#stephanie brown x y/n

[niphredil-14]

do you write for stephanie Brown (DC) ? if so, could you write something where steph gets jealous of reader and cassandra spending a lot of time together and kind of shuts down, pushing everyone away. Reader gets worried, confronts her, and confession…..? 🫶 if not no worries, if yes thanks!

I don’t know Steph’s character super well, so this is most likely kinda ooc, sorry.

I think that for the most part, Steph isn’t a very jealous person. She’s close with both you and Cass, so I think you and Cass would have to be very affectionate with one another for Steph to get jealous. And when she does, I think it would make her feel guilty. The two of you being friends doesn’t mean that she’s entitled to all of you attention, or any special treatment. But she cares about you, and ultimately, wants you to be happy. Because of this, I think she would try to cover up her jealousy and act as natural as possible, funny, kind of chaotic, very caring, she would try her best to be how she usually is. But after a while, I think it would take a toll on her, and that’s when she would isolate herself more, thinking that if she’s not around you and Cass, that maybe she would hurt less. That was wrong of her to think, and she realized pretty quickly into her isolation that it only made things worse, that she only missed you that much more. Thankfully it didn’t take you too long to catch on and confront her about her absence. When she confesses her feelings to you, and explains her jealousy, it changes a lot. If you reciprocate her feelings, I think the jealousy would get a lot better, she would know that although Cass also has a place in your heart, that it’s a different place, and that she still has hers. If you don’t reciprocate, but explain that she means just as much to you as Cass, I think that she would need some time before really hanging out with you again, but after a while, things would go back to normal. If Cass finds out, I think that she might distance herself slightly from you because she doesn’t want to hurt Steph. Overall, I think that everybody would just have to grow a pair and communicate and help each other heal.

[acid-ixx]

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

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

read until the end for an author's note.

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

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

not delivered.

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

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

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

not delivered.

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

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

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

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

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

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

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

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

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what does it require?

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

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

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

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

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

just how?

you are a flower.

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

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

you are a flower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

how could you grow now?

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

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

calm down.

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

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

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

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

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

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

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

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

are you actually going to do this right now?

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

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

eyes, they may be everywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you're scared, rightfully so.

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

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

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

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

you deserve this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"feel better now, hon?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that makes you feel excited.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

this is it.

you're going to die today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

you're going to die.

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

you're going to die.

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

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

you're going to die.

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

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

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

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

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

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

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

this is not as bad as their neglect.

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

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

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

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

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

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you'd rather die than this.

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

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

you feel cold.

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

"jason...?"

"angel..."

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

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

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

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

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

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

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[miryum]

☆ 18+ minors dni ☆

Warnings: changes tenses like, two times, cause Jason is obvi still in love with you, so it would be weird if some things were in the past tense and such. Just go along with it

Virgin!Jason Todd who never had sex before he died and when he comes back in a different body, looking like he fucked half of Gotham, is still just a scared little kid underneath it all.

And then came you.

You met Jason at a Wayne Gala, coming as a friend of Duke’s. You didn’t know about any superhero personas, and it showed. Happy and carefree, you weren’t what Jason assumed of the average citizen of Gotham. The parallels didn’t escape him: you, dancing with Duke and slightly buzzed, and him, the epitome of a wallflower. Clothed in a stunning red dress that just so happened to be the exact same colour Jason had practically trademarked, Jason’s eyes followed you over the rim of his glass. He was nursing a cup of non-alcoholic cider because he would never touch a drop of alcohol after his parents.

“Who is that?” Jason murmured to Cass when she came over to hide from the party. Cass was the only one he felt remotely comfortable with. She didn’t know him before Red Hood, like Bruce, so she didn’t compare him to an energetic little boy that was just a memory in the mirror. She didn’t joke around and pretend everything was okay and dandy, like Dick. She didn’t constantly ask whether he was okay, like Steph, or dote on him like he was a broken birdie. She wasn’t holding past resentment, like Tim, who still hadn’t totally forgotten Jason’s rage at his replacement. And she wasn’t a reminder of the al Guhl’s, like Damian. Cass and Alfred were his safe space, even though both had their flaws.

“Y/n L/n,” Cass supplied, not asking any questions. “Duke met her at school and they clicked. She’s been coming over to the Manor more frequently. She’s actually pretty fun. Even Damian introduced her to his zoo.”

Jason couldn’t hold back a snort, wondering how that must’ve gone over. Damian was extremely protective of his pets, so only a select few could interact with them. Jason missed the cocked eyebrow Cass gave him, surprised at his reaction. He was too busy watching you pull Steph onto the dance floor.

“Um, when does she usually come around?” Jason asked, trying to be subtle and failing miserably. “Just so I can, you know, avoid her.

It was Cass’s turn to snort in amusement, before saying dryly, “Fridays or Saturdays.”

Did it surprise Cass at all when Jason just so happens to show up to the Manor on Saturday, claiming he forgot something from the party? No. No, it does not.

Dick was utterly shocked at Jason’s appearance. It was well known that Jason was just dipping his toe into the Batfam again. He usually stayed at his lonely apartment and only came over during a major holiday. Dick tried not to look anything into it, but he couldn’t help a surge of hope that his little brother may be coming back to them.

Alfred, on the other hand, was not surprised at all. In the recent mornings, Jason had been sneaking into the kitchen, just to talk to Alfred. The two shared a bond that few could achieve. When Bruce wasn’t acting as a father, Alfred was there. So when Jason appeared on Saturday morning, having carefully thought out that Friday was much too soon to officially meet you, Alfred had already set out another plate for breakfast.

“Did you acquire any sleep last night, Master Jason?” The butler asked as he flipped pancakes.

Jason chewed at his lip and shook his head. “I tried, but I was thinking too much, you know?”

“Your nightmares again?” Alfred prosed smoothly.

“No,” Jason replied smoothly. Y/n L/n.

Virgin!Jason Todd who knew you were coming over. What he didn’t know was that you were coming over under the pretence that you and Stephanie had a video game to finish, when truthfully, you wished to see the boy from the party that had caught your eye. You weren’t disappointed. Jason had taken up residence in the living room, foot propped on his knee as he oh-so-casually held a book in his hand.

Steph threw Jason a curious glance before throwing herself down on the couch and picking up a controller. “Y/n, this is Jason,” she introduced. “He’s… a brother,” she decided was the best way to describe him.

Jason, determined to look nonchalant, glanced up from his book (he had been staring at the same page for six minutes) and said, “hey.” Excellent conversation starter, Jason, he thought to himself sarcastically.

“Hi!” You gave him a small wave before sitting down next to Stephanie and taking a controller from her. Jason soon found it very difficult to keep pretending to read, not because of the shouts and yells you and his sister were making at the TV, but because of the groans coming from your mouth whenever something didn’t go the way you wanted. He couldn’t help but dream, wondering what other situations you would groan in.

He excused himself soon after, head ducked and neck flushed as he hurried out of the room. He didn’t notice you staring after him, wondering what was wrong. It wasn’t until Steph shouted out that you were about to die that you were snapped out of your trance.

Unfortunately, you did die in the video game, but you found an excuse to talk to Jason via the book he had left behind.

Cass easily supplied his address and so that’s how you found yourself at his door one Saturday evening.

It’s just a book, you reasoned. I could’ve left it at the Manor. This is stupid.

And yet, almost as if he sensed you, Jason opened the door right when you’re about to leave. “Y/n?” His voice was hoarse from disuse and even though he’s bigger and stronger and more dangerous than you, you couldn’t help but compare him to a child coming to their parents after a nightmare.

“Hey, Jason,” you said, holding the book close to your chest. “Um. I just came to return your book. You left it at the Manor.” You hesitated for a moment before asking, “you okay?”

Jason nodded and it was then you noticed his hair was wet from a shower and his grey shirt had sprinkles of little water droplets on the shoulders. “Did I disturb you?” you asked.

Jason immediately shook his head. “No. You could never disturb me.” He glanced at the book in your hands, eyes flicking back up to you before muttering, “thanks,” and grabbing the book from you.

Ripped out of your hands, leaving you without your lifeline, embarrassment bloomed on your face. You didn’t know whether to leave or to continue the conversation — if you could call this one.

Jason hated himself when he awkwardly closed the door in your face.

He tried not to cry himself to sleep that night, images of his scarred body in the bathroom mirror haunting him

Virgin!Jason Todd didn’t see you until next month’s gala. You made your way up to him, this time in a green dress that suited your complexion perfectly. Jason didn’t like seeing you in Damian’s colour. He much preferred his own.

During a slow dance, you asked with hands behind your back, “how was the book?” You leaned against the wall, smiling up at him. Jason really liked that smile, even if he didn’t deserve it. As much as he would hate to see it – jealousy swirled in him even at the thought – it was Dick who deserved that smile. He had always been the suave, smooth-talking one. Hell, right now, there were three girls talking to Dick.

Jason realised he hadn’t answered you. You deserved someone to pay attention to you. But if you could give him another chance to pay attention, he’d happily stare at you forever.

“Um. It was good. Is, I mean. I haven’t finished it yet.” He hadn’t been able to look at the book since you dropped it off. It only reminded him of how poorly he had treated you. And how dangerous you were to his feelings.

After a moment of awkwardness, you asked with a teasing and curious lilt in your voice, “do you not have anyone to dance with?”

Jason’s head whipped towards you. All semblance of coolness left him when you spoke to him. “I’m not really a dancer, princess.” The nickname slipped out and he wanted to bang his head against the wall. He didn’t notice your blush and small smile because he was too busy blushing himself and looking anywhere but you.

He wanted to tell you that he’s never danced before, but he would gladly dance a thousand dances with you. But he couldn’t say that because that would be too obvious. You’re not stupid, he rationalised. You’re perceptive and his poker face is ruined when it comes to you. You’d probably figured out he has a crush on you.

Which he does. A stupid, impossible, and terribly inconvenient crush.

As a kid, he didn’t have time for crushes. Between living in Crime Alley and being Robin, the closest thing he got to a crush was seeing pretty girls on the street. And then the Joker killed him before he was able to be a teenager.

But these feelings were bigger than he had ever felt for a girl on the street. Was this how a teenager was supposed to feel?

So why was he feeling this now when he was a full grown adult?

Virgin!Jason Todd who’s ears flush pink when you cheekily ask him if he has a significant other to dance with. No, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. How could he have a girlfriend when you’re standing next to him looking so pretty? A girlfriend? No, it’s laughable. He might feel attracted to you, but the idea that he could love someone and someone could love him back, even through all the brokenness… was simply absurd.

He wished he could find a better word than pretty. You’re much more than pretty. With all the romance novels he’s read, he should be able to turn his heart beats into words.

It was comical how he can walk into the most dangerous parts of Gotham and emerge without a scratch, but with you, his heart is carved up and shredded. Here he is, flustered over a pretty girl. How pathetic.

