this whole time, being led to a warehouse for the Knight to return when he's done.

Inside the grim and foreboding walls of militia headquarters hours later, the Knight continued his intermittent interrogations of you, probing for answers about your presence in Gotham.

"I stayed to find someone. I lost communication with them before Gotham was cut off," you finally confessed, your voice straining with vulnerability.

The Knight's expression hardened at your revelation, his demeanor becoming cold and distant. "I'm not diverting any militia resources to find your friend," he stated bluntly, his words carrying a finality that left no room for argument. "We have more important things to do."

"I didn't expect any militia resources to divert," you stammer, "I just thought I'd be honest with you since it sounds like the cloudburst will drop soon." He's studying your face as your gaze falls to the floor at his intense scrutiny. "I care about him a lot," you add, biting your lip anxiously at the thought of your friend being out there.

The Knight remains silent, his masked face unreadable as he processes your words. It reminds you of the strategy detectives use to make a suspect talk, choosing to let awkward silences hang to prompt them to talk more.

You gather your courage, "I plan to split from the militia forces and try to find him."

At this, the Knight scoffs, his tone dripping with condescension. "You really think you can just wander off? The cloudburst is going to leave Gotham in ruins," he sneers. "Sticking with the militia is your only chance at surviving. Don’t get any ideas about leaving."

"It’s not fair for me to survive and not him," you protest weakly.

The Knight suddenly brings a hand up to press down on a button in his suit after your protest hangs in the air for another awkward moment of silence you refuse to break this time.

"Listen carefully," he begins, and you look up, thinking he was talking to you. But then he continues, his voice authoritative, and you realize he's speaking to his soldiers in his comms line. "Establishing new Beta Target. She's staying at HQ indefinitely."

Hope that had been swirling in your heart came crashing down with his words, his mask coldly staring at you as he went further, "No one lets her leave headquarters under any circumstances except with me."

With his hand now off the comms button, the Knight's helmet eyes bore into your teary ones. "You're part of my operation now," he explained. "Don’t give my men a reason to put you back in line."

You feel suddenly angry and try to mask it, but are unsure if he picked up on it or not. It seems he did.

"You'll thank me when you realize you're the only one who made it out of Gotham alive tonight," he adds and the thought makes you want to shudder, feeling helpless. Maybe he's right. As the Knight responded to chatter on his comms line, your tears finally fell. He turned abruptly at the sight of them and stormed off, barking into the mic about dispersing more tanks across Gotham's streets.

The hours that followed were marked by your downtrodden demeanor. You were sullen, quiet, and reserved, a stark contrast to your earlier state. The Knight noticed the change, his irritation growing with each passing hour. Finally, his patience snapped.

"What's your friend's name?" he demanded, his voice edged with frustration. He was hoping to placate you, to get you to stop being so emotional over his decision.

You hesitated, then replied softly, "Tim. Tim Drake."

The Knight froze. His cowl obscured his face, but the tension in his posture was unmistakable. Silence stretched between you, heavy and oppressive. "Repeat that," he finally said, his voice oddly strained.

"Tim Drake," you repeated, a worried tone creeping into your voice. "I know him from Gotham University. I usually have a hard time making friends, so I'm scared one of my only friends is in danger."

The Knight continued in silence, doing the damned detective thing again. The pressure of his unyielding gaze made you fidget.

"He’s a computer sciences major," you added sheepishly. "I’m terrible with tech on that level and I needed to know how to use a data entry thing for my psychology class and he helped me out a lot."

The Knight surveyed you, his gaze intense as he tried to ascertain if you truly didn’t know that Tim was Red Robin. His temper, always on a short fuse, ignited.

"Drake probably doesn’t even remember you exist right now, if he's even alive. People show their true colors in a crisis." The Knight snaps, watching as you look stricken before adding, "You’ve got guts staying behind, but it wasn’t exactly the smartest move. Most people know better."

You recoiled at his words, confusion and hurt evident on your face. The Knight stormed off, unable to contain his rage. He needed an outlet, something to vent his fury on.

