#wait for part 2 from alfred's side

[noonecareslol]

࣪˖ ִ ೀ 𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Hwang In-ho x Fem! Reader

Summary: When the games aren’t in session, and In-ho is lonely, he finds himself in the first row at the ballet. Watching you. Suddenly he's falling in love.

TW: Channeling my love for older men. Injury. Reader lowkey gets sad for a sec. Age gap (reader is 25 In-ho is 49). Just FLUFF! In-ho learning how to love someone again. Quite literally head over heels for you. Allusions to masturbation. Size kink if you squint.

WC! 5k Part 2! -> here!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It is quite obvious that In-ho is an old soul.

He enjoys old films, old clothing, old theatre, and old music. The little jazz set that plays, “Fly Me To The Moon” is a cherished possession of his, along with his vintage whiskey decanter.

He wears a musky cologne he’d been gifted by his late wife, and his closet is lined with leather dress shoes and perfectly pressed slacks. His dimly lit room on the island is vastly similar to the one in his Seoul apartment, everything perfectly neat and clean.

Yes, In-ho is an old soul.

And in between the games, when he would return to Seoul, he’d find himself bored. Especially during the night. He’d miss his wife, the whispered hope of a promised future.

Often he would distract himself by putting his whiskey decanter to good use, pouring the aged whiskey into his glass over and over again. He would linger by his shelf full of movies he’d seen hundreds of times, tracing his fingers along the cases until he landed on a title. A small smile would play on his lips before popping it into the DVD player and taking a seat next to his beloved cat.

He would find himself mumbling the lines as the actors spoke them on screen, his hand absentmindedly petting his cat. When the movie is over, and the quiet resumes, he’d move to his bedroom.

He’d ensure his cat followed before changing into his expensive pajamas and climbing into the king-sized bed. His cat would join him and he would drift to sleep, dreaming of, well, nothing.

He would close his eyes and wake up without any dream having occupied his mind.

This routine became comfortable. Each night he would get home from whatever he’d been doing before, drink, watch a movie, play with his cat, and sleep without any dreams.

But this night, this night was different.

It was a cold night. And all In-ho wanted to do was drown in glasses of whiskey and watch “Dial ‘M’ For Murder” with his cat.

But as he walked past a line of people waiting to enter a theatre, a poster caught his attention. He blinked once, twice, before walking toward the lit-up frame.

A strikingly beautiful ballerina caught his attention first. She held her arms elegantly above her head, her leg pointed behind her, her other leg resting on pointe as she looked to the side. She was breathtaking.

The Seoul Ballet Company Presents: Swan Lake

Opening Night November 1st

Suddenly the thought of whiskey and Alfred Hitchcock left his mind as he joined the line. I mean, who would miss out on opening night?

Especially when the lead was so pretty.

“We have one ticket left in the front row.” The woman behind the ticket booth clicked her pen unenthusiastically as she watched In-ho pull his leather vintage wallet out of his coat pocket.

A grin rested plainly on his lips as he fiddled with his cash, “That’s perfect. How much?”

The woman slowly turned and punched a few numbers into her register before turning back to him, “80,000 won.” She clicked her pen again.

“Do you have change for 100,000?” He held the two 50,000 won in front of him, watching as she stared at him blankly.

She blinked once before snatching the bills from his hands, “Nope!” In-ho sighed. For someone so slow she took those bills awfully fast.

In-ho drew his lips into a thin line before taking the ticket and placing it in his wallet, “Thanks.”

“Yeah enjoy the show or, like, whatever.” The woman took out her phone and began to text as he walked away, obviously not giving a shit about her job.

But as In-ho walked through the double doors, his breath caught in his throat. The theatre certainly did not disappoint his love for old architecture.

The large barrel vaulted ceilings were beautifully ornamented and adorned with intricately painted designs. Gorgeous crown molding edged the ceiling and stretched to the floor. And a large crystal chandelier rested as the centerpiece, warmly lit and inviting.

In-ho took his seat, a smile evident on his lips as he sighed contently. However, he hoped his cat wasn’t too worried about his whereabouts. Maybe she could come along next time? She is a very sophisticated cat, after all.

As the chandelier and house lights began to dim, the crowd became quiet with anticipation and excitement. And it would be dishonest to say that In-ho wasn’t a little excited as well.

He looked to his left at the woman sitting next to him. She was a small elderly lady with a pair of glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Her eyes were filled with excitement as she scanned through the pamphlet, a wide smile plastered on her face.

She wore a vintage necklace around her neck, layered with pearls. In-ho smiled, it was nice to see someone who also had a knack for old taste.

The soft notes of Swan Lake began to play, and In-ho watched as the curtains opened, revealing the beautifully decorated stage. Large trees with hanging vines arched over the set, greenery and flowers blending into the painted backdrop.

A foggy mist flooded the stage as dancers began to move elegantly across. But the lead had yet to make an appearance.

In-ho watched rather impatiently, and failed to notice the woman next to him lean in, “Right now, the prince is going hunting with his crossbow. But he will find that the white swan has turned into a beautiful woman, and has fallen under a curse.” The old woman pointed slightly to the prince, her voice whispering just loud enough for him to hear.

His eyes trained on the prince as he danced with his crossbow, “Thank you. I must look confused.”

The old lady gave a small laugh, “I used to dance for this company, i’ll never miss an opportunity to explain the ballet.”

In-ho watches as she subtly mimics the prince's moves, her hands moving elegantly in front of her. Her eyes were closed, the sound of the music bringing emotion to her face.

Her eyes flick open as the music changes softly, “Look.” Her eyes lighting up as she nods slightly to the stage.

In-ho watches as you finally take the stage, fluttering your feet as you move elegantly toward the prince. Your hands held high above your head, moving gracefully as you bourrée.

He watched as your back muscles contracted, moving as if you had wings. His eyes trained down to your legs and to your pointe shoes, watching as you danced with ease.

Your white feathered skirt moved along with you, the bodice elegantly framing you perfectly. The feathered piece in your hair catches In-ho’s attention, causing him to study your face.

That poster was nothing compared to your beauty.

You held a soft look, but In-ho didn’t fail to notice the focus that caused your eyebrows to furrow slightly. Your movements were soft and graceful, your demeanor innocent and melancholic.

You were perfect as the white swan.

You were perfect.

He wondered if you were just as innocent as you portray yourself to be, “God, she’s beautiful.”

The elderly woman hummed in agreement as she watched In-ho’s gaze remain sharp on the white swan, an all-knowing smile spread across her lips.

As the ballet continued it seemed that the rest of the audience had disappeared. In-ho felt as if you were only dancing for him. No one else.

He swore you looked at him a few times, him being the focus point of your graceful turns.

And when you transitioned into the black swan, all thoughts in In-ho’s head became dark.

Oh, how he liked this side of you.

Your movements were sharp, determined, and seductive. And he found himself adjusting in his seat as his slacks became increasingly tight. You were so close to him. Just a few feet from his touch as you danced on stage. He could take you right now. He could fuck you, make you feel things you’ve never felt before.

And as you leaped on the stage, the white swan jumping to her death, In-ho felt a tear slip from his eye. You were magnificent.

The audience filed out of the theatre, fanning themselves with their pamphlets and discussing the ballet. You had received a standing ovation, and In-ho took pride in being the first one to stand and clap.

He had finally caught your attention. And when you locked eyes with him as you bowed, you felt your brain turn to mush.

He was handsome. Like, extremely handsome.

His face was perfectly chiseled. His eyes crinkled as he flashed a perfect smile, his hair slightly falling in front of his face and covering his dark eyes.

You didn’t blink once as you remained under his gaze, and it wasn’t until another dancer pulled you up that you realized you were bowing for far too long.

You avoided his eye contact as you walked off, embarrassed he had made you turn into putty just by his stare.

And as In-ho exited the theatre, he took his time lingering by the lamp post. He’d secretly hoped to see you leave.

He doesn’t know what he would say if he did see you. Maybe he would compliment you, or ask you a meaningless question. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d push you against the lamppost, and let his desire consume you.

He’d just wait a little bit longer.

10 minutes.

15 minutes.

30 minutes.

The woman from behind the ticket booth locked the door as she brought down the metal gate, “Excuse me, did the woman who danced as the white swan leave yet?”

She turned around smacking her gum, “Yeah. Why?” She sized him up, placing a hand on her hip as she cocked an eyebrow.

In-ho felt his face flush, “I was just going to compliment her.” He put his cold hands in the pockets of his coat, shifting his weight onto his other foot.

“Yeah well,” The woman smacks her gum as she walks up towards In-ho, handing him a flier, “They have open practice every Friday. Tickets are only 10,000 won.”

He took the flier from her hand, folding it and sliding it into his pocket, “Thanks.” She nodded her head and walked past him, slipping into her jacket.

In-ho turned and started his walk to his apartment only a block away. When he arrived, he heard the familiar sound of meowing by his front door.

And as he opened the door, he came face to face with his cat waiting on the couch, “I’m sorry Elisabeth, but I’m too tired for a movie tonight.”

She gave an annoyed meow before reluctantly following him into his room, hopping onto the pillow beside his. In-ho got dressed in his pajamas, ready for another dreamless night as he slipped into the sheets next to Elisabeth.

But this time, it wasn't dreamless.

In fact, he had dreamed a very vivid dream.

He had dreamt of you.

And as In-ho woke up the next morning, his hand immediately went to his nightstand, picking up the flier.

It seems that the pretty ballerina has stolen his heart.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Plié! Ron de jambe, retiré! Good!" You held your arms in front of you, your right leg coming up at a bend, "Pas de chat, écarté! Don't rush it, Fiona!"

Your ballet teacher weaved between you and the other students, her tight bun sitting perfectly on her pointed head, "Développé, demi-pointe! No! Not pointe, demi pointe!"

Her thick French accent bellowed throughout the theatre, "Good y/n! Très bien!" A wide smile painted your lips as you continued your dance, your friend Fiona rolling her eyes at your praise. You giggled as you went into second, your arms outstretched to the side.

"Well done! Take a water break and stretch, we'll take five." You brought your hands to your knees, leaning over slightly as you caught your breath.

Fiona dramatically flopped on her back, a hand coming to her forehead as she breathed heavily, "I've died, she's killed me." You tossed her water bottle into her hand with a laugh as you sat next to her, your eyes scanning the theatre.

Familiar faces met your eyes. Elderly couples, former dancers, and little kids with their moms. Oh! And the man who you haven't stopped thinking about.

Wait.

You hit Fiona's shoulder hard, not taking your eyes off him, "Fiona. Fiona, look." She sat up, holding her shoulder as her eyes trailed to where you were subtly pointing.

"Oh, it's the hot dilf." Fiona took a drink from her bottle, watching as In-ho looked around while taking in the architecture.

You slapped her shoulder again, "Shut up! What if he hears you?" You get up from the ground, pulling Fiona up with you and tossing your water bottle back into your bag.

She followed suit, taking one last drink before tossing it in her own, "First off, stop hitting me. It's abuse." You rolled your eyes as you both took your spot by the barre, "Second, he's in the back corner of the theatre, he's not hearing shit. Except for our teacher's constant yelling."

You didn't respond, instead, you continued looking at him. His black turtle neck sweater hugged his biceps perfectly, and you didn't fail to notice his empty finger where a ring would sit.

"Okay! Lets continue! Tendu, plié! Ron de jambe, plié!"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It had been two months since In-ho first started spending his Fridays pining over you.

Each Friday, he would come home, change into an outfit he had dry-cleaned and pressed, feed Elisabeth, and head to the Theatre. He would take his spot in the far left corner, and watch as you danced and laughed with your friends.

He found himself looking forward to Fridays. Which is strange, because he's never looked forward to anything before. Well, besides the games. But he had been so focused on you, that he had fallen behind on his work. Something he'd never done before.

You plagued his mind.

He dreams of you. When he's asleep and awake. He'd find himself walking by the Theatre on other days when you were practicing, hoping to see a glimpse of you.

He found himself listening to Etta James and Nat King Cole more often than not. 'A Sunday Kind Of Love' and 'Unforgettable' filing his apartment as he cooked his dinners. 'My Fair Lady' and 'Gone With The Wind' replacing his classic mystery movies.

He even found himself stopping by flower boutiques, smelling the tulips and Orchids. He wonders what your favorite flower is. Perhaps it is Lilies, the flower that represents innocence and purity.

He wondered a lot if you were a virgin. Often imagining the feeling of your body under his large one late at night when he can't sleep, and when his hand finds itself under his pants.

You had him wrapped around your pretty little finger and you didn't even know it.

Vice Versa, you found yourself looking forward to Fridays as well.

It was the only day you could see the stranger who you had been thinking about constantly.

You liked his style, the way he carried himself with a confidence that intimidated you. His large frame towered over everyone, and he stood out from the crowd. He was perfect. It was as if god himself sculpted him with his own hands.

And oh my god.

You were down bad.

Fiona constantly teased you about it. Making fun of how you stopped wearing your loose cover-up, "Im just hot, that's all Fiona. It's warm in here." You lied. And Fiona was obviously aware of that.

You started offering to stay late with your teacher and help clean up, hoping to catch the stranger before he left. But your teacher always insisted you should go home and rest, and who were you to disobey her.

You've always been perfect. At school, at dance, at everything. When auditions came for Swan Lake, there was no question in anyone's mind about who would get the lead.

But since opening night, things have been slightly different. You often got distracted during practice, your eyes always finding the man in the back corner. You started falling out of your turns, forgetting to bring your pointe shoes, and, worse of all, you had been forgetting to point your toes.

And here you were. Walking to the center of the stage, ready to run through your variation in front of everyone. It was an easy variation, but the end was complicated. You had to do several pirouettes, which you have always been good at. But today you decided to test yourself.

You knew your teacher was becoming increasingly disappointed in you, it plagued your every thought. So, as you spun perfectly, you decided to see how many pirouettes you could perform.

17, 18, 19, 20.

Your leg is wobbling, but you choose to ignore it.

21, 22, 23-

You hear Fiona call your name as your foot slips out of pointe, twisting as you fall on top of it, "Oh my god!" The sickening sound of your ankle cracking causes your heart to drop. The stinging feeling of tears replaced by the overwhelming pain that was now shooting up your leg.

Everyone huddles around you as the teacher runs to call an ambulance, but Fiona kneels at your side, "I know this isn't the right time but, the dilf is running over here right now."

You close your eyes, trying to control your rapid breathing. You wished the stage would open around you and swallow you whole, just put you out of your misery.

In-ho jumps with ease onto the stage, his sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbow, "Move." He pushes past the dancers huddling over you and grabs your face.

Your eyes flick open at the feeling of warm hands pressed against your cheeks. Oh my god, he was holding your face. Your heart fluttered but you didn't notice, you were too worried about the fact that your ankle was bent the wrong way.

In-ho's hand softly brushes over your ankle, causing you to wince. At first, he's skeptical about touching you. Was it too fast? Too sudden? Too bold?

But he didn't have time to think it over as he put his strong arms under you, lifting you gently as he stood. Fiona watched with a smirk on her face as she saw shock fill your eyes, his biceps flexing as he pulled you close to his chest.

Without a word, In-ho steps down from the stage and carries you through the exit, "I have an ambulance coming!" Your teacher ran after him yelling, her typically neat bun somewhat loose and frizzy now.

In-ho motions to his pocket and Fiona responds, grabbing his car key and unlocking his Mercedez-benz, "It will take too long. I'll drive her."

For a split second, you catch his eye, and you could've sworn to god your pain disappeared for a moment. And if it were a different circumstance, In-ho would kiss you. He would kiss you right here with you in his arms.

But the shared look was short-lived as he very carefully sets you in the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt gently. Your ballet teacher leans down to the window, "Don't worry! Fiona can dance for you!"

Your heart shattered.

And tears began to flood. You ignored In-ho's words of reassurance as he took off, speeding to the hospital. The drive was quiet except for your soft cries. And In-ho wanted nothing more than to cradle you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

"Im sorry im getting your car dirty." You looked at the tear-stained headrest you laid against, wiping your sore eyes with the back of your hand.

In-ho cuts a car off as he turns, ignoring the beeps from the angry driver, "It's okay. I have another one." The subtle money brag wasn't missed by you. In-ho just wanted to impress you.

"What are you? Like a CEO or something?" You turned to face him, giving a pitiful sniffle as he gave another sharp turn.

He chuckled, and you felt your heart beat faster. Was it because of the adrenaline? Or was it because the man whom you've become obsessed with is quite literally acting like your night in shining armor, "Im... Im a game show host."

You nodded, an impressive smile growing on your face, "That's cool. Im y/n by the way."

He flashes a smile, the same smile from the night you first saw him, and a blush creeps up on your tear-stained cheeks, "You're sitting there, with a fucked up ankle, and you're making small talk?"

You suddenly feel embarrassed. He's just some random guy who happened to be in the right place at the right time, nothing more. "Sorry. Just trying to distract myself."

In-ho frowns. Did he say the wrong thing? His grip tightens on the steering wheel, "No! Don't be sorry. If I'm being honest, I've been dying to know your name."

His eyes flick to you before looking back in front of him, "Im Hwang In-ho." A small smile creeps onto his lips as he pulls to a stop in front of the ER.

"Well, Mr. Hwang, it's nice to meet you."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Well, it looks like you have a fracture." You give a long exasperated sigh as the Doctor holds up the X-rays, "The fibula is fractured below the level of the syndesmosis, which is the joint between the tibia and fibula."

You look at In-ho, who, for some reason, seems more stressed than you do, "What's the healing process like? Will she need surgery?" Your head snapped to the doctor at the mention of surgery. Surgery for dancers is like a death sentence.

No. More. Dancing.

"Fractures like these are considered stable, meaning that they are unlikely to worsen with correct treatment and management. You'll just need to wear a boot for a while." The doctor noticed how your concerned look didn't falter, and gave a sigh before placing a hand on your shoulder, "You can still dance."

The breath you were holding escapes your lips as you feel a heavy weight fall off your shoulders, "Thank you so much." The doctor rubs your shoulder before leaving, instructing the nurse to fit you for a boot.

In-ho watches as you close your eyes, a smile resting on your face. He cocked his head, how could you be so beautiful in a moment like this? His eyes take a minute to trail down your body, taking you in, something he's grown fond of doing.

Your hair is a mess, your cheeks are red and tear-stained, your ankle looks like a snapped twig, and you're picking at your cuticles. But god.

You are perfect.

Just as beautiful now as you were months ago.

An unfamiliar feeling has taken over his chest ever since he saw you. A tightening, warm feeling that he hasn't felt in years. At first, he ignored it. Maybe it was just heartburn? But as it progressed, he got worried. The next thing you know a doctor is laughing in his face.

Calling it 'love'.

In-ho immediately left after he heard that, making sure to write a very passive-aggressive review on Yelp. What doctor diagnosed a patient with 'being in love'?

In-ho was not in love.

...

...

Right?

It wasn't until he watched 'Funny Face' that he realized the estranged doctor was correct. The moment Fred Astaire saw Aubrey Hepburn and was immediately captivated by her beauty, he knew it was true.

He didn't care that he was more than twenty years older than you, or that he had bigger things to worry about, all he cared about was you.

And that made him so confused.

You had managed to captivate his heart, soul, and body. And he felt like a teenager with his first crush all over again. So as he saw you look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, he couldn't help what happened next.

He stood from his chair, taking large steps towards your frame. You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him stand between your legs, careful not to hit your ankle.

His big hands reach down and grab your face, slamming your lips into his own. Your eyes grow wide, confusion flashing across your face before slowly giving in, pulling his head down lower.

His touch was gentle, the opposite of his kiss. His hands softly caressed your red cheeks, while his lips hungrily chased after your own.

You tugged at the baby hairs that rested on the back of his neck, desire and hunger feeding off you as he slipped his tongue into your pretty mouth. A low growl escaped his swollen lips, and you felt arousal begin to pool between your thighs.

You whine as he removes his hand from your face and steps back, crossing his arms. His gaze has always been intimidating. But now that he's seen you fall on your ass, cry, and melt under his touch all in one day, it is much more intimidating.

You've been vulnerable in front of him. Something you could never do before. But you didn't care if he saw your flaws, you were perfect to him.

He saw a future when he looked at you. He saw a family, something he had longed for many years ago. He saw hope, love, and promise.

He saw you.

Beautiful, perfect, irresistible you.

And as he looked at you, only one question entered his mind.

"Do you want to meet my cat?"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

a/n: chat. its 2 am. but i am DETERMINED to post this. i just love you guys sm mwah mwah. also, wasn't in a smut mood. still getting used to writing smut LMAO.

also random disclaimer: i have never done ballet. so if any terms are wrong or if my spelling is trash PLS LMK!

@bohemiandelilah @menabuser16 @verouys @speedymagazinewhispers @metalbaby2 @nellabear @marymun @orihime188 @nanascupid @fnl9zer @chasinghxran @crystalizia @auspicious-lilana @machipyun @cdej6 @namelesslosers

[clockwayswrites]

More DoMAYn D5 Cont Chapter 2, Part 2

masterpostish just look at day 5. mental abilities iffy, please no con crit or editing <3

Danny, Jason, and Mr. Wayne all pile into the back of a car that Vlad would be jealous off. Neither of the adults even blink at the mud that’s getting on the floor and seats from the graveyard. Still, Danny tries not to fidget too much and make the mess worse.

