notevenhayleyhart

[notevenhayleyhart]

Red Lipstick - Yandere!Batfam X RichGirl

Preview: Looking forward to seeing Penelope, he tries to be realistic and not get his hopes up. But he can't help himself; he wants to know her. Turning the charm up, he tries to catch her attention. But since the moment he's met her, spoken with her, she's been . . . unpredictable.

Word count: 4.7k

Pov: Dick Grayson

Chapter Three:

Was I the one who made Bruce make the call? Yes, but I'd be a filthy liar if I didn't mention that he wasn't all that hard to convince.  

Me and Bruce were in the backseat of a nice car. I gave him a look, but he didnt crack. 

“I can't believe you talked me into this . . .”

“Aw, just admit it, B. You're curious about our little star.”

He scowled, offended by the idea. “She may be interesting, but going this far is inappropriate.”

“This far!? She’s just going to play at one of your establishments. I would say it's not going far enough.”

“We both know that's not as far as this arrangement is going.” He adjusted his cuffs, careful to avoid my eyes. “One thing will lead to another, with weasels like you guys. When do things not?”

“Suppose so.” Despite my agreeance, I couldn't keep a grin from my face. 

She sure was something. Penelope MorningStar effectively caught my attention last night. The vibrance in her eyes, swoop of her wavy hair, curve of her cupid's bow, all the way down to the way she walked. She’s unique. Her own brand. 

I wanted to know that brand, so much so that I’ve convinced Bruce to go along with this. 

Looking out the window, I took note of how the buildings got less flamboyant and large when we neared the outskirts of the city. Headed to Osacar’s place of business, it didn't shock me he would establish it in such a humble place. 

While you’d think traffic would lessen given our descent from the main city area, you’d be wrong. 

Stuck in traffic and constantly honking horns, I made myself comfortable. 

Used to city life, I could stand a little traffic . . . 

I wondered what I’d say to her. How I could make her laugh. What was her sense of humor? Would my usual charm be enough? It usually was, but with her, I didn't exactly want to fumble the landing. She was to other worldly. Not something to get wrong. 

I could tell that much just from last night. 

And the fact that, when we got home, I hovered over Tim’s shoulder as he searched up everything to do with her. Which may or may not have gone on till midnight. 

What!? Can a guy be curious? 

I'm far too used to snobbish girls. Being a part of the life I am, attending gala’s or accompanying Bruce to those suck ass events. When they're not snobbish, their girl bosses like Cass or Steph. Not that I have an issue with that, but something softer wouldn't hurt either . . . I'm surrounded by rusted nails and broken glass when I’m not at those parties. Being a vigilante isn't for the weak. 

Is it so wrong to want a breath of air? 

Penelope is exactly that. 

I convinced myself that was why I was so curious about her. 

She looks warm, like her laugh could light up a room. 

I turned and caught Bruce’s tense look. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes I grumbled and looked out the window. 

I saw his point of view. Why bring her into our lives when it would provide nothing for her. 

However, I could bring stuff to the table! 

Be kind and caring enough to satisfy her. When the others got to know Penelope, they would think the same thing. 

My brows scrunch, jaw clenching. 

Wait, no. Slow down damn it. 

You don't even know her. 

Maybe the other reason Bruce is so tense, is because Penelope is a girl with a thousand question marks surrounding her. 

Little to nothing could be found online, for christ's sake. 

I should probably be on Bruce’s side. I could be building up this wonderful picture of her in my head, and she might not even come close to it. 

Deflating a bit in my seat, I sighed to myself. 

She might not even like my charm. 

For all I know, she's rude and lacks a personality. She may not light up a room. Sneer at me and turn her nose up. She looked sweet, but I knew well looks could be deceiving. 

I'm a detective, for crying out loud. How could I build a metal file about a person I didn't-

A girl zooms by on a bike, my eyes widen, and all I catch is blond hair dancing in the wind. Rolling down the window I stuck my head out of the car window, dumfounded. 

Speak of the goddamn devil.

A wicked grin crossed my lips when I saw her zipping by on a crimson bike. In a rush no doubt. She wasn't in view for long. Regardless, I watched her shrinking figure going down the bike lane. 

Unexpected laughter filled my chest when I settled back in my seat. Clenching my chest, I couldn't help it. Wiping a tear from my eye I looked to Bruce. “Please tell me you saw that.”

The corners of his lips twitch, but that's all I'm able to get out of him. 

I'll take it! 

Sitting a bit taller, spirits high, I looked forward to meeting her officially. 

Even if she didn't live up to all that I was guessing about her, I would still find joy in such a girl. The kind of girl who (on a dare maybe?) went up on stage and proudly embarrassed her older sister. A girl who could play the piano so effortlessly I wanted to hear her try and do a symphony. 

Alas, the traffic was easing up and I felt myself get more giddy by the second. 

When we did finally get to the building, I wondered if the driver took us to the wrong spot. 

Bruce got out first, I hurriedly followed him to the sidewalk. 

Head cocking to the side I made a sound of wonder. “How the hell do you run a multi million dollar corporation in a shack?”

The building before us wasn't half the size of the Wayne tower. More like if you cut the half in half. It's not bad for a business. It's better than most, actually. But for someone with a name as large as Oscars? It wasn't proper. There was bushes and trees leading up to the entrance, so that was nice. 

Finding the bicycle rack I smiled at the bike belonging to her. 

Wiggling my eyebrows at Bruce he narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Approaching the building, I’m close behind him. 

The inside was just as modest as the outside. The tiles were white and the walls a crisp grey. The lobby had a circular front desk and plenty of area to breathe. The actually comfortable looking furniture is near black green. Everything looked oddly comfortable. 

They got work done like this?

Even the front desk lady looked genuinely happy to greet them. 

“Mr. Wayne and Mr. Grayson,” her smile was kind, “welcome. Mr. MorningStar is ready for you both.” We both followed in her direction. 

She led us to a room at the very end of a hallway. When we passed by workers they seemed almost  . . . glad to be there. 

I narrowed my eyes on a man humming to himself as we walked by him. 

Jabbing a finger into Bruce’s arm I asked, “how come your workers aren't this happy?”

He glowered. “I'm too high on the latter to manage the average employee's happiness.”

“Uhuh.” Under my breath I added, “I bet Oscar cares about his employees.”

“Well maybe Oscar has a smaller staff.” Bruce caught onto the bait and a smirk found its way onto me. 

The man was just too easy sometimes. 

I paused when I heard her voice. Well at least—in my gut I believed it was her voice. 

“I couldn't just let him be!” She whined. 

“Kid, remember the last time you picked up a stray animal?”

“Well that's not my fault, how was I supposed to know!?”

A man, likely Oscar, scolded. “Yeah well, that fox scratched the shit out of our furniture.”

“I thought he was a cat!”

Me, Bruce, and the front desk lady, all came into the room and effectively halted whatever argument had happened. 

Penelope stood opposite of her father, hands cupping something. A small little something that squirmed about. Oscar had his hands deep in his pockets, worry scrunching his face. 

Both turn to the three of us, two of us since the woman saw herself out. 

Penelope’s eyes caught mine and I had no intention of looking away first. Clearly though, she wasn't looking to stare because she turned away the next second. Back to her father she cupped the little thing close to her chest. “Please, dad? I’ll take care of him.”

The older man scrubbed a hand down his face. “Alright. Fine, fine. But you're explaining this to your mother.”

Her whole face lit up and I found my breath stuttering at the sight of her full smile. 

Bruce was stoic as ever, turning his attention to Oscar. “Have we caught you at a bad time?” 

“Not at all,” Oscar waved a hand towards the girl who was over the moon at getting to keep whatever that creature was. “Nell, would you care to inform our guests as to what you found?”

Her painted red lips made a little ‘o’ as she came in my direction first. 

Yeah, I wouldn't approach Bruce first either. Man is built to scare people. 

Standing in front of me I found myself looking down on her, a short thing. I peered down to see the animal in her hands. 

“What is it?”

She furrowed her brows at me. “Clearly it's a cat.”

“Are you sure?” I met her brown eyes and refused to look anywhere else. “I'm not too certain your good at detecting what's a cat and what's not.”

That got her to huff, lips still pursed. “It was one time.” 

Her attention on me though was briefer than I would have liked. 

Showing the animal to Bruce he had to crane his neck further than I did. “How did you even see such a small thing?”

“I could hear it crying.” She looked at the kitten with softness. “Poor thing. All alone. Well, not anymore I guess.”

I inserted myself in the conversation. “It's a miracle you heard him in the loud city.”

She shook her head, blond hair covering her face. “Not really. As long as you were observant, you wouldn't miss it.” 

Bruce cleared his throat, “speaking of observation. You put on a show with that playing of yours. How long have you been playing the piano for?” 

I raised a brow at the man's tone. He was usually so gruff, voice flat or uncaring. But from the way he sounded it was almost like he was trying to be softer, to not intimidate her. 

She rose her height and met his eyes, I was taken aback by how fast she switched up, gone serious. “I’ve been playing since I was six.”

I leaned closer, face near hers. “That takes some skill. Do we have a prodigy on our hands?”

“Hardly,” she snorts. “It takes a lot of work to get good at something. I just don't mind putting it in when it comes to something I like.”

“Okay, no sweat.” Putting distances back between us I acted laid back. “I get what you mean though. I mean, I did grow up performing too.”

Nose wrinkling, she regarded me as if seeing me for the first time all over again “Really? Let me guess, dance?”

“Something like that.”

“You go the body,” she commented. I ignored how my adams apple bobbed at her inspection. “You're lean but not. What do you do, then?”

“Well I did, actually. I used to do acrobatics, in a circus, not so much anymore.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“Well you see, mommy and daddy had a little-”

“Alright, that's enough.” Bruce said. 

We both turned to him. He was looking between Penelope and Oscar. 

His voice commanded attention, “we were here to discuss the arrangements, aren't we? Your daughter is particularly talented.” He put on a tight smile. “You’d be doing my restaurant a favor by letting her music in its dining areas.” 

