#i know a guy ‘is it bruce’ um…. no….. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

on-the-clear-blue · 4 months ago

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Danny, staring up at Tim, who currently Robin: okay...so this isn't what it looks like.

Tim, giving dead pan glare: so you arnt breaking into Drake Manor?

Danny, shoulders dropping: okay yeah it's totally what it looks like...but not because you think!

Tim, sighing slightly: so you arnt homeless and thought that since Timothy Drake was recently adopted by Bruce Wanye, and both of his parents are dead you can just move in and live here?

Danny, blinking owlishly: I mean, yeah? I mean, not homeless, and I didn't even know that dude got adopted, like good for him, hope that he is safe and shiz, sucks that he parents died and all but not here to squat dude.

Tim, raising a single eyebrow: then why pray tell are you here?

Danny, kicking at the ground a bit: so like...ugh, so I might be um like...a...fudge what's the word...ah! Psychopomp? Like I am a dude that helps like people's ghosts pass and like keeps em happy.

Tim, squinting behind his mask: the only person that died here is Jack Drake and I assure you, his soul would not be happy going to where he deserves to be.

Danny, holding up his hands: wow lot of misplaced aggression there boy wonder...no I ain't here for him, like him and his wife did like...so much tomb raiding they would make the Victorians jelly. I am here cus they stole some dudes shit and he wants it back...like yesterday.

Tim, tilting his head: so you are here to steal an artifact.

Danny, popping the P sound: Yup, something about some guys clay tablet, he liked keeping his hate mail for some reason, said this one was about how he shorted some dudes iron? Or was it copper... my Mesopotamian isn't the best.

Tim, eyes widening, because he knows *exactly* which tablet he is talking about: Oh...yeah no bro, you seem chill but I really can't let you have that so why don't you just like...walk away and I won't be forced to do something kay?

Danny, frowning: Sames dude, up until that .y guy cus like...I *really* wasn't asking...

Tim, sighing as he extends his bo staff: Try and just like, not hold a grude yeah? Don't need a new villain...

Danny, pulling out an ecto gun and turning it on: I don't know man...I feel like we have good banter.

(They fight, Tim is still training so he is a bit sloppy, and Danny isn't shooting to kill, so it's more of them playing cat and mouse throughout Drake Manor, it ends with Danny stealing the tablet but having to leave the ecto gun, which gets broken when he escapes)

Tim, panting as he watches Danny flee: Fuck...is this what B feels after fighting Catwoman?

---

Bruce, rubbing his temples as Tim explains why he was late for training: You tried to apprehend an unknown, with a weapon of an unknown source and power...in the home of your secret identity?

Tim, looking properly chastised: God...yes that happened...he wasn't that bad honestly...was pretty witty.

Bruce developing a twitch in his eye: No.

Tim: No? No what.

Bruce, glaring hard at his adopted son: No falling in love with a villain.

Tim, looking scandalized now: Oh? What is this? Hypocrisy thy name is Bruce Wayne!

Bruce's glare turns into a batglare: Ten laps around the cave and fifty bo staff katas...no villains!

---

Danny becomes Tim's rogue, but not really, most of their battles are more each other showing off their new gear/moves they learned.

Danny also is only using tech that his parents made and he upgraded since he really doesn't want to go ghost in front of *Robin*, who is totally not his crush, and the only reason why he won't is because batman would 100% be on his ass.

Danny, pulling a massive creep stick with a nail driven through it out of seemingly nowhere: The new and approved Creep Stick! This time with nail to add tetnus damage!

Tim, watching as 'The Inventor' escapes once more: I hate seeing him leave but by God do I love watching him go...Damn should have turned on the camera just so I can see it again.

Barbara chiming in: Keep the main line PG Robin.

Batman, through coms: Hn...we shall be having words when we get back to the cave

Tim, sipping a soup that The Occultist made: "So like...why were you even here?

---

When the Titans tower incident occurs, Tim could only watch in awe as the Inventor, not only comes in from the ceiling with a literal metal chair, and then continues to beat up the guy with a bad Robin cosplay.

Danny, panting as he holds up the chair again: Back I say! Back! My blorbo!

Jason, seething as he actually hisses at this random teen that appeared out of nowhere, scurrying away while cradling his broken arm: You shall rue the day! Jason Todd was here bitches!

Tim, staring up at Danny, face a bloody mess and an adoring look in his eyes: omg he stalks me, this is must what the other guys felt when I did it!

They don't really start dating, it's much more Danny breaking into Tim's house and just not leaving.

Tim, watching as his "arch enemy" is sprawled across his couch, bucket of ice cream in one hand, spoon in another, phone balanced between his ear and shoulder, pants and socks tossed haphazardly across the living room and just chilling in his boxers: Now wait a damn minute.

Danny, pausing while looking up from his ice cream (which is actually Tim's, since the boy is rich and buys the good shit), pointing his spoon accusatorily at Tim: Your fucking late Mister! Drag race started half an hour ago and we agreed to watch it together!

Tim, blushing under the Robin mask: Sorry case got good and- wait wait wait, when did we agree to watch drag race together?

Danny, rolling his eyes: when I made breakfast this morning? I even gave you extra strong coffee for your solem swearing that you would be here.

Tim, thinking back to earlier: I just...remember a bright white orb giving me a mug and a plate of food...

Danny, scoffing: this is why I need to drug you to get to sleep more often. Now take off your gear and get over here, they about to choose who shall sashay away!

Tim, nodding slowly: Hope it is that one queen from last episode, that lio sink didn't have any- wait! Ugh you keep distracting me! When did you fucking move in? I don't even know your name!

Danny with a spoon just an inch away from his mouth: Jazz? Yeah I uhh...I gotta call you back...(clicks hang up on his phone) Your joking right? For the shits and gigs?

Tim, shaking his head slowly: No shits, not a single gig my dude, 100% honest.

Danny, who had just arrived this morning since his parents are renovating because Fenton HQ is a glaring OSHA violation, but also who's middle names are "commit to the bit" and "Gaslight GateKeep Girl boss" : Babe we have been dating for like, *months*...d-do ou really not remember?

Tim, existential crisis made manifest: Oh no...I have been mind wiped.

Danny, astounded that worked: Baby I am so sorry...

They "date" for like a week before Danny starts feeling bad that he tricked Tim (who he finally got to see maskless, he had to stop his heart to not show any outward reaction to that, cus like hell he is cute) and wants to come clean but he honestly never had seen Tim more happy nor more healthy.

Danny, sitting across Bruce at the Manor: S-So um...like yeah we um...met at a science convention? My um...my parents were show casing stuff and like...we met there?

Bruce, eyes narrowing because that sounded like a lie: Hn.

Dick, happy that Tim finally felt comfortable to bring his "boyfriend" to dinner: B stop glaring! Your going to scare off Timmy's Bf! God you weren't this bad when I brought over Roy that one time.

Bruce doesn't stop glaring, and it's making Danny even more nervous: Um I uh...need to use the bathroom one sec...

Tim moves to guide him but Alfred waves him to sit down: You really must eat Master Timothy, I did make your favorite today. I shall guide Mister Fenton to the lavatory.

Alfred does indeed lead Danny from the dining room, but the second they are far enough the old butler suddenly has a shotgun in hand, skin suddenly a pale blue and objects around the parlor turning green and floating: While they do try and see the best in others, I do not Phantom, now I must ask you to kindly leave and never contact Master Timothy every again. I shall not let my charge fall for such as the likes of you.

Danny blinking at how he was addressed, a sudden ghostly blue mist escaping his mouth: Oh shit.

They have a ghost fight, all while comically popping in and out of the dining room, making excuses for whyvthe other is gone.

It ends when Tim, finally fed up with why his boyfriend is taking so long opens the door only to see him duking it out with Alfred, fully gone ghost and was loosing.

Such leads to confessions of lies, real feeling and why Alfred has been able to be a spry 60 even though he fought in WWI and it is very much the mid 2010s.

(Danny and Tim do end up together, this time with no lies about a mind wipe, and get Kon and Bart to join their polycule later on)

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kenyummy · 4 months ago

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✰ 02. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 02. a green fire—love is weird!

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: spideytorch... parksborn... I miss u... this is more introducing the ones who already like spidey but guys kon soon prolly bc i alr wrote a hella romantic drabble.. heh..

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

At least life—as you knew it—hadn't changed entirely. Sure you aren't going to Midtown anymore, but this Gotham Public didn't seem too much different. Instead of New Yorkians, it was all Jersans... yay...

Your supposed brothers and sisters went to the more prestigious school on the other side of Gotham—but all you wondered is why, really. It must've been a pain to go all the way across town to pick up one singular child.

(You realised why you had a bus pass slipped in your wallet soon enough).

You just can't believe your "dad" decided to send you to school the day after your recovery. That was really crazy. Even Alfred seemed a bit iffy with his words—but regardless, didn't attempt to fight back.

You don't blame him. Bruce seemed pretty unreasonable. Anyways—your main theory is that he didn't want people asking invasive questions... if any at all. Or that he couldn't be bothered to just leave you at home. Or he had some top secret Batman stuff to do that couldn't involve the likes of you.

Regardless—you don't care. You're still just as annoyed about either way.

The necklace resting atop your collarbones feels tighter than ever. This was scary. Real scary. You hadn't a clue what this school was like—the people, your friends (if you had any at all), your teachers, the school system or anything.

Even your Friendly Neighbourhood Spidey had their anxiety-inducing moments.

But you were met with a pleasant—very pleasant, meaning it wasn't teenager B.O—surprise when you walk into the building

"[name]!" A comfortingly familiar voice rings out in your ears and you gasp in shock.

That voice felt like laying on a bed of clouds—stretching out and feeling fuzziness after all that dark leather and depression.

A red head of hair comes barreling at you and wraps around your torso, tight. You return it with just as much glee. "MJ! You're... here! You're actually here...!!"

Mary "MJ" Jane—your best friend—is right here with you, her fiery red hair and pretty blue eyes staring like nothing changed. The only thing different is the bat symbol on her graphic shirt—and the abundance of books pressed against her side.

You squish your cheek against hers'—you feel her smile against you. "Um—of course I'm here. We go to this school, you know."

"Yeah, but [name] skips so much she's probably forgotten."

You whip your head around, smile widening. "Harry...!"

Harry Osborn—your other best friend—gives you a bright grin and holds his hand up in a wave. You wonder if your unofficial arch-nemesis Green Goblin—also his father—exists in this world. Judging from the glamour of the watch on his wrist—you guess he's still at least partially filthy rich.

Your eyes brighten and you could almost cry after the dumpster fire that was your family dinner.

MJ pouts beside you, sending your friend a glare, "Harry, you thief."

"Not my fault I'm the better looking one," he raises his arms in mock-defense—giving MJ just as hard as a look. A second later—the "tension" evaporates and they're both giggling uncontrollably. Harry elbows your arm. "What's up with your outfit? Who's that?"

Gesturing to the very inconspicuous spidey symbol on your top. You blink. You'd almost forgotten Spidey didn't exist in this world. Not yet, at least.

"Haven't you heard? The newest—and coolest—hero." You nudge him back and smirk. "I forget you nepo babies are never caught up."

"Um, hello? You're like—the ultimate nepo baby, [name]." MJ sends you a knowing brow-raise. "Bruce Wayne is literally your dad. That's the most nepo baby thing I've ever heard."

You'd almost forgotten this Bruce Wayne guy was now your (though neglectful) father. MJ and Harry probably didn't know this, so you laugh awkwardly and smile.

"... Oh, yeah. Right. Silly me."

The bell chimes (you must be the luckiest spider ever with this timing), ringing loudly in every student's ear as the freshmen start rushing to class. You've just realised you don't know where your first period class is.

...Or any of your classes, for that matter. You'd have to bring your schedule tomorrow—but for today, you'd rely on your best friends.

Holding your arm out toward Harry, you give him a cheeky smile, "Walk me to class?"

He takes your arm in his without a moment's hesitation, giving you a smile just as sneaky, "Anytime."

MJ looks between the two of you as you both walk to first period, chatting and laughing—the equations practically going off over her head as she grins.

First period couldn't have been any worse. Your English teacher was rambling on about anything and everything concerning Shakespeare's final play—confusing even the rest of the class, who weren't transported from another dimension.

It wasn't helping that Flash couldn't seem to stop throwing scrunched up paper balls at the back of your head. Giving him dirty looks didn't seem to halt him—he would only laugh harder with his friends.

It seemed he truly did hate your guts in every universe. The consistency was almost comforting.

"That guy...!" Harry's jaw is clenched hard, and he sends him the nastiest glare you've ever seen. "He still won't get over himself, it pisses me off...! So salty over you rejecting him and he's still insisting it was a joke."

Ah. So that's why. In your original universe, he just hated you because you beat his ass in third grade for making fun of your handwriting.

"Who cares—" You try to be the bigger person—but you have to clench your fists and bite your tongue when another paper ball flies to the target of the back of your head. "... I'm better than this, so I don't."

Harry pauses—but smiles after a moment. "... What changed?"

Huh? Has he figured you out already?

You furrow your brows, but you smile when you tilt your head. "What do you mean? I'm... the same as always, you know."

"No, you're acting different. But not in a bad way. Before, you'd take any chance you get to talk badly about Thompson." He chuckles. "Have you matured overnight, or something?"

This is the second time somebody's pointed this out.

Was this universes' you really that spiteful? Your diary entries were anything but kind, sure—but you could never have imagined you to be so... different.

Then again, your dearest uncle was nowhere to be seen either—and without him, perhaps you would've ended up just like this you. You might've never become the Spidey you are today.

... Though, you weren't Spidey in this universe, were you?

"I guess so. Nothing... nothing good comes out of being bitter. Sometimes it's best to learn from it and move on." You smile. Harry gives you an indescribable—yet fond—look.

The bell chimes once more after that dreary period—and you're out that door faster than Harry can catch you.

Two periods later, you're finally able to eat.

Lunch, a little less fortunately, is the same as always. You'd like to think it's because all the rich people (and consequently, all the funding) go to the school on the other side of Gotham, but it probably is just because all school lunches are equally awful.

After taking your tray of mashed greens (you're unable to decipher exactly what greens they're made of) and a dry, veggieless burger—you sit down at a lunch table with MJ. Harry's still waiting in line for an extra carton of milk.

She smiles at you, friendly, "Hey, you. How was English?"

"Hey to you, too. It was terrible." You sigh, slumping down on the table with your head in your hands. "Flash wouldn't leave me alone. I'm so sick of his shit."

"Nothing new, then," She snorts, clearly amused by your stress. "He'll leave you alone, eventually. The rejection's still fresh... even after three months, apparently. I'm just glad you're being the bigger person in all this."

"Yeah? Harry told me the opposite." You lift your head only to give her a tired look. "Actually... he seemed more pissed off about him than I was. ... Don't know why."

Harry, in your world, didn't seem to care too much about Flash outside of mild annoyance whenever he pushed you around. He seemed more amused by it than anything—the ass.

MJ lifts a brow at your confused tone, waiting for something—for you to continue, probably. Continue with what, you had no idea. After a few beats of silence, she almost chokes on her dry patty.

"Are you serious, [name]?"

You blink. "What?"

"Do you seriously not know why he gets so pissed about Flash?" She says, incredulous. You look to the side, then back at her with a shrug. She splutters, "Wh—what...? Are you kidding? You're that...."

She shakes her head, cutting herself off. "[name]... Harry's in love with you. He always has been."

MJ begins to talk about how it's always been obvious, and how everyone's known except you for years, but you barely hear it over your own thoughts.

You've gone as red as your suit, eyes wide and jaw dropped like you'd just heard your mother died (oops). Your heart nearly drops into your stomach. You don't feel sick, but your stomach is twisting and turning like a tidal wave.

Harry's... what?

You never even considered it. Not in your universe—nor this one, you presume. You've always seen him as just your really rich best friend slash possible sugar papa (satirically)—but now, you can't help but wonder.

"You okay? You're really red."

A hand places itself on your forehead. When your vision unblurs and you see those disgustingly bright, blue, beautiful—

You almost yelp, scrambling away from Harry's touch. "Harry!" You say it like you're surprised he's here—like you're surprised he's able to be around you like this.