And then at the end of the night, when Dick clapped him on the chest and berated him for not using that opportunity to ask you out, Jason thought it was extra pathetic

Virgin!Jason Todd who didn’t know how to go about talking to you. He never learned how. He never had the growing pains of awkward middle school crushes. He was having them now. Should he be flirty like Dick and all those men he read about in books? Should he pass out in your arms from coffee overdose like Tim? Bruce was no help whatsoever and Jason didn’t fully trust him yet to go to him for help.

And bless Alfred, but he was too old for this kind of thing. The butler, depending on his age (for Jason dared not ask), would either subject him on how to marry Y/n L/n before Jason went off to war to fight the Rebels, or how to court Y/n L/n in an intricate dance of politeness and rules where they all wore ball gowns and three piece suits

Virgin!Jason Todd was definitely overthinking it all

Virgin!Jason Todd who knew it was impossible not to overthink when it comes to you. Everything needed to be perfect, because you are perfect. How could he ever ask you out, let alone love you when he had scars both inside and out? It was a good thing he wasn’t a hero, because heroes weren’t supposed to have scars. They weren’t supposed to have trauma. And Jason was the farthest thing from a hero. But that’s all you deserved: a hero

Virgin!Jason Todd who promised to worship you. He promised it to any deity who might be listening just in case they had the graciousness to lead you into his arms. He cursed Bruce the next time he goes to a gala and you’re not there

Virgin!Jason Todd who showed up on your doorstep that night, worried something was wrong. He was still in his suit and tie and shuffling nervously on your doorstep when you opened your home up to him. It turned out you had some work you had to catch up on, which is why you weren’t at the gala.

Hot chocolate and careful talking led to you reaching your hand out to tuck a piece of his hair back. He’s too busy dreaming about laying in bed and having you do that again and again to register your apologies, worried you overstepped. You were apologising. For touching him. He couldn’t stand the thought of that. That you thought you were rude or disrespectful. He needs you to touch him and to think you would apologise for the lovely, new feeling dancing in his stomach and slowly making its way to his heart

Virgin!Jason Todd who then gave you his first kiss, hesitant and slow. His lips pressed against yours, soft and hesitant and a bit off-centred. He tried his best not to let his teeth clash against yours, and he worried he did something wrong when you froze for a moment. But then you brought your hand up to touch his face and oh…

Virgin!Jason Todd who finally understood all those cheesy monologues when you tried to stutter out your emotions. He managed to calm both you and him by kissing you again. Jason found that his anxiety melted away when he kissed you, replaced by a feeling that felt a bit like anxiety, but mostly like home.

His hands laid in his lap, terrified to touch you, the art he was gifted to see. You reached down and gently guided his hands to your waist where he held you tenderly. Holy shit, what if he hurt you? His hands were made to hurt, not to love. How was he supposed to love?

He guessed that you would help him figure it out

Virgin!Jason Todd didn’t mind if the two of you didn’t make it to the bedroom for the next couple of dates. Hell, he would’ve been happy to keep your relationship to watching movies together, you tucked under his arm. He was able to touch you that way. He was able to slowly break down his walls and explore what you liked. A little brush across the side? The small massage of the calf? A kiss to the temple?

It wasn’t about four months into your relationship (which Jason was all too proud to boast and praise you about. He really liked hearing you call him your boyfriend, especially when another guy was hitting on you and they would turn around to see all 6 foot 3 inches and 200 pounds of him ready to throw hands.) that Jason felt himself want more. He wanted all of you. Guilt always gnawed away at him whenever his mind slipped into dangerous territory. Should he be feeling this way? He didn’t want it to seem that he was in this relationship for your body. And how would he ever approach the subject with you? Was he supposed to sit you down and talk about it or just go like all those people in the books and movies.

“Sweetheart?” Jason found you sitting on the floor, reading, because sometimes the floor was just better. He wiggled his way behind you, resting his head on your shoulder. Your hand automatically came to comb through his locks of hair.

He found himself explaining the situation to you

Virgin!Jason Todd who was shocked when you guessed he was a virgin. This was supposed to be some big revelation, but you said you’d deduced it a while ago. Not to mention the relief he felt when you said you’d walk him through it

Virgin!Jason Todd who didn’t know what to do. Now the both of you were in his bed, lips red from making out, a hickey proudly on his collarbone, and you were lifting your shirt up. And when you asked if you could take your bra off, he was pretty sure he had never nodded so quickly. You found it amusing that he was so nervous and excited, but also gratifying that you were the one he trusted enough. You were going to take Jason Todd’s virginity

Virgin!Jason Todd who had his hands guided to your breasts by you. His hands were still for a long moment, unsure of what to do. At his helpless stare, you said, “squeeze them, pinch them, just feel them, Jason.” Slowly kneading your breasts in his hands, Jason felt himself relax. He experimented by lightly pinching your nipple and apparently, that hitch in your breath meant he did something well

Virgin!Jason Todd who then carefully laid you down on his pillow, wanting to take a picture and forever hold onto this memory. But pictures could come later in your relationship. Not even a picture could capture this feeling that was blooming in his chest. You asked if he was ready for the next step and when he confirmed, you wiggled out of your pants

Virgin!Jason Todd who was a bit— oh my god, your thighs

Virgin!Jason Todd who was embarrassed to see your underwear and the wet spot that was slowly getting bigger all because of him. You reassured him that the two of you didn’t need to go any further, but Jason felt the unmistakable and mortifying tightening of his pants. You quickly sat up and tried to calm him down.

“Jay, baby, it’s okay. It’s normal to feel nervous. I just need you to communicate and tell me what you want. If you want to continue, great! If not, great! Let’s go put on a movie and have some popcorn. I will take this at your pace, angel.”

Virgin!Jason Todd didn’t know how you could see him as an angel when the Y-shaped scar on his chest told the story of a devil. A zombie. He wasn’t an angel. He was judge, jury, and executioner. He was a broken man and yet here you were, picking up every shard and piece and creating a fucking mosaic that spanned the cosmos

Virgin!Jason Todd who counted himself thankful a thousand times over when he was able to find the courage to lift his shirt and only see love in your eyes when you saw all his scars and cuts, etched into his skin, each a story that he would wish to forget.

He let you explore and press a kiss to each place he was insecure about. But then he laid you down and slowly slipped your underwear off. Jason swallowed back all the praises and prayers that would’ve fallen from his mouth and made him seem weird. Granted, you two had been dating long enough for you to know Jason revered you, but still

Virgin!Jason Todd who looked at you, wide eyed and heart swelling with love, when you told him that nothing had to happen that he wasn’t comfortable with. There didn’t need to be any oral or anything the first time around

Virgin!Jason Todd who wanted to do more things, but his cock was straining against his boxers so tightly that he might’ve come in his underwear if he didn’t get inside you

Virgin!Jason Todd who had read that he needed to stretch you out first, but you assured him he needn’t do that. Jason didn’t dare think of another man having you and so he did the only thing he could think of — slowly push into you.

Turns out the groans you made with you lost a video game where nothing like the moans you made when he bottomed out

Virgin!Jason Todd who tried so hard not to shoot his load into you when your walls clenched around him the first time.

“You’re making this very, very hard, princess,” he gasped out

Virgin!Jason Todd who managed a few short thrusts before you grinded on his hips and he felt himself losing control. “Y/n-“ he tried to warn you, when your whispered encouragement drove him over the edge. Instinctively, his hips pressed into yours, bucking and trying to obtain friction

Virgin!Jason Todd apologised profusely about the fact that you didn’t come. He felt so bad about it that he was about to get on his knees, determined to try oral for the first time, when you giggled and asked him if he wanted to go another round. Your fingers scratched through his hair and his resolve broke

Virgin!Jason Todd who stared up at you like seeing a goddess when you threw your leg over his waist, straddling him and taking charge

Virgin!Jason Todd who, eventually, after more rounds and more weeks, became more comfortable with pleasuring you and quickly became addicted to your body just as much as he was addicted to your heart and mind

Virgin!Jason Todd who became so much more confident in his body. He began to tease you in public, pinching your sides or hotly whispering into your ear all the things he’d like to do to you. He read some of your smutty books, mentally taking notes, and he studied female anatomy

Virgin!Jason Todd who blossomed into the sex god he looked like, but forever promised that he would only use those powers to pleasure you

Virgin!Jason Todd who wasn’t a virgin anymore

Got this idea from @ivysangel and so I wanted to tag them (thank you! 💕) and also wanted to tag some other people who commented/reblogged cause I was hoping they liked this too 😁🥰

@chinapoty @mxtantrights @thithesandofferings @rookiesbookies @delusionsofgrandeur13 @yourlocalcringydaydreamer @punkeropercyjackson @averageffreader @maarriiii @wordsfromshona @arkhxmknight @v1naco

[rainnyydaysworld]

Reader: How do you know how to kiss? Like who teaches you?

Jason: Well it’s actually a class, but unfortunately it’s full right now.

Jason: Would you like me to tutor you?

Dick: That was smooth.

—

Tim: How did none of you hear what I just said?!

Steph: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Reader: I got distracted halfway through.

Damian: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

—

Jason: BE A BETTER PERSON!

Reader: WHY?!

Jason: BECAUSE SOMEONE NEEDS TO HAVE MORALS IN THIS RELATIONSHIP, AND IT SURE AS FUCK AIN'T GONNA BE ME, SWEETHEART!

—

Dick: I feel like the world would be better if I'd never been born.

Jason: Aw... that's not true.

Jason: It'd be exactly the same.

Jason: You're not important.

—

Reader: You’re drunk.

Tim: Correction: drinking. Present tense. Grammar, Reader.

[gothamhappiness]

You are my heaven (Bruce Wayne x f!reader) Part 2

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. It'll be into 2 parts, except if you ask for more. <3

You can find part 1 of this here.

Warnings: no proof reading, language, mention of blood and killing, angst/comfort

He met you up at the Italian restaurant and loved to place a hand on the small of your back. He loved even more how you instinctively leaned into his touch and side. He really couldn't go back to his world. This place was heaven, and he was going to take such good care of his new people.

He listened to everything you said and actually answered. He never checked on his phone and didn't show any sign of being in the rush. You noticed how relaxed he seemed. Just before the dessert, he even reached for your hand and gently kissed it. He openly flirted with you and did his best to make you laugh. It was his favourite sound, with your moans of pleasure.

"You're in a good mood today," You finally commented. "You even took the time to talk to the kids this morning. And not to order them stuff about patrol, " You whispered

It hit Bruce. Of course, the "kids" were the vigilantes he saw working with Batman. He couldn't imagine how amazing it must be to work with other people. To be the mentor of those people, too. Their leader. Maybe even their father? They were all so young, they clearly needed someone to be there for them. And you cared for them, like a mother.

"I... Last night was a little bit complicated, and I realise how lucky I am, that’s all," Bruce replied, hoping you might know something

"Yes, Dick and Cass told me you got attacked by that mad scientist and that he threw at you some weird potion. Luckily, nothing happened. You were a little bit dizzy when you came back home, and you instantly went to bed. I helped you undress, and you fell asleep on me, " You hummed. "Anyway, I'm happy if things…” You trailed off

“If things?” Bruce tried to get you to finish your sentence

“Could... be better, " You admitted and looked away

Bruce was speechless for a few moments. Were you saying that the Bruce of this world neglected his people? His own people? You? He fucking didn't deserve any of this then. It was making things so easy, no guilt, no mercy.