Oscar smiled back, though it was far less stiff. “I think it would be a wonderful opportunity for my girl.” 

Both men turn to Penelope and I find myself missing our conversation. 

She looked to Bruce and didn't back down from his harsh stare, a small fire alight in her own. “I'll look forward to it. It’ll be a good experience too.”

“Have you played in front of people before?” Bruce asked. 

She stiffened a bit and looked down at the kitten in her palms. He was nearing that age to be old enough to fend for himself, yet she still was looking to help him. 

Showing kindness even when unneeded, a good trait to have. 

“Yes,” she said after a while. Rolling out her tense shoulders. “I have played in front of people.”

“How large a group, if you don't mind me asking.”

“Large enough. Trust me, I wouldn't choke in front of your guests.”

“We’ll have to wait and see about that.” 

I glared at him for being so harsh. How could he just say that!? I get he was also looking out for what was best for his business. But jeez. 

Looking at Penelope I expected her to be withdrawing on herself. But instead, the comment hadn't even touched her. She instead said, “reasonable enough.” 

Okay, yeah, though did that mean Bruce had to be rude? 

“Anything else for the interview part?” She blinked at him, ever unfazed. 

The corners of the man's mouth twitched. “For now this will be good enough for me since we stopped by on such short notice. Your father still needs to fill out some paperwork since you're a minor and I will be paying you. On top of it, I’ll have my restaurant manager interview you, just to double check that you're right for the job.”

“Cool with me.”

“Lovely,” Oscar clapped his hands together. “Now why don't we get to the paperwork, Mr. Wayne. I do love good negotiation.”

Bruce sighed. “I told you over the phone to call me Bruce, Oscar.”

“Ah, maybe over drinks.” Oscar winked and stood. He led Bruce over to his desk, no doubt happy to have the billionaire alone to talk business. 

Wasn't that why he approached him at the party to begin with? 

And then as if all my pleas were answered, I found myself alone with Penelope, I believe it was Nell that her dad called her.

I raised a brow. “Mind if I call you Nell?” 

She hummed, as if considering. “I dont know.”

“I'll give you my jacket for your kitten.”

“I don't know where it's been, and you could get Oreo sick.”

I laughed. “There's no way you already named the thing.”

“That ‘thing’ is adorable and I couldn't help it, just look at him.” Holding him up by her face might've been the cutest thing I’ve seen. 

she had a fair enough point. HIs skin was mainly black with his underbelly being white. I caught her eyes lingering on my suit jacket. “I guess it looks clean enough.” 

A smile curled her lips and my stomach did a little somersault. 

Without a moment's hesitation I took it off and gave it to her. I was left in a black button up shirt. 

She made the jacket into a bundle, putting the kitten on top, it squirmed and cried out. But with her gentle touch, it was soothed and went back to sleep as if unbothered to begin with. My eyes stuck to her movements. She folded the sleeves over the kitten's torso. Now all that was left of him was his tiny head peeking out.

Holding Oreo to her chest, I never thought I’d be jealous of a damn kitten. 

I pointed to the door, “wanna get out of here?”

“If you mean chill in the lobby, i'm down.”

I opened the door, “after you, Nell.” “Thanks, Dick.” My name on her lips sounded like a prayer and curse all at once. 

I stayed close beside her as we walked through the hall. 

All my speculating in the car was for nothing. Even though I was already excited and liked her: If I wanted to get to know her, it would take time. Like now, I'll have conversations with her. Though Bruce doesn't show it as much as I do, from how he is with her—I can tell he's the same way. 

She’s a mystery the lot of us aren't just willing to solve, but get to know. 

Nell. I can't wait to get to know you. The feeling swells and takes root in my chest. I dont think it's one I’ll prune anytime soon. 

Just wait till the others see you. 

Casually putting my hands in my pockets I regarded her with a fixated look. “Is this a usual habit of yours, picking up strays?”

She looked between the cat and me, lashes batting. “Well not if I don't have to. If a little bird falls out of its nest, why not put it back where it belongs, ya know?”

“What if it's a super cute bird?” I found myself leaning towards her, watching her expression. 

“Doesn't matter.” She shook her head, no traces of doubt. “That's not my bird.” Then she narrowed her eyes at me, like I was crazy. “Would you keep the bird?”

“Maybe. I could give it a better life, feed it enough till it's obese. It'll never have to compete with nature.” That much was a no brainer. 

“Just because someone can have better, doesn't mean it's best.”

I wagged a finger, “that must be your family's motto.” We got to the lobby and I sent a wave to the desk lady who gave us a smile.

“Elbarote.” She wasn't taking offense, secure in her values. I like it. 

“Well you guys are loaded but choose to live a simpler life. For example, ride an old bike here when you can afford a fancy car and chauffeur.” 

“It just seems like a waste.” she was so nonchalant about it I did a double take. “Why throw money at something when there are other options. Going back to the bird thing. Just because I can have a chauffeur, doesn't mean it’s best.”

“Elbarote.” 

She smiled, grin warm as she gave me a sideways glance. “Okay well, for starters I would've been way late. My dad told me I needed to come here in twenty minutes, and I was covered in mud.”

“Mud?”

“I was cleaning my horse and things got messy.”

“You just keep suppressing me, Nell.”

“Anyways,” she cut me a look and I knew better than to interrupt again. “So I had to shower super fast and get here in record time. I wouldn't have been able to do that in a car, I had to beat traffic so I used my bike. My family has a car, but using a bike is easier.”

When she was done I asked, “and how else is not ‘throwing money at something’ better?”

I hung onto her every word. 

She plopped herself onto one of the lobbies couched, I sat besides her, never turning my body from hers. “hm,” her lips twisted in thought, “food is another good example.”

“How so, Nell.” My knee brushed against hers when I leaned closer. “I'm pretty sure a five star chef beats whatever you're thinking of.”

“Maybe in some aspects,” her head tilted. “I'll give you that.”

“Then?”

“Sorry, Dick, you just can't beat the taste of a mothers meal. Knowing she put love into it, yes, like those cheesy Disney movies say. Those kinds of meals never taste the same, even if someone else were to follow the recipe step by step. Moms have a special touch. A five-star chef? Technically better.” Her eyes drifted off to meet mine. “But not better than sitting around a dinner table with your family, knowing you all gathered to enjoy good food made by a woman who cares for her children.”

“Wow, I might just shed a tear.” For the likes of me I couldn't be serious. A fact I deeply regret when she turned away and blushed. 

“I know it sounds silly but I'm being honest. I hope everyone gets to experience that.”

“And I believe you believe that.”

“Who cooks for you?” She asked, blush gone. “A five star chef?” 

I rubbed my neck. “The manors butler-”

“I should've known.” You laughed, not mocking but definitely amused. 

“Hey, Alfred is practically family.”

“My bad, I shouldn't have underestimated Alfred.”

My eyes narrow. “You shouldn't. He's a good man who raised Bruce, me and the rest of the family included.”

Eyebrows shooting up you shifted in your spot. “Well that's a feat if there ever is one. He raised the Dick Grayson? Amazing former acrobat?” 

“Yes, he did.” 

. . .

We both laughed in the same instant, further my gravity shifted towards her. God, she was like magic. The sound of her laughter fills the air, mixing with mine. I felt my muscles tense and my body go slack.

There was a horn honking outside. Catching sight of a man with a cart I nudged her. “Weren't we just talking about food?”

She perked up. “It's the corn man.” Without a second thought she got up and hurried me along. “Come on, before he moves on.”

I laughed and followed close behind her. “Someone's impulsive.”

“Only when good food is at stake.” Carrying the kitten to her chest like it's her babe, she flagged down the man.

The warm sun settles against my skin like a blanket. There are hardly any clouds overhead, and the sky took on an amazing blue. The day was beautiful and I’m thrilled that I'm spending it like this. I definitely have to rub this in Tim’s face later. I beat him to the punch of meeting Penelope. 

That's right. And now we were seeing the corn man together. Pretty much, we're best buds. Suck on that, Tim. 

The corn man stopped and greeted her all friendly. “Hi Sir! Can I get shaved ice? Blue, please.” 

The man nodded, already preparing her respado. 

She looked at me with those big eyes. “Did you want anything?” 

“I'll take an elote.” I saw her reaching for her wallet but put a hand over hers. “Don't worry, I got it.” 

“Are you sure?” she asked. 

My father was Bruce Wayne. I could buy this man’s whole cart and then a hundred more. 

“I'm sure,” I gave her my signature lady killer smile. 

She only started to laugh. 

Okay, not the effect I always get. 

I paid the man who gave her her raspado and me my elote.

Waiting to take the first bite I watched her dig in. Using the spoon I winced as she went teeth first. “You're crazy, that's gotta be cold.”

She laughed, swallowing before saying “my brother has the same reaction. I just don't have sensitive teeth.”

She took another bite and hummed in delight. Nell took the lead and led us to a walkway wrapping around her fathers building. “It is such a nice day.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Were day’s always this sunny in gotham? “It's weird.”

“How so?” Amusement danced on her lips.

“If the weather was always this nice, I would've thought I'd notice.” She took a big bite. “How often are you outside?” She licked a bit of the fallen ice from her red lips. 

“Everyday.” Well, at night that was. “But usually not when the sun’s so high.”

“Night owl, then?” Her lips pursed.

Wrong bird.“Something like that . . .”

“I could never, I'm an early bird all the way.”

“Then it's no wonder you get to see the beautiful side of the weather.”

“Well then you need to go outside more.” she hummed in thought. “I'm only outside so much because I like tending to the garden with my mom. Also riding my horse, Applejack.”

Why didn't that surprise me?

“Horse riding? Maybe you should teach me. Give me a reason to go outside.”

“Yeah?”

I leaned down. “I'm a fast learner.”

About to come up with a quip she paused when she noticed the kitten squirming. “Aw, Oreo’s waking up.”

