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wifi is still out ☹️ though i will say that after chapter six, probably most, if not all of you guys would end up despising alfred 😭 i'm not kidding, even i got irritated at writing this master manipulater like wow your thoughts are so irritating but so smart and his motives as a yandere really does shine bright in this chapter. i'm not kidding when i mean this entire mindfuck of a family is obsessed with you.

even the damn butler whom nearly everyone sided with. ehem, not so much anymore after tho 😁

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hello! first i’d like to say, i’m so excited for chapter 6!! foaming at the mouth tbh

though, i have a question, is reader actually unattractive? they clearly think they are, but are they really?

— masterlist !

okay, to answer your question, anybody could interpret the reader however they like, hence why i made sure to avoid overly descriptive traits on their body unless it's to point out similarities between them and their family— but honest to god truth? in the series, you are conceived by the literal bruce wayne, and a mother who was attractive enough to capture the literal eyes of other socialites, other rich, upper class men and women enough to garner their trust; she was considered an absolute beauty at her prime, a cunning thief who can steal the hearts of many gothamites with her twisted words laced in her soft voice.

yes, she died young, and with a mangled face, but across the multiple chapters that i've published, i already established how even in her death, she was surrounded in some sort of angelic light, under the only working lightbulb in your apartment.

so that begs the question: are you genuinely attractive? well, being a wayne is enough of an answer. sharing both bruce and your mother's infamous image makes you the topic of a lot of articles from back when you were young, back when a lot of photographers were itching their way through the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of you through the police and alfred's protective hold from when you were being escorted to the car.

the short answer is, yeah, you definitely are attractive. it's just that, because of your circumstances: the way you grew up, being beaten and abused by your mother's own murderer then discarded to the side after, to bleed to death if not for the gordon finding your body and your mother's— then also sustaining a lot of scars, both self inflicted and not; it kind of ends up ruining your perception of yourself. and it doesn't help the fact that because of the amount of times you've compared yourself to your own siblings, who you perceive as nothing less than perfect, there's bound to be envy on your physiognomy.

but... you know, if you ever voice out these insecurities, how you can't handle looking at the mirror without flinching, how you nearly cried 'cause dick called your eyes cute, how you don't like it when bruce carefully looks at your exposed scars, how uncomfortable it is when damian watched your injured neck which houses the same, discolored skin from when he first threatened you— just be aware that one way or another, every one of them would find a way to overcorrect their behavior, try to shift your own self-hatred into overly corny and suffocating therapy sessions with the family.

they're going to make sure that every single day would be jam packed with compliments, every rebuttal would be met with softer, more genuine comments about why and how much they value a part of you which they consider your deepest insecurity.

just know that the most annoying of them all would most definitely be dick, with how often he rambles about how cute his baby bird is. how there's nothing to worry about, to fear showing off when it's not like anyone else outside of the family could ridicule you, anyways.

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do you have any reccomendations for other blogs that writes yan batfam but are like .... gn / masc reader ones? ive been jump scared w so many she/her fem reader w no proper tagging that ive filtered out the pronouns entirely 💀💀💀

hii anon !! sadly i can only name one on the tip of my tongue and that's one of my fave authors, @/klemen-tine who writes both male and gn reader. 😭 otherwise, i suffer through the same verdict as you since the most i'd do is read through a fanfic and ignore the pronouns </33 but im p sure there's a lot of other brilliant writers out there that i've missed writing so uh...

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Pookie are you alive and well ?

hii pookie, i am alive but not well. wifi is down, allergies are so intense everyday that i had to up my dose, and the heat in this country (philippines) is just worsening it 💔 i can't go outside without experiencing migraines so most of the time i'm just bedridden 😭 otherwise, i'm trying to get into posting more but sadly, with my shitty data, i can't post big drafts or else my editing progress would be lost

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a birth-day unlived, an afterlife unknown: part one. (again &. again drabble)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist !

in which your birthday was as lonely as ever, and you're left spending time alone with your thoughts and not a single birthday greeting; and the concept of an afterlife doesn't seem all too scary anymore.