(Though—if what MJ said was true—he must really be a great actor).

Of course you're not unfamiliar with love—that Felix Hardy really knew how to get under your red webbed suit. And you don't even want to get started on Cindell Moon—

But this was different. This was really different. Felix didn't know you. He knew Spidey, and liked Spidey. The chase. The masks. Never you. Cindell was only attracted to your pheromones. He was never in love, and to be honest—it wasn't exactly a heartbreak.

You've known Harry longer than you hadn't. You've been friends with this nepo baby for a majority of your life. He's been there beside you even when you'd seen his dad end up in a psychiatric hospital on the news—crying in your arms.

For him to be in love with you—it's hitting you all at once, and you're so overwhelmed you can hardly breathe properly.

It means everything you know is different—everything changes.

Your cheeks burn brighter than Sentry's glowing fists. He seems shocked—almost hurt—that you look so scared of him. MJ, on the other hand, is very, very amused.

"[name]'s feeling pretty under the weather right now," She coos. You could only muster a weak glare toward her. Despite that—you choose to take her lie and run with it.

"Um... yeah... I think..." You gulp. Your eyes are lingering anywhere but on him. "I think I need to go home... I'm sorry."

Harry blinks. His eyes meet with MJ, who shrugs. Then he looks to you, again—almost sad. Like a puppy, more than anything. "I could get my assistant to drive you home, if you want—"

Your stomach twists at that look. You shake your head. "No... I'm fine. I—I'll get um..." You rack your brain trying to remember your butlers name—"Alfred to drive me... Thanks anyway."

You stand up as shakily as you feel—leaving your full tray of food on the table. You glance over your shoulder as you begin to walk away, bag clutched to your side. "I'll see you tomorrow, MJ." You pause. "Harry."

MJ waves, "Feel better soon. I'll be waiting for your response," and you groan.

"Take care of yourself, [name]." Harry says, with a sad smile. You swallow hard.

This was freeing. Really freeing. You'd almost forgotten how much you love being Spidey.

You swing from building to building, flipping and barrelling as you pleased. Flying through with the Gotham wind hitting your face and you slicing through the skies—you can pretend everything is fine and you're back home.

You can pretend Harry isn't in love with you. You can pretend you hadn't replaced a neglected child who's father and other siblings couldn't give less of a damn about for some reason—and you could pretend that they aren't super vigilantes themselves.

Sure, you're glad to see your friends existed in this universe—but learning your whole friendship with Harry was everything it could never have been—you're a little less than frazzled.

But, it also begged the question. Did that mean that other heroes—your other friends—also existed here? Were they also...?

You press your lips firmly together when you land on a building and stare down at the honking cars beneath you. No. You couldn't get your hopes up. Not this time.

You had to do your own research. And if that meant sneaking around on your family's computer—so be it.

Back home, it was like the flying world you had once known, grew into golden bars of a cage.

Walking through the halls of the manor gives you more strange looks than you'd like to admit. You really have to wonder how long this—well, you, has put up with this.

Tim is walking through the hall with his hands tucked into his cape and still dressed in his Red Robin costume. When you pass by him without so much as a look, he doubles back and speaks, "[name]? Wh—what are you doing here? Isn't it..."

He checks his phone. "It's still school hours?"

You glance back. "I felt sick, so I decided to come home. Still a bit frazzled from... you know. I'm just finishing up my homework."

Tim pauses. "Bruce is going to be mad. You know how he hates it when you and Damian skip."

You want to bring up how (considering he's your age) he must go to school, too, and likely skips more often than you do (again, thinking back to those diary entries), but you don't think it'll lead to anything pleasant. So you hold your tongue. "I think I'll live. Bye."

You leave with a small shrug and Tim standing behind you, brows furrowed deep.

Minutes later—you're stuck in your room, scrolling through as many articles as you can find. It's all about this Justice League, and occasionally, Batman and his Robin. Or Nightwing. Or Red Hood. Or Superboy. Or—

Okay. There's a lot of superheroes. Almost as many as the Avengers.

Maybe this wasn't the right approach—you think, after reading the 500th article about the two Superboys. You scroll more. Then—something catches your eye. A bright flame (on your screen, technically—but still just as bright) encapsulates your retina faster than you can react.

Your eyes widen.

BREAKING: New hero team? Four super-powered heroes saving civilians in fantastic ways.

No way.

You jump up from your bed and clutch your necklace. This was practically calling for you. You run out the door—blasting past Tim—with a newfound spark of hope.

Your heart practically lights up and you can't possibly get out of this house fast enough. Tim calls out your name as you zoom past—asking what the hell you're doing. He doesn't get a reply.

Tim doesn't think he's ever seen that kind of expression on your face, ever.

You're moving so fast, he's not sure if he can catch up.

Your suit forms over your pyjamas as soon as you duck into the dark of an alley, shooting a web and slinging up into the sky. If your predictions were right...

Then he should be here right now. They should be here. The last article you found was posted less than twenty hours ago.

You look around, perched on the roof. The sky is dotted with specks of red and orange—like the flames of a phoenix. Ever-burning heart. It's not as bright (yet, all the same, sears your lids) as it was when you ducked out of school—Harry and MJ surely would be home by now... wherever that home in Gotham was.

You're too locked in to try and do detective work on anything else right now.

"Come on... come on, hotshot... you're there, I know it."

You probably look crazy muttering to yourself like this. You feel like you're going crazy. You're sure he'd call you loony before grinning and hitting you with a bad pickup line. You're sure—

Suddenly, your eyes brighten and there's flickering in your refractive lenses.

Your entire body tenses with a pause—your spidey-sense going off a thousand beats a minute.

"Johnny!" Your eyes dart towards a bright speck rapidly moving. Far away. Flying, most likely. But it's him. You know it. You don't waste a second in starting to swing.

You call out his name as you rush toward his quickly departing figure. He's fast—but you're faster. You always have been, no matter how much he'd deny it.

Your heart races as fast as it can possibly go. Your heart—it's burning, alighting with hot, molten passion as you get closer, and closer, and closer—

"Johnny!"

You crash into the human matchstick and wrap your arms around him—squeezing. The warmth pools through your nanotech suit like you're hugging the sun itself (though, you aren't too sure whether the warmth tickling the inside of your ribcage is truly coming from him).

You sure are thankful you made your suit heat resistant (with Johnny in mind).

He yelps, high-pitched—losing his flight for a moment and tumbling downwards. You web and swing the two of you upwards onto a roof with ease, holding him princess style in your arms. When you let him down to stand on his own two feet, he stares at you with wide, shocked eyes.

His flames evaporate into thin air when he realises it's you, and you're laughing so joyously you could cry.

His hand reaches up, cautiously. Like you'll shatter if he isn't careful. "[name]...? Spidey, is it...?" Making sure it really, truly is you.

You nod, slowly, and the nanotech of your mask dissipates around your face. He lets out a breath he probably didn't know he was holding and engulfs you into a hug, holding you steady in his arms as low flames begin to tickle your face.

"[name]...!! [name]!!" He holds you so tightly you could be squeezed to death—but you're not complaining. Not like you usually would. Not like this. Not now. "You're... you're here? How...? How are you...?"

You pull away—though, his arms refuse to linger away from your upper arm, "What about you, idiot?! I was scared half to death when you, Sue, Ben and Reed just... disappeared one day! I was scared you...!"

You can't bring yourself to finish, so you just hit his chest, hard. He hisses and clutches the area, claiming it's going to bruise—yet, he does not stop smiling.

He slinks an arm around your shoulder (being sure your hair doesn't catch onto his flaming limb), smiling as charmingly as you remember, "Oh come on, Spidey—we both know you were just worried about me."

Your eyes squint up with your smile. He's just like you remember. Whether this was your Johnny or not... it didn't change the fact that you'd never felt closer to home.

"Try again in the next dimension, hot stuff."

And he simply grins.

Your legs dangle off the edge of the rooftop, a burger (courtesy of Johnny letting you know where are the good joints were) wrapped up nicely in your hand. Your mask only leaves your mouth exposed now as you take a bite.

You chew with starry eyes. "This tastes like...!"

"Like Stanley's, right?" His bright eyes squint upward into a boyish grin. "It's crazy how similar these worlds are."

You sigh contentedly at the familiarity, resting your head onto his shoulder. His suit is warm on your cheek. "So, Reed's tinkering really did transport you all to this world? And that's how Doc sent me tumbling here?"

He nods. "Yep. Sucks, huh? I just didn't expect you—the other you—to get caught up in this, too. What're you gonna do now? You know... with their treatment towards you."

He's clearly talking about how you overexplained their dismissal toward the you in this world. Since you practically replaced them—you're the one with the short end of the stick, while the other you is with your loving Aunt May.

"'Dunno. I'm not gonna tell them I've been transported universes—they'd probably just send me to a mental hospital. I just have to deal with it until Reed gets us out of here." You pull your knees to your chest and take another bite of your burger.

Johnny glances downwards toward where you chew—but you don't notice it.

"'Course. You're practically part of the family. You know, honorarily—till you decide to tie the knot." He winks and you can only laugh at his stupidity.

"Uhuh. Pretty comforting." You snicker. You throw the balled-up wrapper behind you, and sigh, content. "I just hope they don't find out I'm the new spider-hero. That's probably not gonna end well."

Johnny pauses, thinking. "You could always move in with us. Reed made us all fake ID's and everything—we have a pretty sweet apartment."

You shake your head, pulling your mask down over your lips. "No. It'd be even weirder if I disappeared without warning... Assuming they even noticed at all. Trust me, I'd love to—but I can't let them find out. No telling what they'd do."

"You got a point." He sighs, disappointed—as if admitting so was hard for him. "Well, regardless... You can come over whenever you like. My room's always free for you, babe."

You tilt your head to the side. "... I bet you say that to all the people you like, don't you?"

"Nah." He shakes his head, sounding oddly serious for this moment. "Not to anyone since I've had eyes on my special spider."

... Huh?

A beat of silence passes, and he seems to almost regret his words as he laughs, humourlessly. "Hah! Well—try not to piss off the big bad bat more than you already have, babe. I'll catch you later. You know my number."

Before you can even say goodbye—he flies away, leaving a streak of light in his wake.

Johnny...

You decide not to ponder what he meant by his special spider, for the sake of your own wellbeing more than anything. You swing back—into the night of Gotham and back home, where you can fade into the dark without an eye on you.

taglist: @hello-bina @cosmosluckycharms @1abi @yhin-gg @insideoutjulie @bluepanda08 @omnivirgo @vanessa-boo @dind1n @welpthisisboring @lunaetiicsaystuff @marsmabe @atanukileaf @findingjaxx @4mrplumi @bunniotomia @lostsomewhereinthegarden @bat1212 @gaychaosgremlin @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @randomlyappearingartist @cxcilla @spidermanluvr444 @cruzerforce4256 @mybones537 @xjesterxjacksx @nirvanaxx1942 @djpuppy-kittens @br33zy-blizzardz @moon0goddess @0sunnyside01 @mei-simp @redsakura101 @the-dumber-scaramouche

again, if you asked to be on the taglist but aren't there, your account couldn't be tagged for whatever reason. im not too sure how tumblr works, but if you manage to fix it, ask me again!!!

(let me know if this is a me problem bcs im doing this all on my phone at 1am lol 😭)

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gothamite-rambler · 6 months ago

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Duke meeting Talia for the first time

Duke (in his Signal suit): Whoa! You're Talia?!

Talia (stepping out of the shadows, her jade eyes striking in the dim light): You know my name? That’s good.

Duke: Daaaaamn! You are hot!

Bruce burst into laughter, catching everyone off guard. Talia’s eyes widened as her usual frigid demeanor shifted to one of surprise.

Talia: What?

Duke: I’m sorry, it’s just—respectfully—you’re stunning! You were with Bruce? No way! Where’s your mother? There’s no way someone as gorgeous and young as you could be with him. Your mom must’ve done the dirty tango with that guy!

Ra's (raising an eyebrow, clenched jaw): The dirty tango?

Talia (placing a hand on her flawless cheek): I… um, I’m Damian’s mother, and yes, I was with Bruce. I haven’t been complimented like that since him.

Bruce laughed even harder, much to Ra's annoyance and Talia's irritation.

Duke: Ignore him. You could be a model or actress; you’ve got that commanding aura that could shoot a diplomat down.

Talia (flattered and grinning): I have shot down a diplomat. Thank you! Damian, your brother-friend is so sweet.

Damian walked over to Duke, glaring at his brother and teammate. His brows were furrowed as he tapped his foot angrily.

Duke: What? I’ve never seen her up close before! The way you all described her, I thought she’d be an old crone or something like her father.

Ra's (enraged): I’m not a real demon! Just get out and don’t spray me with that water bottle!

Duke (walking away, shaking his head): I can't with this man.

Damian grumbled, crossing his arms as his mother hugged him.

Talia: Calm down, Dami.

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redsray · 1 year ago

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i do love the idea of the wayne kids giving bernard shovel talks about taking care of tim and all that but also give me batfam who are just as protective of bernard as they are of each other.

give me bernard, attending his first wayne gala as tim's significant other. having a suit custom tailored and funded by bruce even if bernard insists it's not necessary because he already has one. arriving at the gala anxious because of course he is, it's a goddamn socialite event, but being protected from every side by the wayne kids even when tim is dragged away.

Socialite: Oh, and who might you be?

Bernard: Oh, um, hi. I'm Bernard Dowd, nice to meet you.

Socialite: Dowd? I've never heard of your family before. Who...?

Bernard: I'm not here with my family, miss, I'm here with my boyfriend.

Socialite: ... Boyfriend?

Bernard: Yeah, I'm here with Tim.

Socialite, frowning: Tim... as in Drake-Wayne? He has a boyfriend?

Dick, coming up next to Bernard: He sure does! Bernard here is practically one of ours now, aren't you? He matters to Timmy, so he matters to us.

Bernard: Dick—

Dick: C'mon, let's get you back to Timmy. Farewell, Mrs!

Bernard: I could've handled that.

Dick: All the rules that apply to my siblings during galas apply to you too. I'm sure you could've, but you shouldn't have to. I've got your back too, now, yeah?

Bernard: ... Yeah. Thanks, Dick.

Jason, coming up to Bernard at the bar: Not to freak you out, kid, but there's a guy starin' at ya from the other side of the bar. Y'know him or should I encourage him to look away?

Bernard, startled: Huh? (looks around) Oh. No, I don't know him. Why... is he looking at me like that, actually?

Jason, scowling: 'S just how the slimy fuckers at these events are. Can't keep their eyes off anything that's small, young or pretty. Disgusting. I'll deal with him— where's your annoying other half gone, inferior blondie?

Bernard: Tim? He got pulled away for quote; 'something important' by some lady. He said he'll meet me here after he's done, so I've been waiting.

Jason: Huh. If I see him I'll point him yer way. Hey, don't be 'fraid to ask any of us questions or for help if ya need it. We know the best how daunting this shit can be.

Bernard, genuinely touched: ... Thanks, Jason.

Jason: Yeah, yeah. Don't tell Timmers I said that, though, he'll call me a loser.

Bernard, laughing: I won't.

Bernard, being talked to by several people at once and a bit overwhelmed by the attention: Uh— I'm—

Damian, stepping between him and the socialites: Dowd. I require your assistance.

Bernard: Um— hi, Damian— with what?

Damian: You will see when we get there. Follow me, Drake's more tolerable half.

Bernard: Okay... so what do you need from me?

Damian: Nothing. You seemed to dislike the attention from all of the nosy adults over there. It was the most efficient way of extracting you from the situation.

Bernard: Oh. Thanks, Damian.

Damian: Tt, don't thank me yet, Dowd. I am still criticising your choice in romantic partners.

Bernard: Didn't you threaten me with a katana to not dampen Tim's mood in any way shape or form?

Damian: Slander. I said quote 'if you make Drake more annoying by breaking his heart I'm going to maim you.' I don't see how you got the message you did from that.

Bernard, grinning: Sure, Damian. Sure.