Jason still has Danny’s sleeve in his grip, even as he’s leaning heavily against his dad. It means that Danny can’t get the seat belt in, but Alfred is driving like he’s got the most precious cargo so it doesn’t really matter.

“We need to go to Leslie’s,” Mr. Wayne says.

Alfred gives a nod. “I’ve already notified her that we’re on the way. She’ll be expecting us at the staff entrance.”

“Danny, are you hurt at all?”

Danny can’t help but start a little at that. “What? Oh, no, I’m okay. I just helped Jason out.”

“Leslie is a doctor and close family friend, we’re going to her clinic. If anything is wrong, they can see to it,” Mr. Wayne explains.

Danny shakes his head. What’s all the concern about? “No, really, I’m okay. Just a little cold and muddy.”

“How long were you out there, dear boy?” Alfred asks from the front.

“Just a few hours.” With his parents were gone ghost hunting, it was easy enough to just leave when he needed to. Sure, he planned in extra time to make sure he got there and find the graveyard and the plot, but he had his phone to entertain him.

Mr. Wayne is watching him with too seeing eyes. “So, you knew to be there?”

Fuck. “Um, the sticky notes.”

Searching around in his backpack one handed is a little hard, since Jason won’t let him lean far, but he manages to grab the slightly crumpled square of bright green paper with the time, plot number, and cemetery name on it.

Mr. Wayne takes the note like it’s something that could explode. “Do you know who these come from?”

“Yeah?” Danny’s nose scrunches up at that. “I’m not going to listen to strange notes from someone I don’t know.”

“Well, that is wise,” Alfre says. He almost sounds amused for some reason that Danny doesn’t get.

It seems safest just to be quiet for the rest of the drive. Besides, his silence gives Mr. Wayne tie to focus on his son. Danny listens without trying to as Mr. Wayne checks over Jason’s battered fingertips. Jason’s answers are stilted, but Danny thinks that Jason is already speaking more clearly. When Jason’s voice starts getting rough, Danny offers the thermos.

“It’s just tea,” he explains, looking at Jason rather than Mr. Wayne. “I thought Jason would be cold, you know, being underground all that time, so I brought it with me. He’s had some apple slices too and an oatmeal cookie.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Alfred comments. “We were in such a rush, we brought nothing with us.”

“Oh, no, yeah, course you were,” Danny says. “I’m sure that was… startling.”

“To say the least, but in the very best way,” Alfred says. He catches Danny’s eye in the rearview mirror for a moment. “In Gotham, you learn to accept the impossible.”

Danny nods as if he understands.

-

Arriving at the clinic is a flurry of activity. Mr. Wayne helps Jason into a waiting wheelchair. Alfred ushers Danny out of the car. There’s an older woman with kind eyes and a stern voice directing everything. Before Danny can even protest he has a fuzzy fabric hooked up to a tube squeezing his arm. He’s seated next to Jason because Jason wouldn’t stop trying to move until Danny was close enough to touch.

“I’m fine?” Danny tries to tell the nurse.

“Hold out your other hand please,” the nurse says instead of listening and sticks what Danny guesses is some sort of monitoring thing around Danny’s fingertip.

“Bruce,” the older woman says, a firm question in the man’s name. She has Bruce pulled off to the side and her voice low.

“Alfred got a call just after eleven,” Bruce says with a little motion, “from someone named Danny that he was in the cemetery with Jason. Alfred heard Jason over the line, got me, and we as quickly as we could. And… there he was, Leslie, just sitting there.”

The woman, Leslie, Danny guesses, shoots a glance towards them. “He looks like Jason.”

“He knew me,” Bruce agrees.

Clone? With transferred memories?” Leslie asked, as if that was a normal thing to just have to ask.

“We haven’t run any DNA yet,” Bruce says back, unphased.

“No, it’s Jason,” Danny protests. He doesn’t care that he’s not supposed to hear from so far away, he wouldn’t let Jason be doubted like this. “As long as Jason is who was in that grave, then that’s Jason. I helped pull himself out myself!”

“It is simple that the earth was hardly disturbed that brings questions,” Alfred soothes.

“That’s because—it’s just… I’m a—a meta!” Danny says. It’s… enough the truth. He reaches out a hand and waves it through the machine the cuff is connected too. “I heard him screaming in his coffin. I pulled him out!”

Jason grabs Danny’s hand as soon as it’s solid and clings to it. “I’m—I’m me. I don’t—I… I remember dying. Dad, I remember d-dying. There was so much smoke. The door wouldn’t open and-d I t-tried…”

Mr. Wayne is across the room in an instant and has Jason wrapped up in a hug. Danny looks away, as if he can give them any privacy being right there. Leslie at least gives him a distraction by coming over to take off the weird cuff and finger thing.

He doesn’t like the way she crouches down in front of him though.

“It’s Danny, right?” she asks. It’s like she’s using a ‘teacher voice’ but one step to the side. It’s weird.

“Yeah,” Danny answers anyways.

“Danny, how long were you out in the cold?”

“Why does everyone care about that?” Danny asks in what is totally not a whine. “It was only a few hours.”

“Well, Danny, I’m asking because your blood pressure and pulse are both really low,” Leslie explains. “Is that normal for you?”

“Oh, is that what those were measuring?” Danny asks with a little shrug. “I don't know? I don’t feel that different from normal. Like, I’m just a little tired but it’s been a busy day, you know?”

“I’m sure it has,” she agreed in that same patient voice. “When was the last time you were to a doctor?”

When had it been? Was that weird? “Since I was little, I guess? My parents are biologists, and they just take us to the pharmacy for shots and things.”

“Well, Danny, since you’re here and we’re going to be running some tests on Jason anyways, how about we run some tests on you t—”

“No!” Danny is up and out of the chair before she can even visit. He can’t go far because, well, Jason, but he’s not going to stay sitting down for this. “Nope. No tests. I’m not a lab rat.”

Leslie is almost frustratingly calm. “You’re not, and no one is going to try and make you into one. I just would like to make sure you’re healthy. How about this, any test we do on Jason, you can watch. If I think it would be a good one for you to do, I’ll ask and you can decide if you want to or not, okay?”

Danny chews on his lip as he thinks that over. Slowly, he nods. If he can always say no later, it doesn’t hurt to agree for now, he figures.

It makes Leslie smile. “Great. We’re going to start by taking care of Jason’s hands, okay?”

Danny doesn’t really have any say in that, but he nods anyways. Mostly just because one of Jason’s hand is in his. As it is, they take care of one hand before having Danny swap sides, and then take care off the other. They make Danny scrub up in between and change into some clean, if too big, sweats, but he’s fine with that. He doesn’t want to be anything that makes Jason sick.

They take the chance to weight Danny and take his height during that, but those are fine. That’s normal, right?

He tucks himself between the wall and the exam chair thing Jason is one when he gets back in the room. Jason’s bandaged hand finds his sleeve.

“This is just a basic reflex test,” Dr. Leslie explains as she taps on Jason’s knee with a prehistoric looking tool. Jason’s knee jerks forward. “Your reflexes are a little slow right now, Jason, but if you did just… come back, there might be some rigor mortis still in play. Jason, do you feel stiff?”

Jason nods slowly. When he speaks it’s very carefully, as if his tongue doesn’t want to listen. “Everywhere. Like… when had that bad flu. All fuzzy too… it’s hard to… yeah.”

Dr. Leslie breathes deeply and lets it out slowly. “Okay. There’s only so much we can do here, but let’s run through some more tests.”

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

✧✦✧ Chapter 3 ✧✦✧

Hello Father, Die

Warning this part contains: Cursing, Hallucinations (Schizophrenia maybe), mentions and descriptions of a noose, Murderous and Violent thoughts, Trauma Triggers (MC's), Dark Themes(not the settings btw) and Typos&Badwriting Combo.

Note: a bit long fic that was supposed to be short, this is more of the relationship between Bruce and MC as well as a special pov from someone after this it'll be short shots with the rest of the family unless-

MASTERLIST Pages ↻ 2 , 4....➣

Now Playing

↻◁ ||▷↺Sucker - Markus King (Arcane) ılıılıılılılıılıılı

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It's suffocating.......

Everything is choking me.....

Death clings to me like my own skin as I walk along the bloody trench I dig by myself.

Every hand from my past and other life reaches out and tugs onto my skin and soul begging for another chance.

but not this time.

My light at the end of this long unwinding tunnel is just beyond reach.

I won't stop until I get what I want, I won't until I get what I deserve.

As the stormy night passes by Gotham, I wake up to my new bed that Alfred prepared me last night.

I begged Alfred to let me stay near him so he gave in and fixed up a guest room near his own quarters, a good decision on my part that's for sure.

A room far away from my old bedroom and a safer one closer to Alfred, a slight change that I hope won't fuck up the reset.

Looking around I observe the barren room and walls, just a few pieces of furniture, a bed, a shelf, and a door to a medium size toilet and bathroom.

'Better get fixed up, We're hungry' they poke my back as I see a towel placed conveniently by the knob of the open bathroom door.

Nodding my head as I hummed in agreement before entering and closing the door.

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Heading out, I quickly trace back my way into the kitchen and see Alfred whipping up something on the marbled counter with a few cups and bowls scattered around yet in an organized and clean manner.

Walking up I stare at the ingredients on what I could guess would be the breakfast for the other one inhabiting this 'house'.

I see them peek out their head from the corner of the counter and poke the bowls pretending to be like a cat while words scribble at the ingredients like 'yummy' or 'bleugh-'

I stood at the ledge since I was back to being my kid size, only my eyes reaching the top of the surface and silently watching Alfred prepare, it didn't take him less than a minute to notice me but I could see him slightly tensing when he look into the corner of his eyes.

'Never the jumpiest in the family before' they say as tilt their head behind Alfred's shoulder as the word 'Jumpy' flashes at the back of the butler's form.

"Good morning, Mr. Alfred". I quietly said to him as I shifted my attention to the whirling electric mixers that were mixing the pancake batter.

"Good morning as well Young Master". He returned my greetings before turning the mixer and properly faced me.

"May I ask hold long have you been waiting there?". He wonders as he picks up the metal bowl and turns to fire up the stove.

"More than 5 minutes, I'm used to waking up early Mr. Alfred". I tell him as I observe him, hearing him hum before I continue to watch him and get lost in my daydream.

'Since I missed meeting Bruce I'd wonder when he'll pop up now' I wondered before a loud scratching record screech on my ear made me wince and the hairs on my neck stood up as I heard them whisper frantically.

'He's here! run run run run run runrunrunrunRUNRUNRUN GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY-!' They scream and yell as their voice pounded on the walls and the shadows swirl around the room I see their polished leather shoes rounding the entryway in the corner of my eye then everything vanishes by the sound of his voice.

"Alfred, Is -oh". I hear him behind me as I watch Alfred side-eye my form before moving his sight to the figure behind me who by the sound of his reaction probably notices me quickly.

"Good morning Master Bruce, Breakfast shall be done in 10 minutes but for now-". He greets him slowly moving towards me and lays a hand on my shoulder.

"I believe you have someone who needs your attention this morning". Alfred finishes -his words making us scoff in my head- as he gently turns me to look at 'him'.

'Traitor' they snarl at Aflred before hiding behind me with a swish 'His Attention? let's see how long that fucking last' they grumble as they wrap their arms around my waist.

Finally looking at him I fought within myself not to jump on his face and slap the daylights out of him-

Many things are scribbled on his face, his whole features are crudely crossed out, large and pointy horns stood above his head longer than the ones on his cowl, a large drawing of a sick grin over his mouth and crosses on his eyes as many things, horrible things floated around him like a halo yet a big fucking 'SUCKER' was written behind his head as I see 'them' perched on his shoulders tying what looks to be a large noose around his neck.

'Hello Father' they giggled before their voice venomously spit out 'Die' as they pulled the rope up and-'

Quickly blinking it away I stare back at him again not saying a thing with a light tired frown on my face, studying his face one more time as I move my eyes to his also tired ones that have a little bit of eyebags under, his wrinkled skin on his forehead and corner of the eye despite being on his younger adult version.

'Guess trauma is a motherfucker'

I look away from him and greet him quietly not wanting to look at him no more longer than a minute.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne" I whispered and stared at Alfred's pants and the marble flooring respectively.

I hear him sigh and feel him lower down to my height as I hear him reply back a greeting.

"Hello and.......who might you be?". He asks as I peek back and see him on one of his knees as he tilts his head.

"-......- " I only stare at him before whispering my name and turn away again but move as far as I can and stand by the other side of the island and hide behind.

I can hear the two adults talk behind me but I ignore them anyway and close my eyes.

'Bruce Wayne, my biological father, my real father, he........I know in myself that he was never a 'bad' father, I knew because he cares about the rest of his ward or adopted children but in all of my life has he never gone through most of those with me'

My hands tremble as I feel them wrap theirs around mine as they whisper to me 'He's a poor sucker, let him go'.

'He wasn't abusive or anything but he never was there for me, it's either he's never enough or I was never enough, All I asked of him was to love me, I never wanted to be a robin or batgirl, I never wanted to be the best, I never wanted to be anything more but his child'

'It's fine, he can kill us again if he wants to' They said as their hands cupped my face and tilted it up I saw their face clearly and their pearly white shark smile widened on their lips.

Because We're already dead inside 

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Hope this ain't that dark

[green-butterfly-writes]

Little Thief (Part 4)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Summary: Bruce arrives home in the middle of patrol with a cold, broken, scarred kid in his arms and no explanation as to where they came from. Alfred takes care of them.

Notes: this is from Alfred’s perspective, so you also get no context as to how little fox ended up here :)

Trigger Warning for implied/reinforced child and animal abuse. Also Alfred helps reader strip and shower, but that is explicitly consensual.

I'm Dyslexic, and don't have a beta, so spelling mistakes are likely to happen.

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Alfred Pennyworth was convinced that Bruce had an adoption addiction. The man couldn’t seem to go more than a couple years before coming home with another child clinging to his cape. Alfred was certain that one of these days he’d get fed up with the ever-expanding list of people he had to care for, and yet every time he laid eyes upon another unfortunate soul brought in by his own sad little orphan boy, his heart melted with care. He loved every one of the young masters with all his heart and soul. He loved his family even if it did expand in the most inconvenient and sudden of ways.

Like now, standing in the cave, looking upon the imposing figure of the Batman, and the child cradled carefully in his arms. The kid had tangled, unkempt hair, soaked, muddy clothes, and bruises just barely visible from beneath the sleeve of their oversized shirt. They gripped onto the long black cape like their life depended on it, and stared Alfred down over their shoulder with blurry, unforced eyes.

“This is Alfred,” Batman’s low voice echoed into the silence of the cave, “I trust him with my life, and so do the others.” The look in the child's eyes softened slightly, and their grip on the cape relaxed. “He will help you.” 

“If you’re willing,” Alfred quickly corrected, not wanting to scare off the child. It was intended to be an offer, but unless you were familiar with how Bruce cared for those around him, it would probably sound like a command. 

After a moment of hesitant consideration, the shaking figure clutched in the Batman’s arms nodded in approval. 

“They are having difficulty walking, so I’ll carry them for now” Bruce informed, and so Alfred led the way up out of the cave, through the first floor and up to the second, into the wing that housed all of the bedrooms, and into a (thankfully just cleaned) guestroom. When that got to the ensuite bathroom Alfred motioned for Bruce to set the child on the rather long countertop.

“Alfred will take care of you from here, ok?” Bruce double checked, and the child answered with a more confident nod, as Alfred sped around the bathroom adjusting the water temperature and gathering supplies.

Once Bruce left the guest room, Alfred turned to his new responsibility. 

“Can you remove the clothes yourself, or would you like my assistance?” The child hesitantly nodded, before pulling off their cold muddy shirt. “You can just drop it on the floor, I’ll clean it later,” he proved at the lost expression they made immediately after. He helped balance the frail kid so they wouldn’t stand on their injured leg while taking off their pants and then helped them to the stool he had set up in the bathtub.

“I’ll wait outside the door, you can yell if you need anything,” he paused for a moment after the words left his mouth — realizing he hadn’t actually heard them speak a word, ��or throw something at the door”

The kid obediently nodded again, and Alfred left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

He sat on the bed and tried to make a to-do list for tomorrow, or consider alterations to the dinner he served tonight, or think about the book Jason recommended to him, to contemplate anything—anything but the cuts and bruises that littered the skin of the malnourished child on the other side of that door. To focus on something other than how badly he wanted to wrap that poor, frail, scarred kid in a soft, warm blanket and hold them in his arms and never let go. 

A thunk sounded from the bathroom as something collided with the bathroom door. Alfred took that as his que to carefully announce his presence, and enter.

“What can I help you with?” He asked, picking up the hairbrush that had been launched at the door. 

“Can you please help with my back? I can’t get it,” came a quiet, tired voice. It was soft, and almost defeated sounding. Alfred made a mental note to make some soup, so they could eat something warm after they rest.

Alfred grabbed a fresh washcloth from the counter, wet it lightly, and pumped a healthy amount of liquid soap onto it before looking to his next task. 

He tried to make his sharp inhale as quiet as possible. He hadn’t noticed before, trying to rush out of the bathroom to give the newcomer some privacy, but their back was littered with scars. Some small, some large. Some seemed neat and medical, thin lines left by careful stitches. Others were thick and jagged, remnants of an injury that never got properly treated. ‘Never again’ echoed like a mantra through his mind ‘I’ll make sure that never happens again’

He lifted the soft washcloth to their back and softly scrubbed off the mud and grime that clung to it. He carefully rubbed up the back of their neck and down their shoulders, making sure to grab every speck of dirt they couldn’t. He tried not to pay too much attention to how dark the water ran. 

With the shower finished and the water off, he wrapped the now clean child in the softest towel he could find and carefully carried them back to the counter, horrified by how easy it was. He helped dry their hair as they toweled off their body, and then dressed them in what clothes he could grab on such short notice (a freshly washed hoodie from Jason and a pair of shorts from when Bruce was much younger and smaller). Then he banged the cut on the child’s face, put a brace on their ankle, and some cream on their dry hands. 

He helped the kid waddle out of the bathroom and into the bed, tucking them in securely, and returned to the bathroom to clean up. 

When he left not even ten minutes later, he found the child curled up on themselves like a ball, nose tucked into the neck of the hoodie, gripping onto the bed like letting go might kill them. He watched for a moment, continuing the seconds between each rise and fall of their chest, making sure everything was ok. They'd need food, and a more thorough medical exam later, but for now they needed sleep.

“I hope your dreams are kinder to you than life has been.” he whispered before exiting the room.

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Thank you all so much for reading! Let me know what you think 💚

Notes:

Sorry for disappearing for… *checks notes* a month 😅, I rewrote this chapter 5 times. hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner

[deebris]

The Mysterious Visitor 1

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: On a cold, snowy dawn, a naive young girl knocks on the door of Wayne Manor in search of her brother, whom she hasn't seen in a long time.

Warnings: The reader is 13 years old and is Damian's twin sister; the tone of the story is somewhat sad.

Word count: 2.1k

Note: I felt the need to emphasize that Talia is very attached to the reader and kept her hidden from Bruce. Although it's obvious that the reader is their biological daughter, I still haven't specified her physical characteristics.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

It was late at night when the doorbell of Wayne Manor rang. Much to Alfred’s dismay, he seemed to be the only one awakened by the sound, as he didn't hear anyone else getting up to answer the door. Whoever was waiting outside seemed patient, or perhaps shy, since it took a good two minutes for the bell to ring again. A single chime, just like the first time.

It was snowing now; no one would be crazy enough to show up in the middle of the night in this cold unless it was something important. Because of this, Alfred hurried to slip on his slippers, moving as quickly as he could to the entrance, but still cautiously peering through the peephole to see who the visitor was.

All he could see was the top of the head of someone very short, with a few strands of hair standing up, covered in snowflakes.

“Who is it, Alfred?” The sudden question from behind didn’t scare him, but it did surprise him. Dick had been awakened by the sharp sound of the doorbell the second time it rang and came down quickly to check.

“I don’t know yet, Master Dick,” the butler replied, intrigued, glancing quickly at the boy to see him rubbing sleep from his eyes. Alfred noticed how he stepped forward, obviously cautious about who might be on the other side. “I can handle this, sir,” he stopped him while turning the knob and opening the door without giving him a chance to protest.

Alfred tightened his robe as he felt the cold air rush in, ruffling the white hairs on his head and making the hairs on his arm stand up. He looked in astonishment at the young girl standing before him, clearly suffering from the outside temperature. Her lips were trembling and chapped, with a trace of dried blood coming from one of the cracks. Her rapid breathing also did not go unnoticed, forming a cloud with each exhale.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asked with furrowed brows, feeling pity for her condition. Perhaps she was just a street child seeking shelter; you didn’t seem dangerous in any way.

“I-is this the W-Wayne Manor?” The question came out stuttered, and your eyes had a confused expression. He wasted no more time and extended his arm to pull you inside. It didn’t seem right to leave you out there.

“Come in, come in. Don’t stay out there, it’s not healthy.” He had that concerned, almost paternal tone, and you didn’t refuse his gesture. You grabbed the old man in a hug to keep safe from the cold, grateful he didn’t push you away. In fact, he pulled you closer, placing both hands around you and guiding you to the largest couch in the room.

“It’s just a girl,” he announced to Dick, who had been trying to peek at your figure since the door had opened.