OR — you're not as alone as you think you are. sometimes, even you are clumsy enough to not see through the bigger picture.

your birthdays always come by on a stormy day.

it felt reminiscent of how it's only the surge of raindrops which were your only accompaniment, each pitter-patter of the droplets on the locked windows felt like the tears wetting your cheeks; unrelentingly neverending. the thunder that crackles through the billowing air rupturing outside reminded you of the boisterous, impatient thumps in your chest.

it was cold, but at the same time it was not. every part of you was an insistent dichotomy, truthfully. you wrap yourself in blankets to help soothe your shaky breaths, hide your silent whimpers, and yet sweat entangles itself on your forehead, mingling with dried, salty tears streaking across your cheeks.

it feels like another one of those days once again, probably because it was. the world never really stops itself for you, never applauded you just because you were brought into this world.

alfred wasn't here to greet you during the midnight as he usually does, thinking about it doesn't stop the ache. nothing ever stopped it.

not even a familiar cupcake in sight, not his insistent voice which calls you through thin walls just for you to finally come out of your little cell, not a single presence except you and your noisy thoughts.

your birthday was a rumor to gotham's more curious eyes, a forgotten one, in fact, once nobody could discover just when exactly were you conceived; when the start of your miserable life laid wake. when your mother had to give birth, alone, in a bathtub with nobody to witness her hurried shrieks, tangled hair splashing throughout reddening water, and the way she had to physically feel the rip from across her body because of course, anaesthetics were none such a commodity in this city.

the only one who took enough effort to remember was alfred. he was closer to you, but his efforts weren't enough to crumble past your guarded walls. but you take what you can, take his gracious attempts at trying to bond with you, even if just for a few minutes then at least, at least you could say you were loved; kids like you can never be too greedy anyways.

so even if it meant an unusual shift, even if it meant bearing through a new kind of paranoia sifting through your anxious thoughts that, finally, alfred has had enough dealing with a problem child like you; you sigh and move so your back faces the door, blankets covering your sweating body from head to toe.

maybe if he does visit, the first thing he doesn't have to see is your tear-stricken, pathetic face.

maybe.

yeah, it's just like all the other days—

a painful reminder of your past, truly, and a mockery to your present.

— you just never expected it to still hurt as much as all the previous years. maybe 'cause you had company, maybe because the light shone a bit brighter when there was another person in your room to comfort you.

you never thought it in yourself that it could still hurt as much— this solitary isolation beating through your veins.

you watch outside your tiny room, feel the air tinged with impending doom, yet quite frankly, it seems as if your body refuses to breathe in that feeling, not when it was like you were created from that sole emotion alone. even the moonlight felt uninvited to witness the scene before you: your little body barricaded, starving and quenched, goosebumps littering all over your skin, who could not comprehend the joy in excitedly waiting for a special day. especially not when midnight felt like dread, dread at waiting for dick to come fulfill his promise, light blue, distracted eyes looking elsewhere, at the portraits, at his watch, at the silhouette of damian's glaring eyes down the hall, but down.

down at you, childish wonder still present in your eyes - you'd rather he looks down on you, just so it means you were at least important enough to be hated. how you wish to be acknowledged - pinching the fabric of his loose tee. a lump formed in your throat, you can't afford to lose this moment, not when it this was so rare, so precious to you. this was one of those special days your idol came to visit, you can't.

"c-c'mon, please...?" maybe if you were convincing enough, maybe if you'd cause a scene, maybe throw a tantrum or two, bite at his skin until it rips, until you see the barely conceivable flesh hanging off of skin and exposing bone— maybe he'd come to hate you, then torment you for the rest of your life, but ah, at least that meant you'll be less lonely for this evening.

would dick had love you better if you were less shy, then? would damian hate you less if you'd have put up more of a fight? would jason still see you beyond the curtains of entertainment if you had learned to speak up? would tim, steph, barbara, cass, or duke finally grow the guts to talk to you if you were a bit more like them?

put on a mask, throw in some punches. get some bones broken, lose a tooth or two, twist a limb, gain ugly purple bruises along your body, maybe even die, breathe one last time and yet never once regretting to take the mantle if it meant having one of them look at you proudly.

if you weren't such a coward, you'd like to think that that would be the line you'd have to cross to have bruce at least stare at you.

trapped under lock and key, you could never revisit the pain boiling beneath your skin, you wish it was as easy as it was to do so, similar to how they ignored you, never making an attempt to visit you. a second passes after the tick of the clock reaches 12, then it's lightning striking through the outposts. your heart beats out of its cage at every minute that clicks, but ultimately, the first thing you'd feel was an ever-so familiar disappointment.

'nothing again. not even a knock against the door. i think it's time to move on."

no alfred to greet you a quiet happy birthday, no jason terrorizing your tiny room, no voice other than your hushed whispers, a pathetic attempt at greeting yourself yet ultimately failing to even utter a single word; nobody. not a cupcake, not even a candle to blow on, not a word spoken.

you wish you could say it doesn't affect you as much, but the tears flowing out your eyes were solid evidence that yes, it does hurt, it hurts even more now that you realize you were truly alone right now.

and maybe you could try to convince yourself that cupcakes were so last year, like steph always said under her breath; a joke or two in your crippling mind, but every time you think beyond your silent birthday, all you ever see are their happy faces without you— off to celebrate another achievement that was never yours.