#batfam #dc comics #batman #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #bernard dowd #they give him shovel talks but when they're over it's basically 'our kid now'#he's theirs in a similar way to steph #he's not a vigilante but he's important to tim #so he's theirs #timbern #tim x bernard #timber

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solelifauna · 7 months ago

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With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 2)

Hi guys, I’m alive. I’ve just been sick and then found out that my dog’s cancer spread and the surgery costs $3,000 which is insane. Anyways, I’ve been working irl so I completely forgot about this account. Sorry pookies🤕🙏.

If anyone wants to know I’m still taking commissions, and if my price doesn’t work for you I’m sure I can lower it!! Honestly, I’ll write for whatever price I’m lowkey desperate.😭🙏

The next morning, you wake up in panic, shit, you slept in. You rush out the manor forgoing breakfast, almost eating shit on the sidewalk in your rush. You hop onto your bike, pedaling as if death itself was chasing you, huffing and puffing. Thankfully you make it to school on time, if only just on time.

You fall into your seat just as the bell rings, letting the top half of your body crumple over the desk.

“Looks like somebody had a rough morning.” The familiar voice of one of your best friends.

“Fuck off Quinn.” You huff out tiredly.

“Fine, then I guess this extra black coffee I got at Gloria’s is going to waste then.” She said teasingly.

How is it that she always has impeccable intuition about these things?

You groaned sitting up, giving Quinn a tired look.

“Yikes, I was gonna make another smartass joke but you look like you’re about to keel over.” She said worriedly, handing over the extra coffee.

“Ha ha, yeah I feel like I'm about to keel over. Thanks for the coffee by the way.” You said dryly.

“Don’t sweat it girl, but–uh, what the hell happened.”

“Too much dude, too much. It's so much bullshit I don't even know where to start.”

“Im guessing its about–”

“Ding, ding, ding, you got it.”

“Shit…how bad? They’re not gonna… you know…” Quinn stutters off.

“Kill me? Eat me?”

She nodded.

You massage your forehead, a headache forming between your eyebrows. “I'll be so for real right now, I don't even know.”

“Damn, I don't even know what to say to that.” Quinn grimaces.

“It’d be weird if you did.” You joked giving her a sardonic smile.“Well if they’re gonna kill me, I hope they do it before finals.”

“You’ve got issues (Y/n).”

“I’m aware.”

Just then the chatter in the class started to pipe down as your history teacher, Mr. Lechliter, made his way into the room. However, something wasn’t right; his usually neat hair was in disarray and you could smell that he was profusely sweating. He was nervous, which was completely out of character. Sure Mr. Lechliter was awkward at times but he was normally confident and loud around the class, something was going on.

“Good morning, class,” Mr. Lechliter began, but his voice was shaky, not at all the usual booming tone he used to command the room. “I-uh, hope you’re all ready to jump into… um, well, history.” He swallowed hard, glancing around as if searching for something—or someone—outside the door.

You look at Quinn with a raised eyebrow. What the hell is happening right now?

“We, um, actually have two guests who’ll be auditing a couple of classes today so we all want you guys on your best behavior. For our sakes and yours.” He said fidgeting with his paperweight globe, however, it was what he whispered under his breath that had you worried. What the fuck did he mean by that?!

“These guest speakers are one of the school's top sponsors so I truly cannot express the need we have for you all to behave and be on task, understand?” Mr. Lechliter spoke gravely.

The class let out a scattered “Yes” whilst others nodded. Now it was the class's turn to start getting nervous, the energy in the room now becoming quite grim. Seeing the class’s cooperation, Mr. Lechliter let out a shaky smile and nodded back at the class in approval. You sipped your coffee nervously in tandem.

“Good. Now, without further adieu, please welcome the esteemed Bruce Wayne and his son, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.”

And in walked your worst nightmare as you choked on your coffee. A hesitant applause began as a couple of heads turned your way, including the scrutinizing eyes of Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake.

“Jesus Christ (Y/n), are you good?” Quinn whispered, patting your back.

“Does it look like I'm good, Quinn?” You whisper-yell back.

“Sorry, dumb question.”

“I legitimately can't do this right now.” You groan out quietly.

Tim’s sharp, calculating gaze landed on you, and for a split second, his lips twitched upward in what looked disturbingly close to satisfaction. Bruce, however, kept his gaze steady, stoic, making his way to the front of the class like he owned every square inch of the room—and maybe, in a way, he did.

Bruce stepped forward, greeting Mr. Lechliter with a firm handshake before addressing the class. “Good morning,” he said, his voice carrying a smooth authority. “It’s always a pleasure to see the next generation of Gotham’s finest minds, and today, we’re here to discuss some unique opportunities with Wayne Enterprises—partnerships, scholarships, and mentorship programs that may be of interest to you in your future studies.”

Meanwhile, Tim’s gaze remained fixed on you, a silent warning lingering behind his polite smile. You swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact, hoping that blending in might somehow make you invisible. But Tim had no intention of letting you off the hook. He leaned slightly closer to Bruce, murmuring something that made Bruce’s eyes flicker in your direction, his expression unreadable.

Quinn leaned over, her voice barely a whisper. “(Y/n), what the hell is going on? They keep looking at you.”

“Trust me, I wish I knew,” you muttered back, managing to take a sip of coffee without choking this time. “They’re just here to make my life a living nightmare, apparently.”

As Bruce and Tim began their presentation, outlining all the “wonderful opportunities” that a connection to Wayne Enterprises could bring, you couldn’t help but feel trapped. Every line, every subtle glance, seemed like a reminder that escape from their influence was impossible. They were inescapable, even here, in the one place you thought you could breathe.

When they finally wrapped up their presentation, Bruce offered to answer questions, his gaze settling on you for the briefest moment, as if daring you to speak up. You just nervously looked away, its fine, they’ve said their piece and will be leaving soon.

But of course life doesn't ever go the way that you want.

The relief that had started to settle in evaporated as Bruce and Tim made no move to leave. Instead, they took seats at the back of the classroom, settling in with that same poised, assessing presence that dominated every room they entered. Bruce folded his hands in his lap, his gaze steady and inscrutable, while Tim casually crossed his arms, his eyes tracking every student’s reaction, but always coming back to you.

You swallowed hard, glancing at Quinn, who was now just as unsettled as you were. “Are they… staying?” she whispered, her brows knitting together in worry.

“Looks like it,” you muttered, barely moving your lips.

Mr. Lechliter, visibly tense under the weight of their scrutiny, resumed his lesson with all the grace of a man on the edge of a breakdown. Every time he stumbled over his words or glanced nervously at Bruce, the room felt as if it held its breath.

“This, um, particular era in history…” Mr. Lechliter began, stammering slightly as he struggled to keep his usual confident tone. “It’s a time when alliances shifted often, and there was…constant jockeying for power…”

Bruce and Tim watched, expressions neutral, but you knew better than to believe their act. They weren’t here for any genuine interest in educational standards; they were here as a reminder, a warning that the Wayne influence extended beyond the manor walls.

You focused on your notebook, pen tapping anxiously against the paper as you tried to tune them out and take frantic notes. But it was impossible to ignore the cold prickle at the back of your neck. Every glance felt like a needle, each second stretching longer than the last.

Mr. Lechliter’s lecture painstakingly continued on for another thirty minutes before class started coming to an end.

The bell finally rang as you shot up out of your seat and practically sprinted out the door. You head to your locker, feeling the many starters of students and teachers bore into you. Another thing was that everyone kinda knew that the Wayne’s didn't like you, it was very obvious. Which meant the media had a field day, letting the entirety of Gotham know how much the famous pack hated you. So now your business was also aired out to the entire world to know. Wonderful, am I right?

You shove your unneeded books into your (tbh, very cutely) decorated locker, while grabbing the science textbook you needed for your next class, AP Biology. This class was the absolute bane of your existence. Not only was the content hard, the teacher was also absolutely nuts. You walk over to your Bio class, clutching your books like a lifeline. “Please, dont be here too.” You pray to yourself. Thankfully, this class was normal, well, as normal as it could get. The other two classes you have before lunch ended the same way, Wayneless.

As your fourth class comes to an end your stomach starts to growl. You’d be embarrassed, but everyone else in your class was in a similar starved state. When the lunch bell goes off, you’re excitedly grabbing your things and making your way down. Fucking finally it was lunchtime. You made your way to the quickly growing lunchline

Your friends were already sitting at your usual table as you made your way over and slammed your lunch tray on the table.

“Im gonna kill myself.”

“I can't even say anything about that.” One of your other friends Daniel says.

You groaned holding your head in your hands, your headache becoming more prevalent as you turn to look at him.

“Man all I did was ask to leave, and now this shit? I can't even right now.”

“You finally asked to leave, huh? I'm guessing it didn't go well.” Daniel asks.

“Nope, but when does anything ever go right in my life.”

Just as you finish talking, the noisy cafeteria falls abruptly silent. The usual clatter of trays and chatter of students fades, replaced by an almost eerie quiet. You and your friends exchange confused glances before turning to see what—or who—could possibly have silenced a room full of teenagers. But in the pit of your stomach, you already have an idea.

Sure enough, walking through the entrance are Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake-Wayne, looking completely out of place in their immaculate suits and composed expressions. Their powerful, calculating gazes sweep across the crowd, searching for someone, before both of their eyes zero in on you and your table. Instinctively, you tense up, your shoulders hunching as if to make yourself smaller, and you feel the flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks under their scrutiny.

Their focused stares make you flinch, and you quickly look away, facing your friends once more. “See what I mean?” you mutter under your breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s like the universe is out to get me.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow, glancing between you and the Waynes, a flicker of worry passing over his face. "What are they doing here? This isn’t normal, right?”

“No, it’s definitely not,” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual even as your heart races. “They’re here to make a point.”

You further slump into the table, arms cradling your head as the cafeteria slowly starts to go back to its normal noise level. Both Tim and Bruce take a seat at a table opposite to where you’re sitting, which gives them a perfect view of your table. Great.

“Guys talk to me. Anything–talk about anything please.” You beg quietly.

Quinn leans in, glancing nervously at the Waynes across the cafeteria. “Uh, did you hear about Chief Keef performing soon? Apparently, he’ll be in Gotham.”

Daniel nods, catching on to your plea for distraction. “Yeah, yeah, I heard he's gonna bring another artist on stage. Mauve Travis or something if we’re lucky?.”

You smile weakly, grateful for the distraction, even if your heart’s still pounding. You try to focus on what they’re saying, but you can feel Tim’s gaze on you like a laser, scrutinizing, watching every movement. You pretend not to notice, grabbing a fry from your tray and nodding along to whatever Daniel and Quinn are saying, forcing yourself to join in with a half-hearted laugh here and there.

Quinn suddenly brings up a story from her last weekend, trying her best to lighten the mood. “Okay, get this—I tried to impress this guy by pretending to know how to skate, but instead, I ended up flat on my face in front of, like, everyone. Mortifying, but he did buy me a smoothie as a consolation prize.”

You chuckle, letting the story pull you out of your anxious thoughts. “I mean, sounds like it kind of worked. You got a free smoothie, right?”

Quinn laughs, rolling her eyes. “Only because he felt bad, but hey, I’ll take pity smoothies.”

The laughter at your table grows, the lighthearted moment almost making you forget the ominous presence of Bruce and Tim nearby. But just as you’re starting to relax, you catch a glimpse of Tim’s amused smirk from the corner of your eye. His eyes don’t leave you, as if he knows exactly how unsettling his presence is and he’s reveling in it.

“I think he liked you,” Daniel teases Quinn, keeping the conversation going to help ease your nerves.

“Liked my bruised ego, maybe,” she snorts. “Anyway, what about you, (Y/n)? Got any secret admirers?”

You shake your head, grateful they’re keeping the focus off your current predicament. “Nope, unless you count the cadaver frog I accidentally dropped on my lab partner. He, uh-didn’t look at me the same after that.”

Your friends burst out laughing, and for a brief, blessed moment, you almost feel normal again. But when you glance back, Bruce’s eyes are still on you, cool and unyielding.

“Here’s to hoping they’re gone after lunch,” Daniel mutters, catching your uneasy glance.

“What good has hoping ever done me?” You sigh, picking at your food.

The tension in the cafeteria never fully fades. Despite the attempts from Quinn and Daniel to keep the conversation going, the presence of Bruce and Tim just continues to overwhelm you. Every so often, your eyes flit toward them, only to find them still seated, still watching, and their expressions betraying nothing of their true intent. It feels like they’re waiting for you to make a move, to react in some way that would justify their unsettling attention.

Lunch drags on in this uncomfortable limbo until, at last, the bell rings, signaling the end of the break. Your friends gather their things, offering small words of encouragement or supportive smiles, though they too look wary of the Waynes’ lingering presence.

“I’ll see you both in Chem. Hopefully Mr. Domzalski isn't still in a bad mood from what happened yesterday.” You say.

“You mean from when you and Daniel set fire to one of his textbooks?” Quinn questions sardonically.

You and Daniel offer her a sheepish, guilty smile.

“Hey–it was an accident!” he exclaims, feigning offense.

“Yeah, what he said! We followed all the instructions to a T!” You defend as well.

“Sure, whatever you both say. I'm just surprised he didn't automatically fail you two.” Quinn says fondly.

“It’s ‘cause we’re somehow his favorites? Don't ask me how or why though.” You respond.

As you and Daniel chuckle, the lightheartedness helps lift some of the weight that had been hanging over your head. The relief is short-lived, though, as you feel a prickle on the back of your neck—a feeling that’s become all too familiar lately.

You glance back to see Bruce and Tim still watching, and for a moment, something in Bruce’s gaze changes. You can’t quite read it, but it feels sharper, like he’s calculating, considering something he hasn’t said. You swallow, gripping your bag tighter as your friends move to head toward class, unaware of the silent tension hanging around you like a cloud.

You head to your APA Algebra II class alone, without the usual buffer of Daniel or Quinn’s lighthearted banter to ease the tension. The classroom is quiet, a different atmosphere from the lively lunch period, and you’re able to slip into your seat undisturbed, hoping that the math problems ahead will give you a welcome distraction.

As the class moves on, you find yourself lost in equations, the numbers and formulas acting as a temporary refuge from everything else. You keep your head down, concentrating on the work, grateful for the momentary peace that academics bring.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of Math, you gather your things and head to APA Chemistry, where you’d finally reunite with Daniel and Quinn. When you arrive in APA Chemistry, the atmosphere is surprisingly relaxed. Mr. Domzalski hasn’t arrived yet, so everyone’s just hanging out, chatting about weekend plans, or joking around. You plop down next to Daniel, who’s already doodling on his notebook, and give Quinn a tired smile. It’s nice to have a few minutes to unwind before the usual controlled chaos of Mr. Domzalski’s class kicks in.

Then, the door swings open, and you freeze as Mr. Domzalski steps in with Tim Drake following close behind. Your stomach twists, and you have to swallow down a groan. Thankfully, Bruce is nowhere to be seen. Small blessings, you suppose; better not to question it too much. You look at your friends, trying to convey your annoyance with a single tired look as Mr. Domzalski beams with a sort of overdone excitement that sets you on edge.

“Everyone, I’d like you to welcome a special guest,” he says, practically brimming with enthusiasm. “Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, is here to observe our class today.”

You sink lower in your chair, stifling a grumble. Great, just great. This whole thing was growing stale fast. You try to ignore the interested murmurs spreading through the class as everyone stares at Tim, who stands there with that same polite, professional smile he’s been flashing all day. You avoid eye contact, focusing instead on the edge of your desk as Mr. Domzalski continues.

“Now,” Mr. Domzalski goes on, shifting his focus to the lab materials, “before we dive into today’s lesson, let’s review what went wrong in yesterday’s lab.”

He shoots a pointed look in your direction, his smile still in place, but there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s not exactly thrilled. “For those who might need a reminder,” he continues, not-so-subtly side-eyeing you and Daniel, “improper handling of materials led to one of my textbooks, which I cherish dearly, being set on fire.”

The class erupts into quiet snickers, and Daniel coughs into his hand, trying to disguise his laughter. You roll your eyes, but a smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. Even Tim’s eyes change a bit, as if interested.