“And who is she?” Dick moved closer, sitting on the couch facing the one where you and Alfred were seated and embraced. You didn’t seem to want to leave Alfred’s side anytime soon, appreciating the warmth he provided, clutching him firmly.

“What is your name, dear?” You heard the old man’s question, but it took you a while to respond. Alfred didn’t mind being ignored, or at least he thought he would be, already averting his eyes from you until your fragile voice was heard.

“Y/n,” you pronounced your name simply, so quietly it could only be understood due to the common silence of the early morning.

“What were you doing out there? Where are your parents, young lady?” Alfred pressed on with more questions, rubbing one of his hands on your back to bring comfort.

Now that he could look at you more attentively, he saw how well-dressed you were. And just by feeling the fabric of your coat, he knew it was an expensive garment. Your knowledge of Wayne Manor also didn’t escape him. It didn’t seem like something important to note in this situation, but you certainly weren’t an abandoned child; you were probably lost and knew them somehow.

His question seemed to upset you, as you turned your face to hide it, avoiding giving an answer. He noticed your reaction and decided to change the subject: “Let’s take off this coat and get a blanket. What do you think?” He moved you away, already pulling the sleeves of the garment off your arms, and you didn’t resist. The coat was damp from the snow and definitely no longer served to keep you warm.

“She’s going to get hypothermia if she stays like this,” Dick said hurriedly as he went to get a blanket, finding a thick enough one on one of the armchairs. Someone must have left it there before going to bed.

“I will light the fireplace,” you heard the old man say as he got up from the couch and picked up some sort of stick, probably a large lighter, to start the fire.

You opened your mouth to try to thank him, but stopped yourself, finally feeling shy upon realizing you were in strangers’ home. You felt a large, soft blanket wrap around you, turning your eyes to see the tall boy crouched in front of you, draping it over your shoulders.

“In a few minutes, you’ll feel better.” His voice sounded genuinely concerned, and you felt guilty for disturbing their night. You regretted disobeying your mother; you were supposed to be home now.

Dick saw your lost look, wondering who you were. Your expression was distant, and he thought you were lost in thought, until he felt your hand grab his wrist, preventing him from getting up. Your touch was gentle, yet cold, and now your eyes were focused on his.

“Does Damian live here?” you asked hopefully.

“Damian?” This caught him off guard. He was confused, processing for a few seconds what he had heard. From his confused tone, you felt your hopes fading, thinking he had no idea who you were talking about, but his next words encouraged you a little more: “How do you know him?”

You hesitated. At first, you weren’t sure if they were trustworthy, and your mother always said to be careful with whom you spoke. Growing up within the League of Assassins made you aware of how evil some people could be, and having grown up under Talia’s extremely protective arm, who treated you like an untouchable jewel, you were limited to conversations with few people, developing an abnormal fear of strangers. But bad people wouldn’t have taken you in as they did, would they?

“We’re siblings. Is he here?” Your confession didn’t carry the same weight for you as it did for the two men in the room. Alfred heard well, and like Dick, widened his eyes. Neither of them remembered Damian ever mentioning he had a sister. If you were truly an al Ghul, where was Talia? That woman might have had the blood of a viper, but she didn’t seem like the type to let her daughter wander alone at night.

“You said… He’s your brother?” Although Dick’s question was directed at you, he looked at Alfred, who returned an intrigued frown.

“Yes.” Your voice sounded simple to him, still not noticing the tension in the room.

“Master Dick,” Alfred said his name as a cue to follow him, walking away from the couch, and the boy quickly stood up. You found it strange and turned your neck to see them going to talk in the corner of the room in whispers, watching them with curiosity.

“I think it would be wise to inform Master Bruce.” The butler sighed, trying to speak as softly as possible, knowing you were watching them. “If she is Ra's al Ghul’s granddaughter, it’s convenient to take her home as soon as possible and avoid any unnecessary conflict with the League of Assassins.”

“You think she ran away from home?” Dick asked, turning to see you, who now was no longer watching them but had your gaze down, playing with your hands.

“I suppose so,” Alfred said punctually, moving away and walking to the stairs, climbing them with his usual formal posture. “I’ll wake him up. Stay here.” He seemed calm, but inside he was worried.

“Right…” Dick murmured to himself while taking slow steps back to the couch. He analyzed your face for a few seconds before sitting hesitantly beside you. You were almost disappearing inside that blanket, wrapped up like a cocoon, and he found it a bit amusing. All he could see was your head and hands.

You didn’t bother to say anything, nor did he. Instead, he clasped his hands together and paid attention to anything else, trying to hold back the urge to ask questions but couldn’t help himself: “So, you’re Talia’s daughter?”

“You know my mother?” You raised your gaze, and your tone was excited by the possibility.

“Not personally.” He picked at his nails before deciding to keep the conversation going, as the silence was becoming too uncomfortable: “My name is Dick, by the way. But you probably know that.”

“The old man is your grandfather?” For the first time, you referred to Alfred as “the old man” out loud, which made him smile amusedly. Dick found it funny how the nickname sounded innocent, imagining how the man would react knowing someone had referred to him like that.

“It's like he was. He's family.”

“Is Dami your family now?” You asked, trembling with the answer. It wasn’t something to be proud of, but you couldn’t help feeling jealous, and you hated it. It was an excruciating feeling, mixing sadness, anger, and other confusing emotions.

Dick frowned at your question. You seemed disappointed with the idea and it didn’t escape his notice how you were completely unaware of Damian’s current life. It’s been more than two years since he came to live here, enough time for Dick to see him as he always saw his other brothers and participate in patrols as an equal.

“He’s my brother too,” he tried to sound compassionate, and suddenly the silence returned, as you didn’t want to talk anymore and he didn’t know what to say. A lump formed in your throat and your heart felt heavy with each new beat. “How old are you?” He tried again, this time changing the subject.

“Twelve,” you answered immediately, but then shook your head and corrected yourself: “Thirteen.”

“Twelve?” Dick repeated the first answer to try to confirm, letting out a muffled laugh at your strange confusion.

“It’s thirteen.”

That was impossible. Damian was thirteen.

“I still haven’t gotten used to the new age. My birthday was on Monday.”

Damian’s birthday was on Monday.

Dick swallowed hard. He lost his voice for a few seconds, trying to piece things together in his head. He felt his heart race with nerves, doubting if he had been hearing voices all along.

“Y/n, right?” He said your name, seeing you nod positively. “Are you and Damian by any chance… twins?”

You heard him well, but couldn’t help feeling your heart ache with sorrow. He had no idea who you were, even after you knew Damian saw him as a brother. The realization that Damian hadn’t even mentioned you was painful, and as you felt the tears start to roll down your cheek, you quickly wiped them away.

“Hey, hey. Why are you crying?” He moved closer, brushing your hair back with his fingers. You seemed to be the type to answer yes or no questions with gestures, as you nodded positively to him once again.

“Twins…” Dick whispered to no one, trying to come out of shock.

“Y/n,” he called your name hoping you would pay attention, but you continued trying to dry the unstoppable tears. “Y/n,” he called for the second time, and you finally looked at him again.

Now, analyzing your face after what he had just discovered, he finally noticed how much your features resembled Bruce’s. It was like he had been blind and now could finally see.

“Does the name Bruce Wayne mean anything to you?”

“He’s the owner of this house,” you said nonchalantly, as if that was all that mattered and you needed to know.

His next breath came out shaky, completely incredulous. ‘Damn Talia,’ he cursed mentally. This night would be long and, undoubtedly, very complicated.

[klemen-tine]

Glass Bones and Paper Skin Part 2

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

First Part

Part 3

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect, stalking

This is more of the family side than it is of Bruce. Next part will be everyone.

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“Young Master Y/N, what a pleasant surprise.” Y/N smiled at Alfred, opening their arms and sagging in relief once they hugged the butler. The three hour car ride had been tense, with everyone asking questions and Y/N trying their hardest to be polite while not losing it. The fashion show still fresh in their mind, and the clothing Francesca had given them was gently folded and placed in the trunk of the car. 

“It is good to see you, Alfred. It’s been too long.” The old man huffed, “Indeed. A year of only phone calls and cards does make it seem like it was a century ago since I last saw your face… in person.” Y/N smiled, giving Alfred a playful look before remembering where they are and how they got here. 

The smile on their face became practiced, expression smoothening out as they turned to face the rest of the family who were all waiting patiently. Dick was smiling brightly, unraveling his scarf and walking forward, “Hey Alfie, you should have seen our Y/N walk. They really made the show.” 

“I find it insulting they made you walk last,” Damian chimed and crossed his arms. Y/N gave him a small smile, “Being a closer is as much of a compliment as being the opener.” The young boy scrunched his nose, “I preferred the show in Paris.” 

“Francesca Gabbana designed the piece, Alfred you’ll have to see it.” Tim was the one carrying the case that had the piece in it. The old man hummed, “I saw it on the television, but perhaps seeing it in person will be better.” Jason shrugged, walking in and gently nudging Y/N with his larger shoulders, “Although, did she have to make the Bat symbol just the front piece? It barely covered anything.” Y/N could see his jaw clench like the very thought of other people seeing Y/N’s stomach. 

Bruce was the last to walk in, shrugging off his coat and hanging it over his arm, “Fashion designers do not care about function, only beauty.” Y/N smiled tensely, “It is a form of art.” The older man smiled at Y/N, and the model couldn’t get rid of the image of the Bruce they saw backstage. 

“Of course it is. One of the most demanding forms of art as well.” Y/N couldn’t place the tone, but there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Alfred shuffled, “Well, dinner is almost ready. Young Master Y/N, if you want you can wash up in one of the guest bathrooms. Your room is currently being used as a trophy room.” Y/N chuckled, “Oh dear, you’re not hanging up my photos are you?” 

“I did tell you I would be.” Y/N shook their head, “Thanks Alfred, but I don’t have any clothes here.” An arm swung around their shoulder, and Y/N stiffened under the sudden touch. Jason was smiling at them, “C’mon Y/N, we have some clothes for you.” Y/N felt the sudden spike again in their spine, alerting them that something was amiss and only bad things would happen if they asked questions. From how everyone was looking at them, Y/N specifically, it was like they were waiting for Y/N to ask. Impatiently waiting for that landmine to explode in front of them. 

“How kind of you, I wasn’t expecting that.” Y/N jumped over it. 

“Of course! How could we not have clothes ready for when our younger sibling comes home. Even though it’s been almost three years, I hope everything still fits right.” Just to land on another landmine. Y/N kept the smile on, years of being talked down to by photographers have helped them create the perfect mask of politeness. 

“So, which bathroom in which guest room?” Tim stepped forward and gently guided Y/N out from under Jason’s arm and further into the manor. Y/N stayed half a step behind, taking in the gothic manor and the decorations littering the hallway. 

Out of all the siblings, Y/N is closest with Tim. Not really siblings, and not really even friends, but if his relationship could be described as a length rope attached to each person, Tim’s would be the second shortest. Right after Alfred. They are close in age, and Tim was the first one to comment on Y/N’s photo when Y/N had first started modeling. 

It was only once, and it may have been in passing, but Y/N had held that interaction close to their heart. The first and last comment from a sibling about their modeling. An acknowledgement of sorts, that made Y/N momentarily believe that they were noticeable, only for that to be squished that same day. 

“You’re photo in the Cosmetology magazine, it looks really good. Red suits you.” 

The way that color looked on Y/N was the same as how a red rose looked on a green stem; like it was always meant to be. Y/N has seen the comparisons between them and their mother. M/N L/N was a beautiful woman, with large eyes and pouty lips, the very definition of innocence. A puppy-dog look that fit so naturally on her face. 

A white rose. 

While Y/N had a more sultry tone, a more powerful presence, one that demanded attention. 

A red rose. Not so innocent, or pure, but who can be when you see your own mother dead in the bathtub. Drug allegations and the loss of her popularity caused her downfall, and she loved her popularity more than she loved her child. Y/N finds it hard to blame her, because after they have gotten a taste of what beauty can get them, they can see why their mother got addicted to the camera flashes. 

The assurance that yes, they are beautiful. They are beautiful and worthy of the cameras. 

But with every camera flash, is a terrible comment. A terrible blog, highlighting their faults and insecurities. Someone dissecting every motion they made, every microexpression, ever comment. 

“Here you are, Y/N.” Y/N’s attention snapped back and sure enough they were in front of the door. Tim waited patiently for Y/N to enter, “Thank you, Tim.” The young man shrugged, “Sure. Clothes can be found in the dresser and shoes in the closet.” Y/N nodded, waiting for the other to leave. Instead Tim turned around and faced Y/N, waiting for the other with a raised brow, “You’re not going to ask about the clothes?” 

Y/N gulped, “I feel like if I ask, I won’t like the answer. I’d rather live in ignorance for now.” They walked past Tim, opening and closing the door, but before they saw Tim grin and a smile played out on his lips, “Smart.” 

They locked the door, and when they turned around Y/N nearly collapsed. They pressed their back into the door as they stared at the room in mild terror. Their room from their condo, fully paid off condo, was present in front of Y/N. The same color palette, the same furniture, hell even the bookshelves are the same. Gulping, Y/N walked further in and when they opened the dresser, their jaw clenched and fingers shook. 

The exact same clothes. 

The bathroom was their saving grace, or so they thought. It didn’t look like their bathroom in the condo, save for the same colored towels. That was until they opened the shower and saw full bottles of the same brand soap, shampoo, conditioner, masks, everything. 

“Just like home. It is just like home, Y/N. Only in the Manor.” They mumbled to themselves, stripping in front of the shower stall and jumping in and not even waiting for the water to get hot. They wanted in and out as quickly as possible. Washing their hair, their body, and not even bothering to do the usual masks and scrubs. 

Jumping out, they quickly towel dried themselves and threw on the robe that was so familiar. 

“Routine… keep to the routine…” Body lotion, while the skin is still damp so it can absorb into the skin better, followed by an oil. For the face it was a double cleanse, first an oil based then water-based, followed by toner, retinol, serums, hyaluronic acid, moisturizer, and face oil. Teeth will be after the meal, but hair… 

“Moisturizer, blow dry, and then oil.” Y/N continued to mutter, trying desperately to not go crazy as the familiar brands flashed across their face and they had to use it like normal. They had too. Cause if they don’t, then Y/N knows that they will go crazy. 

They don’t bother to look in the dresser again, already on the verge of having a nervous breakdown, and instead they opted to flop onto the bed. Y/N buried their face in the pillow, and tried to not think about anything. They tried to force their mind blank, just how they did on the runway. 

“Y/N, are you ready?” Only it wasn’t working. Sitting up, Y/N stared at the door and contemplated answering. The carefully crafted facade was cracking and Y/N doesn’t know if they can keep the mask on any longer. From the multiple shows this week, to the shows earlier today, then this, the mask had outworn its use and now it is slowly begging to be taken off. 

“One minute please.” Only they can’t. Not here. Definitely not here. 

Peeling themselves off of the bed, Y/N stripped out of the robe and grabbed the first shirt they saw, underwear, and jeans. Their house slippers were right next to the dresser, and Y/N wanted to cry. All of it was getting too much and they're not sure how much longer they can be doing this. 

Opening the door, Dick and Jason were the ones waiting for them. Dick grinned, “How insulting of you to look so great in only jeans and a crew neck, making the rest of us look like toads.” Y/N chuckled, closing the door behind them, “I am a model, its my job to look good in every style of clothing.” 

Dick laughed, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulder he pulled the other close. Close enough that Y/N could smell the detergent used on Dick’s clothes, and body heat radiating off of the other. They started walking, Jason keeping silent while Dick chatted to Y/N, catching the other up on the past year. 

“There are more to the family now, but they won’t be at dinner today. Cass is with Steph, Duke is studying, and Barbara has dinner with her own family to join.” Y/N nodded, ignoring the small sting that others can be welcomed in while they couldn’t be. Instead, they kept the conversation polite, “How nice! It must be worthwhile to have so many people here.” Dick grinned, and there was a type of sharpness to it that had Y/N squirming. 

“Yeah, but it was never really a full house because not everyone was here.” A jab at Y/N, who muscled through it, “Well, modeling is a travel-heavy job. There was no time to come back.” The brothers stayed quiet, leading Y/N to the dining room table where everything and everyone was sitting and waiting patiently. 

Bruce caught their eyes, and motioned for them to sit at the empty seat next to him, Tim on the other side. Y/N walked over, and took the seat graciously, trying to ignore the weight in their stomach that was making their throat close. Alfred emerged, and like the true butler he was, he began setting their plates in front of them. Perfectly made and being presented beautifully on the white ceramic plates with gold leaf designs. 

Their favorite meal, one that always had Y/N running down the stairs when Alfred would announce his plans to make it, sat perfectly in the center of the plate. Its been so long since Y/N had it, no one quite makes it like Alfred does, and plus its just not really in Y/N’s diet. 

But Alfred made it. Alfred put his time and effort into making it, and Y/N is not going to spit on that. Once everyone had their plate, the dinner table became loud with chatter. Just like hoow it used to be. Dick would carry the conversation for the entire table, Jason would make sarcastic remarks, Tim intelligent ones, Damian’s would be snide, and Bruce would look exhausted the entire time. However, he still partook in them, letting his kids have the family moment of conversing with their parental figure. Smiling and chuckling as he did so, Bruce tried to be that good father figure. 

And Y/N just sits there. They eat quietly and think about their next photo shoot, the next trends that they need to hop on, the workout routine they need to adhere by. Questions do not get thrown their way– 

“Now that fashion season is over, what are your plans Y/N?” E/C eyes blink owlishly, staring at Dick in wonder as all eyes focus on them. 

“Oh, uh, um, well its normally rest season for us, but I have plans to schedule a few photoshoots, commercials, and I know Maya has been talking about me becoming a brand ambassador.” Y/N wants to keep the momentum. Y/N wants to be kept busy to get and stay away from here. 

“You’re not going to rest?” Jason questioned, raising a brow and Y/N shrugged, “I plan to take a few weeks off, but modeling doesn’t really have a set time.” It isn’t a 9-5 job, or vigilante job. Y/N will have to make public appearances, showing up to Galas, grand openings, other fashion shows, fashion shoots, and a lot of traveling. 

Bruce hummed, “Sounds like you’re running yourself thin.” Y/N gulped, “It sounds like a lot, but most of it is traveling and getting ready. Besides, I like being busy.” In high school, Y/N would go from school the the modeling agency where they would schedule photo shoots and commercials. Then it would be meeting with dieticians, personal trainers, estheticians, and then more meeting for future goals. The next steps. 

Y/N was always busy, but so was their mother and she managed. She was a single mother and a high end fashion model. If she can do it, then there is no reason Y/N can’t. 

“But there are other stuff right? Like you need to get facials to make sure your skin looks nice, and working out,” Damian chimed in, and Y/N blinked in surprise at the youngest contributing to the conversation. They smiled, “That’s not really tiring, it’s just time consuming.” 

Alfred walked back into the dining room, a dessert platter in his hands, “Then it is good you will be resting here. Take a few days to enjoy being free.” A cheesecake was set down in front of Y/N, and Alfred pointedly stared at the half eaten meal. He gave Y/N a raised brow, and while the model would normally smile and reassure the man that they would eat later, their face was full of shock, “What do you mean a ‘few days?’” 

Bruce wiped the corner of his lips with a napkin, “A few days. Rest here for a few days, it’ll be good for you and for everyone else.” Y/N gulped, “Why is it good for everyone else if I stay?” 

“Of course it’s good for us. Family sticks together obviously, and with you running off, it really sent things haywire.” There it was again. The phrase ‘running off’ as if it was something Y/N actually did. They smiled, “You’re sounding like Tim. I did not run off, I moved out.” Bruce’s brow furrowed, “ ‘Moved out,’ huh. I didn’t realize moving out meant leaving without so much as a goodbye.” 

“The things you left behind, you scheduled people to grab them and throw them out. Alfred was the one to stop them from touching your room,” Dick stated. Those blue eyes keep Y/N locked in their seat. The smile on the oldest sibling’s face was anything but kind, “It’s like you wanted to erase yourself from this manor. You left behind almost nothing that would trace you to us.” 

“Not a number to call. We had to get it from Alfred,” Jason chimed, taking a bite of the chocolate mousse cake. 

“Or a letter explaining where you went.” Damian took a sip of the tea. 

“Or an address.” Tim gulped his cup of coffee, all of them watching Y/N. They way their sibling’s shoulders tensed and that fake smile became more and more downturned. Bruce spoke once more, “It seems like you don’t even want to be a Wayne. Taking your mother’s last name despite the controversies.” 

Y/N’s smile turned bitter, “I took her last name because Wayne is more influential and I wanted to start with as little influence as possible. Plus, legally my last name is still L/N.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze, “And look how many speculations you got for drug use.” 

“...Since when did you read gossip?” 

“The moment my kid’s photo is attached to that piece of gossip.” Y/N is still aware of all the blogs accusing them of drug-use, the same blogs that accused M/N. People using her photos to compare their features and just cause more drama. 

Y/N took a bite of the cheesecake, and the tension at the table was thick. Usually it was between Dick and Bruce, or Jason and Bruce. Never between Y/N though. Although, Y/N never spoke at the table so maybe that is why they were arguing? Can this even be considered an argument? 

Alfred cleared his throat, “While talking is appreciated, arguments stay away from the dinner table.” So it was an argument. Y/N apologized to the man and took another bite of the cheesecake. Their mind filled with the workout they are going to have to do to burn this off. 

