#So maybe he's trying to prevent that for Bruce...

[violent138]

Next time maybe Alfie. Keep up the good work.

[superbat-lmao]

It’s before Ethiopia and Bruce has asked for Dick’s help on a magic user case. Both of them get de-aged to 14/15.

So, we get Jason, who is more confident about his relationship with Bruce than he had been at 12, but was starting to get benched more often. Dick, who knows about Batman and Robin but doesn’t know Jason is adopted OR Robin. And teenage Bruce’s non-verbal ass who doesn’t know any of this. And poor Alfred, now looking after 3 teenagers with anger issues.

So Jason is the only one besides Alfred of any real understanding of what happened. Dick is trying to treat the situation like his first solo case without Batman since Bruce doesn’t know who either of them are, and Alfred is struggling to explain taking in two children Bruce’s age, and vigilantism, and magic.

After the boys prove they’re willing to do something incredibly dangerous without telling Alfred, he gives up and calls Clark. He’s the easiest way to convince Bruce he’s telling the truth about the world and will call in the Justice League to handle the magic user. Dick and Jason are pissed but Clark and Diana are there, so it’s not as bad as it could be.

There are too many people and Bruce is struggling the most to figure out how to act and for someone already non-talkative it’s even worse. He finds Diana waiting for him in his favorite quiet spot. Neither of them say anything for a long time. Eventually, Bruce breaks first and the two talk about what kind of person he becomes, how highly regarded he is in superhero circles and Gotham for being Batman and Bruce Wayne. But secretly, he’s most concerned about just being Bruce. About the two boys in his house that he’s a father to.

Dick and Jason really have it out. And sure, Dick’s skills surpass Jason’s at this age because he’s been an acrobat all his life, but Jason puts up a fight that’s dirty and mean and desperate. They clash badly and it’s brutal. Jason admits to not knowing about where the name Robin came from and Dick admits he’s not adopted. Dick starts to understand that Jason thinks Bruce only took him in so he could be Robin. And Jason starts to grapple with the fact he replaced Dick and took his family from him. They’re both miserable but they’re also both avoiding Bruce.

He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to talk to them and as the person who has the least understanding of what’s going on, they’ve been trying not to overwhelm him. Because they’re both pretty good at reading adult Bruce and this kid version looks like he’s gonna take off running at any minute.

Jason tries keeping to himself by reading in the library and Dick tries to stay in the cave but gets pushed out by the Justice League and has to do his workouts in the home gym. Bruce tries to stay in the kitchen with Alfred, who asks him to bring the other boys lunch and to try speaking with them for a few minutes.

Bruce asks Jason what he’s reading and is struck by how earnest he is, even if he’s defensive. It’s more honest than any of the other kids he goes to school with, who are concerned only with appearances and money. Bruce tells him what they’re covering in his own classes and Jason asks if any of the teachers are the same. Jason calls one old woman who was old when Bruce knew her a crone and it startles a laugh out of him. Jason thinks that maybe they’ll be okay.

Bruce finds Dick in the gym and watches him for a while. He startles him on accident and Dick lands on his ankle wrong. There’s a first aid kit in the gym so Bruce hands it to him and asks how he can help. Dick is surprised that Bruce knows this level of first aid this young and he admits to thinking about medical school and following his father’s footsteps.

Bruce is struck by how unlike other people Dick and Jason are. That if he had met them now, he’d like to think they’d have become friends. How they would have liked Harvey.

When the spell is reversed, Dick and Jason have a long talk about what it is to be brothers. Bruce and Jason talk about their relationship as being different from Batman and Robin. Bruce adopts Dick and they discuss his independence with a lot less yelling than normal.

[thewitchblue]

"Mooooooom!"

You heard across the house. Little Jason came running to you with an overbearing Dick trailing behind him, doing cartwheels.

"Mama, he won't leave me alone!"

Jason clutched onto a book he was trying to read and hid behind your legs. You wanted to laugh but managed to hold it back.

He peaked at Dick from his poor hiding spot. Now he was doing backflips. Dick wanted his attention, but he tried everything, and he couldn't find any other way to ask for his attention besides doing circus tricks. You asked,

"Dick, what do you want from Jason?"

Jason wrapped one of his arms around your leg. He only wanted to read in peace. He thought he finally found a corner in the library Dick hadn't found yet.

"I wanted to play a game with him, but he was busy reading, and I needed his attention to ask."

You kissed the top of Jason's head. Your sweet little boy, Jason, looked at Dick as if he were an alien. Surely, there are much easier ways to get his attention. He couldn't have been that engrossed, right? He looked at you with guilt-filled eyes.

"Ma? I didn't mean to ignore him, I promise."

You believe him. He would never intentionally ignore anybody, let alone his friendly big brother. Your heart melted at the teary look he gave you. He doesn't want to be thrown out back onto the streets. He knows you'd never do that, but it's an anxiety that won't go away.

"I believe you, sugar bear. You can listen to him now."

Jason bravely stepped out from his hiding place and walked towards Dick with a nervous smile. He still wanted to stay with you, but he listened to the game Dick proposed.

Your two boys ran off to cause their mischief after Dick explained the game he wanted to play. It was one of his favourite circus games that he knew Jason would love. He couldn't believe it took him months to remember the game.

You casually picked up the book that Jason accidentally dropped in his haste to play. Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief. You read the first page and smiled. He was halfway through the book already and likely has the whole series stacked in a pile in the library.