Mr. Domzalski clears his throat, regaining the class’s attention. “Let’s aim for a little more caution today, shall we?”

The lab for the day was going to be more complex than usual. Mr. Domzalski, with a edge of nervousness in his tone, began rattling off the new, more complicated instructions. His gaze flicked to you and Daniel more than once, lingering just long enough to make his message clear: Please don’t mess up.

You slouched slightly in your seat, already feeling the weight of the unspoken pressure. It wasn’t lost on you how much was riding on this lab going smoothly—not just for your grade, but for Mr. Domzalski himself. With Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and a member of one of Gotham’s most powerful packs, observing, any mishap could very well put your teacher’s job on the line.

Next to you, Daniel caught your eye, his lips twitching into a wry smirk. He leaned in, whispering, “Feel like we’re walking on eggshells today, huh?”

“More like a minefield,” you muttered back, eyeing the lab equipment warily. The setup looked far more intricate than usual—beakers and flasks stacked alongside pipettes, Bunsen burners, and an array of unfamiliar chemicals. It was a recipe for disaster, and you had no intention of being the one to set it off.

Tim, seated at the back of the room, watched the proceedings with his usual cool detachment. His presence was like a weight pressing down on the room, amplifying every minor sound and movement. You could practically feel his gaze on you, even when you weren’t looking his way.

“Alright, everyone,” Mr. Domzalski said, clapping his hands to gather the class’s attention. “Remember to follow the instructions precisely as they’re written. This is a delicate experiment, and precision is key. Any deviation could—well, let’s just say we don’t want any surprises today.”

The pointed glance he sent your way at the word “surprises” made you cringe internally. You shot Daniel a look. He seemed to get the message, giving you a small nod before turning his focus to the materials in front of him.

With a deep breath, you adjusted your goggles and got to work, determined not to give anyone—especially Tim—a reason to criticize.

The lab was rough from the very start. No matter how tightly you adjusted your goggles, they kept fogging up, obscuring your vision at the worst possible moments. You constantly had to pause to wipe them off, and each time, you felt Tim's Gaze flicker towards you. Daniel, meanwhile, was no better. He almost tipped over a vial of some unpronounceable chemical twice, and each time, you barely managed to steady it before disaster struck.

“Bro you have to lock in.” you said under your breath.

“I'm trying–fuck. My hands are too shaky.” Daniel whispered back, nervous as he tried held out his hands for you to see. He carefully set the vial down, only for his elbow to nudge another piece of equipment. You caught it just in time, your heart leaping into your throat.

The instructions seemed to come at lightning speed, Mr. Domzalski rattling off steps faster than you could write them down. Each new instruction layered on top of the last until your head was spinning with measurements, temperatures, and reaction times. You were doing your best to keep up—you think you were doing it right—but the constant noise and movement around you made it feel like everything was closing in.

You glanced at the flask on your workstation, bubbling faintly as it was supposed to, and double-checked the temperature. It seemed fine. Probably fine. Hopefully fine. But the nagging thought that you might’ve missed a step wouldn’t go away.

Behind you, Tim’s silent observation was like a shadow, adding another layer of stress to the already chaotic atmosphere. Every time you caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye, you swore his expression was unreadable, yet somehow judgmental.

“I think this is right,” you muttered, glancing at the next step in the instructions and adjusting your setup.

“‘Think’ isn’t reassuring, (Y/n),” Daniel replied, he was nervous. “Don’t blow us up, okay?”

“Not funny,” you snapped, though your lips twitched in a half-smile despite the stress. “Just keep stirring before we mess up the timing.”

The rest of the lab dragged on in a haze of nervous energy and frantic adjustments. Your hands trembled slightly as you measured out the final chemical, careful not to let even a drop spill. When you finally completed the experiment, the mixture in the beaker turned the correct pale blue color, and you let out a shaky breath of relief.

“See?” Daniel said, flashing you a grin. “We nailed it.”

You gave him a tired look. “Barely.”

As Mr. Domzalski approached to check your work, you held your breath, praying there wasn’t some detail you’d overlooked. When he gave a curt nod of approval, you finally relaxed, though your nerves still felt frayed. Even then, you could feel Tim’s eyes on you, as if silently appraising every moment of your struggle.

The lab was over, but the stress lingered like a heavy weight on your shoulders. You packed up your materials with shaky hands, grateful to escape the pressure of both the experiment and the unrelenting scrutiny.

As the class wrapped up, Mr. Domzalski passed by your station, his sharp eyes flicking over the completed experiment. The pale blue liquid in the beaker must have been just right because, instead of his usual critical remarks, he gave a subtle nod and a quiet, “Good work.” The words weren’t overly enthusiastic, but coming from him—and especially with Tim Drake watching—it was as close to praise as you could get.

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders, and you let out a long sigh of relief. You and Daniel exchanged a look, his triumphant grin mirrored by the faintest smile you allowed yourself. You’d passed. Somehow, despite the foggy goggles, Daniel’s near-disasters, and the relentless pressure, you’d made it through the lab unscathed.

As you finished cleaning up, Mr. Domzalski gave you a brief, silent glance of thanks. It wasn’t much, but you knew what it meant: he was grateful you hadn’t turned today’s experiment into another headline-worthy incident. You nodded subtly back, grateful that the ordeal was over.

With the last of your equipment put away, you grabbed your bag and escaped the lab as quickly as possible, the weight of Tim’s lingering gaze finally lifting as you stepped into the hallway. Quinn was waiting by the door, chatting with Daniel, who was still buzzing with post-lab adrenaline.

“Well, looks like you didn’t burn down the school,” Quinn teased, grinning as she fell into step with you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself. “We’re still alive, so I guess that’s a win.”

“Hey give us more credit.” Daniel chimed in, earning a laugh from both you and Quinn.

As the three of you headed for the stairs, you said goodbye to Daniel, who was heading to a different class. “See you later, guys.” he said, waving as he turned down another hallway.

You and Quinn made your way toward the gym for your seventh period, the final class of the day. The familiar chatter and clang of lockers greeted you as you stepped into the changing area. Gym wasn’t exactly your favorite class, but after the stress of the lab, it was almost a relief to have something physical to focus on instead of the constant mental strain.

“Think they’ll leave you alone for the day?” Quinn asked as you pulled on your gym shoes.

“I hope so,” you replied, your voice weary. “I can’t handle any more of this. It’s like they can’t even wait to-to…you know.”

Quinn grimaces. “Yeah, I know.” But she smiles back at you, as if tying to make you perk up. “Well, at least we’re doing dodgeball today, you should blow off some steam.”

You huff, amused. “Mm, maybe nailing Farah in the head with a dodgeball would do me some good.”

“Straight on bitch, that girl needs to be humbled.” Quinn says.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “At this point, I’ll take any excuse to hit something.”

The two of you stepped into the gym, the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished floors and the buzz of students warming up filling the air. It wasn’t the easiest day, but at least the end was finally in sight.

The day finally winds down as you head to the locker rooms to change. The smell of sweat and disinfectant fills the air as you and the other students shuffle to your lockers, exchanging the occasional half-hearted quip about how much of a drill sergeant Coach Walker was today. You change quickly, eager to escape the lingering humidity of the gym, and sling your bag over your shoulder just as the dismissal bell rings.

Joining the tide of students heading toward the front exit, you fall into step with Quinn, chatting idly about homework and plans for the weekend. The sprawling line of cars in the pick-up area is already forming, parents eager to whisk their kids away from the chaos of the school day.

Daniel spots you both as he weaves through the crowd toward his mom’s car, parked conveniently near the front of the line. “Guess that’s my ride,” he calls, swatting your shoulder playfully. “Try not to miss me too much tomorrow, I've got a doc's appointment.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah, you wish asshole.”

“Later!” he shouts, hopping into the passenger seat of his mom’s car as it pulls away. You and Quinn wave after him before continuing toward the pick-up zone.

“Alfred here today?” Quinn asks, glancing around at the cars idling nearby.

“Probably not,” you reply with a shrug. “Haven’t heard from him, so it’s probably just me and the bike today.”

Quinn nods, her attention already shifting to a car pulling up in the distance. “Looks like my dad’s almost here.”

You glance toward the pickup area and spot the familiar vehicle inching closer. “Cool. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yep. Don’t get mugged on the way home,” she jokes, smirking as she adjusts her backpack.

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” you reply with a laugh. With a quick goodbye, you head toward the bike rack to unlock your trusty two-wheeler.

The quietness of the parking lot is a stark contrast to the noisy chaos of the day. You crouch down, fiddling with the combination lock on your bike, when a hulking shadow falls over you. The sudden shift in light is enough to make your instincts bristle, but you stay focused on the lock, rolling your eyes at the interruption.

“Bro, if you’re lookin’ to mug me,” you say without looking up, your tone flat and unamused, “you should know I’m skint broke. Try some other bitch.”

The air around you seems to thicken with tension, and you feel the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze boring into you. It’s enough to make you pause mid-turn on the lock, your breath catching as a low, familiar voice responds.

“I sure hope you’re not talking to me?” Comes your father, Bruce’s, deep voice.

Your head snaps up, and your breath catches in your throat as you realize it’s not some wannabe punk standing over you.

You pale instantly, the color draining from your face as you meet his icy blue eyes. His expression is unreadable, but the weight of his gaze is suffocating. The sheer presence of him—imposing, cold, and unnervingly silent—makes your stomach churn with dread. Your heart pounds in your chest as you scramble for words, your brain tripping over itself in panic.

“Oh—uh, Mr. Wayne—I didn’t—I mean, I thought…” you stammer, trying to cobble together an explanation and an apology all at once. Your hands fumble with the lock on your bike, suddenly feeling clumsy under his scrutiny. “I—um—sorry! I thought—uh—someone else—”

He raises an eyebrow, the tiniest shift in his expression, but it’s enough to make you flinch. You straighten up, clutching your bike for dear life, feeling small and utterly exposed under his towering figure.

“I see,” he says finally, his voice calm but laced with that undercurrent of authority that makes it clear he’s not just seeing. He’s assessing.

“I didn’t realize it was you,” you blurt, trying to salvage what’s left of your dignity. “I thought it was, uh, someone else. Someone trying to—um—mug me?” The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, and you wince inwardly at how ridiculous it must sound.

Bruce’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Do you make a habit of mouthing off to strangers you assume are threats?” he asks, his tone deceptively mild.

“N-no, sir,” you stammer, shaking your head quickly. “I just—I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s been a long day, and I wasn’t thinking—”

He holds up a hand, cutting off your rambling. “Enough,” he says, “I’m here to pick you up. Alfred’s occupied.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, as you try to process his words. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that Bruce might be the one picking you up today. Of course, the thought of him going out of his way to do so hadn’t even crossed your mind, it wasn’t like he ever went out of his way for you before.

“Oh,” you manage after an awkward pause. “Right. Thanks.”

You still have your conversation from the previous day in mind.

“Come on,” he says, turning without another word. “We’re leaving.”

You hastily shove your bike into the back of his sleek black car, your movements hurried and uncoordinated under the pressure of his presence. Sliding into the back seat, you notice Tim sitting in the front passenger seat, looking at you through the rear mirror. You avert your gaze, clasping your hands tightly in your lap, trying not to fidget as the engine purrs to life. The air inside the car is thick with silence, broken only by the occasional click of the turn signal as Bruce maneuvers through traffic.

You steal a glance at him, his expression as stoic and unreadable as ever. Despite the tension knotting your stomach, you force yourself to speak. “I—uh, thanks for picking me up,” you mumble, staring out the window.

Bruce doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the road. When he finally speaks, his tone is even but firm. “We’ll talk when we get home.”

Your throat tightens when you see Tim's glee filled smile, as if a cat had just caught a canary. You nod mutely, knowing there’s no point in arguing. Whatever he has to say, it’s not going to be pleasant.

[Hope you guys liked the chapter!! I'm sorry for the delay and the ghosting, more fics will be updated trust!! Also thank you to all the people who were checking on me, I really appreciate it!!]

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svckmyballzfr · 1 month ago

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“I know it’s over”

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Maki Zenin!reader

Prologue, chapter 1, Chapter 2 - “Still I cling”, Chapter 3

Tw: neglect, Injury, obsession, abandonment, Torture, Abuse, SA (this is a disclaimer for the whole story + sorry about the bad grammar and typos.)

[Name] stares at the weird white blind folded man. “Um…what the fuck are you talking about?” [Name] side eyes the Gojo guy.

‘People in Gotham get crazy and crazier everyday…just look at this guy! No shame on showing his weird kinks huh?�� Satoru just laughs it off, and points his thumb to himself “I am Satoru Gojo, the strongest Jujustu Sorcerer!”

“Hey Man I don’t want to be apart of your weird kinky porn play you got going on. And how do you know about Jujustu sorcerers?” [Name] crosses her arms, when she was about to blast off on this weirdo for pretending to be one of the strongest sorcerers, Satoru quickly shouts “WOAH WOAH LITTLE LADY I PROMISE YOU I AM NOT INTO THAT STUFF AND IM NOT A CHILD FIDDLER!!!” He said shaking has hands in surrender “I PROMISE you i really am the strongest, I can even show you!”

[name] sighs “Ok so if you apparently aren’t a local Gotham and the ‘strongest’ what do you want from me? I don’t have any cursed energy. Well only a little. Im sure you heard of me as the Zenin clan’s disgrace if you are.” Satoru only smiles at those words “Well since you asked…I want you to Join Jujustu High!”

….

There was a long silence between them, [name] then walked up in front of him and tried to kick him in the balls, only for her leg to hit the air like their was a invisible force blocking her foot and his jewels, [name] falls back on her ass.

“Ok so like…How I start?” [name] says standing up dusting herself.

Satoru walks with name as he explains the basics on how he had founded out about her and, why he wants her to join Jujustu high. [name] kept quiet and occasionally asked or replied/responded to questions. [name] may seem to be chill about this interaction but she was really happy on the inside to finally have someone to talk with and even walk her home!

“So, you officially have joined Jujustu high!” Satoru exclaimed with jazz hands dramatically and [name] only sighed. “But like isn’t it in Tokyo? Don’t I have to move or whatever.” [name] asked since it could be a chance to see Mai again.

“About that! I actually am on a business trip here to get rid of curses in Gotham!!! The lazy ass higher ups decided to send me since it was requested by your dear ol’ dilf daddy Bruce Wayne” Satoru chuckled, [name] expression suddenly hardened.

“oh. Can we not talk about him please?”

“Oop. Why not?” He suddenly stopped and stood in front of her crouching to her height and stares at her with an unreadable expression since she couldn’t see his face.

[name] froze “Look it’s none of your business.” She moves out the way to walk past him, but he puts an arm to her chest to stop her “Talk to me.” He said quietly.

“Awe man that sucks.” Satoru said with his hands in his pockets after [name] had explained everything “I was about ask why you have wraps around your eye too” he chuckled softly.

“Shut up” [name] cheeks burned up a little from speaking about these issues which she didn’t like talking about. “Don’t worry I can be your dear ol dad then!”

[name] holds back a large smile “THATS NOT HOW IT WORKS DIPSHIT!”

“LANGUAGE YOUNG LADY!”

Satoru trains [name] for a week, [name] routine had been wake up, eat breakfast get Alfred to drive her to school with Damian being a little shit and tormenting and insulting her in the car, go go school, after school be picked up by Satoru sensei, train and get dropped off at the manor, Satoru finds a way to freeze the camera footage at the manor for 1 minute so [name] can sneak back in, and repeat. Cycle was easy and simple and a 2 weeks passed doing the same routine, and [name] was able to get her old fighting skills back with no problem! Satoru even lets her exercise curse spirits with the cursed energy weapons!

Nothing can ruin this routine right?…

“Where are you going?” A sharp child’s voice cuts in the air making [name] freeze just about to walk, to Satoru’s mansion.

[name] turned and looked at him with narrowed eyes “What’s it to you? You should mind your business Damian.” Damian only tsked “Don’t want you ruining the family’s image even more as you do by existing, so it is my business as a heir of the Wayne enterprise” [name] sighs ‘God when does he ever shut the fuck up?’