++++

Alfred watched the child he considered a grandchild drink their tea, brewed in the darkness of the kitchen and now sitting at the dinner table again. While a year may not seem long, for Alfred it was. Y/N, who had been there for half a decade, had been glued to Alfred’s side. The man always taking the teen to and from school, and then sometimes to their gigs. 

It was Alfred that took Y/N to their first audition to be a model, and it seems like it was only a few days before he received a call from a woman claiming to be M/N L/N’s manager, and while she may not be Y/N’s manager, her daughter will be. Alfred liked Maya. The young woman always let him know of Y/N’s gigs, she would pick the young teen up and drop him off, and she tried to be as helpful as she could. Maya was a woman born to manage models and their busy and demanding schedules. 

What Alfred didn’t like, was that Maya still had the old school model critiques. Alfred gaped at the woman when she handed him a list of diets for Y/N to ‘lose weight.’ A 15 year old Y/N, who was already slender, now being told they had to be skinny but toned. A child being told that ice cream was no longer an option, and their favorite burgers were banned. 

He furrowed at the training regime, wondering how agencies can expect a teenager to be toned like their already full adult models. Nonstop cardio, ab workouts, and toning exercises. Then strut practice, because if Y/N was M/N’s child, then they were made for the runway. Born to walk in front of cameras and audiences. 

“If Y/N wants to be a model, then sacrifices have to be made,” Was Maya’s response to Alfred's inquiries. She assured him that Y/N would still be eating, and she encouraged Y/N to eat, but now those meals were restricted to certain foods. 

Alfred watched as Y/N struggled at first, their own plate different from the others, and how the blisters on their toes and heels bled through their socks and bandaids. The old man watched as the training and strut practice became an everyday routine. Y/N walked on the wobbling plyboard, barely wide enough for one foot, and the amount of times they fell off of it. The books stacked on their head for good posture and balance, followed by walking on an incline in those uncomfortable shoes, then training the muscles to the point of exhaustion. 

He had watched the child-like baby fat on Y/N’s cheeks melt off and expose cheekbones that looked tight against the skin. Y/N still looked beautiful, not more or less, but Alfred could see the exhaustion in those young eyes and how Y/N juggles modeling and being a student. 

Y/N didn’t even go to their high school graduation, choosing instead to head to Paris for their first ever abroad photoshoot. That kickstarted the traveling and runway model career. Once Y/N got their highschool diploma, they were out the door and becoming busier and busier. 

“I see you still drink onion skin tea so late at night.” Y/N smiled up at Alfred, “Of course. I was shocked to see that you still keep the skins.” The older man sat across from Y/N, nursing his own cup of tea “Of course. In case you ever visited, I thought it would be great to have some in stock.” Y/N gave Alfred a ‘really?’ look, continuing to sip on the still hot tea.

“I saw the piece you wore today,” Alfred started the conversation. 

“It truly is a beautiful piece of work.” Y/N’s jaw clenched, “Did you know about-” Y/N waved a hand in the air, “- about Bruce calling to commission a piece?” The old man took a sip of the earl gray. Y/N shook their head, unable to be upset, “Alfred, a call about that would have been appreciated.” 

“An address would also be appreciated but seeing as you have withheld that information, I saw no harm in sharing Master Bruce’s commission.” Y/N deflated, rubbing their forehead with their fingers, “Alfie-” 

“You only use that name when you know you’re about to be in trouble, so you might as well just say it, Young Master Y/N.” Y/N’s cheeks blushed and their lips pouted, “Alfie, I told you that the reason I didn’t tell you my address is because I am always traveling. I’d feel awful if you showed up and I wasn’t there.” 

“There’s a wonderful contraption called a cellphone, Young Master Y/N. I would call before making that trek over.” Y/N groaned, setting his cup down and trying not to crumble in front of the grandfather figure. Answering to Alfred was always harder than answering to Bruce. 

“Alfie–” 

“Young Master Y/N, I understand your hesitancy is sharing in your life with others. Life was lonely here, and I understand wanting to forget that. However, having only a number to call you is terrifying. What if something happens and I cannot help you?” Y/N gazed sadly at Alfred, “Life wasn’t lonely, Alfie. I had you, right?” 

Alfred Pennyworth, Y/N’s saving grace and lifeline. The person who is proof that Y/N was not alone in the Wayne Manor. The butler always willing to lend an ear when Y/N vented their frustrations, and when tears escaped their E/C eyes. He is Y/N’s biggest supporter. Always buying a magazine that had Y/N in it, and he would listen to Y/N critique the pose and the facial expression. Then he would give Y/N a slice of cheesecake and compliment Y/N, in both the photo and in person. 

Always reassuring the other that a cheat day will not set him back, and rest is what the body needs the most. Reassuring Y/N that their mother would be proud, that Bruce notices them, and that Y/N’s siblings do in fact love them. 

“Besides, why would you even want to visit? My place wouldn’t be as grand as this–” 

“It would be to make sure your fridge is stocked and that you are eating. You have always been the worst when it comes to eating, and I worry that your fridge and pantry are empty.” Alfred doesn’t have to guess that Y/N’s fridge is empty, because he knows it is. 

He knows that Y/N’s fridge is empty besides some drinks, and that the pantry is only snacks. While Y/N may have the excuse of being gone for so long, traveling and whatnot, Alfred knows that Y/N does not spend a lot of money on food. Y/N spends more money on clothes, jewlery, facial and hair care products, than they do on groceries. 

Y/N doesn’t even look ashamed. Nervous, yeah, but not ashamed. They sip their tea without making eye contact. Time to change the subject. 

“Why is Bruce, and all the boys, all of a sudden interested in what I do?” Alfred didn’t Y/N out on the obvious change in conversation, but he let it slide. The old man sighed, “Why would a parent not be interested in what their child is doing?” 

“Alfred.” 

“Young Master Y/N, you have worked tirelessly to get to the position you are now. With no help from the family, you had spent your late mother’s money to audition, then to pay your managers, and now you are making it big within the industry. Is it wrong for a parent to congratulate their child?” Y/N bit their  lip, “So its because I’m finally someone now? Was I not worth attention because I chose not to be Robin?” 

“Young Master Y/N–” 

“I don’t care about that. Like I told Bruce, it wasn’t abuse or anything, he just simply didn’t have time for me and that’s fine. I’m not mad about that.” Alfred watched Y/N get worked up, and E/C begin to shift in nervousness, “What I am talking about is why did Bruce pay off my Condo, and why does he have access to my bank account?” 

Silence fell across the table. Y/N staring at Alfred expectantly, while the butler finished his tea. Once done, he grabbed his and Y/N’s tea cup and headed towards the kitchen. 

“Perhaps, that is a Master Bruce question.” Y/N made a sound of annoyance, throwing themselves back into the chair and scrunching their nose. Standing up from the table, Y/N said goodnight to Alfred, and proceeded up that stairs and into dark hallways. Y/N wasn’t ready to go back to the guest room, feeling their heart rate spike whenever they thought of the replicated room. 

Instead, they walked down familiar halls towards a room-now-turned-trophy room. They reached for the doorknob, but found themselves unable to open it. Y/N didn’t want to see all the photos Alfred had kept throughout the years. Rather, what caught Y/N’s attention was the lacking of doors in the hallway. There used to be two more doors on their left, but instead there was now one. The area where the second door was, was perfectly sealed and now blended into the wall. 

Y/N took a deep breath, and opened the door. They used to be guest rooms as well. The two rooms had queen-sized beds and armoires for the unexpected guests that popped up. Y/N’s room used to be a guest-room, but they ended up liking the privacy because no one else’s room was around their’s. In fact, it was the guest room across from Y/N’s room that they had turned into the practice room, seeing that no one came down this hallway. 

However, clearly people were not because of the renovation done. 

When the door opened, Y/N sought out the light switch. The room was pitch black, and the last thing Y/N wanted to do was trip over something. Feeling around the wall, Y/N rejoiced when they felt the familiar switch and flicked it on. Once the bright light filled the room, Y/N took a deep breath. They were expecting a game room, or an indoor swimming people because that seems like something a rich person would do. Turning two guest rooms into a pool despite it being on the second floor. 

Something not exactly normal, but expected. 

Y/N didn’t expect this. Gone was the wall that separated the two bedrooms, making it one long room, and all the furniture was absent. No more beds, armoires, and it looks like even the bathrooms were gutted and turned into part of the room. All the tables, rugs, sofas, everything that was once in those rooms, were now gone besides the chandeliers that hung on the ceiling. Filling the room with a bright light, that didn’t fit the manor aesthetic at all, and illuminating everything that was in the room. 

While the furniture was gone, the room was not empty. Mannequins lined the walls, on their own podiums and glass cases. While seeing them bare would have been scary, seeing them dressed in the clothes that Y/N had worn on the runways was more terrifying. Y/N, in the runway season alone, walked 86 shows. That is the runways season alone, not including the other smaller shows they have done since graduating high school almost a year ago. 

These weren’t all of the clothes they have worn, there was still a large amount and they were the most iconic pieces. Pieces that a designer would never want to give someone. 

Y/N walked further in, taking in the first mannequin on the right, and they noted that the mannequin looked eerily similar to Y/N. Only missing the facial features and hair, but it looked like the proportions were almost spot on. 

The plastic doll had on the outfit from a runway show earlier in the year, when Y/N walked for Versace. A simple long blazer with deep V cut, stopping mid-thighs where only an inch of skin was shown before thigh boots bedazzled in gold, diamonds, emeralds, and other precious jewels took over the rest of the legs. The earrings they wore were poked into the mannequin's own ears and the bracelets hung off the dainty wrists. In the glass case, next to the mannequin, was the photo taken of Y/N when they were walking. 

The next case was a piece they wore when walking for a newer fashion-designer, one that Y/N did for free just to get to their name out there, and the piece was a gorgeous suit, dyed a beautiful vermillion red that had the slighted shimmer of gold in it. Y/N’s runway photo was once again next to the mannequin. 

The entire room was full of these iconic runway looks, with Y/N’s photo right next to them, and they surrounded all sides of the room and some of them in the middle. Almost like an art gallery of sorts, and Y/N looked at every single one of them. Not in amazement or judgment, but more of horror. 

Y/N knows some of these fashion designers. They have known some of them since they were a child and watching their mom get fitted by these exact same designers. No matter how much she begged, they would never let her take one of their creations home. These clothes were meant to be either safe-guarded in a museum, in their own collection, or in some cases bought by a celebrity and worn to an award ceremony as advertisement. 

In other words, Y/N knows that some of these designers would rather gnaw off an arm then give away their precious creations. Yet, here some of those precious creations were, hanging on the mannequin shaped like the model. 

In the center of the room, like it was the main show, was the Batman-inspired piece. All that was missing was the photo, which wouldn’t be published for another few weeks. 

Taking a deep breath, they stared at the reflection in the gold-plated bat. They were trying to process all of this. It’s one thing to have photos, because Y/N is a model and photos are expected, but to have the actual clothes they wore. Clothes that Y/N knows the designers would kill for, dressed on mannequins that looked almost exactly like Y/N was another thing.

Y/N backed out of the room, turning the lights off and shutting the door silently. They stared at their own door, sweat beginning to break out on their forehead, and they went against their instincts and opened that door. 

A trophy room, Alfred had said. The walls are decorated in their photos, and the bed is still as immaculate as the day they left. Turning the lights on, Y/N couldn’t help but to smile as the time capsule in front of them. From their very first photoshoot, when Y/N was a gangly 15-year-old with still chubby cheeks, to the most recent photoshoot of a now 18 almost 19-year-old Y/N. Their confidence can be seen in their pose and gaze, something their younger self lacked. 

Y/N walked closer to the walls and looked at all the different photos. Some candid, some posed, some in the water, and there’s one where they are in Greece. Some had Y/N fully clothed with barely and inch of skin, and some were of Y/N with barely an inch of clothes. From makeup, to shoes, to perfume, to clothes, Y/N’s photo was pinned on the wall or framed. 

A photo caught their attention though. It wasn’t one from a website, or a magazine, but an actual photo. Y/N looked closer, and they recognized the set from when they were 16-years-old posing for an editorial magazine. 

However, the angle in which this photo was taken from, Y/N knows there were no cameras there. All the cameras were in front or on the side, not behind. Another photo caught their eyes, and it was the same thing. A photo from behind. 

Once they started looking for them, Y/N could begin to spot them all. Photos that they know no photographer took. There was one that had their blood chilling and fear rising in their chest. It was a photo, taken at night and through one of the windows in Y/N’s condo. Y/N had one wall in the living room that was basically all windows, letting in the morning sun and led out onto the gated terrace. It was high enough that they had no neighbors that could look through those windows. 

In the photo, Y/N was wearing their pajamas and their hair still looked wet. They were sitting on the counter of the island in their kitchen, eating raspberries and watching Youtube on their TV. It was such a close photo, close enough that the reflection can be seen in the glass. 

Y/N recognizes the blue and black, and when Y/N’s eyes drifted to another photo of them in their home, bile rose into their throats. The morning sun illuminated the warm neutral color palette in the living room, and Y/N was out on the terrace sitting at the patio table they had set up out there drinking a cup of coffee and reading a book. They had their shirt off, exposing ribs pulled tightly against skin and abs that remained toned even when Y/N wasn’t flexing. The shorts they had on exposing soft skin and pedicured feet, their slipped laid forgotten under the chair they were sitting in. 

They recognize that book. It was a book they read in the height of summer, meaning that this photo was taken half a year ago, when it was okay to sit outside in the warm summer mornings and let the skin begin to circulate. 

What chilled Y/N even more was that whoever took this photo was on their terrace with them. They were on Y/N’s terrace, and Y/N didn’t even know. The Wayne family has known Y/N’s address the entire time. They knew where Y/N was staying, they knew Y/N’s photoshoot schedules, and they knew Y/N better than Y/N thought they did. 

“I didn’t think you’d come in here.” Y/N’s head whipped around and there was Dick, or Nightwing, still in costume and smiling at them. 

“The hell is this?” Y/N held up the photo of them on the terrace, and Dick shrugged, “I’ll admit, those photos we took. But we didn’t take the other ones.” 

“What other ones?” “The ones of you at the photoshoots. I know you saw them, but we didn’t take those.” Y/N glared at Dick, and pushed themselves close to the wall as Dick walked in. Damian was right behind him. The oldest brother walked to the photo that originally caught Y/N’s attention, “You had a stalker, can you believe that? He took hundreds of photos of you, and all we did was make him stop.” 

Y/N’s lips pursed, “How do I know you’re not lying?” Dick unpinned the photo, and with Damian’s help, trapped Y/N against the wall next to the photo of them outside. He held up the photo, “Because, Y/N, as you can see we prefer more… candid photos then staged.” 

Y/N snapped, “There is nothing candid about that photo! That is an invasion of privacy! Trespassing! So is that one!” They pointed to one of them sitting on the counter. Damian grabbed their arm, and Y/N wanted nothing more than to shove the kid off. 

“And so is that one.” Dick pointed to one of Y/N wearing only a large shirt, a towel around their shoulders as they walked into their kitchen. 

“And that one.” 

“And that one.” 

“That one there.” 

“There’s that one too.” Y/N looked at all the photos, hidden next to the magazine photos, and they were all of them in their home. Horror morphed on Y/N’s face when there was one photo of Y/N in the bedroom, in the midst of taking their shirt off. 

Dick continued to smile, and Y/N could see Jason and Tim peeking in from the doorway. 

“You did a lot on your own, Y/N. You built a name for yourself, became a highly sought after model, it really is amazing.” Dick walked closer, “But you know what all of those photos have in common?” Y/N stared into blue eyes, terror swimming in those E/C eyes of theirs. 

“You aren’t even aware of your photo being taken.” The truth unsettled Y/N enough to try and squirm out of Damian’s grip and to get away from Dick. They didn’t need to be pointed out. Y/N is aware that in every photo taken without their permission, they were not once aware of it. Even when they looked like they would be only a few feet away, Y/N not once looked bothered. Y/N doesn’t even remember that feeling of being watched. 

Tim and Jason stepped in the room, making it seem crowded and even if Y/N got out of Damian’s grip, there was no way they were getting past all of them. 

Large hands gripped Y/N’s forearms, feeling like they would bruise the skin if Y/N struggled. 

“So tell your big brother Y/N, how do you expect us to trust you on your own when you can’t even notice someone on your terrace?” 

________________________________________________________

Part 3 is coming soon....

[asdfghjklartblog]

Vermillion

Trans masc reader x yandere batfam

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (here)

Hello! Sorry this took a bit longer, but the chapter is also longer than usual so hopefully it makes up for it! So this is like almost exactly 7.4k words so take a little break, grab a drink and maybe some tissues because I cried while writing this one. I’m also generally an emotional person so that’s not saying a lot tbh. Anyways have fun!

Tw: Neglect, Slight gore, Obvious favouritism

——————————

There’s no other way to say it, Jason’s been following you around both in and out the manor. But considering you’re a homebody who does nothing but go to school, read and write fanfics, draw commissions and whatnot, it was pretty damn easy to just follow you around. At first you found it unsettling, even you, a daddy’s girl didn’t hang around your daddy that much. But he grew on you, like how ivy grows along the side of a building. You guys get to talking and you two realise that you lived close to each other before you were taken in by Bruce. Which is both a pleasant and sad surprise. You love Jason, he was your family just like Luke.

You don’t know what’s going on with Dick per se, but you heard through the grapevine that he’s studying to be a cop in Bludhaven. He comes back home sometimes, well more rarely than anything but whatever. It’s not like it’s your problem. The two of you still have nothing in common, and he still finds your doujinshi and your obsession with anime a bit… Weird but he doesn’t say anything anymore. And considering that the two of you are older now, you don’t out right avoid or fight each other anymore. Mostly because he’d kick your ass.

Bruce is… Different. Not in a bad way but, he feels more unsure? Whatever Dick and Bruce fought about, you could tell that Bruce was still grumpy about it. I mean who could blame him? Dick was his favourite, his golden child, the one he wanted, the one he chose. You try not to think about it, because it hurts. And then it hurts more as you start to spiral and if it gets too bad you start feeling sick. But it’s fine. You’re fine. This is fine. Bruce is getting closer to Jason, it kinda makes your heart clench as you see their relationship progress. Jason tried to invite you to spend time with them but you knew Bruce would be uncomfortable, and you’d probably be throwing up less than a minute in from anxiety.

However you started thinking about being trans masc, at least that’s what you remember it being called. ‘Cause Robin was probably right. She has a knack for sensing these kinds of things. She helps you look into where to get HRT and how the process works. However the problem was getting permission from Alfred and Bruce to get the treatment. You don’t necessarily think it’d be a big deal but Alfred was old. He doesn’t seem like the type of man to be transphobic but, you never know. But Bruce? You weren’t too sure about him. On one hand he’s a respectful and good man. On the other hand he is a man and a playboy, so honestly the odds didn’t look too good.

The first person you come out to is well, Robin. Obviously. Well I mean she already knew so was it really coming out? It’s more like she was waiting for you to come out of the see-through a glass closet. However the second person is by complete accident. You see, you were tutoring Eric in Algebra. You didn’t have a choice, you were volunteering as a tutor and you couldn’t just refuse a person without a good cause. You were explaining polynomials to him and he just suddenly throws his head back and groans. “Ugh, this is so fucking gay. What do we even fucking need this for.”

And you replied without thinking. You chuckle before saying. “Yeah just like me.”

The both of you freeze before he just slowly turns to you and asks. “Dude, you serious?”

You lean back against the chair’s backrest and sigh. “Yeah.”

He then waits a beat before saying. “So like, you like women? You like pussy?”

You almost choke on the laughter that just bubbled out which he just looks at you weirdly for. You catch your breath and try to clear up the confusion. “Sorry, I don’t know why but that was really funny to me. But uh, maybe? I’m not sure yet. But I mean that I’m a man that likes other men.”

You can see that Eric needed to connect the dots, and you know he’s got it when his eyebrows shot up and he lets out a little. “Oh.”

You nod and say. “Yeah, I found out like a year ago but didn’t have time to delve into it at the time.”

He then nods, letting out a small hum. He sits up straight before looking at you and just says. “I think I like guys too.”

Your neck slowly turns to him and you raise an eyebrow at that before sassily turning back to the textbook and replying with. “Ew, that’s so gay.”

He immediately turns to you with a flabbergasted look on his face. You try your best to keep your smile down but he can tell. He punches your shoulder playfully before saying. “Fuck off man, piece of shit gay boy.”

You answer back with. “Pot calling the kettle black.”

Eric rolls his eyes and the two of you chuckle before a calm silence fills the room again. After a few moments he gets serious and saying. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

You look at and you can clearly tell that he’s nervous about what you’re about to say. You let him stew in his anxiety a little longer before giving him an answer. “I won’t, I promise.”

He releases a breath that he kept down in his anxiousness. Eric then says. “Hey, if you ever want like help to make your body bigger or whatever, I can help. I mean I am on the football team and run defense!”

You smile at him in a way that looks like you’re playing around with him like a cat toying around with a mouse. “Yeah? You got any moves to show me?”

His eyes widen almost comically as he immediately turns red, the freckles on his face barely visible because of it. He then tries to laugh it off before saying. “Wow! I am beat! I think I’m gonna go now.”