another loud boom! then the faint sound of sizzling passes through the cracks and into your ears; your room was silent enough to pick up even the faintest of noises. maybe if you were lucky enough, then the next lightning bolt would preferably strike you through the windows, causing you to burn. maybe your death could warrant at least a couple of eyes on you?

oh, but what are you even joking about? nothing ever changes in your routine.

you felt eternally cursed in this neverending trap.

that was how your story always went.

the first words you'd said after the clock struck past twelve were curses for this damning family, and yet you all too easily gave up, hiding under blankets as you grab your phone by the bedside table; anything to distract yourself from another failed year, another unspoken birthday as your screen lights up to another unread article, and yet in bold letters, it highlights the title about another one of the wayne's chaotic rendezvous at just a newer gala—

oblivious to the set of eyes just right outside your windows, the pair of ears hearing every disjointed breath, every spastic heartbeat, you scoff at the shifting, beating winds knocking past the frosted glass, unaware that it wasn't caused by natural phenomena, unaware that just outside of your bedroom, was another voice which greets you a happy birthday, a candle of his own lit, untouched by the rain's drizzle.

"if you believed in the afterlife, what would your vision of it be?"

a shudder escaped the back of your throat. the cool air escaping through and into the windows - accompanied by the bluish glow of the moon reflecting off expensive vases - felt crisp against your skin. the tips of your fingers felt slippery as it perspires on the wood of your pencil, tapping carelessly on the ridge of the table as you thoughts drift off to.. well, something.

you, seated on your rickety chair, looked outside, past the burgundy curtains, and onto the imagery of the forests, your mind preoccupied with priorities far exceeding the need to answer your piled assignments. you're thinking of something, meaning them. the wayne's, their associates, batman and his vigilante partners, bruce and his unruly children, without you.

it's one of these days again, patrol night, where the entire family— their little team, you bitterly acknowledge, are out once more. out, meaning they're there, together, huddled in their own world. you can picture it, piece together dick's - nightwing's - smile he offers the little childrens he saves, smiling at them with the same glow he offered you all those years ago. a treasured memory, but just a memory nonetheless that you'd wish to bury.

you heard from alfred: jason decided to hang out with them, too; that's why he wasn't lazing through the library as usual. hearing that information come out from alfred didn't help the pricking jealousy blazing throughout your skin, even when the butler had to stop you from digging nails deep and piercing through your already scarred palms.

sometimes, you feel like an idiot for even thinking you deserve your favorite brother's time. sometimes, you don't even know why you even chose to care about why they chose to spend time without you anyways. why he matter more to you when he's just like all the others.

when, after all, he's already part of their own cocoon, an established nest, a bat with his little robins. a single father with his children, and you— an enigma in their eyes, no less.

but unlike the mysteries tim loved to solve in his free time; you just weren't interesting enough.

detectives like to discard useless details anyways. you're part of the invaluable bunch— a weed, as damian once called you.

these days, quite frankly, had you feeling like a cuckoo bird, too, a lone stranger dropped off into an unfamiliar house, forced to be raised by utter strangers whilst trying to fit in. but instead, your presence felt invasive, leeching off their income; bruce's wealth was at your disposal and yet you fear even spending a single dime; you fear that if he'd had noticed, he'd get the wrong message, mistake you as a thief, throw you away despite the nagging thought that alfred would be there to defend you to his utmost effort.

but that's the point, you're not entirely convinced that you matter as much to the butler anyways.

it's bruce's words over anybody else's. and those rich, dark blue eyes in which you'd use to drown yourself staring at through the television held the same, damning glare as batman.

so then you'll still be forced to live in poverty, right? jumping through dumpsters to find this day's dinner, live off of ripped clothes and rotting cardboard boxes.

then sooner, you'll meet death face to face way too early. it'll pity you for your miserable life, speak empty words like your body would soon be, but it'll inevitably take you away.

so what do you think your afterlife would be?

it's one of these nights again, you stare at your notebook, at your unfinished assignments on the previous page, and you bite the insides of your cheeks, at the question gleaming under the sheer glow of the lights, mocking you, ridiculing you, tempting you to— to die, all about death, all about the afterlife.

what comes after everything? would you at least see your mother past blinding lights?

the question lies forebodingly in your notebook. it was a tuesday, maybe, where it's been last assigned; you can't recall, memories had all been blurred by how intangible your days blended into— but it's already a thursday and yet you have nothing to write on your barren notebook.

your pencil nearly slips through your shaky grip, yet you steel yourself from fully letting panic eat you away, write out in barely legible letters:

'if there was, ma'am, i hope my mother would be there on the other side of the bridge i'd cross. then maybe, in the afterlife, i wouldn't be as lonely anymore.'