“Yeah that’s cool and all but like I have places to be and it doesn’t concern you. And I promise it would hurt your precious family image” [name] said with a mocking voice “Seems you now understand where you’re place is. Not a Wayne-“

[name] interrupts him before he could blabber on more “Yeah yeah I fucking know. Can you just shut up? Seriously god you’re so fucking annoying with this family heir and all the shit. Yeah I know I’m not a Wayne. You guys very much showed that, you literally almost cut my already shitty eye! And wanna know who made my eye shitty? Timthoy fucking drake and Cassandra who literally seen the whole thing didn’t even tell the truth and Bruce! Oh that fucker Bruce didn’t even go to really see what happened and basically said that I was being a nuisance. So yeah I fucking know Damian Wayne that I’m not accepted as a Wayne, so LEAVE. ME. THE FUCK. ALONE!”

….

Damian just looks at her shocked that she, [name] Wayne the disappointment of the Wayne’s, the girl who always tries to get the vigilante family attention blow off on him.

I mean…she’s supposed to be the weak big sister he would belittle.

right?

Before he could even reply he finally focus back in front of him to see she was gone. “Mistake? Hey mistake? [Name].” He looks around but didn’t see her. He narrows his eyes ‘I’ll have to get father’s attention on this.’

Back at the manor Alfred have been the first to notice this behavior and the almost untouched room of [name]’s. He try to think of a good simple conclusion that she probably have finally found friends to hang out with, and that she finally had people to care for her like she cares for others, he knew that was the less likely scenario. He sees the new designer clothes, nice expensive accessories that he knew for a fact that Bruce wouldn’t personally buy Prada boots, or Arc’teryx much less a 10k dollar white bottom up shirt?!

She doesn’t even get an allowance from Bruce because she never asked! Alfred knew she was too scared to seem you know…So it gave him the conclusion she probably was doing some illegal stuff especially when she would have bruises, cuts or more bandages than she usually would have <It will make sense later on>. So like a good caring butler of the Wayne’s family he was going to bring this to Bruce her father!

As Alfred came to give Bruce a cup of coffee in the bat cave, he had coughed softly to get his attention. Bruce says to just leave it beside him while he keeps his back turned as he types away. “Master Bruce I would like to talk about something that has caught my attention.”

Bruce stopped for a second then continued “Which is?”

“It’s something about your daughter master Bruce.” Bruce then turns to him now serious “What’s wrong with Cassandra?” Alfred shook his head a little “No your other daughter.” Bruce raised a brow “Who?”

Alfred sighed and shook his head disappointedly

“[Name]”

“oh…What about her? Causing a scene or trouble again? I outta punish her if so-“ Before Bruce could finish Alfred shut ups him “No, she hasn’t caused anything. If you were paying more attention and caring for her you would notice the “trouble” you’re talking about is just what a normal thing a kid her age do. But you wouldn’t know would you because you don’t quite understand her do you?”

Bruce was stunned what Alfred had said that he just stayed quiet and was thinking to himself.

What do I know about her?

Other than her occasionally incidents he never interacted with her nor even looked at her! All he really felt for her was a small bit of hate because she was the reason why his lover was dead. Her mother. Well that’s the excuse and what he believed anyway.

‘What did [name] even look like again?’ Bruce thought but was soon snatched out of his mind when Alfred had broke the silence. “I would like you to know that [name] has been coming home late wearing expensive things and looks roughen up everything. Just wanted you to look into what is going on because it doesn’t seem like it is a very legal situation.” Alfred finished, and placed Bruce’s coffee on the counter then walked out.

‘I’ll look into it. I swear…but I’ll have to finish business first.’

The moon now arrives and the sun went down. [name] was dropped off a block away from the manor and she hurriedly climbed on a tree and leaped to her open window before the one minute mark had passed.

[name] dusted the leaves off her and turned to close her window when her lights suddenly turned on. “AH FUCK!-…ugh” [name] sighed already getting a headache with Tim standing at her open doorway with his arms crossed looking at her like she was responsible for murdering his parents.

What now…

“What the fuck is your problem?” Tim said as he walked inside slowly “Dude what are you talking about?-“ Tim quickly cuts her off “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Everytime at 10:00 PM the damn manor cameras freeze and become active after a minute.”

Fuck.

“I thought I was just paranoid from being sleepy but it kept happening for weeks. And guess what I found last night?” Tim then pulls out his phone to show a glitchy glimpses of one frame where [name] had been climbing on a tree to her window.

‘Fuck. He must’ve been able to unfreeze the cameras for a second…stupid smart bastard’

“Um..that’s Ai.” [name] shrugged “Don’t fucking try to get out of this. Look It was better off when you weren’t here or messing up anything that has to deal with my shit, but you just have to ruin it don’t you? I promise you nobody gives a single thing about you coming home late.” He scoffs “Nobody even cares about you at all. Not anyone here, not anyone in Gotham, not anyone at all. Now next time you freeze the camera for fuck up anything else I’ll make sure to make that other eye partially blind like I did to your other one.” He walks out slamming [name]’s door shut; Damian had watched the whole scene since his room was next her hers, and he smirks ‘looks like I have something coming up for you [name].’ He thought while marking down another tally mark where he checks off how many times he makes his family hate [name].

But it’s ok in his eyes because she is just a stranger, so what if she gets hurt? He’s made it clear that she’s not his sister. Why not just get her to leave altogether?

“what?” [name] had said as her sensei had said the most stupidest thing ever “Well….i was wondering if you could tell Bruce that you’re moving to Tokyo! That’s where you’ll get to meet your other teammates!” Satoru said with a casual tone. “Ok sure they don’t care where I go but I’m their responsibility legally so if I were to get hurt there or even anything that requires parental consent I’m cooked you know? Plus I’m sure Bruce doesn’t want to deal with all that paperwork when he has ‘better thing to do’ “

Satoru only laughed dramatically like those rich evil women in movies, and suddenly throw a stack of money at her face. “did you forget…IM RICH!!!”

…

[name] had told the butler Pennyworth she was going on a summer school camp, and shoved a fake paper advertisement paper about it and told him to sign it which he did after a long minute of thinking what the hell was going on since summer break doesn’t start till next year? [name] promised she already had talked to Bruce about it so he doesn’t have to ask him. As the wonderful butler he is, he sighed and signed it, [name] now was packing the stuff she really needed.

[name] looked at this one photo where it was a family picture but her face was barely visible since the flash, and they never much wasn’t that bothered to do a retake for her.

She sighed putting the photo on the bed, now closing the door of her new old abandoned room. Damian who just now finished his training with dick was going to his room sees [name] with a duffel bag, he smirks cockily “Finally doing the family a favor and moving?” [name] turns and looks at him but didn’t say anything and walked off. Damian now crossed his arms with a frown annoyed, not getting the reaction he wanted from her.

As [name] was about to leave Dick was in the kitchen talking with Jason but he hears footsteps, he looks up to see [name] with a duffle bag?

“Woah, woah, woah, where you going without telling your big brother?” Dick said with a forced cheerful tone to seem like he actually cares that she’s leaving, but in reality he just didn’t want to think that once she actually becomes useful to him, she wouldn’t want to help because he didn’t acknowledge her leave.

[name] cringes at the words “your big brother”

“Um…Summer. Camp.”

Jason groaned “little bitch not really leaving forever? Damn it’s like me dying all over again.” He said as he walked to stand next to Dick.[name] clenched her grip on her duffel bag, but kept walking and left the manor ignoring Richard’s “wait”s and Jason’s insults.

She went inside the back of Satoru’s car that had just pulled up in front of the manor, Satoru looks at her through the reverie mirror, his blue eyes glowing through his glasses.

“Yeah. Let go to Tokyo.”

Date: 11/??/2016

[Name] stands with a blank expression that speaks “I’m so over it”

“I’m Panda!”

“Salmon”

“And that’s Inumaki! He speaks onigri ingredients because his Curse Speech Technique!”

“Here’s your classmates!” Satoru exclaimed twirling with his one leg up.

‘What is my life…’

A/N|| Finally finished 😛!!! Sorry for the short chapter!!! I had expected to be longer but it’s not💔Sorry the tag list looks weird bec I forgot to check the format and I’m not redoing the tags(ts pmo🥀🪫) ALSO ONE OF MY FAV WRITERS @coldilikeit LIKED MY POST OMG ILYSM YOU WERE ONE OF THE ONES THAT INSPIRED ME TO MAKE THIS!!!🤑Thx gurt!!

<Taglist>: @bat1212,@moon0goddess @holderoflostmemories, @cruzerforce4256, @victoria1676 @gloriousvariant @yhin-gg @celesteelysia @charlenexoxo1 @ailshii @aelxr @sxftiebee @suneaterscape @rainschnael @simpingpandas @shinning-stars @zomqiez

#neglected reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere cassandra cain #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere duke thomas #yandere jason todd #yandere stephanie brown #yandere tim drake #batfamily x neglected reader #dc comics #dc universe #jjk #maki zenin #inumaki toge #panda #gojo satoru #Maki zen’in

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clockwayswrites · 2 months ago

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Cont. DoMAYn D5 - ch2 p1

masterpost (it's not getting it's on one yet)

Danny considers leaving.

It would be the smart thing to do.

(Which is why Danny knows he won’t do it.)

Mostly it’s because Jason is still clinging to Danny like he’s the thing that brought Jason back to life. He didn’t, he wasn’t, but Danny gets wanting that sense of security. He gets needing someone with a beating heart near after coming back to life.

So instead of leaving, which would be the smart thing, Danny helps Jason drink some more tea and eat one of the oatmeal cookies. At least the snacks were a good idea that Danny actually followed through with.

A slamming car door is loud against the relative silence of the graveyard. It makes Danny flinch. Which makes Jason move. Suddenly, Danny is wrapped up like Jason is trying to protect him. Danny isn’t used to being protected, not anymore. It makes a weird feeling bubble in his stomach that he tries not to think about too hard.

The important part are the two figures sprinting across the damn grave dirt, dressing gowns fluttering behind them like they’re in one of those Gothic horrors that Jazz likes to watch.

“Jason!”

“D-dad!”

“Jason!”

Danny tries to get them up and standing, but Jason’s like a new born calf, all rubbery and boneless. They’re barely up and off the cold earth before a man to rival Jack’s size is barreling into them. Danny does his best to squeeze out of the way without breaking Jason’s hold on his sleeve. (The possum isn’t as lucky and is crushed between the reuniting family.)

“Jason, Jaylad,” The man—Mr. Wayne—sobs the names like a prayer. His hands move over Jason’s face like being able to touch his son again burns, but that at the same time, that if he lets go, Jason will vanish.

Would Danny’s parents feel the same, if they knew he had died?

The older man standing behind the pair has his hand to his mouth, like he’s hoping to keep the tears welling in his eyes tucked away. He tears his way from the pair and over to Danny. Danny flinches at the notice.

Jason’s hand tightens.

“Are you the dear lad who called us?” Oh, it’s the British man, that makes sense.

“Um, yes sir. You guys got here quick!” Danny said.

Now was the time to go, before the questions and comments and shooting. Danny tries to take a little step back, but Jason holds fast. Worst, Danny watches as the older man—Alfie’s—eyes move from him to the dead boi picnic set up to the relatively undisturbed grave.

He watches as the confusion set in.

He has to go.

“Master Bruce,” Alfie murmurs, pulling Mr. Wayne’s attention away from frantically checking over Jason.

Danny watches Mr. Wayne look around with a sinking heart.

Please no. Don’t let them be angry. Don’t let them turn Jason away. Don’t let them.

Mr. Wayne places his hand lightly on the back of Jason’s head.

Danny breaths out. “I—I should go.” Go home where he parents don’t know what he is because they don’t know to ask. Where he can pretend a little longer—

“What’s your name?” Mr. Wayne’s voice is a low rumble, like it belongs somehow in the dark night. It’s oddly comforting.

“Me? I’m no one, just glad that—” Danny cuts himself off as bright green suddenly obscures part of his vision.

“Oh my,” Alfie murmurers while Bruce Wayne just makes a slightly strangled little sound.

Danny sighs, reaches up with his free hand, and plucks the green sticky note from his forehead.

‘His name is Danny Fenton’, the note reads. Great. Now they know his name.

Second note appears as Danny sighs. He doesn’t even get a chance to grab this once before Alfie is plucking it to read.

“Well, that we certainly can do,” he said, a slight tilt of amusement to his lips.

“Alfred,” Mr. Wayne admonishes.

“Master Wayne,” Alfie—Alfred? says back, his own admonishment far more cutting. “Some supernatural force just brought our boy back to us. If it is simply asking us to feed the boy who helped him, I am not going to refuse it.”

Mr. Wayne sighs. “Yes, Alfred.”

#dp x dc #dead on main #eventually

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batsandbirdbrains · 1 month ago

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I think the idea of Dick actually being Lex Luthor’s original test clone is fun. Like he’s the original clone that’s half Lex and half Clark. Maybe Lex thought he wasn’t developing Kryptonian powers, or maybe he just decided that he wanted to try full Kryptonian clone next and he got bored of the half Kryptonian clone he didn’t really want. Dick was a test to prove cloning could work. Lex didn’t actually want a child that was only half Kryptonian.

So he tells a lab tech to get rid of the baby. What he meant was for the tech to dispose of the baby. He didn’t realize the lab tech took the baby and gave it to a couple he knew that worked in a circus.

So Dick is raised not knowing he’s actually a clone. But then when Bruce takes him in, he thinks there’s something so oddly familiar about Dick. He can’t put his finger on it right away, but he looks like someone Bruce knows. Maybe a couple someones. It drives Bruce nuts until he finally just runs a DNA test to see if maybe the Graysons had some relatives Bruce knew, maybe Dick had some extended family that he might want to get to know.

But then it comes back that he’s a match for both Lex Luthor and Superman. And Dick is so confused, because he’s eight.

Bruce figures it out almost immediately. He tries very gently to explain it to Dick.

Dick freaks out and gets upset at first, because he’s sad his parents weren’t really his parents, but Bruce promises him that they must have loved him so much if they raised him like their own while knowing he wasn’t really their biological baby. Then he gets upset that Lex Luthor is his dad, because Lex is a bad guy, and Dick met him at a gala a few weeks ago and he was mean and called Dick a circus monkey.

Bruce spends several days comforting Dick about the whole thing. The fact that he’s half Superman helps him feel better. But he doesn’t want Superman to be mad at him for being his half-clone. And if Superman decides to take him away to raise him, Dick doesn’t really want to leave Bruce. He likes Bruce. He likes the manor. He likes Alfred. He likes being Robin. He doesn’t want to be a Superboy.

But Bruce convinced him to tell Clark anyway. And Dick is so nervous and he makes Bruce hold him the entire time they talk to Clark, and he hides his face in Bruce’s neck when Clark freezes and doesn’t say anything for a few minutes.

“Well,” Clark says after a few minutes, clearing his throat. He’s only met Dick a couple times now, and he hates that the boy who had been so excited to meet him at first is now scared of him. “I suppose if I was going to have a half-clone, I’m glad it’s you, Dickie.”

Dick is still a little freaked out, and now he’s getting upset, and he pulls his face away from Bruce’s neck to ask Clark in a teary voice, “Am I gonna end up bald like Lex?”

Clark lets out a startled laugh, then moves closer to ruffle Dick’s hair.

“Nah,” Clark teases him. “My genes are clearly much stronger than his. That’s why you’re so handsome.”

Dick smiles at him, but then goes back to hiding his face in Bruce’s neck. Bruce pats his back, then turns to Clark.

“He wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t take him away from me,” Bruce tells him.

“Oh,” Clark gasps, “oh, um. No, no, I won’t take him away. I think - you’d be much better for him, anyway.”

“You don’t hate me, right?” Dick’s question is muffled.

“No,” Clark says quickly. “I could never hate you, Dickie. Never.”

“See?” Bruce whispers to Dick, planting a hand firmly on the back of Dick’s head. “I told you everything would be alright.”

Then years later, when Dick finds Superboy when he’s investigating Cadmus with Wally and Kaldur, he’s so determined to save Superboy. Because that’s basically his brother. That is his brother. And he tells Clark as much when Clark gets weird about it and gets all standoffish with Conner (who Dick names almost immediately).