I bitterly took a bite of the corn. “Is he really that cute?”

“Beyond cute.” She smiled wide. “I can't wait to show Pacifica. She’s my sister by the way. She’ll want to sew him little costumes. My brother might want to teach him tricks.”

“You have a close relationship with your family.” 

“I do, families important to me . . .” She turned away for a second and looked back. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to. But how come you don't have the same name as Bruce? I thought you were his son.”

“I'm adopted. Me and all my siblings are.”

Her eyes winded. “Is that why he has so many kids? How about you guys, are you close?” 

“Yes, in a way.” I shrugged my shoulders. “We do out best but butt heads more often then not.”

“But thats all the fun in having siblings!”

She might not know how far we go when it comes to going low. “At times.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Five, sorta.”

“Sort of?” she laughed. “I like it.”

“Thanks.” I tried my hand at another one of those charming smiles, only to fail miserably when her attention was diverted straight to the cat when he stirred again. 

He was cute, sure he barely had any fur. But Oreo would grow up strong with her. 

Unlike the imaginary bird that fell out of his nest, this kitten needed Penelope. It couldn't be put back with its litter if she just found him she said she did. Likely abandoned by its mother. 

Well, Oreo, you got a good new mother. 

We had made a full lap around the building and came around to the front. Just in time, too, because there in the lobby, you could see through the window Oscar and Bruce shaking hands. Oscar's eyes were sincere as he said something, and Bruce’s expression was as serious, if not more. 

She took another bite of her food and I took a moment to watch her. The bat of her lashes, the dots of gold in her eyes, how her skin was sunkissed—likely from her days spent horse riding. Or in that garden. 

I want to see that garden. 

“This must be where we part ways, huh? Thanks for the shaved ice.” She looked at me, and my heart gave a hard thump when I saw the bit of sadness there. 

“This isn't goodbye. You still owe me horse riding lessons.” 

“I do, don't I?” She reached for her phone in her back pocket, and I swear I went a little stiller. “What's your number?”

“Ughm . . .” what was my damn phone number again? “Right, um, xxx, xxx, xxxx.” I watched intently as she typed in each number. She gave my phone a call and I jolted at the vibration in my pocket, even though I was expecting it. 

I put her contact in my phone, under the name ‘Nell <3’

Bruce came out of the building, looked between the two of us, then sighed and decided not to comment. What the hell did he see?

Nell holding shaved ice and kitten bundled up in my suit jacket. And me beside her staring dumbly at my phone with a corn on the cob in hand. 

“Dick, were going.” That snapped me to attention. 

I gave one last look to penelope. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

“Alrighty,” she gave a little wave. “Try not to get riding instructions from other city girls in the meantime, Dick.”

“I wont!” I said, walking off and waving back. 

“Drive safe!”

“I'm not the one driving, but thank you!”  

Taglist: @whognuthis, @nervousalpacalady, @angwlart

[notevenhayleyhart]

✾Masterlist✾

⎯⎯ ୨ Stories ୧ ⎯⎯

Red Lipstick - Yandere!Batfam X RichGirl

- MorningStar Family Information

- Introduction: Penelope's Odd Life

- Chapter One: A Dreadful Party

- Chapter Two: Unsettling Feelings

- Chapter Three: Corn Man

Our Sun - Batfam X Nymph!Adopted!Reader

- Introduction: On her own

⎯⎯ ୨ Oneshots ୧ ⎯⎯

- Dick Grayson X Ballerina Reader Pt.1

[notevenhayleyhart]

I feel like it's so blatantly obvious how much free time I have on my hands...

[notevenhayleyhart]

Our Sun - Batfam X Nymph!Adopted!Reader

a/n: The abilities of the reader aren't explained here, but they will be, in due time. Also, before going on to any future chapters concerning this narrative, you'll probably want to read this cause it's got some important background. Enjoy the story ^^ (Also, the reader is a child so everything will be purely platonic!!! All the more fluff)

Introduction:

I watched Poison Ivy on the screen like I was watching the president declare that every day would be ice cream day—or at least that’s the only thing my kid mind wanted to compare it to. Regardless, the effect was the same: there was pure amazement in my eyes. 

She was gorgeous, beyond pretty. Her fiery red hair snapping like a whip with every motion she made. Her eyes were fierce, steps certain, and I found myself getting up and literally pressing my nose against the tv. 

The other kids at the orphanage protested, but I couldn't even hear them. It was the only TV we had, and it didn't take long for the woman in charge of us to pull me by the arm. I whined and pleaded. Though I didn’t direct all my energy towards it. How could I when I saw someone who looked like me on the screen!

‘Looked like me’ is a bit of a stretch. 

I didn't have green skin or red hair. 

But her powers. The ability to spring life from concrete and manipulate nature like she was the mother of it. 

She was like me in that sense, and I felt myself glowing with pride to see someone like me on the screen. 

None of the other kids were cheering, and for the life of me, I didn't know why. 

Look at how frickin cool she is!?

Unlike me, she also couldn't have been an orphan. She probably had loving parents. Who would let go of a child so awesome! I was over here wearing a brown dress that fell to my knees, it was ratty and was developing holes at the seams. She was wearing something that looked like it would cost a fortune. 

Within seconds of seeing her, I knew I adored her. 

She was so cool! Someone with powers like mine was cool. 

In a way, a small part of my chest throbbed, and I believed I could be cool too. 

With a dopey smile, I saw her do all these cool moves, flipping through the air and running over buildings. 

Where she was going, I had no clue. 

Little me thought she was coming to rescue me. 

She looked like a hero, maybe I could be her sidekick! 

My jaw absolutely dropped when a figure decked out in black fell onto the building's roof and kicked her back. I booed the man while all the other kids got up to holler and cheer. 

“He looks stupid!” I said aloud, giving a pointed look to the lady who dragged me away. “Like a kangaroo!” The woman only sighed.

I winced when he socked her in the face. She got up, manipulating the moss on the side of the building, making it grow and wrapping the stupid man in a big bundle. As if he were a swaddled baby. I laugh at the scene. 

He wasn't still for long, able to brute force his way out of it. Before she could even react, he grabbed her by that same fiery hair I loved and slammed her face into the concrete. 

The dirty man knocked her unconscious and he didn't even have any emotion on his face! Meanwhile, the woman I looked up to was battered and bruised. 

I did not join the other kids in their celebration, to say the least. 

He put cuffs on her and stole away the bags she had been carrying. I was five, not stupid. 

There was money inside and he gave it to the cops along with the tied-up Poison Ivy. That's when it occurred to me, she was, in fact, the villain of the news report. 

Looking back at the caretaker, I asked with a straight face, “does that make me a villain too?”  

“Of course not!” She all but burst. “You should use your powers for good, Y/n.” 

I was the only kid in the orphanage who had meta abilities. 

Regardless of how much the woman must have meant it when she said those words, I got the feeling she wanted me out of there as soon as possible. There was a desperate little twitch in her eyes when someone came in to see me. Which was rare as it was. 

I was too much of a hassle. People worried about what I would become when I grew up. Everyone else around me got adopted and went on to live in loving homes.

A whole year had passed since that footage came out. I was getting pretty fed up with adults looking at me and deciding I wasn't good enough. Even at the ripe age of six. 

Which was honestly pretty dang depressing. 

It's okay, though, because I don't gotta worry about being wanted! I love myself!

But forget it! I'm not a little six-year-old anymore, I'm a big girl, seven now! 

I stand in the alleyway currently, the rain pouring down and I enjoyed the refreshing feel of it. Looking up at the sky, I smile. Yeah, all I need is myself. 

It's a wonderful day.

A nice old man with a fruit basket gave me some apples! I haven't had one in a while. Stealing wasn't something I was willing to do. In the books I read from the library, it's Crooks who steal! I didn't have anyone to talk about these ideas with, but I was still pretty dang certain. 

Because more often than not, when I see people with powers like mine on the tv window display, they’re mean to others. Crooks!

I don't want to take from others just because I'm without!

Besides, I don't want to give people a reason to think I'm a villain . . . I don't want to be looked at like how my caretaker looked at me whilst the orphanage was burning down. 

Oh right. 

Forgot to mention that! 

I don't like thinking about it too much. The future is the brighter side, and it's where cool things are at! 

But . . . I'm the only survivor of the Lovell Orphanage after the whole thing burned to the ground; the only way I was able to survive was obvious. It's because I was the one who started the fire.

[notevenhayleyhart]

Red Lipstick - Yandere!Batfam X RichGirl

Preview: With a hectic morning, Nell wanted to clean her horse and find serenity in the outdoors. The party still clinging to her skin, she's happy to feel refreshed. Only there are new revelations in her brother's worries to be found out. Not to mention a turn of events involving a certain billionaire that is going to require her to step far from her comfort zone.

Work Count: 4.3K

Pov: Penelope MorningStar

Chapter Two:

I stabbed my butter knife into the cream cheese, slathering it on the everything bagel, freshly toasted. The smell of eggs and freshly cooked pancakes lingered in the air. Mom always liked to go all out whenever we shared meals, considering the family was more split up in recent years, with my older siblings going to college. 

It was a rare Monday where we all had nothing to do (hence why we went to the party. Why go to something like that and have school or work to wake up early to?? That's disgusting). I was grateful school was out due to the flooding in the bathrooms. How did it get so bad as to cancel the whole day? 

Not my issue.  

I sat on a stool, plate on the counter. Taking a big bite, I sighed. “Heavenly.” 

My Mom raised a brow. “Is that all you're going to eat?” 

I eyed the large spread she made, shaking my head. “Temping. But yeah.”

Prince kicked my chair, “me and Nell are eating light,  we've got a lot of work to do with the horses.” Pacifica walked in, the screen door slamming shut behind her (it was a nice day, AC who?), hands flipping through the mail. Prince raised a brow at her tensed brows. “What's got you worked up?”

I already knew that the worst thing to say within seconds of the words leaving his idiotic mouth. I slapped his arm and mentally prepared for the outburst. 