"What do you mean, love?" He asked with a tilt of the head. You still refused to meet his eyes as you answered:

"Well... You haven't been around a lot lately. I can't even remember the last time we had lunch together. And you... you aren't the nicest with the children... Jason came to see me for comfort after another argument with you. Steph had a nap with me on the couch after you pushed her too much during training..." You explained. 

You didn't want to ruin the moment, but you weren't too sure when you would be able to tell him about all of this. For once, he seemed open to the discussion and wasn’t distracted with his work. However, his silence worried you a little bit. Actually, Bruce was angry. It was obvious that the Bruce of this universe didn't know his luck. He was going to be better - oh, so much better - than him. It was a promise. He kissed your hand again

"I'm so sorry. I'll do better. With everyone." He told you, and you finally looked at him, astonished. You had expected some justifications or denials, not this.

"I'm so... relieved. Maybe you could have a little talk with all the kids? And I know that your relationships with the members of the Justice League were getting tense, too. We haven't invited the Kents at home in so long." You babbled. 

Bruce could tell how much you cared about the family and that you decided to push your luck. You wanted your children to be happy, and you wished for Bruce to do better with his friends as well. You were so caring. Bruce was falling even deeper in love with you, and he didn’t think that was possible.

"I will. I promise. What about us?" He asked. 

Of course, he was going to do his best for all those people he didn't know yet, but what he wanted the most was to be a good husband to you. He had fantasied about your life together so badly, and now that it was happening, it needed to be perfect.

You didn't reply right away, trying to quickly think.

"What about us?" You finally said

"I haven't been the best to you either," Bruce guessed

"You saw the divorce papers I asked from our lawyer, didn't you?" You internally cursed yourself. You should have been better

Bruce silently panicked but didn't show anything. Oh the fucker was really ruining everything. He needed to make you forget about this divorce. You were finally his wife, he wasn't going to lose you or let you go. You were his, like he belonged body and soul to you.

"Love,..." He started, but you cut him off

"I was just thinking about it, but I... I don't want to leave the family. It was just in case things went downhill, " You explained, a little bit concerned of what the man was thinking

"It won't," He reassuringly smiled at you

"What?"

"It won't go downhill. I'll do anything you all need from me. I'm so lucky to have all of you in my life. I can't take this luck for granted. I'll do better, " He promised

You weren't too sure Bruce wasn't lying, but you wanted to believe him so badly.

Bruce found a folder with information on all the people in Bruce's life on the batcomputer, and he was grateful for that. It allowed him to know about his history with everyone and to act on consequences. He did talk to everyone and tried to make things better. He apologised and offered his help. He took some time for everyone. He showed he was eager to make an effort. He showed he wanted everyone to be happy around him. He showed he was there for his people.

He also found the mad scientist.

He interrogated him in Arkham Asylum. The man hadn't thought a new Batman would come. He just thought it would send the Dark Knight into another world, and that was it. Bruce asked if there was a way to get the real Bruce back. The mad scientist refused to answer at first before admitting that yes, there was. After all, portals could go both ways. Bruce went to the scientist's repair and destroyed everything before paying hitmen to kill the man. There was no way he would come back to Hell. No way. He would even kill the former Bruce himself if he had to.

The night he came back from the scientist’s repair, he was his most charming self to you, bringing you a beautiful necklace full of diamonds. As he helped you put it on, he complimented you and kissed your skin. He seduced you all night.

In the bath with you, his hands never left your skin. He gently washed your body and hair. He tenderly massaged cream onto you. He covered you in kisses until you would giggle under his nonstop attention. You truly hoped Bruce would keep acting like that because you were falling back in love with him. Hard. You were happy, and you clearly didn't want to get a divorce anymore.

A few days later, you and the children had lunch all together. Without Bruce.

You all decided that a conversation was a necessity because “what was going on with the man for fuck's sake?”. It was impossible he changed that much in such a short period of time. It was obvious something happened with the mad scientist. But weirdly enough, he was now dead and his work was destroyed...

"It's not Bruce," Tim finally said

"What do you mean?" You frowned

"It's not the Bruce we knew. From what I've been able to find, the scientist was studying portals through different parallel universe" Tim added

"You're saying that... He switched of Bruces from two different worlds?" You asked

"I think it's what happened, yes." Tim nodded, and you all stayed silent for a little while

"What do we do?" Duke asked

"This Bruce is nicer," Jason commented

"And more caring," Stephanie added

"But it is not our father." Damian frowned

"But he is acting like one..." Dick replied

"And like a husband." Cass added "His body language... He is so in love with you, Y/N… Like he would do anything for you."

"I... I know.” You paused “Maybe we all deserve some happiness"

“Are you saying we should pretend we don’t know anything? Barbara asked “It’s true that the Bruce we had was… challenging, but he all saved us. And kinda took care of us. We don’t know what this man will do in the long run” she added, and you were forced to agree with her

“Let me talk to him” You offered, and everyone agreed.

You weren’t too sure when it would be the right moment to speak with your new husband about the situation.

One evening, as you were snuggled up in his embrace, you felt like it was the right time. It was only the two of you, and the day has been quite good for Bruce, so he was relaxed. You kissed his collarbone to bring his attention back to you. He instantly put his book down to look at you.

"Yes, love?" He hummed

“Who are you?” You whispered with a bite of your bottom lip

“What? You know who am I” Bruce pretended to laugh it off, but he tensed a little bit

“You’re different. The kids are little detectives, and they think you are coming from a parallel universe. And… I can believe that” You explained

“Why?” 

“Because my husband liked me, but never worshipped me like a divinity of love” You softly smiled

“Well, he should have” Bruce groaned

“So, this is true, right? You came from another universe. And the man I married is there, instead of you?” You asked

Bruce cupped your face and leaned his forehead against yours. He had been the happiest man in the world the past few weeks. He finally had everything he ever wanted and needed. He would sell his soul in exchange for keeping this life. He was terrified you would cast him away.

“He didn’t deserve you. Any of you. I guess he’s there, yes, but I don’t really know. And I don’t care. I want to stay here. Haven’t I been good to you? Don’t you want to keep me? Haven’t I been better than he was?” He pleaded.

You heard the fear and despair in his voice.

“Your world isn’t as nice as here then?” You asked 

“My Alfred died when I turned 18, so I never had the time to adopt any of the children. I did my best as Batman and CEO of Wayne Enterprises, but I’m alone and lonely. Maybe I fucked up too, because my life is a just a mess. I don’t know, but this is Heaven and my world is Hell.”

“We’re not married either?” You wondered

“I’m too much of a loser to interest you. No matter how madly in love I am with you. No matter how much I’ve always wanted to worship you. I’m so happy to finally have you as my wife. I’ll always cherish you.” He admitted and promised

You stayed silent, not knowing what to do anymore. This place was clearly a fresh and happy start for the man in front of you. But what about the Bruce Wayne of this world? Wasn’t it a cruel punishment to leave him in such a lonely place? At the same time, you weren’t sure the man you married would even take care of you like you now were. And you would miss that very much. The children deserved a better father, too. Jason actually started to hang out with this new Bruce. And now Jason knew it wasn’t the same man who betrayed him. Their relationship would be even better. There were so many advantages...

“Keep me” The man begged you “I’ll do anything you want” He whispered again

“I… do want you to stay. But I feel awful knowing he is in your world. Alone.” You admitted

“I can make you forget about him” Bruce offered before kissing you, his thoughts on ways to make everyone forget about the “real” Bruce Wayne.

He was going to stay in Heaven, no matter the price, no matter the sacrifice, no matter what. You kissed him back before gently pushing him away.

“What if he comes back?” You asked “Would you hurt him?” You continued

Bruce didn’t answer, so you knew he would kill him without hesitation. He was a love, attention, and touch starved man. He knew what it was to be so broken that nothing could work out. 

“Barbara and Damian… They need some convincing to not find a way and save the Bruce we knew. I still feel bad but… if I loved him, I know I’ve never felt for him what I’m feeling for you” You whispered

Bruce’s eyes lit up. Being loved by you because he was Bruce Wayne was a thing, but being loved by you because of who he was was so much better. He didn’t know what to say, so he deeply kissed you over and over again.

“Love you, love you so much. You’ll be happy with me. Everyone will be happy with me.” He whispered in between kisses

“You promise?” You breathlessly asked 

“I promise, my love”

--

Part 3

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

Taglist for this series <3

@bat1212

[smutinlove]

hi! how are you? can I make a request? so ive been imagining in my head how would jason react to reader going to the wayne gala with him? (for being more especific after jason introduce reader to the batfamily reader gets invited by jason's family to go to the wayne gala)

how would the batfamily treat her? how does Jason behave on gala nights?? sorry for so many questions lol

thanks for reading this <3

y'all are FEEDING THE DEMON inside me. slay

-not proof-read. has punctuation mistakes (probably. maybe.. idk)

•after a few embarrassing encounters (for jason HAHA) with his family, you were formally invited to have dinner with them. and dinner turned into an invitation to the wayne gala. pretty big, huh?

•at first, you were hesitant... but jason said he wouldn't go without you and you did not want that. so you went with him.

•i mean, it was one thing being with him. but his arm wrapped around you waist while he introduced you to everyone, calling you his, "girlfriend."

•and whenever he called you his girlfriend, he blushed and smiled.

•i mean, usually jason would be one of those "macho, no feelings/emotions need to be shown" kind of men. but when he's with you, it's a whole new genre.

•he's so gentle with you. your dress got stuck? he'll buy you a new one. hungry during the gala? he'll make you sit down and give you a plate filled with food. (his siblings said that he's so chaotic during gala nights... not true.)

•and omg, speaking of his siblings, they are so protective over both of you. if you hurt him, count your days. if he hurt you, that's a different book in general.

•dick is like an older brother, except he is so sweet and genuine. he knows everything about everyone. tim is like the nerdy but really chaotic younger brother. he's super smart, but also on the brink of causing an alien invasion and murdering everyone in the galaxy. but he's just a goofy little boy <3

•steph is such a girl's girl. she's so friendly and sweet. she's an angel, i swear. cassandra cain doesn't talk much. but she isn't untoward or rude to you. she just doesn't talk a lot. but she has said a few nice words to you.

•damien... that little minx is formal. but once you break down his barriers, he is just another child and child soldier. you and him bonded over your love for animals. he even introduced you to alfred the cat.

•now, papa wayne, the man, the myth, the bat. bruce wayne. he was very friendly. holy shit, this man raised amazing children. he deserves the world. he is very sweet to you, always making sure you're comfortable. he's like a dad to you. (i wish he was my dad)

•alfred, the heart of the bat family. he's formal too sometimes. but he's really nice. he's helpful and witty. he knows everything about every member of the bat/wayne family. if you want to see jason in diapers or when he was in an awkward teenage phase, ask him. he has pics of EVERY batfam member.