Idk I just like the idea of Dick eventually messing with Clark bc he gets mad about how mean he’s being to Conner, and Dick eventually scares the crap out of Clark because he sneaks up on him and asks in a creepy, deep voice, “Am I a real boy, papa?” And that’s what gets Clark to finally get over himself and go have a real conversation with Conner.

I also like Dick immediately claiming Conner as his brother. Except he gets mad that he’s technically older but Conner is physically older.

“You’re the little brother!” Dick insists.

“I’m much bigger than you.”

“Thats not the point! I’m the big brother!”

“Hmm. No thanks.”

Conner has learned the fine art of trolling from Dick himself. Dick regrets teaching him so well.

#dick grayson #Conner Kent #young justice #batman #robin #Superman #clark kent #fic ideas

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sugary-strawberry-shortcake · 2 months ago

Text

Blossom Reverse (Yandere Batfamily x Neglected! Poison Ivy's Daughter! Reader)

Chapter 5

A/N: oki here we get to know more about my boy Tim!! and quite a lot about Y/N's emotions. I'm going to start writing for other fandoms soon too!! and are any of you fellow lactose intolerant people and get the feeling when you consume too much dairy (ice cream in my case) and now you're regretting all of your life choices...

btw I tried to add everyone from my taglist post on the taglist, if you‘re still not on it then text me privately:)

There was too much to figure out.

And too little time.

YN sat on the floor of her room, knees tucked to her chest, her back pressed to the side of her bed. The faint hum of her phone charging on the desk, the scent of dying lavender in the corner, and the emptiness of the room made it feel like she was caged in glass.

Seven days.

That’s all she had.

One week before the landlord gave the apartment to someone else.

One week to fake a signature.

One week to secure enough money to hold the place.

One week to find freedom.

Or at least— survival.

⸻

Her heart was pounding in that quiet, pulsing way that made everything feel wrong. Her fingers wouldn’t stop picking at the threads of her sleeves. Her thoughts looped in circles.

She’d never done anything like this.

She didn’t lie.

She didn’t forge.

She got straight As. Smiled at teachers. Shared her notes. Brought cookies to class on test days.

She wasn’t supposed to know how to survive alone.

But she didn’t have a choice now.

Not after she knows what her fate will be in the future. Not after her brother‘s weird behavior and how she does not want to get even more hurt by them once again.

Her phone buzzed with a low battery warning. She glanced at it, then reached for the notebook on her desk. The one she used to plan out real things—school schedules, homework lists.

Now she flipped to a blank page.

And started writing:

✦ Money

• trust fund balance: ❌ (can’t touch it, Bruce sees it)

• Cash on hand: ~$400

• Part-time jobs? No ID

• Fake bank account?

✦ Signature

• Needs to look like a Italian parent

• Has to pass legally

• Needs someone good. Discreet. No questions.

She stared at the words for a long time.

Then, almost against her better judgment, she wrote down what she’d been avoiding:

One week or I lose the place.

Her stomach twisted.

But then—

A spark.

A memory.

She’d overheard some classmates once. Talking in the hallway. About a guy at school who could “fix grades,” “clear detentions,” even “make permission slips appear.”

Not a real criminal.

But the type of person who existed in the gray space.

She didn’t know his name.

But someone would.

_____

The next day, she was sitting with her school friends at the launch table.

The courtyard buzzed with spring breeze and quiet laughter. YN’s friend group was circled under the trees as usual, books and bento boxes spread around them.

She smiled. Laughed. Ate half a sandwich.

And then, when the conversation shifted to something else—she leaned a little closer to the girl beside her.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Can I ask you something… a little weird?”

The girl blinked. “Sure?”

“I, um…” Y/N played with her straw. “I kind of need someone who can fake a signature. Just once. For something small.”

Immediately, three heads turned toward her.

“What?”

“You?”

“Why?!”

YN let out a soft, nervous laugh and waved her hands.

“No, no—it’s nothing bad, I swear. I just—my dad’s been super busy and stressed lately, and I didn’t want to bother him for something this small. But I need this form signed or I can’t submit my entry for a scholarship program. It’s silly.”

Her voice was light. Sweet. Convincing.

It always was.

They believed her.

Of course they did.

YN Wayne didn’t lie.

Didn’t cheat.

Didn’t need to fake anything.

⸻

One of the girls bit her lip. “I mean… there is someone.”

“Who?”

The group exchanged looks.

“He’s kind of… off-limits,” one of them whispered. “Not in a scary way, just… he’s not exactly PTA-approved.”

“People go to him when they want things handled,” another said.

“Things they don’t want teachers—or parents—to know.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Handled how?”

“Fake IDs. Signature work. Lab grade bumps. Stuff like that.”

She tried not to flinch.

“Do you know his name?”

A pause.

Then one of them finally leaned in and said it.

“His name’s Silas.”

She found him exactly where her friend said he’d be.

Back wall of the school, behind the arts building, where the vines were dry and the shadows hid the rusted fences. A place students weren’t supposed to linger—let alone the sweetheart of Gotham Academy.

He was sitting on a low concrete ledge, knees wide, blazer unbuttoned, a black pen flipping rhythmically between his fingers. The faint scent of cologne, cigarettes, and old ink hung in the air. He was an average tall teenage boy with dirty blonde hair and sharp facial features. His brown eyes showed a maturity above his age.

She stopped just short of the wall.

He looked up.

And blinked.

“…Huh.”

His voice wasn’t surprised exactly. Just curious. Dry. Like the universe had just dropped a snowflake into his cigarette ash.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Princess.”

Y/N clasped her hands in front of her.

Her uniform was perfect. White shirt tucked, skirt neat, hair braided into soft waves over her shoulder. Stockings uncreased. Shoes polished.

She looked like she belonged in a floral ad campaign, not standing in shadows near someone like him.

“I need a favor,” she said.

Silas raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you were gonna report me for existing too close to the east wing.”

“I won’t ask questions,” she said calmly, “if you don’t.”

He leaned back on his palms.

“Now this,” he said, eyeing her with quiet amusement, “this is interesting.”

YN reached into her bag and pulled out the folded application form.

“I need a signature,” she said softly. “A parent one. For someone named Lucia Forenzi. Can you do it?”

Silas took the paper, flipping it once in his hand.

“Lucia Forenzi,” he repeated, smirking. “Let me guess. Italian ballet prodigy studying abroad?”

Something twisted in her throat.

She didn’t answer.

Just looked at him, wide-eyed and pleading.

He studied her.

She wasn’t shaking.

But her eyes were too still.

Too trained.

Too controlled.

It was the kind of look people had when they were lying about something they were terrified of anyone finding out.

“Right,” he muttered, sitting up straighter and pulling a different pen from his inner pocket. “No questions.”

He clicked the cap.

“Still gotta charge you, sweetheart.”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “How much?”

He looked her over, calculated something she wouldn’t understand.

“Sixty-five.”

Her brows lifted for a breath—but then she nodded, already reaching into her bag.

No hesitation.

No negotiation.

Definitely hiding something.

She passed him the cash folded neatly in an envelope.

“Neat,” he muttered, sliding it into his jacket. “Didn’t even crumple it.”

He bent over the paper and began working the signature with practiced, deliberate strokes—flourishes, pressure points, the little inconsistencies that made fakes real. He was good. Too good.

She watched silently.

When he finished, he blew lightly on the ink and handed the form back to her.

YN took it carefully. Slipped it into the protective folder in her bag.

Silas leaned back again, like the job meant nothing.

“You’re not built for this, you know,” he said lazily.

Her gaze flicked to him. “For what?”

“Lying.” He smirked. “You twitch every time you breathe wrong.”

She looked away. “I’m not lying.”

“Sure.”

She hesitated—then, voice lower:

“Do you know how to make money?”

He tilted his head.

“I mean… quickly,” she added. “A lot. Like… maybe a few thousand.”

That got his full attention.

His brows lifted.

Silas straightened slowly, eyes scanning her again, this time truly seeing the stress behind her face.

“You asking for you?” he asked.

She nodded.

Barely.

Silas looked at her longer than he should have.

Her question—so quiet, so sincere—echoed oddly in the air between them.

A few thousand dollars. Quickly.

Not pocket change. Not school lunch money.

Real money.

And from her.

He should’ve shrugged it off.

Should’ve handed her a few names, offered her options—favors-for-cash setups, under-the-table digital work, hush-hush favors for the rich kids who liked to get dirt without getting dirty.

He knew all those doors.

But he didn’t say a word about any of them.

Because she wasn’t the type of girl who knocked on those doors.

And he’d seen enough people walk through them and never come back out right.

⸻

“Why do you even need cash?” he asked, tapping the edge of the concrete beside him. “You’re Bruce Wayne’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Her eyes darted away.

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t lie.

But the silence stretched.

Her shoulders were stiff. Her eyes fixed on the sidewalk. Her cheeks flushed pink—not the pretty kind, the embarrassed kind. Ashamed.

And in that moment, Silas actually pitied her.

Because she really didn’t belong here.

Not in his part of Gotham.

He watched her for another second, then exhaled slowly.

“You don’t want to do what it takes to make that kind of money,” he said flatly. “Trust me.”

She looked up at him again, startled.

“You’re not like the others who come to me,” he added. “They already made peace with the kind of things they’re willing to do. You? You’d cry if you saw how fast that road burns.”

Y/N’s mouth parted.

But she didn’t speak.

She just listened.

Silas reached back, adjusting the chain around his neck, then muttered, “I’m not gonna say anything about this. Don’t worry. But don’t come back here asking about that again.”

She blinked fast.

Then nodded.

And smiled—gently, sweetly, the kind of smile that shouldn’t belong on someone trying to break the law.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Really. And… I hope you find your way, too. I think you could.”

Silas didn’t respond right away.

But he watched her walk away.

Watched her braid swaying behind her, her shoes clicking too neatly on cracked pavement.

She didn’t look back.

Unbeknownst to her, three boys down the alley had been watching.

One of them stepped forward the moment she was gone.

“Yo, that was her, right? The Wayne girl?”

"Did she just pay you for something?”

“What’d she want?”

Silas didn’t flinch.

Didn’t look up.

Didn’t answer.

He just lit a half-burnt cigarette and said flatly:

“She wanted nothing.”

______

The building still smelled like old cigarette smoke and forgotten furniture polish.

The same chipped door. Same crooked number on the outside.

Same old man behind the cluttered desk, now flipping through paperwork and scratching his balding head with a tired sigh.

When she stepped in, he barely glanced up.

Until he did.

And blinked.

“Oh. You again.”

She nodded. “I brought the signature.”

She walked across the dusty floor, careful not to make her footsteps too loud, and handed him the form tucked in its sleeve.

The man squinted at it, pulled on his reading glasses, and grumbled under his breath as he scanned it.

“Lucia Forenzi… yeah, this’ll work.” He leaned back, letting the form rest on top of a stack. “Now we just gotta finalize the rest once you get your deposit together.”

YN hesitated.

She folded her hands together. “Do you think I could ask… for one more week? For the deposit, I mean?”

He eyed her.

She wasn’t trembling. But her voice was gentle. Careful. Like she’d been rehearsing it in her head for hours.

He sighed again.

“Kid… I usually don’t let stuff slide like this.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just—my ID is still stuck in customs back in Milan. And my bank account—American one—isn’t ready yet. I’m trying to… get something together.”

He stared at her.

Young face. Braided hair. Nervous posture. Accent just strong enough to carry the lie.

If she’d been anyone else—he’d have told her to get lost.

But she looked like a girl completely alone.

And despite the fact that he spent half his pension at poker tables and owed a guy named Ray twenty bucks from last month’s betting pool…

He had a daughter once.

Long ago.

She never looked this scared.

“One more week,” he said finally. “That’s it. No more games.”

She smiled—grateful, glowing, almost guilty.

“Thank you. Really.”

He cleared his throat. “You said you don’t have cash yet, right?”

She nodded. “I… I was actually thinking of trying to get a job.”

“A job?” He barked a short laugh. “You got papers for that?”

“No,” she admitted, softly. “But I’m good with plants.”

He squinted again.

“Plants?”

“I grew up around a lot of gardens. I know how to take care of things. Keep them alive.”

He looked around his office.

Half-dead potted thing in the corner. Wilting ivy on the window ledge.

“Tell you what,” he muttered. “The building’s got some rooftop planters the old tenants abandoned. Overgrown with weeds now. You clean ’em out, replant something nice, keep it alive? I’ll knock a bit off your deposit. Even give you a little cash if you do a good job.”

YN’s eyes lit up.

“You’d let me?”

He waved a hand. “Not gonna stop someone from doing free labor. Especially if it means I don’t gotta call some overpriced nursery.”

She smiled—real this time.

And for a moment, she didn’t feel like she was running.

Just planting something new.

“Thank you,” she said again, shouldering her bag. “I’ll come back after school tomorrow. If that’s okay?”

“Door’ll be open.”

She nodded once.

Turned.

And left.

The air outside smelled like pavement and car exhaust and early spring.

She took the bus home.

One hand on her bag.

One hand curled quietly in her coat pocket.

___

Tim

The hum of cooling fans filled his room.

Screens glowed softly around him—multiple tabs open, city feeds on low volume, encrypted Wayne Enterprises backend files half-scrolled through. He didn’t really need to be there. Most of his work for the day had been finished hours ago.

But he was restless. Edgy.

Something was gnawing at the edge of his mind.

He didn’t know what.

That’s when he saw it.

An unlabeled USB left near the base of one of the older servers—something Alfred had probably pulled from the manor archives or the mainframe logs.

Tim plugged it in without much thought.

Inside: dozens of folders. Video files. Unmarked. Untouched.

Most were labeled by year.

He opened one at random.

Then stared.

The footage was grainy but clear.

A school auditorium.

A handmade banner above the stage: Gotham Academy Winter Performance.

Kids lined up in stiff uniforms and glittery costumes.

And there—center left, third row—YN.

Maybe six. Seven.

Singing. Slightly off-pitch, swaying back and forth like she’d practiced a hundred times.

In the bottom corner of the footage, he could hear the applause.

Not much of it.

Definitely no one from the family.

Tim frowned.

Why hadn’t he seen this before?

He clicked through another.

Grade 4 Science Fair. YN Wayne.

Her booth was filled with little potted flowers and soil diagrams. He saw her holding a laminated sheet, explaining something with shy excitement to a panel of judges.

And again—no one from their family there.

Not even Alfred.

⸻

Tim leaned back slowly.

And something in his chest twisted.

He hadn’t seen her in weeks—months even.

Not really.

She’d always just… been there.

Quiet. Predictable. Not part of the mission. Not part of the crime board, or the investigations, or the emergency Gotham alerts.

Just soft footsteps in the hallway. Soft baking smells from the kitchen.

A small knock on his door, back when she used to knock.

He remembered when he first arrived.

Jason had just died. Bruce was… hollowed out.

And Tim, desperate for validation, had stepped into Robin’s boots with too much weight and not enough air.

She was small back then. Four? Maybe five.

Always trailing behind Alfred with wide green eyes. Always hugging something—blanket, plush rabbit, her own braid.

She’d tried to talk to him.

At first, it was just questions.

“Do you know how to make things explode without hurting the garden?”

“Why do your hands always have ink on them?”

“Do you like stories about space?”

Tim had nodded politely. Answered once or twice.

But Bruce needed him.

Dick kept him moving.

There wasn’t time.

And when she tried harder—when she came into his workshop with sticky notes and clumsily drawn circuit boards, when she made him a chess board with mismatched floral pieces to match the ones in the cave—

He’d smiled.

“Thanks. Maybe later.”

Then closed the door.

Later, he said something to Dick.

He didn’t even remember what sparked it.

Just a comment about how she was “always hanging around,” how she was “cute, but a distraction.”

“She’s kind of a liability,” he’d said.

And behind him—

She had been standing in the doorway.

Chessboard in hand.

⸻

Y/N

She hadn’t cried.

Not then.

Just smiled and nodded and said it was okay.

But she never brought him another project again.