You look at the time and you say in a confused tone of voice. “Eric we still have like more than hour of studying-“

But he’s already packing his things and rushing out the entrance of library. You sigh and start to pack your own things before you notice some blonde dude in a trench coat. You felt someone’s eyes on you before, and you kinda feel like it might be that guy. It’s pretty quiet in the library and despite there being more than enough seats, he sits right in front of you. He flashes you a charming smile and when you look at him, he reminds you so much of Daddy. He’s also got the scruffy stubble on his jaw and above his lips. He then says with a scouse accent. “Hello, my name’s John Constantin-“

You interrupt him and loudly say. “Sir, I am underage.”

A few heads turn and he sighs then chuckles before saying. “Cheeky little thing aren’t you.”

You shrug before starting to pack up. He then looks you up and down before asking. “Mind telling me about something kid?”

You groan and ask him. “What? What the hell do you want? Why are you, as the people from where you live would say, gegging in?”

He raises an eyebrow before he asks. “You know scouse?”

You reply with. “I looked it up and watched a couple videos on it late at night. Kinda stuck to my brain for some reason.”

He nods before saying. “Makes sense. Now tell me, you seen any owls lately?”

Your heart skips a beat but you’re able to maintain your cool as you finish packing up, you then reply with. “Not really, I mean owls are hard to find in gotham not many trees and all that.”

He eyes you up and down before saying. “Don’t lie kid, it won’t do you any good.”

You get up and glare at him before saying. “Go fuck yourself.”

He smirks before sarcastically calling out as you walk away. “We actually say ‘sod off’ but nice try!”

You rush out of the library and go home. What the hell was that, and how did he know about the owl in your dreams? You haven’t told anyone except Luke. Maybe you shouldn’t have just blown the guy off. You sigh as you think about it a bit more, but you’re tired from studying and just wanna have dinner and then go to bed. The dreams stop for a while after that, letting you sleep peacefully.

You start to do better in your classes for some reason, it’s definitely not the result of you now sleeping restfully and exercising with Eric. But after you start seeing the results, seeing the muscle on your arms and your back and whatnot, leaves you feeling amazing. It even gives you the confidence boost to come out to Luke who just says. “Yeah, I kinda guessed. Either that or you were some kinda freak.”

You pushed him playfully after he said that. He laughs and throws one arm around your shoulder and ruffles your hair. He sighs, as he goes back to lie down on the grass. The two of you are just hanging out on the grass as the two of you look at the stars. He then hums before saying. “You know, I can’t believe it’s been 10 years since we met. I still remember when you barely came to my waist, and now you’re just an inch above my shoulder! Absolutely insane.”

After he says that you sigh, you start to tear up as you say. “You know how I have trouble remembering stuff? I… I’m starting to forget my memories with my daddy. And I don’t want to forget. I try to write them down but, I can only remember general things. I can’t remember what was there, what we were doing-“

Luke interrupts you gently, and say in a low voice. “I know it’s scary. I had the same fears as you did when I started to realise that I couldn’t remember Monchi, my first dog. You want me to tell you about him?”

You close your eyes as you listen to him talk, he talks about how Monchi died when he was barely 6, and that he was a small pug that was also kinda fat. How the dog loved napping the most, and loved sleeping on Luke the best. How the dog loved those bacon treats you would always see on the commercials. You laugh and the two of you decide to keep a journal of your most precious memories.

One day you realise that you haven’t told Jason yet, and but figured that he probably wouldn’t know about any of that stuff so you put it off. However as you turn 16 you think that you should probably tell Alfred sooner than later. When you tell Alfred and he smiles gently as he says. “You are very brave for telling me. And I thank you for trusting me enough to tell me miss- no, master y/n. Excuse me but it will take some time before I ingrain this information into my memory.”

You nod and then continue as you say. “I was actually hoping that you could help me with something? I-I really want to get HRT, and I need Bruce’s consent to do that. I was really hoping you could maybe convince him? I just I’m scared of telling him myself.”

Alfred looks at you sadly before nodding and says. “How about we tell him now? He has an opening right now, and since he stayed home today, you can tell him face to face.”

You panic and reply with a stammer. “N-No that’s okay really I can wai-“

Alfred then starts to drag you towards the lion’s den and Jesus, this old man is strong, what the hell. He then knocks on the door, and you’re hoping, praying to god that Bruce says he’s busy. However you hear Bruce call out. “Come in!” When both you and Alfred enter, Bruce raises an eyebrow, he’s probably thinking ‘What did she do now?‘ Alfred then says to Bruce. “Master y/n had some news to tell you. Nothing bad, good news actually.”

You then blurt out a tad bit too loud. “I’m trans. A-And I like men. And I think I like girls?”

Alfred and Bruce stare at you in complete silence. Thankfully, Bruce interrupts the awkward silence with. “Congratulations. Is there.. Anything else?”

You take a deep breath and ask. “Can you sign the consent form for the HRT treatment?”

Bruce nods and then goes back to work. That was super anticlimactic. But at least you got permission! Over the next month you and Bruce fills out all the forms and you’re overjoyed! Everything is great you’re voice is getting deeper, you’re growing even taller, you started getting chest hair among… Other things. But overall this is great!

One day at school, you’re studying in the library in the little corner where nobody can see you when you overhear some people making fun of you. You don’t really care though, you’ve made your peace with how weird you are. However their topic then changes to Jason.

A boy says. “Have you seen that kid? He doesn’t deserve to be here, he’s alley trash! He should be back on the street with that slut of a mother he has.”

They giggles like it’s the funniest thing in the world, it grates on your ears. Another girl continues, saying. “Oh my god! Nick you can’t say that! But really, how is he getting good grades? Maybe his mom taught him a thing or two!”

You’re frozen in place, you can’t believe what you’re hearing. It feels vile, disgusting and you feel like tearing out the very throats that are assaulting your ears.

Another girl joins in and says. “We should get him to get kicked out of the school! Maybe we could make look like he’s harassing us or something? Oh! We could make it seem like he’s taking advantage of us!”

You get up. You’ve heard enough. As you walk to where the girls are, you feel red hot anger going through your veins. You get to where they are, and hearing their cruel suggestions laughter grates on your nerves. You walk right up to them, getting up close and personal before growling. “What the fuck did you say?”

The girls look at you as if you were a piece of gum on the sole of their shoe, the boy looks at you with a smirk as if to challenge you. The boy pushes you away and says. “Oh, look! It’s bloody mary, what are you doing here? Did you hear what we said? You’re lucky it isn’t you we’re targeting. At least half of you is worthy of being here.”

You glare at them before getting right up in the boy’s face again, you brush your hair back and stand up straighter and saying. “If you don’t fucking shut up, and mind your business. If I see any of you near my little brother, it’s on fucking sight. You understand me? I’ll fucking get teachers involved, the police, your parents, I’m dragging you all down.”

The guy scoffs and pushes you away before saying. “You and what army? Everyone in school knows that Bruce doesn’t care about yo-“

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence as you uppercut him. He stumbles a bit before he collapses onto the floor, unconscious. Then you look at the girls and hiss. “Either you stop whatever the fuck you’re planning, or I come back with more than just my fucking fists”

The girls look at each other and nod hesitantly. You leave them be as you go back to your little corner in the library. You then pack up your things and leave, way too angry to study. So you just go to the cafeteria, where you see Jason happily eating with his friends. You start to calm down and smile stupidly as you see him safe and happy, he notices you staring and mouthes the words. “Stop looking at me.” You chuckle as you turn away to scroll on your phone.

You were called to the principal’s after that, but there was no video evidence to prove that showed that you knocked out with whatever that guy’s name was. It’s not that it was edited out, it just messed up during the time you were there. Weird. But since there was no evidence saying otherwise you got suspended and this time it was put on record. Bruce was disappointed in you but to fair when wasn’t he? Jason heard what you did and spent the week you were just hanging out with you and giving you random hugs. Which didn’t really bother you, you liked the physical affection. And after so long of barely having any, it feels nice. You assume it’s the same for Jason. Not that his situation was the same as yours but you know.

You always try and let Jason come to you, like a cat. Cause sometimes he just gets really shy or standoffish about physical affection, probably trying to unconsciously defend himself or something. It’s a bit hard to restrain yourself though when he’s so cute, you even get cuteness aggression from just seeing him. And thank god for Alfred feeding this boy, because in less than a year he’s in the target weight for his size and age and now he’s got these cute chubby cheeks and you just love pinching them. He absolutely hates it though. And sometimes you have this urge to just… Sit on him though? It’s so weird. Like you wish you were a giant cat or something so you could lie on top of him so he’d be warm, toasty and safe under you.

Now you’re 17, and usually you don’t celebrate your birthday, but since Luke came back from his tour in Afghanistan, and Jason saying that it could be fun, led the two of you to baking your own cake in the kitchen. So with Alfred’s permission and under his watchful eye, you guys bake a cake. You brought out the ingredients you needed out from the pantry and fridge, Jason was in charge of mixing things together and Luke was making sure the oven was preheated and then started to make the (kind of frosting you like). You take out the cake molds and ask the two of them. “How many layers should we make and how big should we make it? And another question, what flavour of cake would you guys prefer?”

Luke shrugs and says. “I’m fine with anything. I ain’t picky.”

Jason thinks about it for a moment before saying. “Mango, or maybe we could make like an earl grey cake?”

You respond with. “We’re doing (favourite cake flavour).”

Luke rolls his eyes while he smiles, he looks to Jason and says. “Whenever I get a slice cake for him, he always chooses that flavour. I don’t even know why I bother to even ask at this point.”

Jason snickers at that while you huff and say. “It’s my favourite flavour. If you got a problem with it then take it up with management.”

Luke chuckles at that, and all of you continue to do the tasks you assigned each other. You guys laughed and joked around while making your cake. Then you guys put the cake mix in the oven, while it bakes the three of you go into the living room to play video games, you guys play (favourite game), and you let Jason play too. But he keeps making the wrong decisions so you and Luke end up backseat gaming and spoiling everything almost everything. While Jason is playing, Luke looks you up and down he notices something. “Shit, y/n. What has Alfred been feeding you? And where did you get all this muscle from? You look good, man.”

Your smile brightens up and you nod at him, saying. “Thanks, the HRT has been helping me build more muscle mass, I’m getting more hair too, but the mood swings are rough man. Like I switch from violently angry to violently…” You look at Jason and see that he’s still playing the game but decide to not say what you were thinking. “Excited.”

Luke makes grimaces and pushes your face away with one hand. “Gross. Did not need to know that.”

You chuckle and then you ask. “Is it normal to get butt hair?”

Luke shrugs and says. “I mean I guess, some of my friends back during my tour had ass hair. I accidentally caught a glimpse when I hit the showers a bit late from doing extra burpees the sergeant assigned for me.”

You nod and then ask him. “Was it because the sergeant was homophobic?”

Luke looks at you confused and says. “I’m not gay.”

Which makes you smile but you try to stifle it as you continue to talk. “Yeah you are, you’re so gay. You fuck dudes left and right.”

He groans and the replies with. “I am helping you with both your schoolwork and making your fucking cake, and you’re seriously gaslighting me into believing that I’m gay?”

You laugh at that and then school your face and with your best brooding face and Bruce voice, you say. “Fox. You are gay. You are-“ and then you do the gay limp wrist thing.

Luke busts out laughing at that, and then starts to cough as he says. “What the fuck.”

You smile back at him and then see Jason doing something that requires concentration you, then start to practically lay on top of him as you say. “Ugh, gravity is increasing on me Jason.”

He tries to push you off and he almost does because he’s actually pretty damn strong surprisingly. He starts to get annoyed and says. “No it isn’t!!”

You nonchalantly reply. “It is too, Jason. Same thing happened yesterday.”

He groans and growls. “NO!” After losing the concentration game. He lets out another groan before pushing you off and saying. “Get your fat ass off of me!”

You laugh as you get off of him but then before he can even move you pull him onto your lap and start hugging him tightly which makes him groan even louder before struggling to get you off. That made you laugh and you eventually pull away from him, he goes back to playing his game and you sit there and wonder as you look at both Luke trying to help Jason with the game. Do they even know how much they matter to you? Do they know you’d kill for them? That you’d get your hands bloody and bruised for them? Would they do the same for you, you ask yourself. Would they love you and protect you just as fiercely? You then turn back to the TV and decide to enjoy this little piece of heaven.

The three of you eventually get back into kitchen and ice and decorate the cake together. It’s a bit lopsided, but it’s yours. And that is what makes it perfect. You guys watch (fav comfort movie) while you guys eat the cake. You guys all sleep in your room that night, having a little sleepover together.

In the morning you see that Jason is gone, you yawn and get up to go find him. You see his bedroom light is open and for some reason, you have this gut feeling. It tells you to be quiet, to peek into Jason’s room. Your brows furrow and you decide to trust your gut. You gently move the door, and peer into Jason’s room. You see Jason is changing. Gross. But as you’re about to close the door you see scars and bruises littering his torso. You freeze and decide to keep watching, why the hell does he have those? You’re almost absolutely sure he’s not getting bullied. You’ve made sure of that. So where did those marks come from? It can’t be Bruce, he might not love you, but he definitely loves Jason. And he isn’t the person to do that, you know it. It can’t be Alfred, he’d rather chop his arm off than hurt any of us. So who?

You then barge in, making Jason jump. Before he can say anything, you march up to him and pointing at the large purple bruise on his ribs you growl out. “What happened? Why the hell are you this scratched up and hurt? I know it isn’t from school and it not from-“

He tries to placate you by looking up at you with apologetic eyes and gently saying. “Y/n-“

You glare at him and say. “Don’t you fucking,” You then mimic the way he said your name and then continue. “I asked you a question and you better tell me the damn truth. I can read you like a fucking book Jason Peter Todd, don’t fucking play with me.”

Jason looks at you in the eyes and then looks to the ground. He sighs and says. “I’m in an underground fighting ring.”

You raise an eyebrow and roll your eyes before snarkily saying. “Yeah? Why the fuck is there cuts and slash scars on your skin then.”

He replies scoffs and mockingly says. “There’s a reason it’s called underground, there’s no rules.”

Your eyes widen at his attitude and you glare at him as you continue. “Don’t take that tone with me, boy. I may not be your father or mother but I am still still an elder.”

Jason looks at you with an unimpressed look and says. “You are three years older than me you are NOT and elder.”

You respond with. “Who made you the elder expert.”

Jason crosses his arms before growling. “No one. You’re just so unqualified that it’s clear to everyone.”

You’re about to respond to him again when you realise he’s trying to distract you. You then take a breath to calm down before saying. “Okay. Whatever. That’s not important. I’m just. Tell me the truth Jason, please. I’m your older brother, if you can’t trust me, who can you trust? I love you, very much. I promise I won’t be mad. I just want to know.”

Jason looks into your eyes before he sighs. He looks around the room before he gestures for you to lean in close. You do so giving him your ear, he then whispers into your ear. “Go fuck yourself.”

You pull away and groan in indignation before growling. “Fine! Keep your secrets! But don’t come to me when you need help.”

You march out of his room and accidentally slam his door, unaware that you practically broke the door and the wall around it. Why the fuck wouldn’t he tell you? Especially if he’s getting hurt from it! You can help, you’d do whatever he needs. You stop in your tracks and you know, that if you walk away now, you’re giving him a chance to cover his tracks. You’re giving him a chance to shut you out from… Whatever he’s going through. You groan, being a good big brother is hard. You start walking back and gently knocking on his door. The door falls over and you let out a surprised little noise. You see he’s staring at you before he turns away and puts his chin in his hand.

You take a deep breath and go to sit next to him. You sigh and you hesitantly put your hand on his shoulder. “Jason. Just… Please? Please just tell me what’s going on? Are you being bullied or something? Are you really going to some underground fighting ring? If so I’m not letting you go, at least not alone. Jason you’re my little brother. You and Luke are the only family I have-“

Jason blurts out. “I’m Robin.”

You freeze. You look at him incredulously and ask. “What?”

Jason also looks surprised. He then looks away and then turns back to you. “I- That was a joke.”

You look closer at Jason and you absolutely know he was telling the truth just now. You stand up and start pacing around the room before you come to a realisation. “Bruce… Bruce is..?”

Jason looks away, and that tells you everything you need to know. Everything starts to click together. Bruce is fucking Batman. Fucking Bruce?! Oh my god that’s why Batman can get all those gadgets. It makes total sense! And that means Dick was… Oh my god Dick was the former Robin, holy shit. What the fuck. You look at Jason and you want yell, scream, punch, not because you’re angry at him, but because you’re livid at Bruce for allowing this. They’re just kids! Jason hugs you from behind, startling you from your thoughts and says. “You aren’t mad, are you?”

You turn to look at him and gently cup his cheeks before saying. “No. No, I could never be mad at you. It’s not your fault. But Bruce-“

He holds your hands and puts them down before saying. “Bruce is doing his best. He’s been helping us. You saw how angry and how he’d used to be so angry.”

You then argue with him. “He’s still angry!”

Jason rolls his eyes and continues. “And I’ve been learning to control myself. I just, please. I like doing this. I get to help people-“

You raise your voice, not at him, but because you’re trying to plead for him to see things your way. “You can help people in different ways! You can volunteer-“

He then shouts as he looks deep into your eyes. “You know that’s not enough! Look at us! Look at why we’re here. It’s because it’s never enough. Look at how they dismissed your dad’s murder so easily! They closed the case in less than a month! Something was clearly going on there!”

You turn away from him, putting one hand on your waist and using the other to pinch the bridge of your nose. Jason continues and says. “If that really worked, neither of us would’ve been adopted by Bruce-“

You try to walk away from him but he quickly blocks your path and grabs your wrist. “Y/n please, it’s for the good of-“

“But what about you? I know you think it’s good, but is it? You’re 13-“

He interrupts and says. “I’m turning 14-“

You sarcastically say. “Yeah because that makes a WORLD of difference, yeah, sorry I didn’t realise you could pay your taxes and shit Mr. 14 year old.”

Jason’s hold on your wrist tightens and he argues. “Whatever! Look this is my choice-“

You interrupt him this time. “Really? Because to me it looks like Bruce is being insane, carless and-“

Jason growls back. “You take that back y/n-“

“No! This is actually insane Jason, he is making you fight people like the fucking killer clown, that scarecrow dude with the fear gas-“

“It’s actually a toxin-“ He grumbles under his breath, but you hear it. All this back and forth is driving you up the wall. You finally snap and start yelling.

“WHO THE FUCK CARES JASON THE FACT IS THAT YOU SHOULD BE SAFE, YOU SHOULD BE HERE, HAVING FUN, BEING A KID, NOT HAVING THE WORLD OR PEOPLE’S LIVES ON YOUR-“

You then realise that he’s looking at you scared, his hands are even shaking. You remember what he said about his dad. How he used to yell and beat him when he got drunk. You know this. You promised him you’d never yell at him, that you’d always love and care for him. Listen to him. But right now you’re yelling. You’re yelling at your baby brother, it doesn’t matter what you’re saying, or whether you meant to or not. You still yelled at him. Guilt floods your systems and the anger in your chest has changes into a heavy weight in the pit of your stomach. You slowly reach for him as you gently call his name but he smacks your hand away and runs out the room. You feel awful, how could you do that to him? You were angry and frustrated but you know better. You’re his safe house, you’re supposed to protect him. You turn around and try to chase after him but you bump into Luke. Seeing your panicked state and wide eyes he looks at you worried and asks. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

You’re about to say exactly what happened but, it’s his secret. It’s not your place to tell. You’re angry, but you aren’t stupid. This isn’t a secret you can just tell, you might trust Luke but Jason doesn’t know him as well as you do. You sigh and just give him a general overview of what just happened. Luke looks at you sadly and says. “Maybe you should give him some time-“

In a panicked tone you trip over your words but manage to get out. “But I- I have to apologise, I need to- I need to fix this! Luke, I’m supposed to-“

He grabs your shoulders and says. “Calm down. I know you’re scared that this will drive a wedge between you two, and honestly it might. I’m not gonna lie, but I also know that you both love each other a lot. You two are like two peas in a pod, partners in crime, however you wanna say it. He knows you didn’t mean to hurt him, of course you should still apologise but… Yeah just. Give him some space. He’ll come around-“

You then pause and then weakly say. “And what if he doesn’t? What if he decides I’m-“

Luke rolls his eyes and then says. “And what if you explode tomorrow. Look, it’s going to be fine. I know it.”

So you wait. And wait. And wait. Two whole weeks passes of him avoiding you. You try to talk to him but he always leaves without a word. It hurts. The knowledge that you hurt him so badly that he won’t talk to you, makes your heart twist with frustration at yourself. You try your best to give him space, but as the days pass it gets harder and harder to stay put. Especially when you know what he’s doing at night.

You have a dream again, maybe because you’re stressed. But this feels worse. You wake up, lying down on the beach. You get up with a groan and see you’re at the same beach that your other dreams took place in. However this time you see foot prints all over the beach. Some of them bird like, some of them look like normal human foot prints. And some of them look… Unnatural. You stand there looking around before you hear a soft crying behind you. It has an owl mask, you kneel onto the floor and ask the kid. “Hey, what’s wrong-“

She mumbles something you don’t catch. You pause and try to ask her to repeat herself when she repeats what she says. You barely catch what she says so you ask again. She whispers. “It hurts.”

Before you can ask what hurts she repeats herself a bit louder. “It hurts.”