Outside, he found a group of Penguin's thugs who had strayed too close to the headquarters. He descended on them with a brutality that left his militia in hushed awe. The sounds of his violence echoed back to you, leaving you feeling even more meek and unsure. You didn’t understand why he was so angry, but you resolved to do whatever you could to avoid further inciting his wrath.

As you sat in the headquarters, one of the militia men hovering near you spoke into his comms. "The Knight's going crazy on the thugs outside," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and fear. "I think he's murdering them."

You shuddered, the words sending a chill down your spine, the reality of your situation sinking in deeper with each passing moment.

You weren’t sure why he was going ballistic or why he would tell you those horrible things about Tim like that. He sounded so angry and… bitter, might be the best word for the biting tone his voice modulator spat at you. You swallowed, overhearing two militia men mutter between themselves about how the knight was a wild card sometimes. How he was quick to anger and quite unforgiving.

You weren’t sure why he’d resolved to pick you up from that abandoned cafe or why he stopped his men from shooting you like a rat, or why he blatantly refused to let you leave, but you had a small hope that you’d get out of this unscathed if you played your cards right. He seemed to admire the way you cared for others even if he thought you were stupid for it. You’d try to do as he said and avoid causing issues for his army. It was the smart thing to do.

Some time later, after he's taken a breather after exerting himself like that, the Arkham Knight overheard some of his militia men talking about the dazed look you had as you gazed over the edge of their headquarters rooftop access. His paranoia flared up. Quickly, he arrived and firmly escorted you to his private quarters, his grip unyielding.

"This is the safest place in the building," he gruffly said, gesturing you inside. "Only I can access it, so it's the most secure."

You protested, trying to pull away, but he snarled, "If I can't even trust you not to jump, you're staying in here. My militia is too busy to babysit." His eyes bore into yours, his anger barely contained. “I saved you. Now do as you’re told.”

You remembered what he did to the thugs outside the compound and quietly complied, filing into the room to avoid angering him further.

"I need to get back to work," he said sternly, leaving and locking the door electronically with several mechanisms behind him. You dejectedly looked at the floor, feeling bummed out.

You spent some time staring at the heavily secured door, contemplating whether there was any chance of escape. Realizing the futility of it, you decided to clean up a little first. Exploring the room, you confirmed there was a bathroom in his private quarters. You poked around through his drawers, searching for clean clothes to wear after you showered and getting distracted. The drawers contained an array of items, some intriguing, some mundane. You found tactical gloves, utility belts, and spare masks, alongside various types of ammunition and parts of guns. There were no complete weapons, as he had correctly assumed you probably wouldn't know how to assemble them. One drawer held maps of Gotham with strategic points marked, communication devices, and encrypted notebooks.

Among the everyday essentials, you found t-shirts, hoodies, and a few pairs of jeans, alongside toiletries like shaving cream, razors, and cologne. In the medical supplies drawer, there were bandages, painkillers, and antiseptics. The drawer with was you assumed was either personal items or super special military items was securely locked, hinting at the Knight's private life.

Carefully selecting some casual clothing he likely wouldn’t miss, you pocketed a small screwdriver from the maintenance tools. The thought of having something, anything, that might help you later was reassuring.

As you curiously fiddled with the lock on the mysterious drawer, a voice suddenly crackled through an intercom you hadn’t noticed in the room. “Are you trying to piss me off?” The Knight’s angry tone startled you, and you felt your cheeks grow hot.

“I’m sorry,” you stammered. “I just wanted to shower and didn’t have a clean change of clothes. I shouldn’t have been prying beyond that.”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have,” he cut you off briskly. “There are clean towels in the bathroom. Use them.”

The intercom went silent, and you shyly asked, “Should I change in the bathroom?” implicitly questioning whether there was a camera in the room.

“If you want,” he replied, slyly ducking your real question.

Feeling uncertain but not wanting to take any chances, you opted to undress and change in the bathroom after your shower, wary of the possibility of being watched.

You stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime and stress of the last couple days. The warmth was a welcome comfort, a small respite from the chaos surrounding you. After washing thoroughly, you stepped out and reached for a towel, feeling a bit more human again.

As you dried off, you noticed his deodorant on the counter. Hesitating only a moment, you decided to use it. You hated going without and the though unfamiliar, the scent made you feel a little more put together. Brushing your teeth with your finger and some toothpaste you found in the bathroom, you felt even more refreshed.

Dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sweats, you felt a semblance of comfort. The clothes were too big, but they were clean and soft. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and despite your unease about sleeping in the Knight’s private chambers, the feeling of cleanliness brought a sense of safety. You stood uncertainly for a moment, staring at the bed. It felt strange, knowing this was the Arkham Knight's private space. But exhaustion eventually won over apprehension, and you reasoned that he wouldn't have confined you to his private chambers if he didn't expect you to use his things. Still, you made sure not to disturb or overstay your welcome. Carefully, you climbed into the oversized bed, pulling the sheets over yourself as sleepiness weighed heavily on your eyelids.

From his position in Gotham, the Knight kept an eye on the various tank compounds and his militia's defensive preparations against Batman. He sat in the back of a vehicle, watching the screens in front of him with an intense focus. One screen showed a live feed from his quarters, where he watched you just as intently as his other screens. He watched as you hesitated at the edge of the bed, uncertainty evident in your movements. For a moment, he felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—a twinge of concern, perhaps, or even a hint of protectiveness. His usually harsh expression softened slightly, and he resisted the urge to intervene through the intercom, eyes glued to your form lingering above his bed.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to him, you relented and settled into the bed he allowed you to use. As you drifted off to sleep, he felt an unexpected sense of calm wash over him. He kept the screen displaying your sleeping form in front of him as he continued to work, the sight somehow soothing amidst the chaos of Gotham.

For a while, he stared in silence, his usually harsh expression softening slightly. There was something oddly soothing about seeing you there, safe and asleep in his space. It was a strange feeling, one he couldn’t quite understand or name. The sight placated him, a brief moment of calm amid his relentless campaign against Batman.

Snapping back to the present, he issued a few more orders to his men, prepping them for the next phase of their operation. But even as he spoke, his gaze occasionally flickered back to the screen, ensuring you were still there, still safe, and still his to protect and control.

#yandere jason todd #yandere arkham knight #yandere arkhamverse #yandere arkham #yandere red hood #arkham knight #batman arkham knight #brainrot #hes so hot #i cant get him out of my head #sounds so hot when hes mad #ive been up all night #arkham knight one shot #robin jason

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batsythoughts · 2 months

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Could I request a plantontic yandere batfam x singer female reader

Context - they got concert tickets, and as they heard the reader ring, it reminded bruce on his mother singing voice

This is adorable and made my heart hurt thinking about Bruce's dead mom. But we cope with delusion in this household! And I tried to keep descriptions to a minimal about outfits so if would be as inclusive as possible for all the readers and styles out there! Also made this a little angsty before the kidnapping because I needed at hurt/comfort really bad, even if it's kinda toxic. But I hope you all enjoy!

Here is Yandere Batfam x Female Singer Reader!

Dick had won a couple of tickets from a radio station... correction, Dick, Stephanie, Duke, and Barbara called different stations multiple times until they won enough tickets for the whole family to go to the concert together

Bruce was initially going to refuse going with the fact that he knew nothing about what the artist was like, but the kids were able to convince him after an hour of debating

The day of the concert, they arrived to find the venue filled with only half of what the maximum capacity was

Dick just shrugged it off when Bruce asked about it, saying it was because you were still somewhat new to the whole music scene

They stood around in their spots somewhat close to the stage while waiting for the show to start

Bruce still felt unsure about the whole situation as he watched the kids excitedly take group pictures

He always smiled when they had him in the picture, but still held internal doubts about enjoying the style of music that this singer used

It also didn't help his concerns with the fact that he could clearly see the empty spaces in the venue

Damian also looked around with a small scowl at the empty spaces before looking up at his father with skepticism in his expression as well