•let's just say that jason was raised by amazing people. and those same people adore you with everything.

jason is my pookie bear. he's just a big cuddly teddy bear and i love him for that

[totallynotashieldagent]

the one where bruce is too rich to understand vegas weddings

Dick: So how was the trip? Bruce: Decent enough. Designs got through. Made appearances and- Y/N: Oh and we had the funnest little pretend wedding! Jason (choking on his drink): What??? Bruce: Oh, yes! It was quaint. They even had a little Elvis impersonator and everything. Stephanie: Uhh... B. Those aren't fake. Bruce: Of course, they are! Who would actually get married like that? So pedestrian. Y/N: It was such a fun party-trick. Alfred: Master Bruce, did you get wed without me? I diapered your bottom and- Damian: Father, how could you?! Duke: Jeez, B- You really got married, huh? Bruce: It wasn't a real wedding! Y/N: Who gets married like that?! Cass pointing to Tim, who is holding Bruce's very real wedding licence. Bruce and Y/N: Oh-

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

The Pilot Pt. 2

Walking into the dining room, your bunny slippers pink and prominent, you stretched and yawned out a ‘hello’. It was wonderful falling asleep in a mansion, and even more so when you spent some time in the lavish bathtub attached to your room. It almost made you not want to leave to go downstairs. Yet, you knew there was a job to be done. The children commented on your colorful robe and slippers, astounded that you showed up to breakfast in such attire. Mr. Wayne seemed amused and commented as such, playfully saying that he wished he owned the same bunny slippers you did. You offered to lend them to him, and he rejected the idea. 

Sitting at the table, you playfully scolded Alfred, “You should tell me these things. A simple dress for breakfast would have been fine.”

“Forgive me, Miss, I assumed you knew,” He said, slightly smiling, as he set a breakfast plate in front of you. 

You shook your head, smiling at the plate of food. “I’m from downtown Gotham, Alfred. You have to assume I know nothing.” You looked around the table, watching as they looked at you with surprise. “What? I got something on my face?”

“You’re sitting at the table,” Duke said shyly. 

You looked to Bruce, expecting him to say something, but he didn’t as he continued to eat his food. “Where else am I supposed to sit?”

“The kitchen,” Dick replied bluntly. 

You blew him off. “That’s so old-fashioned, and I’m too social for that. Now, what’re we doing today?” 

The kids told you they would need to leave the house since Mr. Wayne would be holding a charity dinner party that the children were not invited to. Not that you said it aloud, you were less than impressed by Bruce’s lack of involvement with the kids in things. So, you offered to take them to buy clothes and other things, and Mr. Wayne was happy enough to lend you his credit card. You marveled at the black American Express card, never thinking you’d see one in person—Let alone hold one. 

Suddenly, Alfred re-entered the dining room to tell Mr. Wayne that Lucius Fox was on the phone for him. You got up soon after, taking your plate full of food, and told the kids that you were leaving to get dressed, happy as a clam with your new position.

—

Dick was reserved, openly hostile toward you, and didn’t like the idea that now there was even more of a reason for Bruce not to be involved. You automatically made a note to force Bruce to be more active in his kids' lives and shake the eldest's rough exterior. 

So, when you arrived at the clothes shop, one your friend owned, of course, you spent more time picking out his clothes. Dick seemed like, well, a dick. He was as clever as he was spiteful and attempted to attack you at every angle. You persisted, though, while managing the other kids' wardrobes. 

Dick huffed and went to sit in one of the waiting chairs on the other end of the small boutique, seething in silence. You left him there for a bit, doting on the other children who were pretty well-behaved, albeit a bit odd. Tim had been looking under the mannequins’ skirts to see if they were anatomically correct—and, you knew instantly that would be a conversation with his father. 

As Duke and Jason were trying on ties, you finally looked over to the teenager brooding in the corner. You went over to him, holding up a red tie to his neck before taking the blue one from Damian’s small hands, who was on your hip, and doing the same. Dick was less than impressed. 

“Blue, it compliments your eyes,” You said. 

Dick huffed. “Why’re you doing this?” 

“Because I think you guys should go to that dinner tonight.” 

Before Dick could say that wouldn’t happen Cassandra stumbled over holding out a dress that she wanted to wear, but he wasn’t too dissuaded by that. He insisted that they wouldn’t be going to the dinner party.

Cassandra, even more clever than her older brother, nicely said, “I think the blue tie would suit you, Dickie. It brings out your eyes. It makes you super, super handsome.” 

He stared at her for a moment before saying, “You’re a bitch, you know that?”

Cass smiled, turning on her heel to walk off, leaving you to scold Dick as Damian slowly became more and more irritated with your arm. 

Dick only snapped at you again.

Usually, you could keep your cool, when it didn’t involve your boyfriend, but this was the last straw. “Listen here, I do not care how you feel about Bruce or anything of the sort, but I do know this; you are under my care, and you will be polite, respectful, and cut that language out when I am around.”

“Or what?”

You smiled smugly, stepping closer to Dick as you told him exactly what would happen if he did not behave.  

—

The children had come home happy, Dick noticeably more so than when he left that morning, and they all boasted about the fun they had with you. Bruce found himself excited at just how well they got on with you, and surprised when the seven of you seemed to be in cahoots. This suspicion rose when he asked you about what the kids bought, but you only brushed him off—heading upstairs in a hurry as you giggled along with the little ones. Fortunately for you, Bruce didn’t dwell much on the thought as his attentions were pulled toward making the evening perfect. 

And so had the party gone. It was starting perfectly. The guests were happy, dinner was being served on time, and, most importantly, the money was rolling in for the charities. Bruce stood in the doorway of the foyer and salon, where the guests were because Alfred had informed him that you needed something. Harvey, who had been in the middle of telling him something, followed him. 

To his surprise, you were standing on the last landing of the staircase in a classy red dress, and he would be lying to himself as well as you if he didn’t admit that you looked stunning. Proudly looking down at him, you grinned before turning to see the kids, all dressed up, behind you. 

“Who is that,” Harvey mumbled to Bruce, grinning from ear to ear. 

Bruce answered, “My nanny.” When you approached, he said in a hushed tone, “I told you the children couldn’t attend.”

You acted shocked, hand going to your cheek, and said sarcastically, “Oh, my! I must be blushing.”

“You’re a dirty player,” He commented before going to his children. Bruce admired how well they all cleaned up, doting on them like he always did, before telling them to be on their most perfect behavior. 

Harvey took this chance to introduce himself, and you seemed charmed. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. DA. Say, I’ve got some parking tickets that I think are pretty bogus, you think you fix those for…”

You trailed off when Bruce came back up to you, motioning all of you toward the salon, and whispering in your ear, “We’re discussing this later.”

You rolled your eyes, you would rather have fun than stress what your boss would say. The children were a hit amongst the party-goers, all of them cooing and awing at the children. You, too, were an intrigue to the guests since you were the mysterious latercomer who also happened to be beautiful. Bruce was surprised by just how well, with your downtown Gotham charms, you ran in the circles of the rich. You enthralled them with little tales of the children, some he was sure you made up, as well as wise outlooks on life (according to yourself, but the people listening took it up like catnip). 

Bruce also found himself having the time of his life with his kids, joking with them, and sharing the bits of business to the best of his ability. Dick was happy that he was paying more attention to them rather than the party, even going as far as to call him ‘Dad’ rather than Bruce. And, when you had left to put Damian to bed, Dickie had told him to keep you around along with something about wanting to keep his social life intact another day. 

That certainly would be something else he would need to speak to you about. 

—

“Goodbye, Harvey! I’ll call you about those parking tickets,” You called out the front door as you put the small piece of paper with his number into your bra. When you turned around there was Bruce, standing there with his hands on his hips, and you thought for sure you were going to get sacked. 

Before you could explain, Bruce said, “Don’t pull a stunt like that again.”

You were shocked, but not undeterred from your original task. “All I want to do is show those kids that you care about them.”

“I do care about them, and don’t need you to show that.”

You stepped forward, snickering. “I seriously doubt that. I mean, look how happy they were tonight. Why would you want to exclude them like that, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce thinned his lips, thinking for a moment before relenting. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that you were right or that he found the courageous glint in your eyes fairly pretty that he gave up so easily. Reluctantly, he agreed that maybe you were right and mentioned how much the kids liked you, even going as far as to offhandedly mention what Dick said. 

“You can stay,” He said. 

You grinned, “Good. I think you’d have a hard time getting rid of me now. I think the masses in this house might revolt.”

Bruce looked at you again before smiling. No matter how he felt, Bruce couldn’t deny one thing; That you were the perfect addition to the household.

[devilstruly]

POV

pairing - platonic (?) dick grayson x gn.reader

includes - batfam shenanigans and one singular thirst tweet

a/n - i regret nothing. also it's very short but i think it gets the point across

'WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?'

Dick's scream reverberates through the manor, so loud that in the span of a minute everyone materializes in your designated room. You laid on your bed, binge watching a random show and desperately trying to mind your business, but alas you should've known better.

'Who did what?' Tim drapes himself on your desk chair, sipping your coffee leisurely.

'Is this about the tweet?' Steph immediately asks.

'If it's about that I'm leaving.' Jason makes a disgusted face, one foot already out the door.

'What tweet?' Duke, oblivious to the turmoil he has just brought onto Dick, asks innocently.

'THIS TWEET.'

The man of the hour shoves his phone in Duke's face before Steph has a chance to do so.

'I want to die being choked to death in between Nightwing's thighs.'

Duke reads it with a blank face, raising an eyebrow at Dick when he's done.

'Okay?'

'Okay?! What do you mean okay?! This is anything but okay!'

'You're the only one that has a problem with this, Dickwad.'

'Didn't you say you're leaving?'

'Changed my mind. I like seeing him suffer.'

Dramatically, almost comically, Dick flops on your bed, face first. He groans loudly, the sound muffled by your blanket.

'I do not understand. Why would Y/L/N ever want to be killed by Grayson?'

'They meant-'

Cass clasps her hand over Jason's mouth before he has a chance to furthermore traumatize Damian.

[luvly-writer]

Crimes of a Mother

Ch. 1: She’s our shadow

Batfamily x Reader

-•-

Author’s note: I did NOT think this story was gonna get amount of love it did because i’m so insecure about it but wow!!! Thank you so much!!! I truly am grateful for your love for this! Thank you Thank you!! I think it will become a short series so if you’d like to be added to the taglist, leave a message! Here’s chapter 1, Enjoy!!!

Warning: English is not my first language

Taglist: (i’m starting the taglist with the people who asked for a part two <3) @nxdxsworld @give-jack-a-lightsaber @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @can-i-feel @n4muar

Masterlist:

-•-

Subject name: Yn Wayne Salazar

Age: 18

Mother: Valentina Salazar (alias, the Golden Serpent)

Father: Bruce Wayne (alias, Batman)

Skills: High level of expertise on criminal investigation, Bilingual, Photographic memory...