You start to see where this is going so you start to back off but bump into another child as you walk backwards. You recognise this one is a boy and at the same time they repeat the words ‘It hurts’. You try to back away from them but you only find two more children blocking your way. Every time you turn away, more of them appear. They’re all different, all shapes and sizes, the only common factor between these kids are the fact all of them seem to be under 15.

They keep repeating the phrase, and with every time they say it they grow louder. You try to cover your ears but it does nothing. They’re surrounding you now, they’re screaming, pleading for you to help them, to save them. You feel your pants being tugged and that’s when you see that more kids are coming up from the sand. But they’re not climbing up, no, they’re pulling you down. The sand beneath your feet start to loosen, making it that much easier for them to pull you down with them. You try to pry then off you but like a hydra every kid you pry off, three more take it’s place. You scream for them to let you go, but none of them listen. You start to see flashes of visions, of children and needles, of people in masks, of a dark ballroom and an altar on the other side of the room. The sand is up to your waist now, numerous small hand clawing at your skin, leaving trails of blood in their wake. Their hands start to reach your face, their hands covered in your blood as they clamour to drag you into sand, grabbing and scratching where they can reach. The sand is now right under your chin. You get your hand free to try to pry yourself out, but it doesn’t work. The last thing you see is an owl as your mouth and lungs start to fill with sand.

You wake up with a gasp and start coughing out sand, you run to your bathroom sink as you throw up more sand as well at last night’s dinner. You hear someone coming into your room, and in your panicked state you grab the soap dispenser. As the person tries to come in you swing at him, the person dodges and you let out an animalistic growl and follow the person. Your eyes are unfocused and you can barely see, it’s like you can see enough to move but not enough to recognise anything. You hear something, like someone’s talking, but it’s so muddled that it seems like distorted noise. You swing again and the person dodges again, but you catch them off guard as you throw it straight at their face which nearly hits the intruder’s, but instead it hits the wall behind him. You tackle the stranger but they use that force against you and throws you onto the ground. They pin you to the ground with great difficulty as you groan and growl like an animal, the intruder then jumps off you and makes a run to your bed. You follow and as you’re grabbing and lifting you’re the brown thing by a bigger thing over your head to smash into the intruder’s head, you hear your daddy’s voice.

You freeze and your eyes start to clear up, you can see again. You’re huffing and puffing, you the put your bedside table on the ground. You’re room is mostly okay, if not a bit messy because of the fighting. You look to your bed and see that Jason’s looking at you with wide eyes with your Oliver plushie in his hands. You start to piece together what happened and sigh before you stretch your body lightly. Jason then yells at you. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

You groan and then say. “It just happens sometimes-“

Jason’s eyes widen further and he continues. “SOMETIMES!? You were acting like some backed up rabid animal! And that’s normal?!”

You turn around and massage your temples before saying. “Really? And you’re so much better, Mr. ‘Boy wonder’? Look if you came here to judge me-“

Jason makes you turn around and is about to yell again but stops himself. Instead he lets out a sigh and pulls you into a hug. You’re a bit surprised but you hug him back you two stand there for a moment in silence. The two of you let go and you take a step back from him, he gives you a melancholy look before calming himself down fully. He takes another moment to think and then says. “I get it. We both have secrets. I just… I don’t know. I’m sorry for avoiding you, and I’m sorry for running-“

You interrupt him, grabbing his hand and try to assure him. “Jason, no! You had every right to do that. I’m sorry I couldn’t control myself I just, recently it’s been harder to. I’m not saying it to excuse myself, I’m saying it to explain myself. And I was so frustrated, I… Jason I want you to be safe. And what you’re doing… I can’t protect you from that. That made me angry and scared, and the way you kept brushing off my concerns just left me feeling more worried and scared. I love you so much Jason. We may not be related by blood, but you matter to me more than anyone else. Well not anyone else, you’re a very close third to Luke.”

Jason chuckles at that, he then brushes his hair out of his face before saying. “Yeah, I get that, I’m sorry about that. It’s just I… I know. It’s dangerous. Of course it is. You don’t have to tell me that. But I have to, cause if it’s not me, who will? Who’s gonna protect the kids that are going through the stuff we went through?”

You look at into his eyes and that’s when you know, he’s not gonna quit this. No matter what you say. You cup his cheeks and tear up, your baby, your little brother. It brings you so much pride, so much pain and tremendous amount of grief to your heart knowing that every night you’re going to bed, he’s going out there to fight criminals and villains. People who don’t care that he’s just a kid. That’s when you let out a shaky sigh and let the tears run down. You kiss the edge of his hairline and really look at him. You look at his hooded eyes with beautiful brown irises, like the sweetest milk chocolate, his fluffy black hair which you run your left hand runs through, his full cheeks, the permanent little smirk on his face, which makes you smile. You chuckle wetly as you squish his cheeks as he chuckles back. You exhale shakily before saying. “It’s like I’m sending you off to war. Is there any chance I can make you change your mind?”

He chuckles at that and shakes his head as he looks back at you tearfully. You nod and softly say. “I thought so.”

You let go of him and you get a tissue to wipe your face. Once your face is dry you go back to him and say. “I’m not gonna stop you. I don’t think I’d be able to anyways.”

You both chuckle at the before you continue. “But I want to help. Whatever you or Bruce want me to do I’ll do. Well less Bruce, more you. I want to do my best to keep you safe. Just because you’re a vigilante doesn’t change that. And I want you to promise me,” You say as you put up your right hand with your pinkie out. “No more secrets. Please.”

He stares at your hand and then at you before asking. “Are you serious-“

“Just take the damn pinkie Jason.” You say with exasperatedly.

He rolls his eyes and then takes it with his own pinkie. You then say. “Promise me, promise me that if there’s anything and I mean anything that is potentially life threatening or changing you will tell me.”

He pauses, thinking about it for a moment before saying. “I pinkie promise to not keep secrets that could be potentially life changing or threatening from you.”

You nod, and before you release his pinkie you quickly add in. “Or else I get a free punch.”

“Hey! That’s not what we-“

“Well I guess you should tell the truth then to avoid getting punched then.” You say with a smirk.

He then rolls his eyes before you pull him into a hug and say. “I love you. So much. You’re my one and only brother-“

“What about Dic-“

You then interrupt him with. “He doesn’t count.”

Jason laughs at that and then says. “I love you too. Until I take my last breath.”

——————————

Tag list: @simpingpandas @randomlyappearingartist @birbtweettweet @soulsire @crazycaoticsimp

I hope you guys liked it! And thanks for waiting patiently! Also I still need a beta reader, not to like edit or anything just to read it over and like critique my stuff. But yeah, this chapter took longer as well as like became longer than I anticipated. I was initially thinking this would be the chapter that I, well, you know. But it didn’t. We’ll also see either Kori and Barbara in the next chapter or so. And if you guys want to see like Ethan again let me know! Because this might be your last chance :)

[yoonjae20]

Ric(hard) Fenton; Part 2

Read on ao3.

Masterpost. Previous. Next.

Bruce is many things — a son, an orphan, Gotham’s prince, a vigilante — but he knows that he isn’t a good father. He wants to be — he loves his children fiercely but there are too many unspoken words between them for Bruce to be a truly good father to them. But never more did Bruce believe that than when Dick stormed out of the Manor calling someone else his family. 

He and Dick argued often — always had butted heads — to be honest ever since Dick stopped being his Robin. It had only been many, many years later that Bruce realized that ever since leaving his shadow Dick had blossomed — that he had just been a dead weight holding the young man down. 

After Jason died due to his mistakes, he had been hellbent on never having another Robin again. When Alfred had put up the memorial, claiming he wouldn’t let Bruce forget, he had gritted his teeth but persisted through his anger, trying to not let his guilt drown him. But when Alfred sent Tim after him with a costume that would always be stained with blood in his mind — he had been furious. He hadn’t been fair with the boy, lashing out at him, being harsh in hopes that he would give up. But Tim had been stubborn — probably even more than Bruce himself. It’s only now that Bruce can admit to himself that the boy saved him from himself. 

“Well that went well,” Tim says sarcastically once they updated Alfred on the situation. He leans back in his seat in front of the Batcomputer. 

Bruce lets out a grunt as he looks over his shoulder as they try to find out who Danny is. So far no luck. They are running facial recognition software but Bruce has a feeling they won’t get any results there either. 

“He must have met him during the year he went missing,” Tim concludes. “That’s the only explanation.”

Bruce can’t argue against that logic, although he doesn’t like what it implies. (Bruce had hoped that despite their disagreements, there would always be trust between them. That no matter what, they would be on the same side. Nothing burns more than the knowledge that he failed.)

He stares at the map pinging Dick’s location every so often — he is moving west, about to cross the border into Pennsylvania. The only thing they can do now is wait and see where the man is going. Bruce sits in the chair next to Tim and settles in for a long day. 

Tim makes a breakthrough almost 12 hours later. It has been two hours since Dick’s signal dropped after he reached the border of Illinois and 6 hours since they realized Jason apparently followed him wherever the hell is going. 

Tim drums his fingers next to the keyboard, impatient as the software runs. At this point the intention to find out more about Danny isn’t about concern for Dick anymore, it’s about pure spite — and the need to know. Everybody has a digital footprint no matter how small. It shouldn’t be so hard to find a single kid. 

When the software pings with a result he almost topples his chair with how fast he stands up. There’s a match with the key words ‘GIW, Danny and Ric’ and Tim’s stomach drops as he scans the information. He taps his earpiece, interrupting Oracle as she briefs B and Robin who are about to start their patrol.

“I found him,” Tim says, voice shaking. “You’ll wanna see this.”

They need to go help Dick and that fast. 

It feels too quiet as they traverse through Amity Park on foot — and Jason can’t help but be on edge. He’s too used to the night in Gotham and its rowdy streets. The distant sound of bullets raining and the howling of police cars. Drugs deals around the corner, while the working girls wait on the sides of the streets in groups for drunken stragglers. Gotham is alive at night — but Amity Park? It feels like a Ghost Town in more ways than one. Even Smallville, despite being in the rural parts of Kansas, had held more life when Dick had convinced Jason to visit the Kent Farm one time.

Jason feels baffled that all the events Dick had told him about flew under the radar. Shouldn’t an entire town disappearing get noticed by someone other than its residents — or at least the Justice League? If the town vanished into nothingness once more, would anyone remember it? He doesn’t like that the answer seems to be no. 

Jason forms the rear as Dick and Danny chat in front, voices barely above a whisper as they discuss something. Jason knows he probably should listen as Danny updates Dick on the intricacies of what he missed since he was gone — voice serious, but he can’t help but keep an eye out, gaze trailing the rooftops — old habits die hard after all. 

It doesn’t take long for Jason to notice that they are being followed. The only reason Jason hasn’t warned Danny and Dick yet is because it’s nothing more than a small blob shaped green ball. Jason trails it in the corner of his eyes as it stays far enough to be barely seen but close enough to not lose them. 

Dick and Danny had briefed him on most Ghost Types — and Jason still has to blink away the green when he remembers that Danny admitted that he had his own roster of “rogues” to deal with. Jason has to admit that there were a lot more than he imagined — other than the stereotypical ones from movies — and he’d seen himself in the description of a Revenant. That’s why he knows this must be a Blob Ghost — which according to Danny and Dick — were pretty harmless and kind of dumb most of the time, acting on instincts and emotions rather than conscious thought. But that still doesn’t explain why it would follow them.

It darts in and out of view and Jason has to admit it’s kind of adorable. Dick and Danny must have noticed that he is distracted because they stop and Jason almost walks into them.

Jason instantly notices something is wrong when there isn’t a quip from either of them about his inattention — instead they both look horrified. Jason doesn’t understand why until the blob ghost is suddenly next to them and its emotions almost overwhelm Jason. 

Scared. Not safe. Hide. Danger. Danger!

It’s only Danny’s quick reaction as he tackles Jason out of the way that prevents him from being a splat on the ground as a blast hits the position where he had been standing, leaving a smoking crater.

“Well, well, well. Look who crawled back?” a cruel voice taunts and Jason sees Dick stiffening as they get surrounded by agents in white suits. “And it even brought us a present! And here I thought we would need to find ourselves a new shiny plaything.” 

“Operative O,” Danny’s hisses, an almost animalistic growl escaping his throat. 

“Already showing your real nature, I see,” Operative O’s voice is mocking. 

“Operative O, don’t aggravate it further before we have it safely captured,” another agent reprimands, holding some kind of blaster and Jason sees green, only Danny’s warning hand on his shoulder keeping him from retaliating. 

“It’s just — here I was worried it wouldn’t fall in our trap without dear old Ricky in our grasp, but it seems I worried for nothing,” Operative O laughs but the only thing Jason hears is Joker’s laugh as the man beats him to half to death with the crowbar.  

Jason grits his teeth, shaking his head to force the memory away.  He’s not in Ethiopia. These are not his demons — he has no right losing himself here. And like hell he is gonna let Danny and Dick face them alone. 

Jason notices he must have missed something because suddenly the two agents who had spoken up are way too close and Danny and Dick both are frozen next to him — neither even saying a word or doing anything despite it. 

“Imagine my surprise when we turned up at the Fentons and you weren’t there.” Operative O slides an arm around Dick’s shoulders forcing him to bend a little as he murmurs the next words into his ear — Dick trembles in his hold and Jason’s vision flashes green. “Made it super easy for us.” 

“Get your paws off my brother!” Danny snarls, lashing out but stopping short when the agent uses Dick as a meat child. 

“Now let’s not be unreasonable, shall we?” Operative O says, releasing Dick and holding up his hands in the air. He circles them, grin sharp. “I’m not cruel after all. Let's say Phantom and the other feisty one, I saw those green eyes — in exchange for the rest — a fair deal, is it not? What do you say Ricky?”

Jason can hear Dick’s jaw crack from how hard the man grits his teeth. 

“After all the Fenton’s got you to replace Phantom now. A lot better than a corpse if you ask me.” 

Dick growls and decks the man hard in the face as he leans into his space once again. Operative O just laughs maniacally as he stumbles at the force of it, spitting blood on the ground and wiping his nose with the sleeve of his suit, staining it red.

“There it is,” he says gleefully. “That’s what I wanted to see.”

Dick is panting and to Jason’s shock his eyes are a burning, pulsing green as he glares at the agent.

“I’ll wonder how long it’ll take you to scream, hm Ricky boy,” Operative O ponders sadistically. “I hope you’ll hold out longer than Phantom at least. Makes it more fun to break them.” 

“Are you done, Operative O?” the other agent interrupts, impatient. “Other people have places to be.”

“What’s the rush, Operative K?” Operative O muses, flicking the blood dripping from his face off his hand. “It’s not like there’s anyone to interrupt us.” 

Operative K narrows his eyes at his partner.

“The higher-ups wanted us to be done with this 2 months ago,” he reminds. “The sooner we get done here, the sooner we can get the hell out of this cursed town.”

“As if Gotham will be better,” Operative O scoffs and it takes all of Jason’s willpower to not react at the name drop. “Overflowing with all those pests — starting with that infuriating Bat and its birds.” 

He hums, clearly deep in thought.

“Although I always wanted to clip a bird’s wings and see if they can still fly.”

Operative K rolls his eyes, clearly fed up with his partner’s behavior.

“I should have switched with Operative L when I had the chance.” 

“Hey, I still get the job done, don’t I?” Operative O pouts and Jason wants to claw the expression of the man’s face. “They have to die sooner or later anyway.” 

Operative K sighs but just shakes his head before he directs his attention back to the agents still surrounding them.

“Capture them.”

Jason stands up, not about to let them do whatever they want and for once gladly letting the Pit Rage consume him, but before he can even do one step, Danny writhes on the ground next to him, screaming as electricity continues to shock him. Drool drips from the corner of his mouth as he seizes and his screaming gets hoarse. And Jason — Jason just stands there. It's like his muscles have turned into lead and he can’t move his limbs one inch as he stares at Danny convulsing. 

Fuck, he knew this was gonna be bad when Danny had showed him his scars. But he hadn’t thought of the chance that they would fail before they even tried. Jason feels helpless and it’s like Ethiopia all over again. Only this time he wishes the screams he hears would come from him. 

“Enough!” Dick roars as Danny starts foaming at his mouth and tearing Jason out of his daze. “What the hell do you want from us?”

Danny’s eyes roll back in his skull as the shocks stop and Operative O uses a blaster to lift Dick’s chin, forcing him to look at him as he smirks.

“Beg.” His smirk stretches into a blood lusty smile as Dick gulps, his hands spasming at his sides. “Maybe you’ll convince me.”

At the same time as Dick throws down a smoke bomb, Jason grabs his gun in one smooth moment from the holster hidden above his foot and shoots the man point blank between the eyes. The space fills with smoke as Operative O drops to the ground — hopefully dead — and Jason quickly helps Dick with carrying Danny between them as they duck underneath countless stray blasts as the agents shout over each other.  

“That signal was atrocious,” Jason complains as Dick leads them into an alleyway, probably orienting himself on nothing more than pure instincts. They take several complicated turns until they can’t hear the sound of battle anymore. “Cass would have had your head.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” Dick fires back and uses his shoulder to open a door, as they drag Danny in it, the boy still out cold. 

The door falls close behind them and Dick stills as he feels the boy’s pulse, lips pressed into a thin line.

“This is bad, we need an Ecto-Dejecto as fast as possible.” Dick gnaws at his lips. “Neither of us has enough ectoplasm to heal this.”

Jason’s eyes grow wide as he sees Dick’s eyes and veins glow green, his brother’s face getting paler by the second. Jason rips away Dick’s grasp on Danny and the man lets out a gasp, breathing shakily and looking incredibly drained

“What the hell did you do?”

“Transferred the little ectoplasm I have to Danny,” Dick wheezes out. “We can’t use yours, the corruption would overpower his ectoplasm with how little reserves he has left.”

“There’s no reason you had to do this if it hurts you!”

Dick leans against a wall for support, his limbs shaking.

“You- You don’t get it,” Dick still sounds breathless. “Electricity-” He coughs. “It’s his one weakness. Destabilizes his core. It’s- It’s how he died. If we don’t get him the Ecto-Dejecto he’ll-”

Dick grimaces as if he doesn’t want to finish the sentence, but it’s far too late that Jason notices it’s actually because he’s in pain. He barely steps forward and catches the man as he suddenly faints. Staggering underneath the weight of his brother — and the responsibility that his new brother might die if he makes the wrong decision, Jason says the only word he can think of.

“FUCK!”

[almostmylove]

shatter me with your love. Part 2.

Warning: neglect.

Summary: the child that goes the most unnoticed is always the most problematic one right?

thru out your life you have felt ignored, though it didn't start that way. The first time you realized that you had become invisible in the eyes of everyone was actually surprisingly at a gala. Dick was around 18 and had already moved to bludhaven , Jason was around 14 and you about 12 or 13(close to the same age as Tim).

The gala was supposed to be promotional for something of the people. It was one of those important galas that you can't miss even if you're at the bottom of food chain, the ones where batman had to take a rest from his work. you can't even remember what it was really for, but it got swarmed by the paparazzi as soon as they got wind that both of the adopted Wayne sons would be their making it their few rare public appearance together, something that the tabloids would eat up.

this wasn’t your first gala or public appearance, but you still tried to look your best, wearing a stunning black dress that shimmered because of all the sparkles you so longingly begged Bruce to get you. you matched with Bruce and your brothers which all had matching black suits with a red rose on the left breast pocket. you added a red rose perfectly place in your hair with the help of Alfred. Before you guys left for the gala Bruce told all of you to enjoy the night and for you to be on your best behavior. when guys arrive, you were swarmed by the flashing lights and clicks of the greedy cameras that wanted more of the Wayne family. well at least to everyone else. You on the other hand were being pushed and shoving you out of the way, the only thing holding you in place was the loosening grip of dicks hand . it didn’t take long before your hand broke off, sweeping you into the sea of paparazzi, and after a few grueling and unbreathable second you found yourself on the edge of the paparazzi, everyone backs turned to you. The only one to notice your disappearance was dick and he couldn’t really do much because of all the eyes on him. You also couldn’t try and squeeze your way back in with them so sat idly on the side eating some food while you waited for them to be done. You didn’t think about it too much at the time, but your heart ached for some reason. Each bite you took Brang you closer to tears, but you couldn’t cry even when most of the attention was focused towards them. Not right now. Not when the very few eyes that were on you looked at you with something you couldn’t really explain. It was like A mix of pity and mockery. As your eyes swelled up with tears and your finally broke you couldn’t take it anymore. you ran out onto the streets of Gotham before anyone could see you cry. Luckly the people outside were too busy with their own life to notice a little kid running out of a giant building in tears. You ran and ran, until you reached the nearest alleyway scouring deep into the alley. finally relaxing, you sat down on the dirty floor covered in dirt and other stuff, your legs collapse, giving your already flowing tears to spill faster and more intensely. It was nice to let your feeling out for bit, not letting the expectations of being a Wayne hold you down. At that moment you felt helpless, kind of scared, angry and disappointed. You didn’t know if the disappointment and anger was directed toward your father and your brothers or yourself. You felt angry because he left you alone, anger toward the paparazzi, your dad and anger towards dick for not holding your hand tighter. Maybe, just maybe if he had held your hand a bit tighter you wouldn’t be here, on the dangerous streets of Gotham on the dirty floor crying like a stray waiting for a miracle to happen and to get adopted. But you could never stay angry at them. no. it wasn’t their fault the paparazzi pushed you away, it's not their fault you are here in an alley all alone and crying. it not their fault you aren't good enough.