Pacifica slammed down the mail. 

“Hm, this is more than usual.” Mom picked them up, sifting through them. Pacifica was fuming, hands on her hips, barely holding back. I sank further into my seat, taking another bite. “Nice envelopes to . . .” my mother's voice trailed. “Weird, I told your dad to send all the company mail to his office. Home is the time for relaxing, not catching up on-”

“It's not for his work!” Pacifica's cheeks were burning red. “This is all those two’s fault!”

Mom was not having it; hissing, she slapped Pacifica's arm with the thick stack. “We don't raise voices.”

Prince was holding back laughter. But I knew better. 

“Mom, open them.” Her face was growing more tomato-like by the second. 

She sighed softly, but tore open the first envelope. Inside was a brief letter. As she read under her breath, she slowly began going faster as the letter progressed. To the point where her eyes only skimmed the words. 

“Why the hell are you getting a marriage proposal from the son of a judge?”

“There's also the son of a senator, bank owner, ceo, and the daughter of a nearby city's mayor!” 

Prince couldn't hold it back anymore, bursting out into laughter. 

Pacifica was seconds away from pouncing. 

I tried to settle the piece. “On the bright side, the people want you!”

“This isn't how I wanted this to happen!”

Prince rolled his eyes and waved around a half-eaten pancake. “You lost the bet, so we had to find a way to embrace you. Listen to Nell, this is a good thing, once a prank—now your chance at love.”

Our Mom put the envelopes back on the counter, the Mom look contorting her face. “And what was this bet that made you sabotage your sister?”

“Does it count as sabotage when it turned out so well . . ?”

“Fair point,” I noted. 

The Mom look washed over her and we both snapped to attention. Prince resigning. “Fine, fine. Pacifica said she would be able to down a whole glass of wine in one go. Nell said she couldn't.”

“Which she didn't.”

“And the conditions were that we’d embarrass her if she didn't.”

“And she didn't.”

Mom cut me a glare and I turned away. 

Pacifica has calmed down a fraction, but that didn’t extinguish the fire behind her eyes. “Embarrassing me meant doing something weird or cringe. Not going up onto the stage and putting me on the spot like that!”

Prince met her fiery gaze and matched it. “Well then, maybe you should’ve thought about the conditions before you agreed. Or I don't know—be able to do the things you say you can. No one likes a show off, dear sister.”

“Well, I mean . . .” I took the final bite of my bagel and wiped my hands on a polka dot napkin. I swallowed before I said, “it makes up for what we did to Prince on his 18th birthday.”

That shut the others up and I took that as a win. I licked my lips of crumbs and walked to the front door. “Thank you for the food, Mom!”

She waved a dismissive hand, “you kids don't have enough of an appetite. I'm gonna have to give it to the neighbor's kids. They put skin on their bones.”

“You coming, Prince?” I said whilst I swung the screen door open. 

The dumbfounded boy, who was blinking at the ai,r suddenly sat straighter. Like a robot, he went out onto the porch with me. Slipping on my muddy rubber boots, I resisted a smile when I saw his shudder. 

He said something like “so many birds.” Shaking the thoughts away, he slapped his cheeks and got himself into gear. His usual smile is a little smaller but still there when he turned to me. “Are you ready to see Applejack?”

“Like nothing else.”

Making our way to the stalls, I first saw my horse in all her perfect glory. Like the My Little Pony Applejack, my Applejack has a blond coat that shone just right when you washed her. Which is what we came here to do. 

I haven't spent time quietly with her in a good second. Senior swamped me with college applications and figuring out just what I wanted out of my future. 

There would be time for that crap later. 

For now . . . 

She harrumphed and nuzzled her snout into the neck. I laughed and petted her. “Good to see you too, girl.”

Prince and I split ways to get the little tasks done faster. He went to get the warm water, and I did my chores. 

I refilled the food and water for all five of our horses. Yeah, we each had our own horses. I got mine on my 14th birthday. We were not loaded yet, but my parents value the outdoors so much that they managed to make it work. So here AppleJack stood in all her glory. 

Being here and away from all that yesterday was a good reset. 

It felt silly, yet I couldn't help it. 

We haven't been to social events in a while, we rarely engage in anything to do with our wealth. But that party felt filthy. Like there was a muck in the air that clung and sank into my pores. 

When we got home and I scrubbed my skin raw in the shower, it felt like the air wouldn't leave me. Circling my head like a thunder cloud. 

When it was my turn to lose a bet, I was forced to play the piano in front of all those people. It wasn't embarrassing. But it did go against my values. I don't necessarily like the people in that room. Why should I perform for some ungrateful nepo babies? It wasn't worth it. 

Though it also went against my values to not honor my word. 

So I played. 

I was met with applause when I was done. But it felt sterile. As fake as anything else there. 

They met me individually, congratulating me on my playing. Urging me to play for them at parties. A few even go as far as to offer me playing opportunities in the city's big classical music theaters. 

God, I sound like one of them. What kind of ungrateful fool turns down such opportunities? 

I remember the night in full, and I stick further behind my decision. 

There was a glint in their eyes. They never just looked at me, instead, their eyes managed to travel to the whole of my family. Most didn't even know my damn name! That's lame as hell, I wouldn't belittle my playing to their level. 

They wanted to get to know us. They didn't want to hear me playing. All those slimy people wanted to get closer to my father, the MorningStar name since it has come to mean so much. 

I didn't see these people in the audience of this area's little theater when I was 10. Our family was broke, meant nothing to them. 

All that fake attention couldn't have been further from how I wanted my pianist career to play out. 

My eyes caught Prince peeking his head into the stable. Blond hair obscuring his hazel eyes. 

Taking that as my cue, I took Applejack's bit and led her outside. She would get to be the first clean girl of the day. Prince took her and I went back inside to get his horse . . . Shadowblade. Yeah, he got his horse when he was 13. Edgy is the thing amongst teenage boys. I call the poor friesian horse Blade for short. 

Getting to work scrubbing was no issue. It's something I’ve done in all  of the three years I’ve had Applejack. She’d be shiny and proper in moments. 

What I did have an issue with—was Prince giving me looks in between scrubbing. 

Catching him in the act did nothing to deter him.

When I was washing her mane, scrubbing and getting my nails in there—I sighed and decided I didn't want to play his guessing games. 

“What?”

“What what?”

“Don't ‘what’ me, I asked first.”

His lips pursed, hands never stopping and gaze never looking up. He was oddly fixated on the task of cleaning Shadowblade. “I was waiting for you to say something first.”

I sighed again, more dramatically. “With you looking at me, I'm pretty sure you want to say something first.”

He looked up, only to cut me a sharp look and look down seconds later. “Touche.”

I urged him on. “So?”

“So . . ?”

“What is it that you wanted to say!” I found it harder to believe with every passing day that this man was older than me.

“Right, right.” That's when he took the time to stop scrubbing and meet my eyes. 

Something settled in the air, not exactly serious but also not light, either. 

“Did something seem off to you about last night?”

“What wasn't off? It felt like we were in the Hunger Games Capitol.”

He shook his head. “No, it felt like we were being watched by someone in particular.”

I shed the smartassness I wanted to reply with and instead leaned into what he was implying. “Honestly, I felt it too. I felt it when we walked in.” We weren't talking about the stares from the people in the crowd. But certain eyes, one that delivered a heavy stare and made my skin crawl. “It's sorta hard to describe, thinking back on it.”

“Exactly,” he nodded his head. “I felt it when I was on the stage. But that was it. That was all I needed to hate it.”

I felt it far more. When we entered, when I was on stage, and when I was playing the piano. The look didn't contribute to the muck of the night, but it did leave me guessing and feeling off. 

“Who do you think it was?”

“I don't know, but I plan to figure it out.”

Using a hose, I got the suds and soap off of Applejack. “Who would've known that would unsettle you of all people.”

“Nah, unsettle isn't the right word.” He went quiet for a second. He was in college, but my brother wasn't very bright when it came to words. Prince snapped his fingers. “Bewildered.”

“The fuck you pull that from-“

“I mean, it makes sense! I didn’t feel weirded out by the gaze, but it was for sure there and I didn’t know what to do with it. It was just so deep and weighty, it was too much to process, especially when I couldn't pin the source.”

“Right.” I felt my heart skip a beat. “And not to mention, before you can even gouge it it was like it was gone the next second!”

“Right!” 

“Right!” 

“Right!” Pacifica said. Her sudden appearance turned both our heads to her titled one. “What are we right about?”

Prince didn’t miss a beat. “The weird looks we got last night.”

“Oh that!” She waved a hand. “Hold on, let me get Stella, but boy, do I have news. Some other shit went down that night, not that Nell over here noticed.” Stella Maxwell, like the famous model. 

Me and my brother shook our heads. I put out there, “maybe it was all psychological.”

“You think?” He gave her a deadpanned look. 

“I mean, we hate social events and all that jazz that comes with it. Maybe the tension just got to us?”

He hummed, took to rinsing off his horse. “Suppose so . . .” He looked to Shadowblade and furrowed his brows. “Hey, did you see the conditioner in the stables?”

“You were supposed to bring it out, dipshit.”

“Well I didn't, dickhead. Go get it.”

I raised a brow and looked to Pacifica making her entrance. “Can you believe this guy? Thinking I'll get the conditioner for him.”

She looked at Prince and they both gave each other a look I didn't catch. Since when was I unable to decipher their glances? They’ve always been a little closer given their close ages. But seriously? 

Pacifica waved her hand, “just go get it.”

I looked between the two of them. “What the-”

“Go,” Pacifica’s tone was tight. 

Ah, they wanted me gone. What the hell was that about? We always talked about everything together. The three of us, the MorningStar trio is what they called us at Dad’s office. 

A duo, perhaps?

I narrowed my eyes on them. 

But I'd have to pry later. 

Whatever it was, by the look they were giving each other, they needed this moment. 

Fine, whatever. I won't be the annoying little sister. 

I can take a hint! 