She still helped him, sometimes, when she thought he wouldn’t notice. Repaired a snapped wire. Left tea near his monitor. Cleaned up wires on the floor.

But she stopped knocking.

Stopped asking.

Stopped trying.

Because what was the point?

He didn’t want her.

None of them did.

⸻

Tim

Tim sat still, staring at the paused frame.

Her tiny hands. Her proud smile.

And not a single member of the family had shown up.

Not even once.

His gut twisted.

How had he missed her?

How had they all missed her?

He opened another folder.

And another.

And slowly, it stopped feeling like research.

And started feeling like regret.

He searched her full name on instinct.

He wasn’t expecting much—maybe a locked account, maybe nothing at all.

But it popped up right away. She was not that secretive or paranoid to even have a private account. Not that that would have stopped him.

@y/n.wayne_loves_poppies

Gotham Academy | Greenheart Club 🌿 | 🧁 Sometimes I bake, sometimes I bloom 💚

Her profile picture was soft. Smiling. Just slightly blurred in that way that made it feel unfiltered, uncalculated.

It hit him harder than it should’ve.

She looked… older. Not by much. Just enough to make his stomach twist.

He hadn’t even known what her current face looked like.

She still had the same eyes. Same gentle expression.

Same softness. Same adorable delicateness.

He opened her highlights.

“Flowers” was the first one.

Clips of blooming vines, petals unfolding in slow motion. Her fingers gently touching the edge of a stem.

“Baking” came next. A video of cupcakes she made for a class birthday. Another of heart-shaped sugar cookies dusted in gold powder. Kids laughing in the background. Her voice behind the camera, barely heard.

She’d tagged her friends. Liked their comments. Replied with hearts.

There were no comments from any of them.

None of her family.

Not one from him.

Tim swallowed.

He scrolled down to her posts. The oldest one still up was from two years ago. Her sitting in the greenhouse. A short caption:

“🌸 Sometimes things only grow when they’re ignored.”

He hadn’t seen it.

Didn’t even know she had an Instagram.

He clicked through dozens of pictures.

Birthday cupcakes she made herself.

Class awards she never mentioned.

Photos at the museum—her smiling with two friends in front of a lunar exhibit.

She liked astronomy.

He hadn’t known that.

She liked baking.

She liked poppies.

She watched weird indie romance films with sad endings.

He hadn’t known any of it.

Tim leaned back in his chair.

His throat was tight.

His chest was quiet—but hollow.

He had missed everything.

She had been right there.

For years.

And he’d let her walk past him like she was just background noise.

But not anymore.

He reached forward slowly. Hands steady. Mind turning.

I’ll fix it.

He could ask her to play chess.

Tell her about his newest case.

Ask her about her favorite constellations.

Share her posts. Leave comments. Make her feel like she mattered.

Like she existed.

It wouldn’t happen all at once. She wouldn’t trust him yet.

But that was okay.

He had time.

He’d be different now.

He’d be better.

He’d be her brother.

_____________

Y/N

The familiar scent of lemon polish and old books greeted her as she stepped through the manor’s doors.

Alfred was in the hallway, arranging a vase of cut lilies—probably delivered by a vendor she’d never met, for a dinner party she’d never be invited to.

He turned when he heard her.

“Miss YN,” he said, surprised. “You’re home early.”

She gave him her usual small, polite smile. “I didn’t feel well. Just a stomach ache.”

He didn’t respond right away. His eyes stayed on her face longer than usual.

Searching.

Reading.

He’d always been the only one who looked.

But even now, his gaze held something else—worry.

She shifted under it.

He finally nodded.

“I’ll bring you some tea. Chamomile?”

She nodded quickly. “That would be perfect, Alfred. Thank you.”

⸻

She walked up the stairs without another word.

Every step felt heavier.

Her bag weighed more now—holding the fake signature, the crumpled plan, the reality of how little time she had left before she needed to vanish.

When she stepped into her room, she took a moment.

Let the door close behind her.

Then just stood there.

It used to be pink.

Green lace trim.

Fairy lights.

Stuffed animals in the corner.

After she came back—after she knew what was coming—it all went away.

She changed the curtains to gray. Folded the soft blankets into storage boxes. Swapped her old bedspread for something plain, something neutral.

Something invisible.

Because that’s what they wanted from her, wasn’t it?

Not sweetness.

Not softness.

Not the girl who drew them family portraits and wrote their names in glitter pens.

They wanted quiet.

So she became quiet.

She sat at her desk and slowly unpacked her notebook.

To-do lists. Rent deadlines. Sketches of job plans. A fake identity plan she knew would fall apart in front of any real system—but she had to try anyway.

She stared at it blankly, trying to remember which lie came next.

And that’s when the knock came.

It was soft.

Two short taps.

She blinked.

“Alfred?” she called, gently.

She opened the door—

And stopped.

Her fingers froze around the knob.

Because it wasn’t Alfred.

It was Tim.

⸻

He stood in the hallway, backlit by the glow of the antique sconces, hands shoved into his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them.

His hair was slightly messy—like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. His posture unsure. His eyes… searching.

And behind all that awkwardness—there was a smile.

Forced.

“Hey,” he said, voice quiet. “Didn’t know you were home early.”

She stared at him.

He was tall. Way taller now. Broader than she remembered. Dressed in one of his clean-casual post-Enterprise outfits, too neat to be an accident.

And she felt tiny.

Small. Frail.

Forgettable.

Her doe eyes flicked up to meet his for a second.

Then away.

She stiffened without meaning to.

Her voice came out softer than she intended.

“…Hi.”

Tim’s gaze drifted over her head, into her room, and lingered.

His brows pulled together slightly.

He wasn’t trying to be obvious, but he couldn’t help it.

The room was… muted.

Clean, neat, and stripped bare of her.

No soft colors. No floral bedspread. No paper flowers, no paintings on the walls. The only thing alive was the half-drained diffuser on her desk and a dying succulent on the windowsill.

It didn’t match what he’d seen online.

Not the photos. Not the tone of her captions. Not the girl who made cupcakes in cat-shaped molds and cut strawberries into hearts for her friends.

The Y/N on Instagram smiled in pink and baked things for people who didn’t deserve it.

This one?

This one was standing in a doorway, blinking up at him like he was a ghost.

Tim pulled his eyes back to her and offered a slightly nervous smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

She didn’t say anything.

He scratched the back of his neck and stepped back, giving her space.

“I, uh… I realized I hadn’t talked to you in a while. Just wanted to check in.”

Still no response.

So he tried again.

“School going okay?”

Her fingers curled slightly around the doorframe.

She gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence.

He tried not to fidget.

“And… you’re feeling alright? I heard you left school early today.”

Her eyes widened—just for a second. A flash of instinctive fear.

Then she quickly covered it with a half-smile. “Just a headache. I’m okay now.”

But her voice was tight. Careful.

Like she wasn’t sure what game he was playing.

Tim could feel the wall between them.

He hated it.

But he also knew he’d helped build it.

He cleared his throat.

“Cool. That’s good. Uh… I was thinking maybe sometime—if you want—we could play chess again? I still have that old board. The one you made when you were little.”

He smiled at the memory.

She didn’t.

Her lips parted slightly.

Her eyes dropped.

And then—quiet, confused, almost painful:

“…Why are you here?”

Not angry.

Just… asking.

Like it didn’t make sense to her that he’d show up at all.

Because it didn’t.

Not in her first life.

Not in the years where she had knocked on his door a hundred times and only ever heard “I’m busy.”

Tim blinked.

And for the first time, his smile dropped entirely.

He looked at her.

Really looked at her.

And all the data in the world couldn’t tell him why the question hurt so much more than he thought it would.

Tim’s awkward smile didn’t quite match his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging, scratching the back of his neck. “I just—y’know. Miss my baby sister, I guess.”

It didn’t sound right in her ears.

Not with the years of silence still echoing in her memory.

Not when she remembered standing outside his door for hours, holding something she’d made for him—only to be brushed off again and again.

But now he was here. Smiling.

Like it hadn’t all happened.

Like none of it mattered.

He stood for a second longer, maybe expecting her to say something.

She didn’t.

So he nodded toward her desk. “Need help with schoolwork?”

“No, thank you,” she said quickly. “It’s… a group project. I have to call Maya soon.”

That name again. The lie she’d built to protect her escape.

Tim nodded. “Got it. Well… I’ll let you get back to it then.”

She gave a small nod. “Okay.”

He hesitated.

Like he wanted to say something else.

Then didn’t.

He stepped back and left.

She closed the door behind him slowly.

Then locked it.

And exhaled.

⸻

The light outside was dimming into gold.

She sat cross-legged on her floor, her notebook open, sketches of furniture and ornaments she’d seen lying unused around the mansion: antique vases, decorative trays, crystal bookends—small enough to pack into a backpack, valuable enough to sell at any downtown collector’s shop.

She hated it.

She hated the idea of stealing.

But this wasn’t theft—it was a last resort.

And she was careful.

Nothing from the family’s main rooms.

Nothing with names etched into them.

Nothing anyone would miss.

They already forgot her birthday every year.

Already forgot her when she left the table.

This wasn’t new. They were good at not missing lost things.

In the back of her notebook, she was already drafting the lie she’d tell her friends:

Mom is an Italian businesswoman. Wants me back home to get more familiar with my roots.

No forwarding address. Just a long goodbye.

Her fingers trembled a little as she wrote.

But her voice in her head was calm.

You can do this. Just make it through one more week.

That’s when the knock came.

Sharp. Heavy.

Not gentle like Alfred.

Not hesitant like Tim.

Her heart froze.

She scrambled, grabbing her notebook, papers, burner phone, shoving them under the blanket and pulling it flat with both hands.

She stood up, forcing her face into something neutral—her eyes wide, breath tight.

And then she opened the door.

He stood there like a statue.

Tall. Broad. Impossibly built.

Bruce Wayne.

Her father.

Dark suit, no tie. Shirt collar open. Shoulders squared, posture perfectly relaxed—yet utterly intimidating. Shadowed jaw, sharp cheekbones, tired, steely eyes. His presence filled the doorway like a wall.

And her body forgot how to breathe.

He had never stood there before.

Not since she was three years old and Alfred had shown her the room.

Never once.

And now?

Now he looked at her like he was searching for something he’d misplaced.

She stared up at him.

Small. Still. Shaking without showing it.

Bruce

It had been a week since Alfred brought it up.

A full week since that quiet, direct conversation—the kind Alfred rarely initiated unless he knew something was slipping too far.

“She’s asked for money, Master Bruce. Not out of greed. Out of fear.”

Bruce had nodded, said he’d look into it.

And then he hadn’t.

Not because he didn’t care.

But because some part of him had locked the thought away. Too proud to admit what it really meant.

Too afraid to admit that somewhere along the way—he’d forgotten her face.

Until now.

He walked through the upper hallway slowly, unfamiliar with this wing despite technically owning it. The shadows here were deeper. The air, stiller. This part of the manor was quiet in a way none of the other children’s corridors were.

And when he reached the end of the hall and saw her name—engraved gently on the door, the paint fading—his chest clenched.

Why was she this far away?

From everyone?

From him?

He made a decision right then.

She’d be moved.

Her room was too far.

Too far from him.

That would change.

He lifted a hand and knocked twice.

Sharp. Measured.

And the door opened.

⸻

Y/N

She looked up at him, and the breath stalled in his lungs.

She was…

Still small.

Still delicate.

Still had those wide, soft doe eyes he remembered vaguely from the time Alfred had first placed her in his arms. Her hair a little longer now. Her expression tighter. Guarded.

But the girl who had once followed him with awe and silent hopes was standing there, now looking at him like—

She didn’t know who he was.

Or maybe, like she remembered too well.

⸻

Bruce

Bruce’s voice didn’t crack, but it softened more than he expected.

“…Hi, little leaf.”

It was a name he’d never said before.

A nickname he’d never used.

Not even when she was a toddler.

But it came to him then—natural, instinctive, like something that had always waited behind his tongue.

“Little leaf.”

Because she was so small.

So quiet.

So easy to miss in the wind.

He glanced over her head with ease—she didn’t even came past his chest.

His eyes swept her room.

Muted.

Cold.

Devoid of life.

Nothing on the walls. No bright colors. No scattered crafts. No signs of who she was—just a blanket on the bed covering something, maybe books.

It looked less like a home.

More like a holding space.

Something in him twisted sharply.

⸻

Y/N

What. The. Hell.

Her thoughts were loud.

Exploding behind her face as she tried to keep her features neutral.

First Dick and Damian

Then Tim.

Now him.

Bruce Wayne.

Her father—in name and blood only—who hadn’t stepped into her room since she was two years old.

He looked… the same. Towering. Dark. Dressed in one of his half-armored casuals, broad enough to block the entire hallway behind him.

His voice had been low. Calm.

Little leaf.

She nearly recoiled.

He’d never called her anything before. No pet names. No warm nicknames. He barely called her by her name at all.

So why now?

She stared up at him, stunned, her hand still gripping the doorframe. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

Her thoughts twisted violently in her head.

Why is he here? Why is he suddenly pretending like I exist? What is wrong with them?

Is this some game?

Is this part of whatever’s going on with Tim and Dick? Did something happen?

Did someone tell them to prank me now?

Her fingers curled tighter.

She wanted to scream.

To ask what the hell do you want?

But she couldn’t.

Because he was Bruce Wayne.

Because she was YN Wayne.

Because her entire plan depended on no one noticing her.

And now—suddenly—everyone was.

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sirxlla · 1 month ago

Text

Secrets & Family Part 2

------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Fluff

Prompt: The Batfamily meets Jason's secret family. Requested by @lovely-foxes-exe

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

Requests are open btw.

-With that said, it's all under the cut-

After that night where Bruce and Dick nearly scared the shit out of you and your daughter Jason knew he's have to introduce you to the family.

Bruce has been so entranced with being a Grandpa that he wants you all to move in, or at least onto the property. He's even offered a house to you both...

As nice as it is, Jason knows how overwhelming this is for you. Your kids already would have more than you ever did and that was before Bruce. Now, it was overwhelming, and you felt undeserving. You'd grown up on the Gotham streets, but no man in a costume ever came to save you; everything you got, you had earned.

Bruce wanted to go all out and go to a fancy restaurant, to which thankfully Jason talked him down from. You all met in Pauli's Diner, they all pushed tables together, and the scenery is so much less intimidating.

"Everyone, this is my wife, Y/N, and my little one, Lilah." His hand is in yours to help you calm down. Lilah huffs at her father's arm around her, wanting to run around like the Flash himself, or as Jason calls it, "a crack addict looking for drugs." He's not entirely wrong; she'll sniff out any candy in a ten-mile radius if you don't watch her.

"Oh! Look at her, she's precious!" Selina surprisingly sounds so excited about the little girl. Lilah's curly hair was all over the place like her father's.

"I this many!" She holds four fingers up, her birthday was last week and it's all she talked about. Well, that and the stuffed toy Bruce got her, which is stuffed in your purse, cause you couldn't get her into the car without it. Everyone smiles and entertains the little girl.

Jason sets her down in a booster seat before very attentively attending to your needs. Getting you a chair next to Lilah, never making you sit in the booth, even more so now that you're even more heavily pregnant.

"I guess we should start introductions." Bruce starts as he looks around the table at his four sons and his wife.

"I already went through all that to save you and her the trouble," Jason speaks before telling the waitress what you, himself, and his daughter want, accidentally coming off a bit rude.

"What he means is I'm horrible at remembering names and I didn't want to get anyone confused." You smile and try to make sure things don't head south before you even get a chance to speak.

"So what do you do for work?" Bruce opens with a very bland basic starter for conversation as Tim, Dick and Damian speak to the waitress.

" I-um..." You clear your throat as you're about to tell Batman that you used to be a criminal like Selina. "I was much like Selina, Sir."

"Ah, well, we can't all have it easy from the get-go, can we?" He responds to you with a kind tone as Selina gives the waitress her order. She glances back your way her eyes filling with recognition.

"I thought I knew you. My Little Shadow." Her smile is bright as she remembers how you'd follow after her; essentially, she taught you everything you know.

"Yeah, that was before Lilah and before Jason. He's definitely straightened my priorities out I will say."