When the singer finally walked out onto the stage, Bruce's older children let out loud cheers while he and Damian respectfully clapped

The introduction was short with an acknowledgement of the people and happy wave before the show started

The kids happily sang along with the songs as they danced in the spots they had with eagerness

Bruce nodded along with them, though he didn't quite seem to understand the deeper meaning of the lyrics that he knew was in a few of the songs

The most important thing was that all the kids were enjoy themselves and having fun together at this concert

It was the final song when Bruce felt a tug on his heartstrings at the slow melody and melancholy words that sounded through the speakers

He went back to his childhood when his mother would sing a lullaby to him when Bruce was upset or couldn't go to sleep

The girls noticed the miniature grin that appeared on Bruce's face as the song got close to the end

They all applauded with more loud cheers to the performer gave a small bow with a wide grin

"Thank you, wonder citizens of Gotham! I really appreciated singing for you all tonight." You cheerfully spoke into the microphone. Slowly walking around the stage while looking at everyone in the audience. "And I'm glad to spend the next few days performing here. So if you see me around the city, feel free to come up and say hi!"

Stephanie and Barbara hollered in encouragement at the news while Duke and Jason whistled and clapped. Everything was going well in the whole venue until a some guy a few rows behind them yelled at the top of his lungs. "Kill yourself, talentless bitch!"

Most of the people around the area started loudly scolding the guy, the boys included as the girls made sure to hold them back

Bruce kept his eyes on you as he watched your smile falter as you looked down

He could feel the sadness radiating off you as you took a moment to breathe before raising the mic and speaking in a soft voice, "Alright then, have a goodnight Gotham."

They all turned back around to watch you quickly walk off the stage without the excited energy you had at the start

Bruce made sure to stay behind a few minutes longer than necessary

He didn't want them getting into a yelling match in the parking lot if they caught a glimpse of the guy

They each got an souvenirs to keep as a momento of the night before leading everyone out to the car to return to the manor

He had just unlocked the doors when a car pulled into the parking lot and stopped a little ways away from them

Before any of them got in the car, the door opened and you stepped out and headed towards the door

The kids shared individual looks before briskly walking over to catch up to you, Bruce even joining them after a moment

"Hey! Wait up!" Jason hollered as they all finally caught up to you. Though they did stop a few feet away to give you space.

You turned around while wiping your cheeks with your jacket sleeve. Forcing a weak smile to your face as you looked at each of them. "Hey. How are you all doing? Having a good night, I hope."

Duke nodded his head as his arms crossed over his chest. A glint of concern in his eyes as he looked you over. "We're doing good. We were just about to leave for the night."

Barbara nodded along as she took a step closer. Her voice holding a cheerful note when she spoke, "Yeah! The show was fantastic and you have such amazing songs."

"Thank you. I'm glad you all enjoyed yourselves tonight." You tell them all with a absent-minded nod. Rubbing your arms before looking at the ground. "I'm sorry the end sucked though."

"That wasn't your fault, so don't apologize." Dick cut in with a soft, but firm, tone. Shaking his own head as he crossed his arms. "That guy had no right to say that to you."

"Are you alright?" Damian asked, a touch of tenderness in his eyes as he looked upon your form.

You give a hesitant nod to the young boys question. "I'll be okay. Just have to get through the next couple days and then I'm taking a break. Spend some time out of the public eye, figure out some new songs, and just figure a few things out."

Bruce took notice of the pain in your eyes, even though you weren't looking right at him. He knew it well from seeing it so many times in his own children. He took a moment to find the right words before finally speaking up.

"You do have a great talent. It is shameful that not everyone can acknowledge that without being understanding of your emotions. We are all sorry that you experienced that hatred tonight."

The moment you looked at Bruce, with what he could only describe as pleading eyes, he felt his heart tug. Placing a hand on your shoulder, Bruce gave you a gentle smile while reencouraging your confidence. "You did great tonight. We, along with almost every else that saw the show tonight, thought your music was amazing."