Taking off faster than was probably necessary, I stormed away. Kicking off my boots at the porch. 

“Hey,” my Mom said from the kitchen table, hands dirty with her latest sculpture she was working on. Looked like an elephant.

“Hey.”

I grabbed the damn conditioner from the bathroom cabinet and was about to storm back outside, but stopped myself before I could walk through the door. 

I forced myself to take a few breaths. Come on, your mama raised you better than this. Giving my cheeks a firm pat, I sat myself down on the kitchen counter. It's been nearly an hour since I was there munching on my bagel. 

If they needed to talk about something important, it wouldn't be done in less than a minute. Must've been real good if they had to shoo me away.

My eyes landed on the mail still sitting on the counter. All the dishes and food from breakfast were long ago cleared. What caught my attention wasn't exactly the letters professing their love for my sister. It was the magazine under all of it. How did I miss its all too bright cover before?

More so, how the hell did I miss the picture of me and my family on the front cover?! 

“Mom!” I lunged for the paper and gave the cover a wide-eyed stare. “Did you see this?!”

“I’m sure I haven't.” She didn’t bother looking up from her work. 

“Well, we’re on the cover of Gotham Gazette! The hell?! There are way more important things to report on.” I felt my heart beat hard against my rib cage. 

I glared at the little me staring back. Ew, my face lowkey looks greasy and why is there some crazy look in my eyes?! I flipped to the next page and splat—there I was—once again staring back at me! I blanched at the picture of me playing the piano. My hand placement is sloppy, could be better, on top of that my playing was subpar. I didn’t even have the music sheets and was going off of pure memory. No wonder it sicked asscheeks. 

To think those people were impressed by that. 

I shuddered. They wouldn’t know good art if it hit them like a fridge falling on their heads. 

Then there was a snapshot of the three of us on stage. Horrid show. These shots have long paragraphs written about them. It took up two whole pages and it almost made me miss the smaller picture in the corner of page two. 

It was a picture of my father standing with the Wayne family, a smile etched into his face whilst he shook a man’s hand. I looked closer into the picture, practically pressing my nose against it. He’s not all that bad-looking. Maybe he should have offered to marry my sister, too. I wouldn't blame her if she agreed. 

Anyways, was that the investor dad was talking about? 

That picture only got a few lines, making it seem ominous. The last sentence was ‘will we see a collaboration between Wayne Enterprises and the MorningStar Corporation?” 

I wondered if the deal went well. But then I realized I didn’t have to wonder. My literal mother was right there. 

“Hey, Mom-”

I frowned when her phone began to ring. Well jeez. 

She's about to grab it herself but thinks twice, considering her messy clay hand state. “Could you? It's your Dad.”

That gained my attention quick. It was rare that he called when he was at work. Picking up the phone a bit too eagerly, I pressed speaker so Mom could hear too. 

“Dad, it's Nell.” 

“Perfect.” He wasn't in his office, from the feed on his side, there were actually a lot of people. Where was he? “I need you to come down to the office, kid.” 

“What for?” 

Things were getting weirder and weirder. 

I rarely ever went to the office. Work and home life are separate in this household. 

“Well I just got the strangest call from Wayne Enterprises.” 

My eyes darted back to the man, Bruce Wayne, slightly behind Dick in the picture. 

Eyebrows raised, I couldn't keep confusion from my tone. “What's that gotta do with me?”

“Well Mr. Wayne said it was a shame your talent was going to waste. He heard you play last night, kid.” I could all but hear the smile on his face. “He probably looked you up and couldn't find your name anywhere.”

“I perform all the time,” my leg was bouncing fast, “just not necessarily as me. I guess.”

“I know. But that's not how he sees it. Nell, he wants you to play at one of his high end restaurants, one of the best in Gotham.”

I already knew there was a catch, a reason my dad was enthusiastic about this. It didn't take me long to catch on. 

“If Mr. Wayne likes me, you’ll get to work with him for the project you want to do. Because if I’m in his favor, you’ll be close behind.” I looked to my Mom, she could detect in my words what my dad couldn't. So instead of tiptoeing around it I said it flat out, not wanting to believe my dad was a mind reader. “Dad. You know how I feel about performing just because of my last name. I want people to enjoy the art, not like it only because of who it was made by.”

He was silent for a moment, and wherever he ended up, it was quite over the line. “I won't ask you to do something that goes against your wishes. I would never force you. But the way I see it, this is more important than both of us.”

He was talking about the business venture he had been more than enthusiastic about for months. It was why when he came home, he was in high spirits. He called it the Well-Being Initiative. 

My dad was a man who saw his father go his whole life being a laborer. His father was part of the working class, and when he met Mom he was a part of the working class too. Doing hard labor just like his father, dock work unkind to his body after so many years. It was hard for your average person to make it out. 

My dad? He just got incredibly lucky, was in the right spot at the right time. Had the right ideas and ran—sprinted—with them. 

But the Well-Being Initiative will help them get out of it, while also looking towards mental and physical health. Offering a special type of insurance that would help provide that. It would open doors to certain scholarships if they wanted to go to school. Even reaching out these uses to their children and immediate family. This will help break a cycle. 

All with the hopes of the future generations having better opportunities. Those in the working class having these chances will change who can get higher-paying or skill-centered jobs. 

My dad’s dream is that maybe some little boy or girl who has hard-working, dedicated parents, will get to go to college and become a doctor or even a scientist—all without having to worry about the price. He hopes that these people who have worked to build the foundation of the very city they live in everyday, get at least a thank you. 

He's ambitious. But not an idiot. 

How else would he have gotten this far? 

He knew damn well how much money it was going to cost. It makes sense that he would turn to billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne.

Considering all this, how many it would help, it would be bratty of me to decline my dads opportunity to get his foot in the door. Sure I didn't have to. He was even giving me an out, saying I could say no. 

Though in perspective, I didn't really want to say no. 

I would be uncomfortable and feel sick afterwards, no doubt. 

But it was for a damn good reason. 

That—her dads initiative—was something she could get behind. 

With a half smile she sat a bit taller. “I'll do it. I trust you Dad.”

This wasn't the same as those people at the parties insisting I play at their parties. This was for my dad and a good cause! 

“Are you sure, kid? There are always others I can look to. Wayne isn't the only rich man in Gotham. Hey, maybe if I get on my knees and beg, I can get LexCorp to work with me.” The sincerity in his voice made me regret ever second-guessing him. 

“I'm sure, Dad. Plus, how bad can it be?”

There was more silence, on the edge of my seat I bit back a groan. “About that-”

“Are they going to make me wear a monkey suit or something?”

“No, kid.” He gave a tight laugh, not easing me one bit. “But since you agreed . . . remember what I said when I first called?”

Right, he wanted me at the office. 

Oh shit. 

“Don't tell me . . .”

“Yeah. Bruce Wayne is on his way here with Dick Grayson. He wanted to meet you and introduce himself, get you to know about the gig before you officially agreed to anything.”

My eyes flitted back to the photo, really it was high quality, so that meant even though Bruce was in the background, I could make out his features so wholly. 

Looking at his eyes, I felt a chill go down my spine. One that felt too familiar to the shiver I got whenever I got that look last night. 

It was him, it had to have been. 

Brice Wayne, likely his sons too; they were the ones that were looking at me so intently. And I got those looks more than Prince, if my gut feeling is right, more than the other four as well. Even if they felt it, it wasn't as much. 

I didn't know what to make of it. 

What the hell could they want with me? 

Well—he wants me to play at his restaurant. But that's too random for a man who looks so calculating. There had to be other motives. I bit my lip. I would be meeting the people who lit my skin aflame with just a stare. 

I took a deep breath and told my Dad, “fine. Yeah, it's fine.” I looked at the clock on the wall. “It's 11:30. Give me till like 12:30 to get ready and be there. Can't meet future investors with muddy jeans and a tank top.” I laughed, trying to be funny when I felt my gut sinking to the pits of hell.

I wasn't scared of them. Concerned was a better way to phrase it. I felt like Prince suddenly. And I'm far more studious than him. Truthfully, ‘concerned’ wasn't even all that right. 

It was hard to pin a name to this feeling. 

All I knew was that it was consuming. 

My dad laughed too. “Wayne is getting here in twenty. So unless you take one fast shower-”

I hung up the phone and placed it on the table. “Thanks, Mom, but I'm out.”

“Yeah yeah I heard.” She waved a hand. Just before I was about to dart off to the shower, she grabbed my wrist gently. “Are you sure you're okay with doing this? I can get your dad to back off.”

“Yeah,” I said fast. “I'm sure.” 

When she was still unconvinced, I gave her a little smile. She sighed and let go. “I'll support whatever you choose to do. As long as it's in your best interest.”

“I know, Mom.” I kissed her cheek. She leaned into it, about to ruffle my hair but thought better of it. 

Not wasting another second, I darted off. 

It was only as I was stripping that I remembered there was more work to be done with the horses, and I was bailing on Prince. 

Taglist: @nervousalpacalady, @angwlart

[notevenhayleyhart]

Dick Grayson X Ballerina!Reader - Oneshot

Dick who was convinced his preforming days were far behind him. And they were, but that didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy the performing arts.

Dick told himself he would only stop by the theater to take a peak. He was healing with time, the most bloodied parts of him getting stitched and cleaned up. It couldn't hurt to see something that reminded him of the happier times of his life.

Dick sneaking in after hours and seeing you in a room of mirrors. Crouching in the rafters, he felt himself enraptured by your presence. The very air seemed to carry and lift you through the music, lights happy to illuminate you and floors more then willing to support.

Dick caught a flyer for the nutcracker drifting through the cold december air. Out on patrol, he tucked it into a compartment, but the weightless paper was like a boulder attached to his hip. How the idea of you weighed.

Dick who got premium seats. not telling a single soul.

As soon as he saw you out on that stage, a desperate part of him wished he were the only one in the audience. Your hair was pulled back tightly, outfit hugging you perfectly.