Weaknesses: [empty folder]

Education: [CURRENTLY UNDERGOING] Bachelor in Criminal Journalism

Motive for investigating: ???

———

-“Nghhhh”

Bruce mutters as he leans back and rubs his eyes. The Batcomputer displayed a series of pictures and the beginning of a subject report on Yn. The last few weeks have been interesting to say the least. After her visit to the manor, everyone aside from Bruce and Alfred had been curious on who this unknown girl and had been trying to get either of them to spill on who she was. Normally, they would have let it go by now, they reason (lies) ; but after seeing Bruce and Alfred pale as a sheet of paper, they knew this wasn’t just another of Bruces small secrets

After much perstering, Bruce finally caved in. (Barbara found Vals note as she was managing the commns. He left it there after having to rush out and stop Tim from strangling Jason and Damian for lacing his coffee with a laxative. In their defense, they are trying different ways to help Tim get more sleep and lay off coffee. In Tim’s defense, he had to miss two days of patrol because his stomach wouldn’t hold anything...alas, the life of a single father)

To say that it caused a raucus withing the family is an understatement. Jason, Stephanie, and Tim couldn’t stop laughing about Bruce having another kid. Barbara and Cass were just glad they had another girl in the family. Dick was contemplating whether he wanted to leave or stay for the drama and risk meeting another version of Damian. Duke was trying to console Damian who stayed in catatonic shock for a few moments seeing as he had an actual blood sibling. Bruce had figured that if he had all of them on the lookout for her, she would be safer plus, they would be able to get the largest amount of information about her together. This had proven to be somewhat difficult seeing as Valentina had made sure to leave no trace of her their daughter’s existence in Gotham.

The following weeks after the debrief were anything but boring. They had been made aware that they had a shadow during patrol. Tim, familiar with the situation, had taken note of it first. Yn was good. She kept hidden, had the stamina to keep up, and most of the time could almost accurately predict their next move. One time, Tim, Dick, and Jason had decided to go on a coffee run in the middle of a stakeout. They hadn’t seen her all night and decided to leave Steph, Damian, and Duke in charge while they went and ordered. Lo and behold, there she was in a booth in the back sipping some coffee and typing on her laptop. They hadn’t thought anything of it seeing as this coffee shop normaly stayed open till late hours of the night due to its proximity to Gotham University and students constantly went to study there as classes had started. It wasn’t until Dick made eye contact with her that he felt chills down his spine. Her eyes were trained on them like a predator to its prey, still, unmoving, and absorving everything. He had called out to Jason and Tim; and once they turned to look ate her, she was unintimidated by the three figures, with her head leaning on one hand and her other holding her cup. She raised a delicate eyebrow at them and just stared. They figured the girl had her mothers looks but good grace, she was Bruce Wayne’s Daughter. To be more specific, she was the Dark Knight’s daughter and her eyes were a key give away of that. Not even Damian, with all his devil spawness, could recreate that piercing gaze.

It wasn’t only as vigilantes. She would be seen with a notebook in the back of Bruce’s conferences and interviews, eyes cold, calculating and focused as she observed and wrote down. It was known she was targeting Bruce and he didn’t know whether to feel some sort of twisted pride or to be concerned.

Back in the present, Bruce had never felt so frustrated. Why was this kid here? Was this a cruel trick of fate where she was destined to cross his path? Was he finally believing in something as simplish as fate and destiny? What was her investigation? What did she wanna know? How much did she know? Was she sleeping and eating? Were her grades slipping? In a moment of fatherly worry he hacked into Gotham's system and found her students bio. Classes had started two months ago...it really had been two months since he had met her? Her grades were perfect. Exams aced, projects and homework all As, she had taken a few college credits in high school so she had advanced in some of her classes and skipped the basics. She truly was brilliant.

-“I finally get a Wayne in university who has the intention of finishing it.”

Exclaimed Alfred as he walked closer and interrupted his thought process. (He would forever be salty that neither his “son” nor his “grandkids´” had gone or finished college.)

-“She's a brilliant kid.”

-“Well she ought to be. If I remember anything about her mother, I'd be worried if she wasn’t”

He corrects and Bruce scoffs a laugh.

-“She’s been tailing us for weeks, yet not a single bad score.”

-“It almost sounds as if you’re proud, master Bruce”

-“I....I barely know her”

-“Let’s fix that then, shall we? Invite her over for dinner with the family. It is a possibility that all the questions that have you perplexed may find their answer if you get to know her and she begins to trust you”

-"Couldn’t this just be an ordinary investigation without any attachment?"

-“That is your daughter, master Wayne. Better her to be here and protected than out there for her other family to find her and make a move first.”

-“Nghh”

-“Such a cooperative answer, I shall notify the rest.”

----

For all of her bravado, Yn was nervous. It had been two months and a half since she had stepped into the manor. Charlie and Taylor had told her encouraging words as she dropped them off at their respective practices and headed for the Wayne house. She had tried to dress nicely and make a better impression that last time. Had Mr. Wayne seen her at the conferences? Did he know of her nightly investigations? Was he gonna tell her mom?

She parked her car and stepped out. Would dressing up and acting nicer make her look guiltier? She walked up the stairs and pressed the doorbell. She was working so hard on understanding her family and it wouldnt go to waste because of some pissy billionare. She heard some footsteps walking towards the door. She was not going to give up today.

-“Hello, miss Salazar, it is great to see you again.”

---

Dinner had been going great so far. You had been introduced to all of them at once and began small chatter. Everyone had been somewhat pleasant with her, trying to make her feel at ease. She had chalked it up to Mr. Wayne fulfilling some sort of favor her mother had asked of him to protect her and this actittud had passed on to his kids.

-“So, Yn, why Gotham?”

Asked Dick, which made everyone turn to her

-“Yeah, why this dumpster fire of a city?”

Laughed Jason

-“Well -she laughed- I have always felt a connection to Gotham. Like as if something was missing and I knew I would find it here. Ever since I was a child, it had always been my mom and I only, no other immediate nor distant family members. Mom would never talk about the city even though she’s from here and it made me wonder why. I mean, feels like there's a huge part of me that I dont know about and I would like to, even if my mom advices against it constantly. What if I find family here, you know? There's something out there for me and I know it is here. Not only that, Gotham U has the best Criminal Forensics and Journalism departments ever. Of course..that can be because of the high profile of criminality and the amount of rougues running around. My mom tried to advise that Star City and even Metropolis would work but they aren’t Gotham, you know. They don’t have the history, the profile, the exentric rougues, the vigilantes. I mean, who is the Dark Knight? Why does he inspire so much fear? Is he a friend or someone who could potentially face a dark turn? What is his history with his sidekicks? Why so many? Are they human? A failed experiment? Cryptics? It is all fascinating, wouldn't you agree?

They all digested her answer. They all understood and and could relate to a certain level. Her determination was admirable.

-“That's actually...not a bad reason to move to Gotham”

Damian spoke up, surprising everyone. Yn smiled in approval and thanked him shyly.

-“When did you begin to have a passion for investigating?”

He asked again

-“Well, I guess I was too into crime shows? Plus being good at it certainly helps”

She laughs making the rest chuckle

Dinner finished shortly after. Everyone had decided to exchange social media handles and say their goodbyes. Bruce walks her to the door and speaks up,

-“Listen Yn, I am sorry about the thing about your father. I really ca-“

-“I know. You are a good man, Mr. Wayne. I am sorry for being too upfront that day, I tend to be too pushy sometimes during an investigation. I appretiate your respect and care for my mother a lot but...that still won’t stop me. I will find out who is my family.”

-“Well...seeing as nothing can hold you back, I just wanted to let you that our doors are always open for you. You are always welcomed into our family.”

She smiled at the sentiment and he could feel it pulling his heart strings. This is his kid, literally his. She is his daughter.

-“Thank you, Mr. Wayne”

She said as she started to walk to her car

-“One last thing...about your father”

Yn had never turned around so fast in her life

-“Yes?”

The hopeful look in her eyes made him take a step back and consider his words lightly

-“I think...I think he'd be very proud of you. You really are an extraordinary kid”

Seeing the hope fade a little killed him but it was better this way

-“You think so?”

-“I know so”

Her eyes watered a little but she held back. She gave him a nod and a tight smile

-“Goodnight, Mr. Wayne”

-“Goodnight, kid”

———•———•———

I am always open to feedback so remember to leave a comment or a reblogs if you have any suggestions, comments or just want to be added to the taglist!

[acid-ixx]

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

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

series masterlist &. request masterlist — long post ahead !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[remy45]

"YOU TWO LOOK LIKE A COUPLE"ft. The batgirls

Sunmary: A friend says that character and y/n look like a couple.

Characters: Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown.

Tags: Kisses in hands, misunderstandings, flushing, fluff, crack, each reader for each batgirl has a diferent personality.

A/N: First fic in this account woohoo!!, I know this is short but I hope you enjoy.

Words: 433

BARBARA GORDON

"You know, you two look like a couple sometimes"

“Why do you mean?”

"You know, you are always together, you hold hands, and don't deny it to me, Barbara wants to kiss you so bad"

Barbara moved and nudged Dick a little annoyed, then adjusted her glasses.

"Dick, stop being a dick for a moment, can't you see you're making y/n uncomfortable?"

She said this while pointing both hands at you.

"Who says I'm uncomfortable, if people think we're a couple I'm more than flattered my dear babs-ouch!

"I see that you and Dick are equally annoying."

Barbara said, but this time laughing fondly, and maybe, maybe, a little blushing.

Seeing his blush, you blushed too.

"get a room please" Dick said jokingly

That only caused more blushes and complaints with laughter from both of them.

CASSANDRA CAIN

Cassandra doesn't know what to say. Literally.

Was Y/n and her really a couple, she didn't know, what exactly was it like to be a couple in the first place?

If being a couple was just loving someone then yes, but something told him that they weren't. not yet.

Cassandra gave Y/N a curious look, while waiting for her to answer her friend's question, "are you two a couple or something like that"?

Seeing Cassandra's look in response, you took her hand, and they left the place without saying anything else.

You took her to the next alley, took her face in your hands, and kissed her.

The kiss was short and tender, you wanted to be relaxed, you didn't want her to be scared.

She smiled a little, and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek.

I guess they were a couple now.

STEPHANIE BROWN

When Steph heard the insinuation that you were more than friends, she smiled mischievously, took your hand, pulled you close to her and said this (unfortunately for you)

-Steph,what?

She ignored you and continued talking, causing more blushes from you. Why did she have to be so flirtatious?

He took your hand and gave it a kiss. Too much pda for today.

-Wow, I didn't know that, but congratulations girls.

Before he could blurt out, to specify that they were not in a relationship as such, stephanie interrupted you.

-Thank you very much, y/n and I have to go now.

She took your hand and walked away.

-What was that steph?

-What?Can I not give affection to my lovely girlfriend?

You laughed, giving her a kiss on the hand in return for the one she had given you.

This time she was the one who blushed.