'— and i hope i don't see their faces in the afterlife, too. i hope they won't do anything to bring me back; that'll be a fat chance, though.'

you scratch out the last sentences, but it gives you enough euphoria writing that out. makes you feel petty, even if the emotions of triumph don't last as long as it does despair.

knowing that you had to beg alfred on what they planned to do despite his insistence that it will only hurt you further, what they're currently doing this evening; that they're probably out there eating batburgers, laughing at each other for getting a toy of each other, and you're just here: seated on a creaking chair, finishing assignments, being normal.

blearily blinking the sleep away from your eyes, you sigh and shut your eyes, then you close your notebook after and shove it haphazardly inside your bag, splayed clumsily on the floor.

that'll be your outline, for now, all you want is sleep. you'll rush through your essays tomorrow.

after all, this temporary passage of time: sleep, it felt a bit like death, doesn't it?

you jump on your bed, hearing its familiar squeak and feeling its low dip. the thing you lay on feels a bit too small nowadays, a cruel reminder that you were forgotten enough that a bigger bed, at least, is due but never permitted.

ah, but what can you do anyways? it's not like begging could warrant even a single change. you'll just have to make do with what you have, as always. that's how life is to a kid like you. you're born in the slums, you'll still live life like you are in one.

as you throw your too-small blanket upon your shoulders, you shut your eyes, ignore the perspire dripping down your forehead and how your legs buzz with uncomfortable heat. you try to throw away the images of one of bruce's gentle smiles, try to bury the ugly desires that just for once, he'd be the reason your bed dip, not from its age but from his weight— and he'll wipe away the sweat from your head, and kiss the crown of your hair. he'll whisper soft words, tell you sweet dreams, that you'll have them soon enough in your arms, that whatever suffering you'd gone through for a decade would be worth the effort.

that fantasy's enough to make you hope you won't wake up.

at least you'll have a solid answer to give to your teacher if or once it does happen today.

you're too far gone in your dreams to hear your bolted down windows creaking, too far gone in sleep to even question another presence looming over your sleeping body, too far gone in misery to comprehend them sitting in your bed, soon laying down beside you, as they take you and wrap.you around their arms— cooing at the slightest tweak in your lips, the smallest smile your gracious face could offer him.

dedicated to my pookie wookie @neerathebrightstar <3

a/n: y'all leave your suspicions or speculation? this was written in an hour, sooo.... will there be a part two of this? yes! there will be, and it would be focused on the batfam's perspective instead. why did i post this? it's because i wanted to delve deep into just how lonely the reader actually is, but at the same time, not really (also because editing this concept that was rotting in my notes app was easier than dropping a chapter that had over 10k words since my wifi is down). i dropped a lot of hints of the reader being stalked, but it's not obvious so good luck with that!!!

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wifi still isn't up ☹️ so i can't edit chapter 6 in tumblr at all. but because of how bored i got, i wrote a small drabble/s (cause it's multiple scenes) regarding a&a so i'll post that for now instead as an apology !!

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making a new taglist ! comment if u want to be tagged (first come first serve though)

twas about to post chapter 6 tonight but we don't have wifi as of current (our entire neighborhood's wifi is down) to edit the chapter here in tumblr (and my data is real slow so i can't do a big post) so apologies for the delay <//3 i don't know when it will also return haha

but because of the delays, i may or may not add more here and there in the chapter. who knows, maybe alfred's perspective about the shitshow happening between the family and a deeper delve into your childhood with him. that's all !!! 🫶 hope everyone is still attached to this story as i am 😭

there's a lot to also unpack for the chapter. we get to see how deep conner's obsession would take place, a new cat, some (not all) of the arguments from the batfam, and a character i've been secretly writing about that i'm p sure nobody else could guess (tho idk if i should reveal her in chapter 6 or in future chapters, so that might be scheduled to change), and some other shenanigans i'm excited to post about.

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anyone interested in a short oneshot for invincible...? because one particular concept is pestering me enough to help me through a writer's block. so if anybody wants to be tagged in it, i will teehee. don't ask me when i became interested in the series 😁

(it's angst, of course it is)

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what if i bring back my "(character) as househusbands" series that i did back then for genshin but now it's with dc characters...

cause it's honestly funny to think how they'd fare with a naive reader who doesn't know of their secret identities, trying to find a balance between their vigilante and domestic life.

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Just a silly idea of mine

Reader: hey, I'm hungry

Bruce (trying to make a joke and maybe persuade reader to call him dad) : hey hungry I'm dad!

Reader: .....

The next time reader is hungry

Reader: hey, I feel heavily starved and dehydrated, may I please have some food and drink ready for me to feast on?

Bruce: what..?

— masterlist !