Your lips gently curved when a merry expression made its way onto you; of course, you were the Sugar Plum Fairy.

Dick who was drowning in his seat with thoughts of only you. As soon as you exited the stage, he left the building. Face like a lost dog and heart erratic.

Dick tried for numerouse night on end to forget about you. Your elegant twists and whirls, the effortless point of your toe.

He was only supposed to get a feel for the stage again. His fingers itched for something else. Rather, he was wishing for the soft curve of your-

Dick wanted to know you so bad it ached. Imagine the man's fear exhilaration for the chance to save you as Nightwing. You shouted at the man attempting to mug you. A rush of euphoria flooded his veins; it was like the scene was designed just for him.

He wasted no time, none at all, swooping you into his arms and bringing you to a safe spot.

Dick knew he was all smiles and charm. You were flustered from the attempted robbery, but his personality soothed away the adrenaline in you, so you let it slide. Why be rude to your savior?

Dick all to aware there would be no going back.

He was able to resist you, watch from afar on account of your safety, not so much anymore. Not since he's gotten to hear the sweet ring of your voice. It was all that sounded in his ears, the melody playing as he lay in bed, unable to sleep.

Dick made time to show up to every single one of your following preformances. Finding a dozen different reasons to find you backstage and give you a bouquet of flowers.

Dick who was beyond estatic when you offered to hang out oustide of the backstage of the theater. When he asked why, you insisted it was because he always looked so alone in the audience by himself. Turns out you noticed him at your performances, many times.

Maybe you can keep him company.

Did you know what kind of fire you were fueling?

Dick was unable to forget a single thing about you. You tucked your hair behind your ear when you were nervous. Put it in a bun when focusing. You liked your coffee sweet, didn't go outside when it was too cold or warm, preferred salty snacks, and would even stick your tongue out when focused.

He noticed everything.

Dick took advantge of his knowldge, got to know what would make your squirm. He reveled in the fact that he did it to you. To his pleasure, you only came more undone when he staked that claim in your most intimate moments.

Murmuring against your skin how it was all his and his alone.

Dick, who, enjoyed your flexibilty for more reasons then one.

[notevenhayleyhart]

Red Lipstick - Yandere!Batfam X RichGirl

Preview: The party is dreadfully boring. Bruce is desperate to leave, until a certain family arrives, that is. Only chaos ensues, trouble in the shadow of the family. Not to mention, an odd girl has captured the attention of Bruce and the others.

Word Count: 4.4K

Pov: Bruce Wayne

Chapter One:

The party was boring at best. All these events are the same with smiles so shallow that these people make a puddle seem like an ocean. 

Bringing a glass of ginger ale to my lips, everything Tim was saying to me was completely going over my head. There was a dull throb in my temples and the room was just a bit too warm, shoes too tight, people too chatty, drink not enough, and I felt like I was a second away from snapping. 

Tim continued to ramble despite it all. “These upgrades will help the Robin suit become more durable. Why does Batman get bullet proof crap and the Robin suit has the safety of a stripper's outfit?”

“Have Dick look into it.” With one swing, I downed the rest of the drink. 

We were going unbothered by some miracle. For now at least. Usually, people would try to strike something up with me by now, useless deals for me that would only benefit the other guy. Wayne Enterprises is both a blessing and a curse.

Instead of being here, I could be out patrolling, put on the suit and be the symbol this city desperately needs. Not only the city. I need Batman. Without—I'm just a billionaire playboy. No different than the other sleazebags here. 

A whole lot of assholes is what they are. 

My eyes skim the crowd. Speaking of Dick. He has two women chatting him up, their revealing black dresses making me roll my eyes. He talks animatedly, that familiar smile is on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes. Then there's Jason behind him, not even sparing the woman a glance as his grey eyes glared at the tie he was tugging at.

The women of the family were missing at the event, along with Damian (who was too young and—who would frankly—pick a fight with anyone who looked at him a certain way). Stephanie and Cassandra opting for a girls' night. Originall,y I planned to come here with them. When I found out they wouldn't be coming, I dragged the boys along with me. 

Like I’d suffer in this hell alone. 

Tim suddenly went quiet and my gaze traveled back to him. 

He asked, “you're not listening to me, are you?”

“You’ll keep talking regardless.”

“Fair point.” And then he went on and on about details I wasn't in any mood to discuss. His innovativeness was a gift, but at the moment, I wished I hadn't brought him along.

A sudden buzz entered the air only seconds later. Searching for the source, I came up empty handed. My brows creased together and I grabbed another flute off a passing by waiter's tray, placing the empty one down. Tim was no different from me, I could tell from the look on his face he was alert. 

Force of habit. 

With our gigs though, it was a given to be aware of your surroundings. 

“They're coming . . . you see them outside don't you?” a woman whispered too loudly. 

A man muttered, “it's been months since they’ve been to an event.”

“Do you think the son will marry my daughter?”

“Bizarre lifestyle, couldn't be mine even if I tried . . .”

Then there was a baby crying. Who the hell brings their kids to this kind of event? 

Coming back into focus, I saw a confused Tim, you could all but see the gears turning in his head. Ever the detective, it didn't take long for him to figure it out. Under his breath he said, “ the MorningStar’s-”

The main doors opened and it was like floodgates to a dam were opened instead. Are these people that significant? The name MorningStar was only a blimp on my radar. They were up and coming years back, making splashes but not anything to do with me—so I disregarded them. Apparently, not many did the same. 

The family of five were surrounded by journalists and cameras before they could get through the doors. 

This time, I sought out Tim. “What do they do?”

Tim crossed his arms, smirk corked. “Do I look like google?”

“Tim.”

“Right.” He sighed, eyes unable to move from the people of the hour. “Oscar MorningStar was a pretty average guy in his early years. Nothing special about him as a dock worker. But then he came up with this ingenious design. Simple yet complex, honestly, I would kill to-”

“Don't even think about it,” I gave him a look. “Not now at least.”

“I like his designs! I’ve incorporated some of the mechanics into the batcave you know? It's just—it's not something you or I would think of—it almost like his work is intimate. His designs are so precise, I envy it.”

That got a snort out of me. He cleared his throat, put up a bravado. 

“Anyhow, that's his wife, Willow. Then he’s got three kids. Oldest to youngest, there's Pacifica, Prince, and Penelope, I believe.”

Out of the corners of my eyes I noticed Dick’s attention in the same place as ours. The two women were pouting, huffy about the attention being stripped from them. 

“Why do they catch so much attention?” I asked myself more than him. 

It was as if the rest of us were pests attracted to their honey. 

“Likely because they're just not . . . one of the rich. There's still a shine in their eyes, a lack of greed in their outlook. You can practically see that in Oscar's way of doing business.” For the first time in a long time, Tim Drake was lost for words. “You won't find anyone else like that in this room. Some hate that, are confused by it, or fascinated.” He looked at his father and narrowed his eyes. “I'm assuming you're the last one on that list.”

There was truth to his words. 

I found myself just as captivated by them, no different from the other pests. 

It wasn't like a group of common citizens walked into a room they weren't meant to be in. It was something different than that, far more different. Though they didn't exactly act like the other rich patrons either.

They looked at each other with sincerity, care. Tightly bunched together, finding comfort in each other's presence—so despite all the cameras in front of them—you would’ve thought they were in their home with how untense their shoulders were. Yet, with each camera shudder, there was a small tightening of brows here and a smile becoming falterier there. Oscar was protective of his family, my eyes landing on his hand wrapped around his wife's waist. Simply another show of their care. And in the center, who they were encompassing, was Penelope (or so I guess, as the youngest, it would make sense for her to be surrounded by the barrier of her family, protected from the circling vultures).

Penelope, she was an older teenger by the looks of it. She was the most uncomfortable, first to have her smile crack. She said something to her father that got the group to laugh. Without another moment passing, they broke free from the vultures and found a table for five. 

Dick came walking over to us, Jason in tow. There was a stupid lost look on the eldest's face. 

“The ‘MorningStars?’ Why is this the first time I'm hearing of them?”

Tim didn't miss a chance to mock his older brother. “What are you doing over here in the slums? I thought you were talking to Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

He sent a glare Tim’s way. “Can it.” He looked to me. “Are they news to you?”

“Not necessarily.” I rubbed the scruff of my jaw, my eyes darting between Dick and the family. “They're rich, major players, just not in our industry. They don't make themselves known. I know of them, always have since Osacar made his big break. But they're  . . .”

“On the lowkey,” Dick finished. 

Jason narrowed his eyes. “They must be up to something.”

The three of us said in the same moment, with conviction, “no.”

They weren't suspicious, per se. They were just set apart—different. As if that fact hadn’t been emphasized thirty times in one night. I sighed and resisted looking back to them one last time. Suddenly, all thought of being Batman and wanting to leave were the farthest thing from my mind. Penelope’s tense face flashed behind my eyes. 

“You should go talk with them,” Dick told Tim with a sly smile. 

“What!? Why me?”

“Well, our options are between sir broods a lot over here.” Dick pointed his thumb in the direction of Jason. “Then there's B, who would probably scare them, since they look like such laid-back people.”

Tim raised a brow. “And you?”

“Well if it all goes to shit, I don't want it to be on me. At least then I can sweep in and clean up the pieces, giving me a perfect opening to talk with ‘em.”

Jason, meanwhile, was nowhere near on board with this scheme. I couldn't say I was all that agreeing either. “Why should we associate with them?”

My voice is gruff, “I agree.”

“Sure, they're sparkly and new, but it's not like we need any more attention. Even if you just want to make friends, we all know how loaded that is. Nothing good could come out of being in close relations with us.” There was more left unsaid, but his message was clear enough. 

Time frowned and looked at me. 

I was already shaking my head, eyeing the flute in my hand with still amber liquid. Taking a sip I didn't bother looking up. “Don't look at me. I agree with Jason.”

That snapped heads his way. 