[augustinapril]

Heyyy Spence

So I saw that you wanted some batfam requests (especially platonic ones) so I was wondering if I could ask for a batfam (you pick whatever characters you want to be added) x bat!sibling reader who’s getting a special award but doesn’t tell anyone about it? Not bc they don’t think the family will care, they just think that the rest of them are busy and don’t want to bother them. They somehow find out though and are all there so surprise the reader?

If not- that’s totally fine too!!

Take care <333

Spider || Batfam

Paring: Batfam & gn!reader

Sypnosis: You're Brooklyns resident Spider, or The Insect, as Heaven likes to call you. It's a job you've taken with honor, and you're being thanked for it by the city. What you didn't expect was to see your family in the crowd.

Warnings: kind of a spiderman x dc crossover? r is basically the spiderman of DC, talks of heights, violence and terribly written fight scenes, reader is threatened by a villian, swearing, mentions of food, its poorly written I'm sorry!!

wc: 3.2k || nav || m.list

a/n: shout out to @lu-vin-it for being a character in this fic! he also happens to write so you should definitely go check out their stuff (that's a threat not a request). thank you @lemkay-luminary for proofreading!! <3 reblogs > likes!!

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Gotham City was constantly buzzing with life, along with death. It was a violent city, full of murderers, thieves, robbers, and villians drowning in a thirst for blood. More times than you could count, the city has stolen the life of people you've cared for. 

It held too many bad memories for you to stay. You loved the city, and it would always be your home, but you had a new home in Brooklyn, too.

Brooklyn gave you a breath of fresh air, here you could see the sun most days. It was calming, the warmth of it a comfort. You love it here and the people here love you in return.

"Spider!" A little girl from down below shouted, strawberry ice cream smeared across her face as she pointed up at you. "It's Spider!"

Her father gave her a light lecture on how it was rude to point when you attached yourself to the side of a building, offering the little girl a wave. She waved back, squealing in excitement at the fact that the Spider was waving at her. 

"Y/n, you know those guys we've been tracking for God knows how long?" Heaven's voice spoke through the comms, startling you.

"I don't, actually, I think they've managed to slip my mind." You retorted sarcastically as you jumped off and swung your way to a nearby rooftop.

"You were bitten by an insect, I can treat you like an insect." 

"Spiders aren't insects, they're—"

There was an annoyed huff that cut you off, it made you snicker. "Fuck you. I should make you do all this by yourself, but I don't. Be grateful. Anyways, so I've gotten a location on them, Visage is most definitely there."

"Where?" You asked quickly. Visage has been tormenting the city for a while now.

"Near Plymouth Church. They've been spotted in some run down building near it." 

"Thank you." You responded and the comms cut out.

That's when you jumped, arms behind you, the breeze pushed against your suit. It was exhilarating to fly through the air, being so high above everything else. 

Helping people in the way you do, swinging through the city and hearing people like that little girl call out to you was worth every risk the job came with. You'd put yourself on the line every time because you're here to protect them. 

Which brought you here, on top of some building across from an abandoned grocery store. Your eyes were glued to the doors, as you watched and waited for something to happen.

A man walked out, wearing protective green gear. It was Visage, you knew it was. There was no mistaking him and his rather ugly suit. 

"Visage, my man, what's up?" You jumped over to the power line nearby, standing on top of the wooden pole. His head snapped up to you, and the second it did, you webbed him. Jumping up you yanked him up with you. You grabbed ahold of his head and slammed it onto the pole. There was a crack in his helmet, him falling to the ground and letting out a pained groan.

"Fuck," You heard him hiss under his breath, struggling to pull himself off the ground. You didn't give him much of a chance before you leapt down in front of him, landing before swiping him off his feet.

"I'm gonna kill you," He raised his gauntleted hand and he fired at you from his spot on the ground.

It was one of his weird creations, Vistech as he liked to call it. It made you realize that villians are extremely uncreative when it comes to naming things.

"'I'm gonna kill you' blah blah blah, I've heard it all before. Your words mean nothing." You retorted, moving out of the way of whatever it was he shot at you. He had a nasty habit of creating new concoctions and testing them on you.

You were sure you probably seemed cocky, and the way he tensed made it evident he wasn't very appreciative of your attitude. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

After that he charged at you, gear adding power to his steps. Your senses spiked, making you leap out of his way. His gauntlet grabbed hold of your arm, as he throwed you towards a nearby wall. 

The impact knocked the wind out of your lungs, falling to the ground with a wheeze. You could hear his heavy boots hit the ground with each step he took towards you. You pushed yourself off the ground, then you lifted your hand and shot webbing at his face. His cries were muffled by the substance, his hand scratched to try and get the webs off. 

You fully pushed yourself off of the ground, wincing in pain. Much to your dismay, the second you were on your feet Visage had pulled off the webs. He ran towards you again and you were lucky to move out of the way on time.

You put your hand behind his head and slammed it full force into the wall, knocking him unconscious. You crouched down, inspecting Visage's guantlet, lifting the heavy metal. It was warm to the touch, most likely because of the weird substance in them.

You looked them over, searching for a way to remove them . It was more sophisticated than you originally thought, but you found it eventually. 

You knew Visage wasn't the highest of rank in whatever business he worked for, but he was high enough on there for you to get some information on the entire organization. 

You tied him up with your webbing, and when you heard police sirens you leapt up to the rooftop of the nearest building, Visage's guantlet in hand.

***

The fight had been all over the news.

Some people praised you for your efforts whilst others said you were nothing but a menace, but the mayor, much to your surprise, was extremely pleased with your work.

She made an announcement on television about wanting to thank you personally for everything you've done for Brooklyn.

Which led you here, stood near the entrance of the building the mayor did most of her work in. She looked elegant, black pencil skirt hugging her legs and waist, a matching jacket on top of a white dress shirt. She was so put together it made you nervous.

You didn't look put together. Not that you really could in your spidersuit but you still felt self-conscious. 

Yet she offered you a warm smile, holding her hand out towards you. "Spider! It's nice to meet you in person."

You smiled back, though she couldn't see it from underneath your mask. "It's nice to meet you too, Madame Mayor." Her hand was warm against the fabric of your suit.

"So you and I will just walk out that door," She began, pointing over towards the door. "And I'll greet the crowd, give a speech, and then I'll shake your hand once more. I'll warn you now, there will be a lot of people."

It was strange how you could fight dangerous people and yet the mention of a crowd made your heart rate pick up. 

You nodded, and she smiled again. Her heels clicked loudly against the white flooring of the office building, your steps quieter than hers. You made sure to wear your converse here. There had been many times you forgot to slip on your shoes before heading out of your bedroom window, your mind racing to find reported criminals.

The doors opened, sunlight shined through as you exited the brick building. There was an abundance of people in the crowd, the snapping of pictures and shouts of Spider filled the atmosphere. There were news reporters that surrounded the barricades of the stairs, keeping the rambunctious crowd from getting too close.

"Hello people of Brooklyn!" The Mayor waved, sun reflecting off of her white painted nails. The way she handled the crowd made you envious and it took everything in you not to teeter on your feet to calm the nerves. 

The crowd gave a series of shouts and greetings in reply, making the mayor laugh. She was good at this, but you suppose she had to be. That's when she introduced you, another wave of excited noise spilled from the ocean of people across from you.

"Hello." You replied as you waved and cringed at how awkward you probably sounded. Another group of greetings sounded around you.

People could be loud when they wanted to be, and that amplified in groups. You eyed them, and noticed the little girl from a few days ago again. She rested on top of her father's shoulders—her face was ice-creamless now—and her abundance of red waves was put into braids with ribbons tied at the end.

She made you smile from under your mask, as the beginning of the mayor's speech slipped past your ears. You moved your gaze from her, your eyes looked over the people and that's when you saw them. Your family in the very back.

Dick looked silly. The entirety of his outfit was just Spider merchandise and you were sure he seemed like an obnoxious fan to the rest of the crowd. Jason stood away from him, probably upset that he had to stand so close to Dick when he looked like that. He blended in more with the crowd, he wore simple attire that any normal person would wear in public. Not that he was normal, he just didn't like to stand out in such a way. 

Your father wore a suit. A very pristine suit, as usual, no one except reporters ever wore something so proper to an event like this. 

Steph had the biggest smile ever on her face, hair pulled back by a purple headband, dressed simply in a long skirt and a purple cardigan to cover it. Tim stood next to her, adorned in a sweater Bernard had given him and a pair of shorts. The both of them were on the opposite side of the crowd. Cass was not too far away. 

She had never enjoyed crowds, or people in general. You wouldn't have noticed her if not for your enhanced senses. She leaned against Bruce's car, the entirety of her black attire blended in with the car's paint. Damian was beside her, arms crossed. The warm weather had him in a simple pair of brown cargo shirts, his green t-shirt blended nicely with them.

Damian probably didn't want to come. Not that he didn't love you or anything, no he often talked about how you were the most tolerable out of the rest of his family, he just never saw the point in coming to something he could very easily watch on TV. You were going to make sure to thank him later.

You returned your attention back to the mayor. As she was nearing the end of her speech she turned to you. "—And I'd like to thank each and every one of you for coming here today. The Spider has done so much for our city this last year, and it seemed rude to not provide our hero a proper thank you."

Her hand reached toward you once again, but before she could grasp your hand an intense feeling of danger hit you. Your head snapped up, turning over and noticing a man—one of Visage's men it seemed from the apparel he wore—directing one of the  special guns directly at the mayor. You shielded her quickly, pulling her away just as he pulled the trigger. 

The crowd screamed at the sound, erupting in panic. You should've known this would have happened. Nothing is ever so easy.

 "Are you okay?" You asked the mayor, and she nodded, mumbling a thank you. You once her over just to make sure before jumping back into the crowd. It was almost as if the man multiplied in your short time of making sure the mayor was okay. 

"Can't you guys take days off or something?" You asked, annoyed when you webbed one of the weapons, yanking it out of his hands and sticking it up against the wall of a building. "Seriously, you guys are everywhere. I think you might need to bring this up with your boss."

One of them charged at you, which you swiftly moved out of the way but kept your foot in place, snickering when she tripped on the ground. 

You jumped, legs pushing you high enough to land on the top of a street lamp. You'd yanked one of the men up with you, slamming his head into the light before webbing him to it, leaving him dangling when you jumped down. 

"Do you ever shut up?" A woman shouted, irritated with you. She lunged at you, but hit the wall—hard enough as to where you could hear a loud groan.

"Only if you say please."

There was only one person left, he radiated irritation. It was easy to piss these people off. If it were a sport you'd have 1st place medals galore.

"And then there were two." You joked, watching as he pulled out a similar weapon to the first guys.

"Shut your fucking mouth!"

You scoffed, preparing yourself to attack him before you answered. "Do you people have no manners?"

It was a swift motion, webbing the weapon so he couldn't fire. He tried to rip off the webs before you got him in the face. His sounds of confusion were muffled, and you took this time to kick the legs out from under him, sticking his hand together 

Within minutes, you'd gotten all of them tied up. It was a swift battle—if you could even consider it one—and now you made your way back to the Mayor.