(name) wayne, not (last name), standing in front of bruce while he reads a newspaper: hey bruce, just a question: would you still love me if i was a worm?

bruce, gently placing down the papers as he looks up to you from his seat, heart raising in excitement because you're finally approaching him for once after months of your silence: *shakily breaths* first of all, sweetheart, that's dad to you, alright? and thank you for asking—

bruce clears his throat, pretending to think carefully as he calms his breathing, then continues: second of all, of course i'd still love you as a worm and cherish you all the same... i'll even build you a treehouse resembling the manor, our home, and ensure you have soil of the highest quality every time you feel the need to dig down. there will be no predator there to devour you, too and no worry about competition for whatever vegetable you're craving to nibble on. i'll— we'll still keep you spoiled, of course, no matter your orientation.

bruce, under his breath as to not creep you out: and i'll also find a way to turn me and the rest of the family into worms too so we'll always keep you safe and with company and you'll never be lonely.

(name), obviously creeped out and regretting their choices: wow, okay... i thought you'd offer me to the vulture or something... but decent answer, i guess... still don't trust your promises though.

bruce: *offended gasp* and what made you even think of that, sweetheart?

(name): ... i can list out a bunch of reasons.

bruce: hmm—?

*cue to you pulling out a projector behind you and flashcards suddenly appearing in your hands as the screen presents the title, "valid reasons as to why i still don't trust this family and why you all should let me go, a comprehensive guide on why kidnapping me isn't effective in repairing our family dynamics.*

bruce: ... you're grounded.

(name): you're too guilty to even deny it, aren't you?

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my silly little trash baby 💕 sometimes he forgets he has a nub and tries to scratch his torn ear 😔

and he only love he mommy(gn)

colored and non color

— masterlist !

yes !! <33 this is exactly what our precious little fur baby looks like in the series. though don't mind me calling him a she in my early drafts, i have my reasons 😭

he's so adorable, i love the nub but don't be deceived! this cat is feisty, a great judge of character, in fact: upon meeting titus in a future chapter, his immediate response was to hiss and stand in front of his rightful owner as a means to protect you. alfred the cat is also not a great contender for this feral baby, he hates everyone who is not you, anyways. and despite missing a limb, our kangaroo can pack a punch (or a scratch...) always ready to attack any intruders and is oddly connected to the infamous catwoman—

enough of that, he approves conner as your possible lover after enough coddling and unwanted scratching, maybe even bribing with catnip, and hisses and scratches literally everyone else who dares to try to touch you without his permission. yes, even damian, the animal whisperer would struggle to even capture his heart. and no, dick, haley and mr. stinky are not allowed to be in the same space together, he's a senior with no energy. and just because they are both missing a leg doesn't mean he'll tolerate the pet of the very same people who'd neglected you, no way.

tysm for this, he's so baby in your art and i'm so glad you helped introduce a new furry character into my story because the reader needs as much of an emotional support 'cause the future chapters other than chapter 6 is a pain in the ass.

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random question, but what's everybody's favorite chapter for my series, again &. again? or at least like a favorite scene?

'cause mine was definitely the one where damian looks through your sketchbook and realizes, "oh, fuck. you're the only person who's ever made me feel vulnerable and childlike whimsy yet i drove you away" alongside jason realizing how he's no better sibling compared to the others since he only ever used you as a means to pass time until he also realized that you're far beyond just entertainment LMAO

anyways, for those asking for the release of the next chapter, it's probably next week ^^ !!

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— related post !

asking this for my future monster/eldritch reader x romantic! yandere batfam— but what kind of monster do y'all want them to be? and what kind of abilities/skills/powers do you want them to have?

and don't worry about making it as freaky, as degenerate as you all like.

should you have an acid tongue that burns easily through a human's skin? tendrils for hair? pores around your body that releases some sort of toxins, including aphrodisiacs? what type of creature? something never seen before?

'cause i'm sure that an unknown entity discovered recently in gotham, a mystery, a monster that carries an unknown yet compelling allure would sure capture their attention. makes them want to dissect you up close yet at the same time, tempts them to personally cop a feel for your alien-like limbs— maybe even have those tendrils close around their throats as a warning that you're still the one in control here.