A muscle in my jaw clenched. “I don't want to hear it. They're already different as it is among the rich; we’re set apart in our own way as well. Let's keep it that way. Besides, how interesting can they be? We have enough on our plates. We have no reason to associate with the MorningStar's-”

“That can be changed,” a charming voice said. 

Lost in their own bubble, they never realized the quiet presence of Oscar approaching. 

Four pairs of eyes blink at him, dumbfounded. The man's smile was genuine. Dick was the first to return it, extending his hand. 

Oscar shook his hand, a small scrunch in his brows. “Dick Grayson, right?”

“Right.”

At the affirmation, a fuller smile spread across Oscar's face. “Well, I’m Oscar MorningStar. It's nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Oscar.” Dick’s head lolled to the side, looking at me with a look that screamed ‘see? We can make nice.’

Tim piped up. “It's good to see you here, Mr. MorningStar.” There was an unmissable look of rare admiration in his gaze. 

That got a laugh from the older man. “Call me Oscar, you're making me feel old.” His eyes drifted to me but went back to my son slowly. “Honestly it's a miracle me and my family are here.”

“Yes, you rarely attend gatherings. Why is that?”

Oscar shrugged. “It's not really our thing.”

“But something here is your thing,” I said, “or else you wouldn't be here.”

“Guilty,” the grin on him goes bashful. 

Curious.

He’s rich, not as rich as me, but his company is making millions and his stocks are only on the rise. How does a man do that with a personality like that? He's not nervous, but not exactly the definition of confidence. The air surrounding him isn't exactly threatening either.

“In all honesty,” his hand rubbed the back of his neck, eyes unmistakably meeting mine. “I'm here because I wanted to talk business with you.” 

He's firm. To the point. Maybe that's what makes his methods effective?

Regardless, the request got a shit eating grin on Tim’s face. He took the stage. “You know, if Bruce doesn't want to work with you, I’d be more than happy to. I’d love to get my hands on-”

“Tim,” I said. 

The boy pursed his lips and turned away with a frown. 

“While I appreciate the offer, Mr. MorningStar, I don't believe our business would clash well.” A false smile pulled at my lips.

Oscar countered. “You do plenty of work in biotech and tech in general, manufacturing, shipping; I’m not such a fool as to approach a man for business without doing my reading on him.” He stood tall with his shoulders back, but there wasn't anything looming about him. “My tech will help yours. Improve upon the foundation you have already set. This way, people in Gotham will be working with a more efficient system. I won't get into the details now, but the effects of what I plan to accomplish with you will help your average worker. 

“We can put less strain on the people who are responsible for the clothes on our backs. Someone has to sit behind the sewing machine after all, why not give that person a little help? In the ways we can, at least.” 

Tim got one thing right. There was a lack of greed in him. His words were disgustingly genuine.

“Those are some high expectations. How can I be sure that your supposed plan will meet them?” Behind the mask, I was still a businessman. 

I could all but feel Tim and Dick glaring at me for trying to deter the man. They’ve made their cards clear; they wanted to see what this man was about. And here I was shutting him down so quickly. Jason was nodding approvingly. What none of us expected was the youngest MorningStar to take to the stage and tap a finger on the microphone. 

“Hello? Hear me? Check one, two, three?” Her voice has a bit of an edge to it, not what I expected from her appearance. 

The boys catch sight of Penelope on the stage and Tim's mouth falls open. An amused expression crossed Dick’s face while one akin to annoyance passed Jason’s. 

They're so distracted that they don't notice Oscar's soft groan. He rubbed a hand down his face, “idiot,” he grumbled behind his hand. 

A soft hum left me, I bought the flute to my lips. Based on his unreactive response, this wasn't all that new of a thing. 

Interesting. Just who are you, Penelope?

The most pressing thought on my mind was something along the lines of thinking her a fool. She would no doubt embarrass her father and make a scene. Here I was brushing her off as a reckless teenager, because clearly she fits the bill. So much for the MorningStar's being mysterious, their only human.

“So,” she said into the mic. “I want to make a small announcement, courtesy of my sister.” She effectively had the room's attention. A smirk was on her face while she gestured to the right wing of the stage.

Climbing the stairs to the stage was her brother, Prince I took it, carrying who must Pacifica. The girl was squirming and struggling to get out of her brother's grip, legs kicking. Prince winced when the stiletto stabbed his thigh, though his grip was unrelenting. 

Tim laughed beside me. Oscar tensed all the more. 

Penelope went on. “This is Pacifica. She is looking for a suitor.”

Prince leaned over—holding a feral young woman—and said into the mic, “preferably between the ages of 20 to 25.”

The youngest nodded, talking to the crowd as if they were on a game show. “She’s sorta rowdy. But there's no return policy, so if she steals your heart or you hers, no backsies. And she's . . . um . . . well she will make sure you're the most stylish man around. Shit, I forgot, she's into women too!”

The male leaned back over, “she’ll make you into the most stylish woman around.”

“She's also super nice and will cook you some good meals. Keep you in tip-top shape. But she is stingy and can be an ass sometimes. Newsflash, she doesn't like lazy people.”

A whole shit show was taking place right before my eyes.

And the crowd of drunken rich men and women were eating out of this young lady's palm. They laughed and I didn't miss the looks mothers and fathers sent to their children. Backs were patted, urged forward. 

The eldest sister protested, “I do not need you jackasses to set me up!”

Prince rolled his eyes. “Trust me. You do. Nobodies touching you with a ten-foot pole with that attitude.”

“My attitude is just fine! Let go! Your dirty hands are messing up my dress!”

“Dirty!?”

As her sisters continued to bicker in the background, Penelope stepped forward and blocked them from view (not that that did much). Her little red smile twitched. “Anyhow-”

“Nell!” A whole new woman came onto the stage. Based on the semblance, I assume that's Willow, the mother of the family. “Get the hell off the stage!” There was a symphony of whoops and hollers. Some shouting they should let the girl speak. To which the mother glared at those individuals, a look that pierced their souls no doubt. “I’ll have you assholes know that it's not above me to get my hands dirty.” 

“That's my cue,” Oscar said fast. Rushing through a crowd that parted for him, all to reach his wife and children. 

Ushering them off the stage, he was able to dismantle it all effectively. With one look at Prince, he got him to put down his sister. Though it did take a few words for him to get Penelope to give him the microphone. He looked sweetly into the crowd. “Well I'm so sorry for these people.” Without another word, he took his wife's elbow and escorted his family off the stage. 

I sighed, “if only I could wrangle you guys in like that.”

“Hey, we respect your orders B.” Dick said.

“Speak for yourself.”

Jason was sour, as he had been since I forced him to come along and skip patrol. “What the hell even was that?”

“Those MorningStars really are a whole bunch of characters, huh?” Tim said with a smirk. 

Dick rolled his eyes. “Look at your own family, idiot.”

Everything after that was fairly calm. Oscar didn't approach us again, likely thinking the deal was officially ruined given his family's behavior. If anything, it makes things easier. Though a part of me, a very, very small part of me, was curious to know what he was offering me. 

The night wasn't getting any younger, things truly began to get into full swing.

When I noticed how loud it was for the first time, I paused my motions. What happened to that damn headache that was haunting me? 

Weid. Likely, my body was aware that this would all be over soon. All I needed to do was stick around for half an hour more. 

The four of us now moved to the bar counter, I opted to stand while the others sat.

When the buzz about the MorningStar's died down and the drinks were passed around in full, that meant bold investors were approaching me. At least once every ten minutes. I promptly ignored Dick’s snickering as another man came my way.

He stumbled and began to blubber as soon as he was in earshot. “Mr. Wayne!” As if we were good friends. “Believe me when I say that you would be wise to invest in the future!”

The others (traitors) were ignoring him. Talking amongst themselves and leaving me to fend for myself. 

I don't even offer the man a smile. 

“Wayne, you need me and my company's goods. Without us, you'll find yourself missing something!” The only thing I felt myself missing was Oscar's approach when it came to proposals. Or literally anyone else. 

This was the sixth idiot of the night to approach me, possibly the worst one yet.

I inspected the drunken man in front of me, watching him go on and on. All the while, I haven't said a single thing. He kept going . . . on and on and on. 

My eyes droop. 

I could pretend to be in my own bubble for only so long. Truth be told, I was in a party surrounded by people who would like to leave me alone. I love this city, I wouldn't do what I do if I didn't. But social events are so much harder to bear when a point can't be found anywhere. 

How do these people do it? Live a life so lost in booze and their own spending? Compounding their money whenever the opportunity presented itself. It was so devoid of any true meaning. Meanwhile, in the alleyway of this very building, there was someone probably getting mugged. Someone was shot somewhere. A family starved. A stray cat or dog is going without a home. 

My hand twitched by my side, jaw clenched as I glowered at the man in front of me. He was gabbing about how his oil rigs were some of the best around. How he could cut Bruce some of the profits if he did this and that. 

A small crash sounded in the corner. A jolt of something goes through my body. And before looking, I already know who it is. Can all but feel it on my skin. 

I looked above the man who was still going on, seeing the three siblings once more causing a ruckus. 

The idea that this is why they never come to social events takes root in my head and an unexpected, tremendously small, smile tugged at my lips. I wouldn't take them out either. Wasn't this the exact reason I never brought along Damein? 

Pacifica was taking this time to rebel against her sister, towering over wide-eyed Penelope, who had toppled over in her chair (the reason for the crash). Prince grabbed his sister by the arms and Pacifica waved to her as Prince dragged her to the grand Piano splat in the middle of the room. 

I had a strong feeling that roughhousing was a common thing in their home. 

Curiosity took hold of me. 

These siblings seemed to always be at the damn center of attention. Eyes always on them, and it was like they didn't have to try. 

Dick swiveled in his chair, glass half brought to his lips before his eyes widened, drink suddenly forgotten he nudged Tim. Jutting his head in the direction of Penelope, both boys' eyes settled on the impatient girl. 

She was glaring at her brother, insulting him is what I guessed she was saying from the fast movements of her mouth and accusatory finger poking into his chest. But he said one thing, and that's all it took for her body to go rigid and turn tight-lipped. 