It's not their fault, it's yours, all yours. It was pointless to wish (just look how it turned out for you, both in adoption and wishing).

You sat there for a few minutes with no plan of getting up anytime soon. You just listen to the rumbling of faraway engine, the putrid smell of the trash can that was not too far from you and the busy life of pedestrians as they walk by never noticing you huddled at the very end of the alleyway. It was oddly soothing and relaxing in a way.

You don’t know for how you sat the there or what you where even still doing there. Maybe you wished for one of your brothers to notice you were gone from the crowd of riches and snobs to come looking for you.

Holding on to the little bit of hope you had you stayed for a bit longer waiting for their footsteps offerone of them to call out your name. Your head had been between tour legs so when you heard footsteps you couldn’t see who had come but you had hoped it was them intil you released that the footsteps came from the dead end of the alley and not from the entrance of it. Too scared to look up you tried staying as still as you as if trying to magically blend into the background , shutting your eyes as if that would hell. Your breath became raged and unstable. You had always known that Gotham was never the safest place to be especially at night and alone and you knew that on your own you could never fight them you had seen the injuries and havoc they have caused, shown by your brothers and father with their daily bruses and cuts . This was definitely a time where you wished to be as good as jason in combat or as good as dick in acrobatics to escape from here. the person was now right infront of you, and curiously you peak your eyes open to find a pair of shoes in front of you. You tried to quickly figure out who they belonged to to be able to make the best decision of how to escape the situation till you were interrupted by their voice. You quickly looked to find……..

Part 3

[gothamhappiness]

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Your new family (Part VI)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

Reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of stress, not a lot of plot here but little snippets of moments with all the kids

You were a little bit stressed out to meet all of Bruce’s children but you also felt like it was going to be alright. Jason was there, always by your side. Dick and Tim liked you and they had said only good things about you to the others. Especially Dick, because he was well aware that Jason wouldn’t agree to spend time with him again without you. The fact Bruce was much nicer since you were together was also working in your favour. Alfred was approving of you too and he had personally asked all of the children to treat you well.

The children were also aware that Bruce would be very unhappy and disappointed with them all if things didn’t go well. It was obviously very important for him.

At first, everyone was a little bit silent and awkward. It was the first time a civilian was introduced to the whole family. And technically, they already knew a lot about you without knowing you, so they weren’t too sure how to act around you. They didn’t want to scare you off by showing they made research about you… and stalked you.

After a little while, you gently teased them all, saying that for vigilantes they were quite shy. It quickly put them at ease.

Things went actually a lot better than you thought and you could tell no one really believed you would that easily get along with the family. You felt Bruce relaxing through the dinner, his hand on your thigh under the table. His warmth helped you feel safer around everyone as well.

Soon enough they all were chatting around and asking you questions. It was a true interrogation but you didn’t mind. For once, you were the one answering questions and not the other way around. It was fun.

Damian was the only silent one. He wasn’t too sure how to deal with you. He didn’t need you. He wasn’t used to seeing his father around someone. He wasn’t too certain how to react when his father kissed the back of your hand with such love shining in his eyes. 

You noticed his uncertainty but you weren’t too worried about it. You knew you were fitting just right in there. You had never felt like that before, or just with your grandma. It was a nice change in your life. And you were really eager to start spending some time with all of them, like you were doing with Jason already.

You went to concerts with Dick. He wanted to go to those classic piano concerts but no one was eager to follow him. He had asked you, half certain you would politely decline his offer. But on the contrary, you had been more than happy to agree to come with him. Your eagerness warmed his heart. It had been a long time he hadn’t had a motherly figure in his life, and he knew you were fitting perfectly. Since then, whenever one of you wanted to go to a concert - no matter what kind - you had to go together. It was your thing. None of you went to so many concerts before, but it was a pretext to spend time together. You talked a lot before the concerts too and Dick could only agree with Jason: you were easy to talk to.

You played video games with Tim. You were waiting for Bruce to come back from patrol one night and you were bored out of your mind. You found Tim playing in the living room. At first, you just asked him if you could hang around. He agreed without thinking much of it, before offering you to play with him. He needed another player and no one else was around at that time. It appeared you were a gamer and you enjoyed fighting against one other. But you enjoyed working together on co-op games even more. You spent a lot of evenings with Tim on the couch, screaming together when you were losing or winning. Everyone knew better than to annoy the two of you when you were gaming.

You watched movies with Stephanie. Stephanie was clearly not too certain how to be around you. Things weren’t always easy with Bruce and after the way her parents betrayed her, she felt like she couldn’t trust adults any longer. But Jason loved you so much that she thought she could give you a chance. Watching movies allowed the two of you to bond, without having to interact too much at first. Then you started to talk a lot about what you just saw, and then about everything else. Watching movies snuggled up against you started to become Stephanie’s comfort zone and you were more than happy to give her that. Even though you were a tease, you never said anything when she fell asleep on you.

You took dancing lessons with Cassandra. It was clear the girl was a classic dancer; she was really amazing to watch. You loved to dance too, even though you never really took any kind of lessons, so you thought it would be a nice activity to do together. Cass instantly agreed. It allowed her to observe you and your body language. She had more fun than she thought, and she offered to keep going dancing together. You improved a lot thanks to her help and she liked to discover other kinds of dances thanks to you. You also came to watch her repetitions and her representations. She started to always look for you in the spectators, happy to be taken care of that way. 

You did puzzles with Duke. You started to spend a lot more time at the manor, even when Bruce wasn’t around. You were currently doing a mind game on the living room table as Duke went by. You started to chat around and you saw Duke was quite eager to play with you, so you invited him to settle by your side. Once you were done, he looked for a puzzle he hadn’t finished yet so you could do it together. When the weather was pretty bad in Gotham, you quite liked to get some hot cacao and to do puzzles with Duke. Because you both were pretty good with puzzles, you had to always find more challenging ones. Looking for them was also part of the fun.

For Damian, things were a little bit more difficult, as he made it clear, he had no interest in spending time with you. It hurt you a little more than you wanted to admit but didn’t say anything at first. You eventually went to an animal care centre open to the public with Damian and Bruce. Bruce offered for you to come with the two of them so his son could get used to your presence. He had noticed he was the only one who was avoiding you. Damian stayed cold to you for a long time, eyeing his father holding your hand with a frown until you let go of Bruce’s hand to come closer to the lions. You really loved the animals and Damian thought you couldn’t be that bad then. That evening, Alfred the cat fell asleep on your lap, so Damian started to be more polite to you. It was the first step. You started to bond over taking care of his pets.

You also met Barbara, Kate, Luke and Lucius. 

Kate and you instantly became friends because you were seeing things quite similarly. You also loved to tease everyone together. You had a real complicity between the two of you, and you often hang out together just for the sake of being together. And annoying everyone.

Barbara needed some time to trust you but she could tell you were a good addition to the family. She slowly warmed up to you. You didn’t take it personally and you showed a lot of patience. You were happy to be part of this group of amazing people, and Barbara couldn’t deny how kind you were to all of them.

Luke trusted Duke’s approval of you. You talked a lot around a drink in a bar in Gotham after Dick invited everyone for his birthday. You asked him questions about the army and the way veterans were taken care of. You promised him to do an article about it, which touched Luke a lot.

Lucius and you enjoyed talking together, as ones of the only civilians of the family, with Alfred. For Lucius, it was quite refreshing to be able to discuss with someone who was also shaking their head at the Batfamily’s antics. Lucius quickly saw how much of a good asset you could be for Wayne Enterprises as well and he hoped that at some point you would agree to help Bruce with it.

As months went by, you started to all know each other a lot more. And to start to love one another quite fiercely. You were their Batmon. You got confirmation of it when the children playfully and yet tenderly brought you a bracelet with the bat logo on it. You swore to always wear it.

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PART 7

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Taglist for all my work <3

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Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

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Taglist for this series <3

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[one-green-frog]

Family Knows Best Pt.2

Platonic yandere batfam x m!reader

(This time with Barbara, Steph, Cass and Duke)

Barbara was the smartest woman you had ever met—there was no doubt about that. Her mind was unmatched when it came to computers, but that wasn’t the only thing that made her dangerous.

She knew exactly how to play with emotions, how to tug at heartstrings without anyone even realizing. She rarely used that skill, but when she did, it was effortless. Like when the others fought over who got to sit next to you at dinner, the sibling would fight tooth and nail, but in the end, Barbara knew just what to say to have her way. In the end it was always up to you, and no one would dare say no to you. That would break their hearts.

She was the big sister everyone needed—always asking about your day, offering advice, telling stories. But unlike the others, Barbara was calm, controlled. There was no chaos with her. Just an unwavering devotion that wrapped around you like an unshakable grip.

Steph wasn’t officially family, but that never mattered—she had wormed her way into everyone’s hearts, especially yours. She was always there, practically living in the manor, always smiling, always laughing, but there was something sharper beneath it all. Something possessive in the way she clung to you during those “mandatory” girl’s nights, where you were required to be present. Not that she’d ever force you, of course. No, she’d just guilt you in that way only she knew how. It was fine, though, wasn’t it?

Staying up late with her, talking about everything and nothing, only for Alfred to be the one to tear you two apart. Steph hated that part. Hated being away from you, even if just for a night. She needed to be close—an arm around your shoulders, fingers intertwined with yours, always touching, always claiming. You were the normal one, and she needed that. Needed you. You wouldn’t take that away from her, would you?

Cass was different. At first, she was terrifying, appearing from the shadows like a ghost, watching you with eyes that never missed a thing. She didn’t speak—not at first—but her actions were clear. And when she did speak, those first words—“New brother”—sent a warmth through you that was both comforting and chilling. You were never alone with her. Not in the way that made you uneasy, but in the way that made you feel safe.

She was always there, watching, waiting, ensuring nothing ever came between you and your happiness. And if something did? Well, you’d never have to worry about it again. She would eliminate any threats—anyone who dared to take your peace away. It didn’t matter if you knew about it or not. She didn’t need you to know. She only needed you to stay. And if that meant keeping you locked in the safety of her presence forever? Then so be it.

And then there was Duke. The light of the family, the golden boy, the one who welcomed you with open arms and a smile that burned too bright to be real. From the moment you arrived, he made it clear—you belonged here. You completed the family. And from that day on, he never left your side. He was charming, funny, warm—everything a big brother should be. But beneath that light, there was something darker. Something that lingered in the way he looked at you, like you were more than just family. Like you were everything.

He could hide it well, mask it with laughter and an easygoing nature, but you saw it. Saw the way his eyes darkened when someone got too close. Felt the way his grip tightened just a bit too much when he hugged you. He would die for you—you knew that. But more than that, you knew he would kill for you. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if that scared you… or if it made you feel safe.

Taglist: @lilyalone

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

✧✦✧ Chapter 2 ✧✦✧

A New Reset, An Old Story

Yandere Platonic Bat Family x Neglected Regressing GN Reader

Warning this part contains: low qual English + corny/cringey usage of it, lots of cursing, emotional stuff, weird hallucinations, and bad editing I guess? was someone there before? Can someone pick me up? MC is being weird.

Note: a bit longer part this time

MASTERLIST Pages ↻ 1 , 3 ...➣

NOW PLAYING ↻◁ ||▷↺ Mona Lisa - Nat King Cole lıılıılılılıılıılı

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How do you act when you feel like your day keeps repeating?.

Would you be content? to just go with the flow? to memorize each of your steps, actions or words?.

Or, would you go crazy? lose your mind and sanity? to see red dancing on the edge of your eyes if you keep remembering the shit that keeps happening to you?.

I would, especially if you went through what I did, all effort I did just gone with one bullet from a gun, from a high fall, a kidnapping gone wrong, get killed by a villian, a sword, a freak accident or maybe just one very very bad day.

Gripping my seatbelt I wait for Commissioner Gordon to open the car's door and let me out, stepping out of the police car with it's siren and lights off, I stand on the graveled road that leads to the stone steps of the old and dark mansion I knew too well.

A little scribbles pops in my vision roughly drawings and crossings on the mansion as if it's giving it an evil and snarling look of a giant man eating beast.

The older man gently stir me up to the porch and I watch as he ring the doorbell - The tiny mean words and drawings floating around the door flew away from the sound - on the side of the giant doors as we wait for anyone to answer.

Tensing when I heard someone's familiar shoes thudding on the otherside of the closed entrance, I step back as I grabbed Gordon's coat and braced myself to put up a new face again.

'By now Alfred should open the doors and be surprised to meet us'. a little tiny voice said by my ear as they hide behind my back- peeking over my shoulder as if they were scared even though they're not the one confronting them anyway.

As soon as they're guess was right, I observe the old event unfolding in front of me seeing Gordon hand Alfred a manila folder and show him what I knew was my DNA test, citizen papers and profile inside.

I stare blankly at Alfred who looked at me with slight pity and worry after he heard that Gordon personally escorted me here because I was supposed to be relocated to my biological father custody more than a few months ago.

'Would have prefer to stay there as well but the broody asshole insisted on one of the last resets and got my hopes up just to go back to becoming #1 fucked up dad on my list'

'Yeah! he's such an asshole!' The voice pipe up with a snort and a laugh while leaning on my shoulder.

I turn back to Commissioner Gordon one last time as he drove off as I sadly wave goodbye from the door before side eyeing the butler who was already watching me.

"Would you like some tea young master?". He kneels down and hold out a hand to me.

I stare at his face as I see glimpse of scratches around the air and scribbles on his face - crude lines to circle around his only slightly older look - a wobbly arrow to point at the small cracks of wrinkles on the edge of his eyes and a small older doodle of him from my old memories comparing his age before a glitch switching between a golden halo to devil horns floated above his head.

Blinking two times suddenly everything turned back to normal as I look at him again properly and I study his white gloved hand before grabbing it in a practiced motion as I keep on with the old scrip that I memorize long ago.

Walking close to him I follow as we pass long dark hallways that was only illuminated the flashing of lightning during the current storm and a few dark oakwood doors each one seemed taller and more menacing than the last as we entered a fairly large kitchen that I grew to love and spent most of my time in before.

He led me to an kitchen island with a marbled top so shiny I can see my face's reflection clearly along with a few stool chair with actual leather covers and I carefully climb before proceeding to watch him prepare me a tea and some of his prized cookies.

While waiting I got lost in my thoughts as I re-assess on what to do in this reset.

'What do I do now? does it even matter?'

'Do we even matter?' the small voice questioned in my ear.

I remember the times I try to use the past knowledge I have to get closer to them but........

'nothing really works for us anyway' again they reply with a murmur and lean on my shoulder.

No matter how hard I try, everything I sacrificed, anything I do nothing happens, sure there were some................. progress but I always get cut off by another death.

'We're just born to do this shit all over again' they spit out now with anger in their voice while I hear their teeth grinding together and their sharp nails digging on my skin.

If nothing else works then.......

Looking down at my bandage hand filled with little doodles from the other children in the orphanage and some cute yet old sticky cartoon bandaids, I relaxed my small hands on the flat marbled surface and breathe out.

I got nothing to lose, 2790 resets made me understand how dumb and starved I am for attention and love.

'So hungry and leaving us Starving-!' They groan and wail in pain before vanishing away.

Snapping my head up I see Alfred gently pushing a nice steaming cup of tea in front of me as well as some cookies on a plate.

I slowly reach out and take the cup before blowing on the warm tea then taking a tiny sip and relish the hidden memories that this tea have brought me.

As I stare at my reflection I see it ripples as my hands shake and my body soon followed as I sniffled and hiccup, Alfred the ever gentleman that he is carefully took a hold of the tea cup as I cry finally cry out.

I cry till my eyes are puffy, I cry as let all the pain I have endured for so long, I cry out and childishly try to wipe off my snot as I asked for my mother to come back.

I cry because

I can.

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After finishing my tea and the cookies Alfred asked me if I wanted to wait for 'my father' before I go to my 'new' bedroom.

I see them in the corner as the shadows collects on that side and rise up to reach the ceiling 'They' shook their head and blared a large rough 'X' in the air then disappear with a flash of lighting coming through from the large windows.

"No,...... it's fine maybe tomorrow". I said looking down before turning up to Alfred and set my plan in motion.

"Mr. Alfred?". I asked as I gently tugged on his slacks making him look down to me.

"Yes young master?". He angles down to me as he put away the dried dishes.

I see 'their' wide and sharky smile behind Alfred's shoulder before popping back down his back.

"Can I stay with you?". I asked tightening my hold on him.

'From now on, nothing else matters except you.........If we can't get a family out of this shitty one then We'll make a new one' They murmur down while twirling a small baby hair on my nape.

But first-

We'll have to prepare for a little reunion.

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U I A U I A A U U I I A

Taglist later because I'm now entertaining food coma bleh *dies*

UPDATE 07/04/2025TAGLIST IS NO MORE

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 7 Part 2/2

Masterpost

His hotel was 23 dollars-a-night. Air: stale. Carpet: faded. Receptionist: disliked all of them personally. 

“It’s extra to have guests!” He barked after them. He looked at Cass in particular when she came out from behind the men and he could see that she had a Black Bat face on. He paused.

“There is no fee,” Cass said, and glided past him.

The receptionist quietly cursed, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Damn,” Stinkyman RudeWizard said quietly to himself. “Maybe I oughta spend more time with Bats. You have a real talent for ending conversations.”

“I bite,” Cass said serenely. It wasn’t a threat. Just providing information. Not relevant information. She would not bite him. He was stinky.

Stinkyman was quiet until he unlocked the door. “Well, come in do-gooders and creeps of the night.” He somehow managed to flourish with with bare arm. Cass swept in underneath without touching him, just to flex. 

Captain Marvel waited politely for Stinkyman to move before he entered. “We ran into a situation the other day that we hope you can comment on.” Wow, business mode. So tall of him. Sudden professionalism. “We encountered an artifact that appeared to be scientific in design, in a location that was heavily contaminated with Death magic.”

Black Bat nodded agreement.

The wizard made a face. “And what did this artifact do?” He sounded exhausted.

“Electrocuted me,” Black Bat said, putting on her mission mind a little more firmly. No fear. No horror. “Had an involuntary transformation.”

“Tranformation into what?” stinkyman asked, reluctantly interested. “A normal bird?”

“She had a costume change and her physiological signs seemed to be altered for the duration of the transformation.” Marvel saved her. He lied a little by implication. She was grateful.

“What ended it?” He was looking her over carefully. He had gone through his own transformation into a responsible, thoughtful professional. Probably it was the money that did it. Cass mentally counted the bills she had left. She was more than willing to pay him to stop being annoying. 

“I was able to trigger the detransformation on purpose.” She had to sound that sentence out carefully so that the syllables didn’t turn into mush and tumble away, but this was important. 

Stinkyman nodded thoughtfully. “Try to trigger it the other way,” he suggested. He clamped his cigarette down on one side of his mouth. “I need to see what I’m working with before I can give you any assessment.”

Cass scrunkled up her face, unhappy like Alfred the cat when it was dry food. “I’ll try the inverse.” She closed her eyes and thought about what it had been to be White Bat. Her heart had been still and empty in her chest. Her body moved easily, no aches and pains. Lightning thrummed in her veins. 

She held the feeling in her mind and said, “White Bat,” under her breath.

Light flashed over the room. When it receded, she saw that Stinkyman was shading his face and scowling. “You’re an Infinite Realms being,” he diagnosed dryly. He let his cigarette drop carefully from his mouth and fall onto the shitty hotel carpet. Absently he stepped on it, as if this was a muscle habit.

“...What?” White Bat asked. 

The wizard shot her a lopsided grin that was almost handsome. “You’ve got ghosts in your blood. Want cocaine?”

“No one is going to be doing any drugs!” Marvel put his hands up and his tone high. “Haven’t you seen the PSAs about that? You do that and then your teeth fall out!” Genuine stress. Concern. Don’t hurt yourself!

“Thank you,” White Bat said. “Yes. No drugs.” She addressed that to Stinkyman. “Infinite Realms being?” she repeated. “I’m an earth being. Born and raised here.”

“And died here.” Constantine fished another cigarette out and lit it up. “You clearly have control over the transformation, so… might not be any repercussions if you avoid thinking about the metaphysical. Just go back to Black Bat and never think about it again. Or…” He appeared to have a new idea. He looked at her. Shifty. Curious. Could I benefit?

Died? Died here? Her brain skipped like Alfred’s records after Damian threw them for Titus to get revenge for the establishment of bedtime laws..

“What?” Cass said flatly. She crossed her arms. No blood moving in her veins. It was less upsetting the second time. At least it was not a surprise. 

Stinkyman looked sly. “If you want to look into it, we’ll have to go to the Infinite Realms. Hard for humans to get there, of course, but things like you are right now, well.” He gestured at her as if it was self-explanatory. “I’ll help you get there if you take me along with you. There’s something I’d like to pick up from hell.”

“From hell?” Marvel stressed. He thundered his face at the wizard. He looked intimidating. “We’re going. I’m not going to let you use Black Bat for whatever weird bet or gamble you have going on.” 

Cass blinked, impressed by his scaryface. She didn’t know he could do that. She inhaled through her nose and went back to Black Bat. It was… easy.