(basically, monsterfucking at its finest)

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worthless speculations (a loving family, an unpalatable desire drabble)

ft. yandere superfam x gn! neglected spouse reader x yandere batfam

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist ! ; related post !

all it took was a candid shot of the resident, widowed journalist who's not-so subtly hiding his affair with the infamous spouse of bruce wayne to spark immediately rumors.

for weeks, it seems, the table has once been turned on bruce as you've found yourself the center of attention, spending time with your new family, with the very man who has come to save you months ago from the cruel hands of the paparazzi.

it started with the first picture, which quickly blew up into many photographs in such a short span.

one of a simple date, where some stranger, a fan of you, saw you at a park, having a cute picnic with both clark and jon. at first, most would assume that clark's probably just a close cousin of yours, with just a kid you're babysitting, right?

wrong. the proximity you have with the unknown man is too intimate. someone's got a close shot, and through the lenses, you wouldn't even need a damn interpreter to just see how his palms are rested against your thighs, massaging occasionally without thought nor pattern, as if it's been a natural habit of his; or how in another shot, he handfeeds you the sandwich, then takes a bite in the same spot you have bitten. he doesn't take a napkin to wipe away the remaining condiment on your lips, and—

oh!

he licks at his thumb then quickly brings his lips near yours, closing the space in between with a peck that draws out too long to be even considered remotely platonic.

a kiss packed with longing and desire.

his tongue sneakily swipes at the remaining cream on the side of your tongue. your nose crinkles and you swat his face away, but you don't look disgusted, don't even pull away as you softly swipe away the strands of hair framing his glasses.

some commentor mentions how warm your face looked, another replies with just how your fingers quickly made their way to fiddle with the man's arm in another candid photo.

the child beside you, meanwhile, makes a grossed face, cringing at the obvious romance— then he clings to you, slapping his dad (?) away from you. his hands are wrapped around your waist, and click!

it looks like the kid's looking up at you with puppy eyes, mumbling something whilst you laugh and ruffle his hair. another spectator managed to capture a video.

then a lipreader on twitter made out the words the kid is saying. he's begging for ice cream, he says with a pout, neapolitan, he says, and that he made sure to eat all the vegetables in his sandwich. then he grins when you giggle at him and whip your head to the man beside you who replies with:

"oh, sweetie, don't fall for his lies; he just sneaked junked food last night to his bedroom."

the kid, who's now famously referred to as jon, your precious little baby, as you love to call him — and since the internet is so obsessed with drama, a lot of people were smart enough to piece the puzzle together, the man you're with is clark kent — sticks his tongue out his father, then stubbornly crosses his arm yet just as quickly return to his begging.

the person recording hidden behind the bush had to do a double take, their hands shook when the audio recording picked up your faint whispers, and they were sure to gods that you referred to yourself as... as clark's spouse?!

and did jon just call you his parent?

you're brave— no, scratch that, the people you're with are even braver.

it's like they're making it obvious that you've been claimed into another family; that you oh-so easily estranged yourself from the wayne's to live a mundane, yet peaceful, loving life with the kent's just to escape the constant torment of living under an empty roof.

but still, to be that obvious is a dangerous move, isn't it?

to show up in public, unannounced, in matching trio outfits, sometimes even appearing with another unknown figure who always has shades on, to a crowd of people who take pictures of you every moment is such an iconic, yet ruining admission that you've basically (and rightfully) had an affair with no shame.

after all, who would ever think of cheating on a billionaire, one of the most famous, too!? that's basically asking for a divorce, which leads to losing all your assets. most socialites who marry into old money families are aware that even if your partner cheats, you'll still be strong enough to bear through the pain, but god are you brave for making another scene just some days after, in a cinema no less without a care in the world if the people around you watched your barely disguised pda.

well, you aren't most socialites to begin with, you've only ever married for convenience.

even when news stations were going haywire for the rumors, when so many commentators on tiktok, podcasts on twitch and youtube have you as their main topic of the week— your little family is nonchalant about everything.

it was the number one trending tag, the only headline every person focused on.

and the best (or worst in your case) part of it all, is that this was all perfectly curated by your own affair partner.

a little handholding, soft touches and caresses on your cheeks, muscled palms resting comfortably on your shoulders, and jon's tiny hands latching onto your body, nuzzling on the expanse of your stomach whilst his head tilts up to look at you with the widest puppy eyes, asking you to buy him more sweets with his freckled smiled and toothy grin— it creates this immaculate opportunity for passerby's with enough knowledge about the wayne's messy relationship status to immediately catch on to the infamous face of bruce's poor, naive spouse now in a date.

and it's not even the first date you were all caught together.

who wouldn't whip their phone out faster than the well-known speedsters to conspicuously take shots of your seemingly happy and satisfied composure?

unlike with all the moments where you are with bruce, pictures of your uncomfortable hold on his shoulders, the stares from a distance never directed at you from galas, or the way your hands quickly unwrap from his the moment your magazine pictures are finished— you look refreshed, downright gleaming brighter than the sun that could even make some senile, grumpy man smile.

your small fanbase grows quickly: people never knew just how gorgeous you are not until they see your lips quirked up, mischievously peppering the unknown child with kisses, then standing on your tippy toes next to the hulking figure beside you to give him a gentle peck on the lips.