With a quick once over, you knew she was okay. Shaken up, but overall physically okay. You still asked to be sure. "Are you okay?"

She looked at you, offering a smile. "Yes, I'm okay thanks to you. Thank you again, Spider. For everything. I don't know where Brooklyn would be without you."

You couldn’t think of a response. Talking to people was hard, but talking to the Mayor was harder. Especially when she said something like that. “It’s no problem.” You said, though you questioned if it sounded awkward.

After assisting to make sure everyone was okay. You felt a small tug at the stretchy fabric of your suit. Your head drifting in the direction of the source, your heart warmed. It was the little girl from before. “Spider!”

You grinned underneath your mask, crouching down to see eye-to-eye with her, taking notice of the adorable crochet beanie in her head. “Hello. I really like your hat!”

She giggled, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen crossing her features. “It has you on it!”

"It does! Did someone make it for you?"

Her waves bounced around her head when she nodded, grabbing ahold of her father's hand and shaking it around. "My daddy made it for me! Isn't that right, daddy?"

He gave a proud grin, though it wasn't as bright as it would be if he didn't look so exhausted. "Yeah, that's right, sweetheart. I did make it."

"You should convince him to make me one," You joked, looking up at her father. "It's an awesome hat. I'm honored to have such a hat with me on it."

"She wouldn't stop pestering me until I finished," He replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. "She asked me everyday if her hat was done. She loves you."

You warmed and looked back at the child. "And her love will always be appreciated."

After a rather hard goodbye, he led her back towards their small car. It took a few hours, but eventually you were able to make your way back home for a quick meal. You had some spare time before you decided you were going to force yourself back out into the city, hoping to finally give yourself a chance to relax.

Though it seemed your plans had been foiled, the smell of Mac & Cheese filled your apartment, and the slight chatter of familiar voices bouncing off of the fake wooden walls.

"Alfred?" Your eyebrows rose when you saw the man that was basically your second father standing in front of your stove, a pot in front of him as he stirred a wooden spoon through the creamy noodles. "You're making Mac & Cheese?"

Alfred never enjoyed making Mac & Cheese like this, far more into homemade foods rather than the cheap store-bought boxes. He enjoyed putting care into his cooking, and boxed Mac & Cheese took that away. In his eyes, at least.

You set your stuff down, listening to Alfreds words even though he didn't look at you. "I would have made something else, but it seems this was all you had in your cupboard, L/n."

"Fair." You shrugged before you heard someone clearing his throat.

"No hello to your father?"

You looked at him and smiled. "Hello Father."

Jason snickered, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You sound like Damian." His feet on your table made you send him a light glare.

"Better him than you, Jay. And get your nasty ass feet off my table." You shoved his feet off of the fake wood, as you ignored the glare he sent you when you walked by, and ruffled Damian's hair. "How's the favorite brother?"

He huffed in annoyance and shoved your hand away, an incoherent grumble being your only response.

"Y/n!" Steph interrupted, a blur of purple passing your vision as he gave you a swift hug, arms wrapping tightly around you. "We missed you!"

"I missed you guys too." You grinned, brushing a few strands of blonde hair that fell out of her headband behind her ear after she pulled away. "Where's Cass and Dick?"

As if on queue, Dick walked through the door, his hand in the air as he answered. "We're here!" He had a flare for the dramatics, his high-school yearbooks and his years of theater could prove it. 

Cass' entrance was far more tame, as she carefully walked through as to not drop the big yellow box in her hands,closing the door with her foot. "We brought cake."

"Cake?" You weren't expecting cake, and especially not store bought cake. Alfred would be quivering in his boots if he didn't have to hide his irritation. 

"You didn't tell us about the Mayor." Damian interrupted, his arms crossed. Irritation was written all over his face—which seemed to mask his slight pain about the topic—and you were hit with a sudden pang of guilt.

"Sorry, Dami." You began, as you gave an apologetic smile. You looked at all of them, trying to explain yourself. "You guys are all so busy, I didn't wanna pull you away from your work."

The explanation seemed silly now that you said it out loud. It was a stupid reason, your family cared about you a lot and it probably seemed like a kick in the face. You continued, words spilling out of your mouth in an anxiety consumed guilt.

"It's not that I thought you guys wouldn't care or anything I just— I don't know, I didn't wanna pull you guys away from something more important."

"No work could ever come above you," Bruce spoke quickly, taking your hand within his. He squeezed it, as if it were to make his words stronger with meaning.

And in a way it did, it reminded you that your family may be busy, but you all would always put each other first.

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sorry this was all over the place!! constructive criticism is always welcome!! please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it!!

[gothamhappiness]

You are my heaven (Bruce Wayne x f!reader) Part 1

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. It'll be into 2 parts, except if you ask for more. <3

Warnings: no proof reading, sexual activities, language, neglecting husband and father, kinda angst/comfort

Imagine Bruce Wayne with no child, no wife (you), no friends and no more Alfred. He was all alone, making his life even harder, more cruel, more violent.

He didn’t adopt any child - not even Dick - because Alfred died quickly after Bruce became an adult. Thus, Bruce needed to take care of himself, and he didn't feel like he could look after a child. He was too tired and too depressed. He didn't want to bring any child into such a dark life.

His hands were full with Wayne Enterprises and his Batman way of life, so he also didn't make time for the Justice League. He sometimes helped them when it was about Gotham but nothing else.

And he never succeeded in getting you. He knew you. Oh yes, he knew you. He always thought that Batman would be his sole obsession, destroying him and his body. But then he met you, and he grew half insane. He needed you in his life so badly; he didn't care about anyone else. You were such a ray of sunshine in his dark existence. But you didn't want him. He was too desperate for you. You were scared of the darkness surrounding him, and you hated that rich man who wasn't trying hard enough for Gotham's poor people. He would have loved to cover you in affection and gifts, but you always escaped him.

Imagine this same Bruce Wayne being switched from places with another Bruce Wayne from another universe. This other Bruce had children, was married to you, and was friends with the Justice League. Alfred was still around. But this Bruce was neglecting everyone a little bit. This man thought he was entitled to get everything. His relationships were just alright with everyone. You more than once thought about getting a divorce actually, but you loved your life too much to let it go, even if Bruce could be a disappointment.

Imagine the lonely and desperate Bruce Wayne waking up one morning with you in the same bed as him.

At first, he believed it was all a dream, so he happily pulled you against his chest and snuggled up against you. He kissed the top of your head. When his alarm sounded out, he simply turned it off and hugged you tighter. He felt good and warm for the first time since his parents died. He completely melted in pure joy when you gently kissed his chest and neck, stroking his scarred stomach. He leaned into all your touch. He had no idea when he was going to wake up, so he wanted to enjoy this as much as possible. He didn’t want to think of the cold and empty bed that was going to greet him soon enough. He just wanted to stay there forever, cherished by you. Your scent was bringing him such comfort. He was relaxed, feeling safe and at home. This was what heaven must look like, he thought.

"Not running to work already?" You softly asked, a little bit surprised you didn't have to beg your husband for morning cuddles

"I'm good here," Bruce mumbled into your hair, his eyes closed in bliss

"What have you done to my husband?" You laughed as you straddled the man, looking down at him.

Husband? Fuck, it sounded so sweet to his ears. Bruce opened his eyes, drinking into your form. He loved how the sun was softly shining against your skin. He moved his hands on your thighs and stroked your skin. You were a goddess to him

“You’re beautiful” He whispered

You hummed and leaned to hungrily kiss him. He almost moaned against your lips. He had dreamt so many times of the feel of your mouth against his. But it was different than usual, it was better than he expected. He felt so whole. You were his soulmate. He always believed it. And feeling you like that… He promised himself that once he would be back to reality, he would find a way to seduce you. He needed you. You teasingly bit his bottom lip, and he smiled. Bruce's hands greedily moved around your body before settling on your ass. He gently squeezed it.

“Naughty” Ypu giggled, and he smiled even more

“Not my fault. You’re a goddess of love and light” He whispered

You didn’t reply. You weren’t too used to your husband talking to you like that. Your Bruce was good to you, but he never called you such things. He never watched you with such devotion in the eyes.

You sightly moved away to remove your nightgown under his watch. This Bruce had no idea how gorgeous you were naked, on top of him. He realised it was his favourite sight from now on. Gosh, what he wouldn’t do to be allowed to be greeted like that every morning of his life? He had dreamt so many times to be allowed to see you like this, to touch you like a lover and to take care of you. He was happy he was shirtless when you leaned back against him so he could feel your skin against his. He gently switched positions with you so he could get down on you. He kissed your neck, breasts, stomach, and inner thighs before settling in between your legs. He would have taken the time to kiss your legs and feet if he hadn’t been so hungry for you. It was such a vivid and nice dream. And he wanted you so badly. The way your fingers moved into his hair and tightened their hold whenever he was making you moan in pleasure became his favourite sensation. After the second orgasm he gave you this morning, he started to wonder if he truly was dreaming. You felt so real. 

He didn't have time to think more about it as you brought him closer to you. You were softly panting, as he was happily kissing and stroking your skin. You were made to be worshipped, he thought. And he would love to be your most obedient and caring servant.

A soft knock at the door startled the two of you.

"Master Bruce, do I need to cancel all the meetings you had this morning?" Alfred's voice sounded out.

Bruce froze for a few fractions of seconds before regaining his composure. Was it truly Alfred? His dream was getting nicer and nicer. However, it was hard to think when you were affectionately kissing his skin and playing with his hair, looking at him with such tenderness in your beautiful eyes. He needed all his willpower to answer Alfred back.

"I'm on my way to Wayne Enterprises, Alfred," He finally replied, and you laughed because he really didn't look like he was. 

The sound of your laughter made his chest blow with a warm feeling he didn't know. He was so deeply in love with you. He was so happy. And yet, the word “happy” didn’t feel strong enough to describe how he felt in this instant. He leaned to kiss you with pure affection before getting up, even though he would have loved to stay in bed with you.

You decided to be a good wife who cared about your husband’s work and duty, so you didn't follow in the shower, knowing Alfred would indeed need to cancel all of the meetings. You wondered what you did last night for Bruce to treat you with such passion and love this morning. You wished things would be more often like that. 

You were still lying in bed when Bruce came out of the shower. Before looking for some clothes, he went back to you, like a magnet attracted to you. He kissed your naked back before kissing your lips.

"Time for some lunch with me, hon?" you asked, clearly pushing your luck, but Bruce seemed in a very good mood today.

You were ready for him to say no, though, like he always did.

"Of course, anything you want," He whispered, smiling.

He was excited you seemed to want to spend more time with him.

You didn’t add anything, truly wondering what you did last night. He kissed you again before dressing up. You enjoyed the view from the bed. Bruce loved the warm feeling of your eyes on him. He couldn’t get enough of your attention.

He reluctantly left the room after having stolen another kiss from you. He couldn’t get enough of you.

He properly greeted Alfred and thanked him for having checked on him.