The look in your eyes with the glow of the street lights softening as you give a final nod. Finally giving them all a small, genuine smile. "Thank you. I appreciate the kind words." Looking over the group, you bite your lips before hesitantly asking, "Is there anything I can do to show my thanks?"

Most of them started to deny the idea, even dismissively waving their hands. "Actually," the voice of Stephanie cut in as she reached into her pocket, "do you think we could get a picture?"

One picture turned into a couple with each of them before Bruce eventually got everyone in the car

They hadn't even gotten home before Tim and Steph had seen you post on multiple platforms about taking a break after the end of your current tour

What seemed worse to them was the fact that all the comments were mixed with encouragement for the decision along with more disheartening messages for you to simply quit

Bruce clearly told everyone that they wouldn't involve themselves in the online drama

They each hesitantly agreed before letting their attention drift to other topics

The next couple days went by like usual for the family, but the kids did occasionally checked each time you posted to make sure everything was alright

How could they not still feel that little nagging worry in the back of their minds? You were a good person, even if they didn't know you all that well

Occasionally, Bruce would hum one of your songs to himself and one of the other members would hear

They never said anything about it until one night at dinner, Alfred asked him what was intriguing about the singer they saw perform

When Bruce finally admitted that your voice reminded him of his late mother

All the kids shared a look as they realized that Bruce was feeling an emotional connection towards you

With it being the last night of your tour, Dick, Barbara, and Duke all decided to go to the venue in hopes of getting Bruce an autograph while the others kept him distracted

They had pulled into the parking lot as all the cars had begun to leave with the exception of a few, including the one they remembered watching you drive

They waited for a few minutes before watching you and a couple others come walking out

They watched you all share a few words before the others got in a car and drove off, leaving you alone

Each of them waited for a moment before leaving the car and cautiously walking over to you

Each hesitated being the first one to call out to you as you simply stood there with your head down

"Hey. Are you alright?" Barbara finally called out in a soft voice. The boys standing close by with equal concern as they watched you.

You lifted your head up in surprise at the sudden appearance of the people in front of you. Rubbing your hand over your face before nodding your head. "Yeah, just... my manager and I had creative differences on what I should do with my next few months. So he decided he would give me a card for someone else for when I wanted to get back in the game."

Dick scoffed at the action of your 'manager'. Crossing his arms as he glares in the direction the car went in. "Some people, huh? Can't even see you as anything more than a way to get rich." A grunt of disapproval leaves his throat before looking at you with softer eyes. "Are you alright?"

"I will be. Just figuring out what to do for the night," you admit to them with a sigh. "I can't go back to the hotel and have them continue the disagreements. Do you all know of a nice motel nearby?"

"Absolutely not." Duke immediately shot down the idea with a frown. Dick and Barbara nod along in agreement at the thought of you in this town by yourself. "However... the manor has plenty of room. I'm sure it would be fine if you stayed for one night."

You looked at them with a small bit of shock at the offer before waving your hand in a dismissive manner. "I couldn't do that. I don't even know you all that well. I can't impose you all like that."

"Don't worry about that. We wouldn't offer if we didn't want to," Dick reassures you with a smile. Getting his keys out of his pocket again before walking towards their car. "We can stop by your hotel and Duke and I will go to your room to grab your things."

Which grab your things they do, with Barbara waiting in the car with you as she texts the others to inform them of the situation. The boys don't take longer than 15 before coming back and putting your things in the trunk.

When they get back to the manor, Damian is waiting for them in the entry way. His arms crossed as he glared at his older siblings. "Father knows you were gone. You need to tell him what you did." He then turned his attention towards you with a small nod. "I can show you to an available room."

You followed after the young boy with Duke carrying some of your things. Barbara gave Dick a pat on his shoulder. "Good luck with that. I'm going to grab some comfort food and drinks for our guest."

Dick stood there for a moment until he gave a sigh and made his way to Bruce's study. Finding the man sitting in his chair as if he was waiting for one of the kids. Closing the door, Dick waited a minute before finally speaking, "So, we were trying to do a thing."