I find myself leaning closer, as if that would allow me to hear. 

Seriously? Since when-

She huffed and faced forward in the piano seat. By now, many had stopped to stare. But she didn't seem to mind it. It rolled off of her and she looked off into space for a time, chewing on her lip. 

When something came to her, she took the lid off the piano and glanced around. Waiting to see if anybody would try and stop her. All she found was curious glances and her brother holding two thumbs up. 

At last I spoke to the drunken man. “Would you mind? I'm spending time with my family.” he suddenly stopped and looked at the others and sighed, waddling off, yes, waddling. 

Spending time with my family my ass. 

But she was about to start and I was too curious to hear it that I didn't want him talking my ear off simultaneously. 

What would she play? 

I observed her posture, the way she positioned her hands and began to tap her heel. She licked her red painted lips, and closed her eyes for just the briefest of seconds. 

A little wonder is what she is. 

Her fingers took to the keys, and her movements were comparable to a professional. Fingers gliding with such a smooth touch that it made sense the sound was so breathtaking. I recognized the song as Golden Hour as she moved further along in the melody. 

The shuffling of the party halted and she became the center. The beating heart. Her lips parted, eyes lost in the playing. Her brother looked at her with pride, but I barely registered him—unwilling to look away from her. 

The song made it to the chorus. I’ve never been the biggest fan or performances, but something about the heart she put into it made me want to listen to her do a dozen more songs. An essence was put into her movements, her soul laid bare for all to witness. 

How many could do that? 

How she did it wasn't something that could be taught. 

Regardless, how she moved just showed she wasn't simply raw talent. But truly put time into being good. 

God did it show. 

I didn't want any of it to be over: her moment, the moment, the song, even the feeling of curiosity I felt in my chest. 

Up until that moment, I was lumping her and her family into one thought, the ‘MorningStars.’ But looking at her, watching her like this, I found myself wanting to make her into more in my mind. What's her favorite color? What does she like? What makes her skin crawl? Her fears? Deep-seated desires? 

She was her own person, a spectacle that I needed to know. 

Never have I seen a girl like her. So bold yet on the lowkey. She’s human, as complex as the rest of us, but watching her play made her something other. My head tilted to the side as I watched her. I wanted to know her. She’s a mystery the detective in me wants to solve. 

Who is she? What is she? 

Reckless, clearly, from that speech given. Yet she has such an amazing capacity to be graceful, her performance adding kindling to that fire. 

I looked to the others and saw they were just as taken aback by her. She was something entirely different, new to us and this world. Jason was glaring at her with begrudged admiration. Dick had a full smile on his face. Then there was Tim who was recording the whole damn thing. 

Something told me he wasn't the only one. 

Her family was definitely making it into the paper, no doubt. But something told me she, in particular, would be mentioned separately in the conversation of this extraordinarily hectic night. 

If you want to read further ^^ -> Chapter 2 of Red Lipstick

[notevenhayleyhart]

Red Lipstick - Yandere!Batfam X RichGirl

a/n: Don't come for me, please, this if my first time doing a batman fic and I'm still learning more about the franchise and what not. Read at your own risk, I'm just a girl trying her best to work with what I know. And before you start to read the legit chapters, I suggest you read this intro! Its got some important info. Also, the yandere themes are very light at first, because build up is what makes it Coolio. I'm not for all that instant love stuff (to an extent).

Introduction:

Growing up in the home I did was a blessing. We never had anything luxurious and we struggled anytime the car would act up because we just couldn't pay the mechanic bills. We could barely scrape by to have enough. 

But alongside my brother and sister, mom and dad, we had such a happy life. We would go out whenever we could. You didn't need money to have fun, not one bit as there were parks and hiking days I will never forget no matter how old I grow. And while my mother was a stay at home kind, she loved us and didn't mind that we were broke. 

Instead of worrying about money, she would teach us how to tend the garden behind our home. How to clean the horse's coat, even how to ride them without a saddle. Making sure we knew basic things like how to cook and clean. Skills anyone would need to know when going out into the world. 

None of us really worried about cash because materialistic things were only just that,  things. What mattered more was that we decorated the Christmas tree together and listened to carols, not how many gifts were under the tree. What mattered most was ensuring we got to make a super yummy cake on our birthdays and play super fun games, not the presents we got. 

Well, on the side, my father was an entrepreneur. He wanted a way to give back to people, he cared. But also . . . While he liked his job as a dock worker, it was physically straining and he knew he couldn't work it forever. He needed some kind of income that would support his family and put his kids through college. Yes he loved his current life, the joy and the happy smiles, but he also at the same time wanted more for his children. 

My old man struck it rich, met the right guy and before we even knew it, my father owned a multimillion-dollar business in the docking industry (it's a long story, one for another time). He no longer loaded the boats but paid men to move goods instead. Let's just say it wasn't always legal things that were being moved either. But yay for business growth!

We never felt the need to leave our cozy little home. Hire butlers or maids. We were still set emotionally as well. That's what made us stand out when we went out to public events. As one of the richest families in Gotham City, others took one look at our happy portrait and were dead certain we were suspicious. 

But really, we're just minding our own business! Just because we don't feel the need to buy expensive cars and all those kinds of things, does that set us apart? We were just being ourselves! If people wanted to hate, that was their issue! 

God forbid a girl have hobbies. 

I, Penelope MorningStar, am just doing my best (that applies to all things in my life). Sure, we could hire a dozen and one tutors to help me with school, but I got it! Even if I am coasting by Cs and Bs alone. But hey, I have an A in piano, so take that. I'm not really good at a lot of things. I tried out painting but I only ruined a few of my good shirts! Acting was a major bust—you don't even wanna know. Baking turned out to be fun! I can make a mean scone using Mama’s recipe. And with a little bit of cream on top? You would've thought that you had died and gone to heaven. 

So that's the whole list . . . Oh, and piano! How could I forget? 

It's my dream to get into one of those big schools like Juilliard. Or maybe even study in Paris! But I don't want to get in just because of the MorningStar name, love my pops, but it would be no fun. 

That just means that whenever I’m doing a performance, I wear a disguise! Throw on a brunette wig and some green contacts. I’m good enough at makeup, so I do a look that's classy but not traditionally me. 

This way, I know that after giving a good performance, the crowd cheers for my work and my playing alone. Not because I’m a MorningStar. Not even because of who I am. Nice or kind, mean or cruel. But because with the dash and press of my fingers, I can create a piece worth standing and clapping for. 

Cut to the present day, where I’m at a lavish party because I can be. The whole family is there. My mother was in a cut red dress, my father wearing a cleanly pressed black tux with a crimson tie. My siblings and I decided we could be matching–just this once—because the press ate it up wherever we were. We were all close enough in age to look like triplets, facial traits distributed equally, so there was a rumor going around at some point that we were triplets. We all wore a rich, grey blue. My brother is in a suit with the color (because men are basic). 

Me and my sister on the other hand, are in very lavish, pretty dresses. Money didn't change us on the inside. But my fashionista of a sister was more than willing to dip her grubby fingers in our father's money if it meant she could devise the outfit of her dreams. Hey, I have a sense of style too. And yes, she did pick out this dress. She wore something more lacey, the corset a lighter blue than the main piece. The heart-shaped top lacked sleeves, and the hem stopped at her mid-thigh. 

As for me. The neckline went all the way up my neck, the sleeves puffed out like those pirate shirts. The bodice dipped down to create flowing layers. Pearls adorned my wrists, a familiar pop of red lipstick on my lips. Blond hair pinned up on one side and let loose to cascade in waves down my back. 

Enough about my stellar outfit (that I totally helped pick out, okay??). 

My family and I were swarmed as soon as we made an appearance, cameras flashing every which way. 

My family awkwardly posed, as if we were taking those snapshots at Walmart. My dad put a hand on my sister's hair to ruffle it, to which Pacifica swatted his hand away with a half smile. She had a small flame behind her eyes. “Hair alone was two hours, but I guess nobody here cares about looks.”  A fish-braid with silver tinsel braided in made her dirty blond hair look stunning.

“Oh believe me,” our mother said with a tight lipped smile, “looks are everything here.”

Prince, my idiot brother, thought this was a good time to ask “so where's the food at?”

I perked up, “fair point.”

My father meanwhile laughed and put his arms around his wife and opted for placing his other hand on Pacifica’s shoulder. I was in the middle, the baby of the family. His deep voice drawled, “trust me, this tie is practically a noose and I’d rather be having our usual Sunday Sundae night. But there are some important investors here.”

Pacifica raised a brow. “Since when did you care about investors enough to put on a tie?” 

“Since they're the richest folk in Gotham.” He winked. “This is what I call blending in, camouflage mode if you will.” This got a groan from the other four. The greying man was unamused. “What? Too cheesy?”

It wouldn’t usually be like this, the paparazzi swarming at such a low key event. It wasn't for every other person here, considering they are also rich or famous in some way. 

But we MorningStar’s rarely made an appearance. 

When we did, it was like the earth stood still to watch. Or so the paparazzi made it out to be. It's not our fault we’d rather spend our time bonding or being normal people. 

We weren’t what everyone else wanted us to be. Blowing money on yachts and mansions. No, we kept our humble little cottage on the very outskirts of the city. The one with the garden in the back and the horses in the yard. 

Though the moment we expressed the acknowledgment of our wealth and showed up to parties like these, that's when all of hell broke loose.

What could we say? They love us. The rich glare at us. And the desperate wish they were us. 

I’m Penelope MorningStar—and with flash blinding lights, I blinked as the paparazzi snapped pictures all around us—I felt something on my flesh. The heavy feel of someone looking at me. Like they wanted to see me in all of my entirety, just with a weighty stare. Goosebumps rippled down my arms, my vision coming back into focus; that's when I met these eyes so blue I thought I was looking into the ocean.

If you want to read further ^^ -> Chapter 1 of Red Lipstick