Bruce was a little bit surprised to discover so many young adults and teenagers eating breakfast in his living room, but it was giving some life to his old manor. And in a dream, you couldn’t expect everything to make sense, right? So he simply greeted everyone and asked if they all slept well, like his father did when he was a child. They all seemed stunned by the question, but they still answered. What amazed them even more was that Bruce actually listened to their answers. He waved them all goodbye, wished them a good day, and went to work.

It was time for lunch, and Bruce hadn't woken up yet. His meetings were now done, and he could take some time to think. Everything felt so real so far. Usually, in dreams, when you read something, lines are blurry or the words mean nothing or the words change all the time... But it didn't happen. Apart from the people he didn’t know in his living room, everything seemed to make sense?

He typed away his name on his Internet browser and started to read about how he was dealing with Wayne Enterprises, how he was married to you, how he adopted or took under his roof many children. Bruce Wayne seemed quite… popular. He looked for Batman's work as well. It seemed he was often with the Justice League, and he had some vigilantes under his lead. He started to think about what happened last night - before he woke up with you in his arms.

He could now remember a very bright light engulfing him while he was fighting off some criminals.

"Where are we going for lunch?" You texted him, and the notification brought him back to the present

"That Italian restaurant near Wayne Enterprises?" He offered.

He always wished he could invite you there because he quite enjoyed this place. He hoped the place existed here, but with your answer it seemed it did.

"Oh yes, it's been a while!" You quickly replied. "I'll meet you there in a few. Love you <3" You added

"Love you too, wife" Bruce sent back.

Gosh, he never thought he would be allowed to send you such words and it was making his head spin.

But Bruce was a smart man, so he started to understand that he must have taken the place of the Bruce Wayne of this world. It couldn’t be a dream because it was too detailed and realistic. It couldn’t be an illusion, because something would have felt off to him. It wouldn't have been the first time he was trapped in an illusion, he would have been able to feel it. This place... everything felt true, real.

There were only two possibilities: someone brought him to a parallel universe or he died and went to heaven. 

He hurt one of his fingers to draw blood. He couldn’t be dead if he was still bleeding, could he? So if he was going with the parallel universe, it meant… It meant that the other Bruce Wayne had this perfect little life. Fuck, he felt a deep and raw jealousy stabbing his heart: why didn't this Bruce suffer like he did? Why did this version of himself get everything he ever wished for himself? Alfred, children, you? Even Batman seemed to be doing better here. Wayne Enterprises were thriving, the biggest and most powerful firm of Gotham. 

He needed to understand what happened... So he could forever stay here. There was no way he was going back to the Hell that used to be his life. He would kill himself at the instant he would get back. How could he survive being alone again? The other Bruce was a problem because if he was alive, he would want to get back here. But fuck him. Everyone seemed so surprised by how he was acting, so he was certain that the Bruce of this world didn’t deserve their love. And he would do anything to deserve it. It was his chance to finally be happy and he wasn’t going to fuck this up.

--

Part 2

[cursedkeyboard]

Babies shouldn't grow up ☆ Jason Todd & GN!Reader (PT.5)

What does Jason do after he tries his best and fails spectacularly to keep his nosy family away from his kid? Make sure he is still your favorite when everyone starts spoiling you rotten, of course. [PART ONE ♤ PART TWO ♤ PART THREE ♤ PART FOUR ♤ PART FIVE ♤ PART SIX]

Pairings: Platonic Jason Todd & Child GN!Reader / Batfamily & Child GN!Reader

When everything was said and done, Jason explaining why he didn't want to expose you to more dangers by introducing you but also the reason why he felt compelled to be honest with you about their identities, the bats soon started to try and bond with you

Dick was the first one, as always, and introduced himself as "little wing's one and only older brother"

You giggled when Jason groaned at that, embarrassed, and Dick took that as a win

Dick's older bro charms 1 - Bruce's gloomy dad stare 0

After getting called out by you so directly and plainly, Bruce had been awfully quiet as everyone interacted with you

It wasn't every day he got called out for the worst mistakes he comitted

But he also was still reeling at the fact that he was a damn grandfather

Steph cooed at how small you were, pointing out how even Damian was taller

Which, in Jason's opinion, was totally unfair since you were only eleven while Damian was thirteen, going on fourteen, and had been trained for along time

Also, excuse him, only he could tease you

Dick would be asking Jason one and a million questions about how he'd been taking care of you, your education, health, etc

"Of course I– You think I wouldn't send my kid to school, Grayson?"

His kid, they thought, part giddy part dumbfounded

"Woah, woah, I'm just asking! Technically you're legally dead and the little angel over here doesn't exactly look like you."

Wow, for some reason that really pissed Jason off

He tucked you under his chin, squeezing you gently as you rested your head on his collarbone

"I signed the papers. I'm not fucking dumb, Dick, I've been the legal guardian for about a year now."

At that, Steph stopped trying to take pictures of you with her eyes alone and quirked one of her eyebrows

"Legally?"

"... For the most part."

No one said anything at that, it's not like any of them really followed the law, especially not the old man behind them

You huffed in amusement at that, making Dick and Steph's hearts warm up

Damn, not even an hour into meeting you and they were already feeling those fuzzy, soft feelings in their chests

Needless to say, it wasn't a casual evening but it wasn't what Jason had been dreading, not at all

There was no screaming about him being reckless, no one tried to take you away from him, Bruce didn't even say much

Damian was still a brat and tried to pick on you, judgy little shit, only to get the nastiest clapback that made Dick choke on his spit

They all knew he was just feeling jealous, like every kid feels when a younger, cuter child shows up in the family

Boohoo, Jason thought as he watched fondly as you and Damian bickered, the demon brat was never as cute as my kid

Bruce, despite his melancholic gaze and awkward nature, managed to talk a bit to the both of you

He'd tell Jason that if you ever needed anything, to just use his credit card, no questions asked

Bruce would always be a call away and with Cass slowly taking over the mantle, he had a bit more time in his hands when the League didn't need him

He'd support the both of you to hell and back, his own way of repenting, and all he asked in return was...

For Jason to visit more

Because he was still upset about not having all of his kids home for Christmas

And bring you with him

it was high time you met everyone and became an official member of the family, he already knew exactly where your portrait would go

And despite his hesitance, you wanted to be a part of Jason's entire life, not just a hidden piece

Jason could never say no when you did a terrible impression of puppy dog eyes

So this is how it started; the start of the bats spoiling the hell out of you

After a couple of dinners together, lunch, and a tour around the manor and the batcave, seeing all of their old and new suits, ("Tell me you didnt actually wear this." "Shut it, I was a child." "I'm a child and I'd rather die than ever touch this."), with you glued to Jason's side always, packages started showing up at the doorstep

At first it'd be cute and silly things like a plush of the newest Pokémon and matching scarves for the incoming winter

Maybe even their own merch, because they're all losers deep inside

Then it was Bruce taking over any kind of expenses you and Jason had because, in his words, he wanted Jason to focus on raising you instead of worrying about rent

–Not like he wasn't already using Bruce's money to pay for everything

But he still felt begrudgingly soft at having his dad care for him and his kiddo like that, though he'd never admit it–

And then Babs and Tim upgrading the cyber security all around your block in the chance of a villain attack or any creeps following you home

From Duke and Cass asking Jason to spend time with you for some bonding time to your entire wardrobe turning into designer and your school materials updated by Wayne tech

Fuck, you even had terribly expensive yet thoughtful action figurines from your and Damian's favorite animated shows

The brat tried to hate you for ripping everyone's attention away from him, for making Bruce and Dick all... gooey, but it was hard when you had Todd's knowing eyes and a developing charm that always cracked a smile out of him

Infuriating, like father like kid

But... he liked you, quite a lot

And, throughout it all, Jason was panicking bad

Look, Jason Todd was always a jealous person by nature

He never liked his things touched, never liked sharing his interests in case someone also got interested in it, and he was particularly possessive with the few romantic partners he had

So when your attention was suddenly split among all of his family, Jason felt a little upset

It's like when a cat that usually only likes you allows other people pet it

Jason didn't quite feel betrayed but... that childish fear of not being your favorite person was very real in his head

So he upped his game

Whenever any member of his family gave you a gift, he'd get something better the next day

If they took you to a cool place, say an arcade or the mall to hang out and get to know you better

Jason was already booking tickets to go to Universal and taking you out for nightly motorcycle rides

Damian was insisting on watching the new season of your favorite show?

Next weekend he'd have prepared the living room to look like a cinema, with snacks and popcorn, for a movie marathon

Babs and Steph got you interested in makeup?

Regardless of gender identity, you know Jason would watchevery YouTube tutorial known to man about makeup so you won't have to ask the girls about it

Bruce would grow all fond of you once you got past, but did not forgive nor forget, the things he's done to Jason and started interacting more with him

So once he's talking about how he learned multiple different languages growing up, during one of the monthly family dinners, Jason would already be Googling how to learn another language fast

And god forbid Dick messed with your hair

He was not above picking a fight with Nightwing for ruining the hairstyle he spent hours doing for you

Look, Jason wouldn't be as petty as to keep you away from his family

No, in the contrary, he really, really loved watching you be coddled and loved by some of the most powerful people on earth

Getting the childhood he had so desperately wanted

It allowed that restless part of his soul to settle knowing you had them looking out for you, always

But Jason also would always want to be your number one

Your favorite person

Your hero

You dad

Yeah, he could admit it now without fear, he's definitely your old man

How could he not be when he's cutting apples for your school snack and making sure you go to bed before nine?

Never mind his age, Jason even bought a grill so you two could barbecue on the rooftop, there's no other more dad move than that

So, after a few months of this real life sitcom, when you were both on the couch watching Pride & Prejudice (Jason's choice tonight), all cuddled up and cozy

You'd rest your head on his shoulder and sigh happily

"You don't need to do all this, you know?"

"Hm? Do what, kiddo?"

"Trying to one up everyone. It's funny and I'm not exactly opposed to being spoiled as hell–"

"You're such a brat."

"Shut up– but you'll always be my favorite, you know that, dad."

Oh.

Oh.

Ok. Wow. He was tearing up.

"Oh, fuck off, don't do this to me."

His voice would be a little wobbly as he hid his face in your hair, squeezing you gently in his arms

And you'd giggle and hug him tighter too, your face warming up nervously but no longer afraid of muttering that one little word that had been stuck in your throat for so long

You two were so, so similar in that regard, afraid of overstepping despite the bubbling emotions inside you, the overflowing love threatening to spill out

So much faith and trust, devotion, care, and adoration

And all it took was one sentence to make it all better

"I still wanna go to the convention next week, though."

And Jason would laugh, teary and almost breathless, and press a kiss to your forehead, feeling happier than he's ever felt

"Yeah, okay, you nerd."

Wonder who you got it from

That night solidified it for him, calming his anxieties and petty jealousy

Jason would always be your favorite person

And you wouldalways be his favorite little one

Nothing would ever change that

To be continued... for one last time.

[secretsandwriting]

Hi, can you please do from the SMAU prompts 1 with Damian Wayne?

Prompt List

Everyone in Gotham waiting for the announcement that ___ and Y/n are dating because it's obvious they're in love.