Bruce listened patiently as Dick explained the whole situation. Rubbing his temple before standing to go and look for you in the room Damian had helped Alfred prepare less than an hour ago. When he got there, he saw all the girls lounging around with you resting on the bed.

He made eye contact with you before sending you a comforting smile. "You are welcome to stay as long as you need. There is bad storms coming through in the next few days, so don't worry about rushing to find a flight if you don't feel comfortable traveling in the weather."

You gave him a small smile before looking back down at your lap. Bruce looked at the girls who all smiled to show they would look after you. Stephanie was picking out different nail polish colors and holding them up for everyone else to see when she spoke, "Girls night. We'll get you if we need anything."

Bruce quietly closed the door behind him after telling them goodnight

He made sure to tell the boys to be on their best behavior while you were staying

None of them seemed to mind as Dick had informed them of what happened and how you were feeling from the ordeal

They all made sure to treat you well over the couple of days while you stayed

Each of them did their own thing to show that they wanted you to feel comfortable and welcome

Cass and Steph baked cookies with you, Jason read his books as you and Damian listened with the cat on dog relaxing with you, Dick would show you fun memes to make you smile, Tim and Duke invited you to movie nights, and Barbara made sure to do a nightly skin care routine to help calm you down every night before bed

It was about a week since you came to stay, and all the kids were worried because you had begun packing your things

Bruce had seen how anxious they were with idea of you leaving, and he himself also felt the worry deep in his chest

He went to your room with the intention of talking to you, finding you sitting on the bed while looking through your phone

He sat down on the bed next to you, seeing you looking through flight times with a message from who they all learned to be your ex-manager

He didn't read it all before you swiped it off the screen with a sniffle, but he saw enough to get the idea of how hurtful the whole message was

He made a small suggestion about you staying with them for a while until things got better

You made a comment about not wanting to impose on them and over staying your welcome

Bruce pulled you into a hug while saying, "We want you to have a system of people you can trust. And if that means you stay with us, then we want to do that for you."

Nothing else was said as you both sat there as you closed the tab for the flight tickets, weakly thanking Bruce as tears pricked the corner of your eyes

You both just sat for a couple before Bruce got up to give you space and inform the others of the new development

All the kids felt excitement for the fact you were staying, but didn't show it so you didn't think they were glad for your misfortune

Everyone continued to show you unconditional support, especially when you started to begin writing songs once again

Though they could tell you were struggling with figuring out the instruments of each song

Tim was able to convince Bruce to buy you a few programs on the computer they had put in your room

The grin that they saw after you began to look through the programs made the family feel the joy with you

Each time you got a new song composed, you played it for the family and get their thoughts of what could potentially be improved

Each time, they gave honest thoughts of the songs while keeping it as supportive of your feelings

You did single releases after every song got written to still remain in the music scene, but the family could tell something was off

Bruce eased into the topic one night at dinner between all the other conversations

At first you hesitated to open up, but with a little encouragement, you finally admitted to being worried about your career with the fact you were doing any live performances

Everyone listened to your worries about what to do for the foreseeable future

Jason was the one to finally ask the most important question for your choice

"Do you think you would be okay if you ever did another tour?"

You thought for a moment as you thought about all the possibilities of what could happen if you did a tour again

Finally, you shook your head as a mumble came from your mouth. "I don't think I could survive another tour like the one I had. But I don't want to burden you all."

Bruce shot down the notion of you being a burden, claiming they would never leave you alone to deal with everything by yourself

Everyone else chimed in with agreement as they talked about they would worry if you every left and got in the same state of mind again

Bruce stated that not matter what, you would always be welcome to remain with the family because you were now apart of it

A flicker of a grin appeared at the corner of your lip before you gave a nod in understanding

Each of them felt a sense of accomplishment for making you feel relaxed enough to remain with them, even if there was a tiny voice in their heads saying it was selfish to keep you in the manor

What did it matter anyway if you were happy with people who cared about you? The important thing was that you were safe with them.

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