in your current place at the farmer's market, you are glowing like a ray of sunshine, never before had the crowd ever seen you without a strained smile, never seen your eager eyes at your affair partner's sweet surprises, never seen you so willing to pick up your child and pepper his face with kisses all over his face at yet another cheesy joke he concocted.

and it's perfectly become a topic of gossip for the citizens of gotham and metropolis on the seemingly new, and unexpected affair of one of the richest man in the world's spouse.

well, if they could even call you bruce's spouse, not when his eyes are always elsewhere. not when there's been dozens of news highlighting the gossips about bruce's past affairs.

and right now, it seems you're not even wearing the diamond encrusted ring on your finger anymore. the longer you are exposed to the public, the more people notice the lack of bedazzled jewelry, or even notice

and instead, you sport a simple silver promise band on your left hand, which somehow gleams brighter than your previous ring. you wore more casual clothes, sometimes match color schemes with your little family. most of the time, you wear your affair partner's huge jackets and let it drape across your body.

others say your lazy efforts, your carelessness compared to your rigid styles before felt more befitting for you— and you are... cuter whenever they see you beside clark to assist him with his office work with a matching messenger bag hanging off your shoulders.

some people were so invested in your relationship, a close-up zoom in on clark's wallet revealed a picture of your family with the addition of ma and pa kent in his wallet's clear frame. his fond smile while looking at the photo made fangirls swoon.

and with you always trying to reach atop the nest you call his hair, always ruffling it to fix the mess, people began seeing you two as the couple goals, an embodiment of what years of love looked like despite only being together for months in their; people are unaware of how long your affair has been.

never knew clark has set his sights on you since the day of your marriage with bruce.

but it's alright if people only see the surface level of his devotion to you—

because at least his beloved is thriving.

and at least their support, their obsession over your relationship with him helps in tying you even closer to him—

without your complaints, without your hesitation.

because you love him, and he loves you. jon and even conner has warmed up to you. they all love you, and no amount of material compensation bruce throws at you can amount to the dedication and patience clark has burnt off for years to scoop you in his arms at your lowest moments.

just like a true superhero does.

he loves seeing you as the best version of yourself everyday, and you only do so because you're with him and the people who actually love you, only them.

some people who bumped shoulders with you every time you dropped jon off to school said you even smelled even less intense, like you didn't feel the need to bathe in expensive perfumes anymore. you are softer now, more homely and buzzed with a familial joy none has ever seen or felt in you before.

unlike last time, you're more confident in greetings. reducing your appearances in galas lessened your eyebags. you were the epitome of new beginnings, a symbol for citizens that maybe second chances aren't too scare in the first place.

people whisper that you've probably divorced bruce, or that your previous husband doesn't give a damn about your affair.

a person occasionally tweets questions regarding your affair, if bruce is aware about the entire thing, if it hurts his ego, or if he doesn't care at all. his fanbase still loves him, obviously. they still see him as their beloved problematic playboy, but it's concerning how others sweep your affair under the rug with every new gala published, or how news about his children sometimes overthrows the current gossip of the day about you.

of course, the media feeds off the drama like bottom feeders. there's a resurgence of even more theories regarding your complicated relationships. one person even briefly mentioned what a coincidence it is that the dick grayson is found to be eating at an adjacent restaurant beside the one you and clark were found out.

there was a trending tweet once, one that highlighted the strangeness of your previous children's sudden frequent appearances in metropolis too.

others argue it's just an overreaction, but nobody ever denied that claim itself.

some people are anticipating bruce's reaction to the tweet, too. would he stay silent, would he grovel at your feet, or is this some sort of competition between these two?

there's a conspiracy that bruce is letting all the drama simmer down, that this may be a publicity stunt. a smaller fanbase that liked your complex relationship with the man wanted you both to return together, many argue that you look better off with him— clark feels the urge to find each and every individual who's stated this if not for your current laughs in the kitchen with jon distracting him from darkening thoughts at every annoying theory.

though most of the time, thankfully, others defend your actions and clark's, even stating that it's right that the once silent and solitary spouse of bruce deserves at least decent treatment; because from all the gathered news you before, it's always just you who fusses over bruce's children like a worried hen, it's always you who adjusts and kisses your husband's ties with a fond, yet tired smile.

and some miss those softer moments they've seen on screen, even bruce himself finds his fingers dangling on his past ties in his office, unknowingly reminiscing on the warm lips that once held the same tie. and the hot dinner left cold and diverse snacks untouched always left beside his desk, and your worried coo every night he stayed up late, and...

and just how much of a perfect spouse you actually are.