"Bout time Todd does something right." Damian teases his brother with a smile.

"BATMAN! BATMAN! BATMAN! BATMAN!" Lilah says over and over as she asks for the stuffed toy Bruce got her of you guessed it, Batman.

"That's not even remotely playing fair Bruce!" Dick says quickly as he notices the doll. Everyone wants to impress the little girl to be her favorite.

"You guys got nothin' on me. Watch this." Jason says with a shit-eating grin. "Lils, who's your hero?"

She looks around briefly as she hugs the stuffed batman bear thinking for a minute. "DADDY!"

"That's fuckin right." High-fiving the little girl. "My daughter is right here, everyone. A daddy's girl at heart."

"No, you must've trained her." Tim chimes in, his brows furrowed.

A pain shoots through your belly which prompts you to wince as you rub it. Jason and his brother bicker back and forth. Selina turns to Bruce and whispers in his ear to watch Lilah to which he nods.

Selina rises from her seat, grabbing yours. "How bad is it? Are you alright, Darling?" She says with a tone that's calm in the storm, that is all of the boys arguing. The loudness is overwhelming, and your feet feel hot and swollen. Bruce, being more observant than everyone in here beside his wife realizes he needs to calm everyone down.

"That's enough," Bruce says in a gruff, demanding voice that stops his sons in their tracks, prompting Lilah to laugh at them getting into trouble. Selina kneels down and unties your shoes.

"You okay, Angel?" Jason asks you as he refocuses himself on what's important, you and Lilah, plus the little blue bun in the oven.

"Yeah, I just wish she'd come back with the water." You tell Jason, as he sits next to you, to rub your back. Damian gets up rather promptly, heading over to the kitchen where everyone is chit-chatting.

"Excuse me but if you all are done sitting here with your thumbs uo your ass, there is a pregnant lady who needs ice water." Damian's voice is unwavering and serious, prompting the workers to get back to their jobs, making everyone's meals, and the waitress rushing over with a pitcher of ice water. Damian followed her back to the table nonchalantly like he didn't say anything to them.

Jason glances up at his brother with appreciation, and Damian nods back to him, telling him it's nothing. You drink the water and it slowly helps cool your body and the pains subside.

The entire staff comes out to deliver dinner shortly. "Please, we apologize, Mr. Wayne." But they aren't referring to Bruce, but to Damian. He glares at them and they get back to the kitchen.

The rest of the night is fairly uneventful aside from Damian winning Lilah a bigger stuffed unicorn from the claw machine and a bear, a minion, and some sort of octopus-looking thing. He wasn't even trying to win her over entirely, he just truly seems to soften around her.

The night is drawing to an end and Jason can tell you're getting tired. Lilah passed out on Damian's arm in his lap, drooling all over him. Bruce definitely wasn't runner-up for favorite by the end of the night. Everyone was so inviting and kind, so accepting that you nearly cried from happiness a few times.

Bruce stops by the passenger window of Jason's truck. "I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you, Y/N but the house on the property is yours if you want it. Everything feels better, I suppose, when everyone is near. If you don't, it's nothing against you. I promise...and Jason, you have a lovely family. Thank you for finally feeling safe enough to let me meet everyone." Bruce hands you the key, and just as he's about to leave, Jason shouts.

"How long did it take you to practice that, Old Man?"

"Probably two hours in the mirror." Selina teases her husband as she gets in the car. Jason gives his father a smile before rolling up the window and starting the engine looking at Lilah in the back seat and you in the passenger. The tension on his shoulders was lighter than it ever had been due to one thing: Family.

-> Masterlist

-> Send me requests/prompts if you'd like

#batboys #batboys x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood

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hurtspideyparker · 4 months ago

Text

Avengers High School AU

based on this post of mine

At a Party:

Clint: Here's a drink Pete

Tony: *takes solo cup from Peter* You idiot, he's underage!

Clint: So are we dipshit

Tony: *Chugs Peter's drink*

Clint: Whatever, I'll get him a lemonade

Tony: *Chugs his own drink*

—

Natasha: Steve I saw Tony heading for the janitor's closet

Steve: Okay?

Natasha: With Clint

Steve, sprinting down the hall: NOT THE TOILET PAPER BARTON

—

Bucky: Would you like to go out sometime?

Natasha: No

Bucky: I respect that. *Turns to Sam* would you like to go out sometime

Sam: Wait—but you just. What the hell man

Bucky: I'll take that as a no. *Turns to Clint* would you like to—

Clint: Fuck yeah

—

Tony: Did you hear about the fire in the chem lab?

Steve: Tony, what did you do

Tony: It wasn't me this time!

Steve: Oh. That's new

Tony: I mean I did text Bruce the calculations, it's not my fault he didn't see the decimal

Steve: Tony!

—

Natasha: And that's why I transferred in the middle of last year

Sam: Isn't that like...a crime

Natasha: Nobody will believe you.

Sam: What? What do you mean by that

Natasha, disappearing into the crowd:

Sam: What do you mean by that?!

—

Peter: Hi Captain!

Steve: You know only the football team calls me that Peter. I'm not your Captain

Peter: Yes sir

Steve: I'm only 2 years older than you, you don't need to call me sir either

Peter: Okay Captain!

Steve: No just...whatever

—

Tony: Hey Bruce whatcha reading

Bruce: AH! Oh hey dude

Tony: Wow you're jumpy. You need to relax

Bruce: I don't think I've relaxed once since I met you but thanks for the advice

—

Clint: Do you think Thor was held back?

Sam: Naw man, he's pretty smart

Clint: But he looks like he has a 401k and a mortgage

Bucky: Talks like it too

Sam: Maybe it's a Europe thing, school is different there

Clint: Maybe. Hey Thor! What's up buddy, how's the wife and kids?

Thor: Ay? Um...well? And yours my friend?

Clint: Fantastic! Well it was good seeing you

Thor: Alright then, farewell

Sam: What an odd guy

Bucky: Nice though

Clint: Real nice dude

—

Pepper: Tony, stop flirting with me to make Steve jealous

Tony: Whaaaaat, I would never

Pepper: You very loudly told your table, which is right next to mine, "I'm going to go flirt with Pepper to make Steve jealous"

Tony: Well do you think it's working?

Steve, at Tony's table: No

—

Peter: The decathlon supervisor is already one of my references, and I tutor for Mrs. Warren's freshman class a lot so I have her too. I also volunteered at a special needs camp over the summer, plus I applied for this competitive course where you write a research paper under a university professor for junior year, and if I get it that will look really good on my MIT application. I just hope it doesn't interfere with my internship at Oscorp. What about you, what are you doing to prepare for graduation? Aren't college apps due, like, next month for you?

Bucky: Well my boss at Dunkin Donuts said he'd give me a reference. Chicks in the drive through always tip me well

—

Sam: Why'd you punch Rumlow!

Steve: Cause he was saying creepy stuff about Natasha!

Bucky: You shouldn't have done that man

Steve: What do you mean, he was being a total asshole, I don't care if I get detention

Sam: It's not him you should be worried about

Natasha: Rogers, that was MY punch to throw

Steve: Oh no

Natasha: You think I'm some damsel in distress? Come here and I'll show you a damsel in distress

Steve: I, uh, gotta go *runs out the door*

Natasha: Which way did he go.

Sam: I didn't see nothin'

Bucky: Out those doors and to the left

Sam: Bruh

Bucky: A true friend understands when the consequences are necessary *kicks Rumlow who's still lying on the ground as he walks away*

—

Bruce: What did the racing hot dog say when he passed the finish line?

Tony: What

Bruce: I'm a wiener!

Everyone:

Bruce: Get it? Like winner?

Tony: It's okay man, just stick to academics

Thor: I have one! A priest, a pastor, and a rabbi walk into a bar

Everyone:

Thor: HAHAHA, what a coincidence for them all to arrive in the establishment simultaneously!

*Everyone bursts out laughing*

Bruce: Oh come on, that wasn't even a joke!

Tony: See he has charisma. It's all about the delivery Brucie Bear

—

Sam: Wait, you're saying that the elephant toothpaste all over the second floor right before midterms was you?

Rhodey: Hell yeah it was

Sam: But everyone blamed Tony. Even Tony's parents and the principal. The only reason he wasn't suspended was because the cameras were wiped of evidence, which was also blamed on Tony

Rhodey: Yeah you'd be surprised about how much stuff I do that Tony gets blamed for. Public image does wonders to create bias

Sam: What the hell? I thought you were the responsible one and Tony was your monkey on a leash. Why does he let you blame him?

Rhodey: Cuz he's a good bro. He gets to piss his parents off, I don't get kicked out of ROTC, and then we laugh about it afterwards

Sam: You evil geniuses...

—

Wanda: I want to get married

Natasha: Are you pregnant?

Wanda: What? No

Natasha: Oh thank goodness. Wait, then why do you want to get married

Wanda: Because it's romantic!

Natasha: And the tax benefits?

Wanda: No! Well, yes that would be nice, but no! I want to be a stay at home mom and have a nice family

Natasha: Girl you failed home economics and your type is men who think calling you their "situationship" is making it official, why don't we focus on finding the vertex for now

—

If u like this vibe I have a domestic Avengers "in a timeline where Civil War didn't end in divorce" series as well:

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 :P

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cutebat · 1 year ago

Text

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

The First Page

Warning(s): Neglect, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mind break (There are no yandere themes yet, but will be in another chapter)

(This chapter is basically the first part of the prologue and some things fixed)

~~~~~

10 years old.

You were only 10 years old when the Gotham's billionaire, Bruce Wayne, entered through the doors of the orphanage that you lived under of.

You could remember the owner holding your hand as she lead you to the man who is going to be your father.

You remember when he placed his hand on your head as he introduced himself to you and promised that he'll give you a great life.

You remember when you came to the manor as he introduced you to your new family that consists of four new older brothers, one new older sister, and a butler.

You remember when everyone would talk to you and welcome you with loving embraces.

You also remember a few days foward when Bruce gave you a costume that resembled a white dress with pink details, which earned you the title of Batgirl.

And after all of that, it's like it never happened.

~~~~~

You are now being ignored by everyone.

Nobody gave you a glance, made excuses, and basically beat the shit out of you. Well, not exactly.

For example, there was one day when you came up to Bruce with a flyer in your hand.

"Um, hi, Bruce... I know you're busy right now, but... I'm going to have a school play and I got the main role. So... I hope you can stop by and watch."

You tell him in the nicest way possible.

However, Bruce was so focused on his paperwork that he didn't give you a glance. All he said was...

"Hm? Yeah, I'll go check it out if I finish all of this."

And suprise, suprise, he never showed up.

This resulted in you crying in the girl's restroom all alone in your costume.

~~~~~

There was also a time when you felt like you needed to train more, so you did it by going up to Dick who seems to be training with Damian.

"Um, guys? Can I join you two?"

You ask as you smile awkwardly as your two older brothers turned to you.

Which is why you became surprised when Dick smiles.

"Sure! But, do you mind if you wait until me and Damian are done with this sparring session? It won't take too long."

He said with a chuckle as Damian looked like he was glaring at his little sister.

You didn't want to be rude, which is why you just nodded before you went over to the corner and watched your brothers train.

As an hour passed, Dick and Damian stopped, which made you take the chance to finally train with them.

However, you seemed confused when you saw the two turning around and walking out of the batcave.

"He-Hey, Dick? I thought you and Damian were going to train with me."

You speak up in a timid tone, which the two clearly heard.

"Oh, about that. Sorry, (name), but we were already planning to go to the cafe for a break. Maybe tomorrow, okay?"

Dick said with an 'apologetic' expression before he leaves with Damian.

Because of this, you never asked him to train with you again.

~~~~~

These were all easily common, but there were some moments when it scarred you.

One time, Tim was basically forced to bring you to a mission along with his friends.

As the patrol went on, you seemed to get distracted a bit when you spotted Conner having some trouble.

Because of this, you left the scene and quickly dived in and fought alongside the teenage Kryptonian. Thanks to you, everything was handled.

Conner thanked you before someone yelled out your name. This made you jolt as you turned to see an angry Tim storming over to you.

Before you can say anything, he cuts you in.

"What on earth were you doing?! I told you to stay where you are, and you just had to ignore everything I say, don't you?!"

He yells as if someone murdered his close family member.

This made you so shocked as Conner was stunned. When Cassie and Bart came over to the spot, they were both shocked to see their friend, yelling at his little sister.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down, Tim. (name) didn't do anything wrong. I was the one who called her over to help me."

Conner defends you, but of course, Tim doesn't listen.

"Don't even try to defend her! She knows what she did! Oh, I am SO going to report this to Batman, so don't even try to cover yourself up!"

Tim said in a frustrated and angry tone towards you before he used his grappling hook and swooped down, leaving you behind with his friends.

"Hey, what the hell, asshole!"

Conner shouts out at his friend as he was shocked to him this angry.

He lets out a sigh before he looks over to see Cassie and Bart, comforting you as you are crying in their arms.

~~~~~

Yelling wasn't the only thing that you had to endure.

You even went through moments when things got a little too... physical.

It all happened when you were just trying to help someone in need.

You were walking down the hallway during the night as you just wanted a cup of water. As you were wandering down the hallway, you noticed some voices from someone's bedroom.

Jason's bedroom.

This made you curious as you got close to the door to hear Jason talking amongst himself as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He kept muttering stuff out of his mouth, which made you worried.

That is when you made a mistake by going inside.

"Jason...? Are you okay?"

You ask in a timid voice.

At that moment, Jason snaps his head towards you before everything starts to go blur. All you remember is him grabbing something like a pole type object before it was brought down towards your head.

And then, you woke up in your own bedroom, except you have a bandage wrapped around your head.

When you sat up, all you saw was Alfred, the family's loyal butler. No sign of your other family around, concerning about you.

Luckily, you recovered, and the wound went away after a month.

And, of course, Jason never apologized for what he did to you.

~~~~~

A few months was in, and no improvement has been made. You were always ignored. They made excuses of not wanting to spend time with you, and some of them actually hit you a few times.

All of that happened to your ten year old self.

But, did you give up on that spot? Nope.

You discovered on the internet what you can do to please your family to gain their attention. There were a lot of results, but the one that kept popping up the most was trying to reach your best achievements, which would result in them showing you more support from them.

And that's what you did.

You started to join in many after-school activities and studied all your might. It was tiring, and you almost passed out from exhaustion, but you kept going because you wanted at least your family to notice you.

The problem is that they never did.

They never congratulated you, celebrated on your accomplishment, and most of all, they didn't even give you a glance when you showed off.

All of that for nothing. Damn.

~~~~~

The breaking point wasn't because of all that. It was when someone else entered the family.

Duke Thomas.

A metahuman teenager whose parents died from the Joker Venom.

You thought that they might treat him the same way that they had treated you.

But, nothing.

Duke was showered with love, attention, and even praise.

The things that you never got when you came here.

Whenever you pass by whatever event that they're holding, you will always see them together. Being all happy, chatting, and laughing with one another.

They never do that when they're around you. Even on your birthdays. Actually, when was the last time they all celebrated your birthday?

At that moment, something inside you just snapped. Like, a loud crack echoes through your head that makes a loud ringing sound, kind of like a wake-up call.

Then, it all clicked.

They never cared about you.

They never even liked you.

The only reason why Bruce adopted you is because nobody wanted to.

~~~~~

The thoughts kept running through your head as you walked into an alleyway with a trash bag in hand.

Earlier today at school, you dropped out the clubs that you absolutely hated and pretty much just purposely laid back in your classes.

You feel empty.

When you finally reach the dumpster, you got on top of some stacked boxes because of your height and open the large lid.

You could only stare inside that had a lot of black colored trash bags. Your eyes were blank as you stared down inside.

That's when you muttered out.

"Why even bother...?"

With that, you tossed the trash bag that you were holding on into the dumpster.

After what it felt like hours, you finally got off of the boxes that you were standing on top of before you walked out of the alleyway.

As you walked away, something fell out of the trash bag that you threw out.

It was a white bat eared helmet.

The accessory that once matched with your costume.

That's right.

You were no longer Batgirl.

You never were, anyway.

•

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