The wizard put his hands up in faux innocence and smirked. “It’s an offer, you can take or leave it. Anyway, you have my opinion,” he addressed Black Bat. “You died, Black Bird, I can only assume after touching something that clearly ought not have been fucked with. Can’t tell you offhand why you’re still walking the earth, but you’re not a revenant, ghoul, or other obvious fuckery that I care to banish. You look as human as me.” He flopped down on his motel bed. “Shut the door on the way out, that’s a love. But feel free to call me if you want to find out more.”

[mythronic]

Wayne Family Personas!!! (PART 2)

Previous Part here!

Damian Wayne:

Adorable and shy animal lover that sticks by his older siblings. If anyone has ever seen Damian Wayne at a gala, it’s often by his siblings’ sides, hiding behind their coattails or beneath their arms. Despite many attempts, no one has succeeded in disallowing Damian to bring animals into galas. Most notably, one time, Damian brought in a huge snake that scared some patrons to death. However, there is an… Outlier. Damian Wayne is reported to be a snarky and sly little brat when teamed up with Cass, Duke, and Tim, usually with the goal of irritating the fuck out of some socialite or Roman Sionis.

Damian is appalled by the personas that Bruce and Dick put on most of the time, and finds great pleasure in threatening people with a cat in his arms as Tim easily picks up from the threat with his sharp tongue.

He also likes to gaslight people that all the cats he brings to the galas are actually one in the same. They're all named 'Alfred' and no one dares to correct him. Cullen: "And... No one asks you where you got all the cats from...?" Damian: "Of course not. My status strikes fear into those below me, they wouldn't dare question me." Cullen: "I see."

Duke Thomas:

Bland, unassuming, middle class boy that doesn't know what to do with himself. Duke goes the 'invisible boy' route and plays the boring normal kid that got adopted by Bruce out of either pity or convenience. Duke is all too happy to use his 'invisible boy' persona to listen into conversations for Tim or ditching galas with Damian, and sometimes, when he's extra bored and either Lex Luthor or Vicki Vale or some idiot businessman or whatnot is at the gala, never let it be said that Duke doesn't know how to cause chaos and freak out rich people at the same time, eat the rich baby~

Duke has most definitely spiked the alcohol. No for real, he mixes alcohol with more alcohol just to laugh when rich people's composures break.

Duke doesn't often stick by Bruce, Dick, or Jason during galas. He prefers the chaos of blackmailing rich people with Tim, Cass, and occasionally Damian.

Izzy: "Wait, wait. What do you mean you managed to expose a rich person for moving and doing drugs??"

Duke: "How was I supposed to know that he avoided drinking more than one drink cause he knew he was a nasty talker??"

Izzy: "And you... Spiked his drink with what??"

Duke: "Nothing! Just vodka, and spirit, and some gin, and.... This isn't looking good for me is it?"

Izzy: "I still love you for it."

Harper Row:

Is she a family friend? Or a personal bodyguard? Harper doesn't often go to Wayne galas, especially since she actually isn't adopted legally by Bruce. But she can't say no when Dick begs for assistance covering for him when the guy is too tired to attend the galas. While gala people try to insult her appearance and obvious Bowery accent, she single handedly shows how much she doesn't give a fuck with a raised brow and laughter. They may try to hate on Harper, but she abuses and takes advantage of her statue as an honorary Wayne, it doesn't go well.

Harper also makes use of this persona of hers to find out who she should hate and who she should at least respect a little bit. She reports this to Dick.

She and Jason 100% gossip on the idiots at the galas, and teases the other Wayne family members and their personas.

Harper: "If I asked nicely, could I get some jewellery from Imens?"

Selina: "Why him?"

Harper: "Called me and Jayce sewer rats, I'd like to sell off his stuff and watch him weep."

Selina: "... Yeah, sure."

Mia Mizoguchi:

Snobby Gotham Academy brat who is too smart for her own good. Mia doesn't often go to galas, because she doesn't want to dabble in all the politics and subtleties of Gotham's high society. But she does occasionally do Tim some favours at galas, acting the cute but completely spoiled child with Damian in order to get information out of people. Mia's persona is that kid who takes pictures in the bathroom and purchases expensive shit to bring to school just to brag, and accuses any one scholarship kid for stealing them when they go missing.

Maps sometimes brings her friends to galas just to promote the persona she has, and learnt a LOT of slang in the span of two hours.

Maps has definitely joined DIck before on his little Instagram model bullshit, probably obsessively going through filters for 30 whole minutes while Dick talks to people.

Duke: "Why are you so committed to this persona?"

Maps: "I thought you of all people would appreciate the art of deception."

Duke: "... Yeah you're right I dig it."

So I'm sure you've noticed a bit (a lot of) mentions of Tim, and that's because I've kind of mentally split the family in terms of the goofy, not so serious personas (Bruce, Dick, Jason, Harper, Damian), and the High Society tea and biscuits (Tim, Cass, Duke, Mia)

Basically, Bruce's team does it for appearances, and Tim's side does it to gather information and to serve a purpose other than appearing 'normal'. He's at the head of this 'operation', which is why I defaulted to mentioning Tim.

Some of you might start stabbing me for not mentioning Steph, but I see her as a more separate persona and figure unaffiliated with Bruce's brood other than being Tim's ex and his go-to date before 'Conner Luthor'

[dazedantics]

Pt 2: Cowls and Chemists - Batman x Reader

Pt 1 here

"... In other news, a rather recent addition to GCPD holding cells went off on a rampage after being completely docile when first in custody.

"The man displayed symptoms on par to those under the influence of, notorious Arkham Asylum inmate, Scarecrow's fear gas. At first screaming and wailing about an unknown entity then going off into a fit of rage. Whatever he was afflicted with seems to have also given him a temporary bout of super human strength as he tore through the steel holding cells and thick walls of the Gotham city police department out onto city streets.

"Luckily or not, Gotham's loved and hated caped crusader, Batman, arrived on time to prevent the perpetrator from seriously harming anyone. And in under just a few hours the criminal sat quietly behind bars, once again. Stating, 'he didn't remember blowing through the department just moments ago.'

"Is there a new threat on the rise in Gotham? Or has the Asylum lost track of one of their most dangerous patients once again? I'm your news anchor ...,"

With one click, the volume on the computer screen went mute.

The six people gathered in the cave turned to each other, minds racing with theories and sifting through current facts.

"Wait. We just admitted Scarecrow back to Arkham literally last week, didn't we? There's no way he got out this fast." The former acrobat of the group asked.

"Doubt it, Dick. But there's the possibility he has someone on the outside executing his orders for him, right? I mean, we know how often that happens in that place."

"You're not wrong, Jason. But I'm having trouble seeing that being the case here since only one person was targeted. A low society criminal with few other misdemeanors, outside of petty thefts, at that. What did we gather he was turned in for again?"

"Attempted robbery." The youngest one reminded. "I was the one who stopped him, Drake."

"Right. And did you notice any fear symptoms when you first crossed paths, Damian?" Tim played back through the feed of the fight, slowing the time down to try and catch any missed clues.

"I suppose I should have considered them as such, an error on my part. But I had been present since the man had first shown signs of aggression. He seemed scared before even acting so, naturally, I chalked it up to guilt. It was only till after the ordeal was over though that'd I'd say his fear seemed a little misplaced. And I didn't stick around for the police to turn the corner to be able to state what happened between that and the time he was detained."

"So we got what? A ten maybe fifteen minute window where he was out of anyone's sight?"

"Correct."

"Alright then, some of us check out the GCPD, the others get an eye on Scarecrow. And get a read on this guy's family too, if he has any. To see if he's been up to other related things lately."

"I don't think it's Scarecrow." The mentor of the detectives spoke up. He sat bare chested off to the side, eyes on the computer screen, butler stitching up a wound for him.

"Fear gas was definitely a factor in this. But much too weak to be considered Crane's concoction. Delayed too. And the added effect of strength isn't conclusive with any other victim harmed by his toxin."

The boys shared a glance, turning their attention to him.

"Could he be experimenting now that he has more time on his hands?"

"Yeah, he did start his whole twisted journey in that place when he first worked there. 'Inspiration' could've struck again."

"But why revert to a weaker version of an already perfected weapon?"

"And also, how would we explain the victim being a random, halfway across the city where he can't see the results of his test?"

"I believe what Master Bruce is trying to say is that an aficionado is trying replicate their 'star.' All done, Sir."

"Thanks Alfred." Bruce stood, tugging on a suit jacket, then headed over to the computer. "And exactly that. We've seen cases of people trying, and succeeding, in copying the toxins and gasses associated with Arkham villains before. Only question now is who and why? We'll have to dig for anyone who deals in things similar to Crane in his early years and monitor the Scarecrow more closely, in case his fan decides they'd like to visit. And look through old cases for anyone who may have been trying to do something similar before."

"Already ahead of you. And those people that were arrested with the victim? Being investigated. But, so far, none of us have seen anything regarding a purple symbol like they were wearing anywhere."

"And the GCPD hasn't seemed to have noticed their possible importance either."

"Father, I think I may already have our lead."

Now the group turned to the small boy.

"I've been secretly monitoring them since the event I told you about. They haven't been going anywhere too suspicious. But those men were after whatever possession they held in their bag. I didn't see what it was, but I thought it was noteworthy enough to keep an eye on."

Damian took control of the computer, typing away until his personal notes alongside a tracker view lit the cave.

"Y/N L/N, current employee of Daggett Labs. Not a remarkable or high standing worker. But the company itself, as we well know, has never had a problem performing under unethical practices, so it's not a stretch to think Daggett plans on developing a product with fear ingredients. L/N, like most employees, works with all departments of the company: pharmaceutical, biological. But what they really specialize in, is chemical products."

You hummed in your chair, swiveling side to side absentmindedly.

The glow from the office computer the only light filtering through the empty room, countless other desks barren for the night.

It was late, few people in the rest of the conjoined building other than maybe the manager and a few janitors.

Currently, you were revising old notes, ideas for upcoming products, pros and cons of older products. The production side of the lab was in the second building, large robotic arms and conveyor belt shut down till first shift tomorrow.

There had always been a lot coming out of Daggett that became a real hit. But working here now, seeing and being involved in what goes into certain things, you wouldn't buy anything being sold.

But their lack of discomfort in experimenting with less than approved elements is what made your current fascination so easy to indulge in.

You'd seen the footage of your tester product on the news. Each compound in place worked as intended but adjustments to the mix would still need to be made.

Even so, this would be considered a success.

Now you had to go out and test the other blends. Compare which worked best.

On who though? This last guy was incidental, not the target of who you intended these for in the long run, and it'd be better if you could be in person to record the every little side effect that resulted.

With a sigh, you sunk into your chair and rubbed red eyes. Should probably call it a night. Catch a late dinner on the way.

You pushed off from the desk, enjoying the breeze as your chair rolled across the floor before slowing to a stop.

You could fall asleep easily in here.

Dark and quiet, air vents filling the space with the right amount of chill. Secluded. Just like home.

"Wow, someone must really not like you if you're the only one on the job this late."

Scratch that.

Your heart startled at the sudden voice and you spun around in search of whoever it was.

Just dark outlines of desks and monitors as far as you could tell.

A janitor maybe?

You stood, walking slowly forward. "Hello?"

Nothing. Just the quiet tap of your shoes echoing around you.

"Looking at past products? Hope Daggett doesn't plan on recreating the Clayface incident. That wouldn't be good."

You spun back around to find a red and back clad stranger standing at your computer, the tail of their cape formed like bird wings behind them.

You hadn't heard anything. How did he get in? From where? When?

You crossed your arms, leaning against the desk across from him.

"First the little one, now Big Robin, huh? What trouble have I gotten into?"

"Red Robin actually." The hero turned to you, easy going smile on their lips. Black mask glinting under the blue light. "And I wouldn't be too worried."

You hummed. You didn't have anything on you at the moment that could ring as suspicious, personal laptop and gas safe at home. And these Vigilantes weren't the GCPD, so you doubted he'd do anything without reason.

"Then what are you here for, Hero?"

He traded the smile for a serious look. "That group who attacked you before? A few minutes after the police brought them in, one of them went a little nuts, breaking through the building and giving Bane a run for his money during a fight with Batman. A bit odd for someone as unassuming as him don't you think?"

You sighed. "I've seen clips of it, yes. Awful, truly. I'm just glad he didn't use any of that strength on me."

He perked up. "Yeah ... odd ...."

"I hope Batman's alright though? Must be difficult going out to fight dangerous people like that every night."

Red Robin chuckled. "Like anyone could break him. Um ... forget I said that. Do you get why I'm here now?"

"Friendly check up?"

"Hehe, I am glad you're okay, really. But, no. Those people were targeting you. Robin said they almost got away with your belongings. What was in there that they sent all those guys after you?"

You shrugged, feigning thought. "Not sure. I thought it was a regular robbery at the time. Guess not, huh? Maybe they knew I worked here, Daggett has seemed to build up quite the number of enemies after all. Maybe those were competitors."

"'Competitors.'" He echoed. "Mind sharing what new product the industries is working on that could be so important?"

"I can't answer that," you smiled. "Company policy."

Red Robin hummed. "Thought so. Do you think I could take a look in your bag then? I don't mean to be intrusive. But there's a possibility those people could come after you again. And I'd rather be on the case before anything else happens. Who knows, new pair of eyes, maybe I'll be able to spot what they were after."

"Have at it. If it helps protect me, I'm not opposed." You gestured to the bag sitting beside the desk. The thing since replaced with a new one. "Though you'll have to forgive the personal things in there."

"Thanks. I'll be gentle." You watched as he picked it up, strangly precise with his rummaging. Slow. Careful. Noting everything.

"Odd. Is there anything you could have had that day that you've taken out since then?"

"No. I don't think so. Except some trash wrappers maybe."

Red Robin hummed tilting his head towards you. "Right."

He put your things back in place, turning to place the bag in your hand. "And none of those guys seemed familiar to you, even a little bit?"

"No sir, I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he chuckled, bright smile lighting his face again. "If you can think anything else, feel free to call me, I'll come running."

You smiled tightly, turning to pull your chair back to the desk. "Not everyone has detective skills you know? How am I supposed to reach you?"

"I'll know where to look. Have a good night, Y/N."

"I didn't-" you turned back to him.

Only to find yourself alone again. Not a red wing in sight.

"Tell you my name ...."

You blew out a taut breath, hands propped against the back of the chair, head hanging down.

Great.

Now you know these vigilantes were suspicious of you. It's possible you were going to be followed by them for some time before they decided you were in the clear. And you're not sure if they go into people's homes, but they got in here to search for clues, so you can't rule your house out as a secure place for now.

Gonna need to find elsewhere to continue your research. Postpone till these crusaders lost interest in you.

Though, the difficult part is, how do you get the world's greatest detectives off the correct trail?

[lil-dragon-rawr]

TOH x DC: One-Sided Identity Shenanigans

Cause like...the Owl House gang didn't bother to make secret identities

Part One, Part Two, Part Four

Masterlist

Jason, finally finding an opportunity to talk to Vee alone during their volunteer shift: hi.

Vee, thinking he's going to blackmail and/or permanently silence her for figuring out his secret identity: *about to have a panic attack*

Jason: so I heard about vigilante bingo

Vee, who was expecting him to say something WAY different: ...huh?

Jason, continuing: I have it on good authority that Spoiler made a deal with Eda to help her win

Vee: ??? (when did Eda have time to talk to Spoiler???)

Jason: but personally I'm rooting for Luz

Vee, still processing the fact that she and Eda are now officially cheating:

Jason: also, expect the other vigilantes to start throwing their hat in the ring soon. They can be really competitive

Jason, patting her on the shoulder as he leaves: okay good talk

(Amity and Luz arriving at Barbara's apartment for girls' night)

Steph, answering the door with an evil glint in her eyes: oh, you must be Babs' new friends! I've heard so much about you >:D

(eventually, the topic switches to vigilantes, thanks to one meddling Steph)

Steph, trying to feed Lumity false information to stop them from getting more points in bingo: you know, I hear the only vigilante who's ever given out autographs is Spoiler

Barbara, also invested in bingo and trying to help her new sister win: *narrowing her eyes* don't listen to Steph, she doesn't know what she's talking about. Spoiler's never given an autograph before. Ask Red Hood

Steph, who knows Jason will absolutely give an autograph to Luz: *glares at Babs*

Luz, who doesn't know they know about the bingo cards: haha why would we want an autograph??

(Batfamily meeting in the cave)

Steph: well we can't all speedrun bingo!

Jason: oh yeah? Who's gonna stop me?

Steph: it was my idea to meddle! I can easily do all the tasks before you can!

Babs, trying to defuse the situation before someone catches a Batarang in the knee: okay, okay. What if we made rules about how much we can interfere?

Steph, still glaring at Jason: ...I'm listening

[THE RULES:

1. The party you aid cannot be aware that you're aiding them - it must appear to be coincidence.

2. You cannot outright say things such as "Got any ice cream around here?" to prompt challenge completion - the subject of the challenge must be brought up by the party you aid.

3. Failure to comply with the above rules results in penalties including, but not limited to, extra patrols, public humiliation, and death by disappointing Alfred. Penalties are decided by Batwoman based on the severity of the rule infraction.]

Gus, on his first day as a news anchor: well folks it looks like we've got some quality rogues active in central Gotham today!

Camera crew, concerned about this kid's apparent apathy towards dangerous criminals:

Gus "I Was The MC For My Friends' Gladiator Match Against The Actual Embodiment Of Fear" Porter: Two-Face just made a move on Gotham National Bank - but oh? What's this? *listening to his earpiece* the temperature is dropping, grab your coats everyone because Mr. Freeze is here for six more weeks of winter!

Kevin the Cameraman, whispering to his coworker Beth: actually I think he's perfect for this

Signal, out alone and having to deal with both Two-Face and Freeze: I cannot live laugh love in these conditions

Gus, ten yards away in front of a camera, glancing back at Signal and winking: *mouthing* I gotchu fam

Real Gus, lying in wait behind a building while Illusion Gus MCs: *traps Mr. Freeze in a mental purgatory of his worst nightmares as soon as Freeze walks by*

Mr. Freeze, suddenly screaming and collapsing: Nora, don't leave me!

Real Gus: oops might have reawakened some trauma there

Signal, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth: *punches a distracted Two-Face and hauls both him and Freeze back to Arkham* don't know what that guy did to Freeze but whatever works ig

Hunter: *enjoying a peaceful night on the balcony with Willow*

Robin, manifesting: woodcarver.

Hunter: ??? Hello???

Robin: I would like to carve a palisman.

Hunter, confused: *looking to Willow for support with the stabby child*

Willow: *thumbs-up*

Hunter, finally getting Robin to talk about his emotions: what do you care about?

Robin, lore dropping like there's no tomorrow: I was genetically engineered to be the perfect combination of my mother and father. Growing up, I was expected to be the heir to both their legacies as the Demon's Head and the Bat. I always thought I wanted to take up the mantle, but it feels like a burden instead of some great destiny.

Hunter, making a few connections: ...you were supposed to fill the role of someone else?

Robin: yes, that's what I just said

Hunter, smiling: me too!

Hunter: though for me I was genetically engineered to be a copy of my former uncle's brother. And I was supposed to serve that uncle as the Golden Guard

Hunter, having a moment: ...and then I found out he was lying about our family and that he was trying to commit genocide

Hunter, spiraling: ...and then I found all the masks of the former Golden Guards...

Hunter: ...and realized he killed them all every time they - we - betrayed him...

Robin:

Hunter: ...and then he killed Flapjack...

Robin, prepared to go to war: let us kill that imbecile for his crimes.

Hunter, appreciating the support: thanks, but it's already taken care of :)

Batman, approaching the Clawthornes: Eda.

Eda: Batman.

Batman, actually kinda trying to help: King is fourteen, correct?

Eda: what's it to you?

Batman: that would place him at the start of high school. It might be good for him to interact with kids his own age.

Eda, squaring up: don't tell me how to parent my kid!

Eda, immediately turning to King: do you wanna go to school?

King: hmm maybe, I don't really know how human schools work and don't want to deal with what Luz went through...

Batman, who has a fourteen year old who also doesn't want to deal with school (but has to anyway to keep up appearances): we could get you a student liaison to shadow. If you want, they could be informed of your situation so you have someone to talk to

King: ...yeah sure sounds interesting

King, approaching The Bingo Council that night: is Batman getting me into school considered an almost-adoption? Cause I feel like if Eda wasn't there he would've adopted me

Eda, crossing her arms: I vote no. Adoption has to go through me and we have to fight for custody

Gus, who wants a point: I argue yes. We all know Batman has an adoption problem and Eda openly challenged his parenting attempts

Vee, off to the side, twiddling her thumbs and wondering if Batman is one of the vigilantes involved in Bingo Interference:

King, walking into class on his first day and seeing the glowering student liaison that everyone seems afraid of: *squints*

Damian: *narrows his eyes, waiting to see what King does*

King: *sips his Starbucks suspiciously*

Current Standings for Vigilante Bingo:

Lumity:

Huntlow:

An argument was made for "have a vigilante crash through your window", but since Robin never technically went inside the apartment, it was vetoed.

Gus and King:

Gus was awarded the "be a hero" square for taking out Mr. Freeze. The council agreed that more effort needs to be made on the "almost adopted by Batman" front. Should Batman try again, King will receive the point.

Eda and Vee:

Vee stewed in silence for the entire council meeting for unknown reasons.