it's only when it's too late, when you're too deep into your romance with clark that he finally discovers how much he misses you, your concerned whispers, your frustrated quirk of the eyebrows that you hide from him every time he rejects your advancement, your constant presence in his life until it felt like it was never there, the way you weaved yourself so easily into his life and slipped away just as quickly because of his stupidity.

in a moment of weakness one evening, when restlessness and the yearning for your soft touch urged him once more, bruce finally gained the courage to confront all the rage about you—

he tells himself it's out of curiosity, just that.

nothing else, but god, the sight of you with someone else for once hurts more than intended.

it punches him even more in the gut once he realizes that you're with his coworker, his teammate, his trusted friend who displays himself as the perfect puzzle piece beside you in every article. you don't wear your old ring, don't even wear a single piece of clothing in your old wardrobe full of luxury items.

you're different, but you're still you... just better off without him, without his children, without alfred or the comfort and protection of the manor.

alluring as you've always been, but you shine even brighter now, draped in gentle sunlight that dims in comparison to you.

and the longer he stares at your pictures, at your smile, the way your cheeks would slot so perfectly between his palms, and your hair that he knows he'd soon love to bury his nose in—

the easier it is for his hands to make its way to his contacts, ready to call alfred and his children—

and he finds himself concocting a plan faster than the need for rest swept away from his thoughts when he sees your silver band, the same design he found one day on clark's fingers after a mission.

of course, bruce is aware that he has to deal with the consequences of his actions, that his idiocracy led him at a stalemate where he's aware that your chances of returning to him is a measly zero—

but heaven forbid him, for he's still bruce. he's no lesser than the cunning, strategic vigilante he's known to be.

he'll always be one step ahead, and rummaging through the records on his desks reveals no sign of divorce papers, no legal precautions taken for custody and no angry relative of yours (who only sold you off to him to earn their share of profit) angrily contacting him.

it'll be one hell of a night, but it doesn't matter.

why?

the headline and content for the next day on a newspaper for the gotham news—?

"y/n wayne, spouse of famous philanthropist, billionaire bruce wayne found back in the arms of their old flame—?"

"there's been newer speculations, of y/n's supposed ex-husband and their children finally reconciling with each after after months of rumors regarding whether their divorce is real or not."

"—and after some investigations and a statement from the husband, bruce wayne, himself; it was finally confirmed that their divorce, was in fact, never legally processed— because, as it turns out, it was never filed at all."

a/n: that took a dark turn HAHAHAH you guys think this will be something cutesy? NO! this is my late april fool's attempt at fluff bec i love drama. please comment about what you think about this and let me hope to god this gains interaction </33 i like writing affectionate scenes with a tinge of insanity scattered in between.

also hive minds and parasocial relationships are seriously creepy to think about. that's why i tend to not often disclose personal things relating to me because of how easy it is to track someone and their life down 😭 this has been sitting on my drafts for a long time and i nearly forgot about it until someone reminded me to write for this series soo... transitioning pov's is genuinely such a struggle btw, ugh ☠️ hope u guys enjoyed this bec this is by far the hardest drabble to write.

taglist:

@imjustasimp132, @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff, @chericia, @queenofspades403, @naina326, @neerathebrightstar, @lilyalone, @sweetconnoisseurgardener, @nickey-diano, @tsuniio, @ssak-i, @kore-of-the-underworld, @lollipoppersposts, @peptox, @kdjhubby, @weirdcore-fantasy, @thypplover, @asdfghjklgayblog, @prince-nikko, @phoenixgurl030, @antionwithadrawingpen, @circe143, @ferchu0406, @kittzu, @yuyuzi-ling, @moonieper, @esthxio, @ryuushou, @nickey-diano, @ssak-i.

[acid-ixx]

you guys better hype up the crumbs im feeding y'all for loving family, because i'm gonna post it now HAHAHAH <//3 im gonna cry if i see no interaction 💔 (likes dont matter to me, comments do)

[acid-ixx]

before i continue writing for a loving family, i need to seriously stop listening to tyler the creator because ifhy and new magic wand genuinely makes me want to write enemies to lover with the batfam but i have so many priorities that i don't also wanna neglect 💔

mainly my main series' but damn as much as i love to write pained emotions stemming from loneliness or grief, i also love writing about encompassing hatred, loathing that devours and destroys two person whole 😭 but i'll just keep my ideas in my notes app for now hahaha

[acid-ixx]

I'm begging you plsssss for loving family crumbsss i'm a sucker for that kind of plot pleaseee

since u guys are asking so nicely, i'm gonna post a drabble tonight (or tomorrow morning depending on my sleep schedule for the day) related to this post teehee (the drabble was collecting dust in my drafts (full of other abandoned drabbles too)) <333

so make sure to watch out for that too

(don't forget to look at this previous post too)