You decided to put the book on his nightstand in his room. His room was covered in books with an entire wall dedicated only to books, but what's one more?

You smiled fondly as you looked around. Little Jason was so passionate. When he loves something, it's part of his heart forever.

Dick's room is full of circus decorations, and you even made a net on the ceiling to catch him when he inevitably falls from the ceiling after a circus trick.

You smiled as the two ran past you, both giggling like they were having the time of their lives. Until Dick backflipped over the guard rail on the third floor. You screamed,

"RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON!"

You ran to the railing and watched Dick ride the chandelier for five seconds before landing onto the couch like he's done it millions of times.

Horrified, you ran down the staircase. You had to check him for injuries immediately while he laughed. Jason was also terrified.

Dick wasn't even bruised to your relief, but the anger came after the relief. You physically relaxed but still looked at him with anger.

"Little wing, never do that again."

You pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his forehead. You will have to tell Bruce and figure out some way to prevent this from happening again. Maybe put up a mesh wall to stop it.

"You can't take the circus out of the kid, mom."

He winked with a grin. You shook your head with a small smile. He's right, of course, and that's why you have to safeguard the entire manor.

"You are so lucky that chandelier didn't fall. It's the oldest in the house."

He didn't seem too bothered by the idea of falling from the ceiling. You suppose he lost his fear of heights a long time ago.

"I tried to stop him, ma!"

You heard from the staircase. Jason was peaking behind the corner. You chuckled.

"I know, sugar bear. You can't control other people."

Alfred, who had been watching this whole time, said in an exasperated tone,

"I'll put a net up tomorrow, Mrs. Wayne."

You smiled gratefully at the butler, but Dick complained that nets take the fun out of his tricks. You chose to ignore his desire to be without a net and instead turned to Alfred,

"Thank you, Alfred. Dick, I'm putting up nets regardless. You shouldn't be doing dangerous tricks. I'll get you a jungle gym and a trampoline room for your tricks, but please stop doing circus tricks off of railings."

Dick was excited about the compromise and ran off again. To do what? Nobody knows. Jason hugged you. He asked shyly,

"Ma? Where is my book?"

You kissed the top of his head before telling him,

"In your room, sugar bear."

Jason, too, ran off after being told where his book is, almost running into Bruce in the process. He mumbled a quick apology as he scampered away.

Bruce watched on with amusement. Jason was a joy to have as a kid. You kissed Bruce's cheek when he approached you.

"How are you, my queen?"

You laughed at the nickname. He's always coming up with a new nickname, but he's really been enjoying calling you his queen lately.

"I'm recovering from a heart attack. We need another net, my liege."

Bruce groaned. Dick found a new spot to jump off of? He thought he had found all the spots. You said worriedly,

"He's only getting more and more creative, Bruce. I promised to build him a jungle gym and a trampoline room to get him to stop. He rode the chandelier!"

Bruce sighed softly. He can make those changes in the rooms next to the game room. His voice rumbled as he said,

"I'll get it taken care of, my love."

Alfred chimed in with raised eyebrows,

"How many more nets would you like, master Bruce?"

Bruce seemed to do a mental count of all the rooms in the manor and the ones he's blocked off. You have blocked out a good amount of the rooms and railings, but he worries Dick will simply jump off the balconies at this rate.

"At least 10 more. Thank you, Alfred."

You mirrored Bruce's thank you with a grateful smile. Alfred bowed before walking off.

You gave Bruce another kiss as he tucked you into his side. Bruce murmurs to you,

"I went to the orphanage today."

Bruce's baby fever knows no end. You rolled your eyes and said with a laugh,

"Are you collecting children like Pokemon cards?

He promised he hadn't taken in any more this time. He said while wrapping an arm around you,

"Two is plenty."

Well, jokes on you both because you ended up with twelve children, and Bruce has yet to stop. Where did he find them all? You had asked jokingly. At this rate, you are going to have a full house. He didn't have a better answer than "I'm Batman."

[hex800020]

Non-negotiable HCs I have (Super and Bat edition):

Jon gets ridiculously excited every time Damian says something in Arabic (it can be something sweet or an insult, literally anything). He’ll probably start mumbling nonsense to keep Damian from noticing, but it’s so obvious that even Jon knows his attempts are pathetic.

-•-

Lois fully supports the (unconscious) bromance between Bruce and Clark. She constantly makes jokes about it, like calling Bruce “my husband’s husband,” and it never fails to make Clark flustered.

-•-

The Batkids are all in on Lois’s jokes and even supply her with material to make Bruce feel “emotionally constipated.”

-•-

Dick thinks he’s the sibling the younger ones trust the most, but when it comes to big problems they really don’t want Bruce to find out about, they go straight to Jason.

For example, Tim needs to hide the president’s body? No problem, call Jason, and they’ll sort it out.

Dick never finds out about any of it, and that’s how it needs to stay.

-•-

Batman laughs like a rich guy, and Superman laughs like a farmer.

-•-

Whenever a member of the Batfam starts talking in a seriously dark way near a Super, the Super in question will try to defuse (escape) the situation by blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

Example:

Tim, seriously, and maybe a little too casuall: “I’ve been storing genetic material from my entire family, just in case anyone dies again. I could modify it to make them more ‘agreeable’ or easier to deal with.”

Kon listening, panicking, and trying to prevent Tim from fully leaning into his supervillain potential: “One time I ate a beetle.”

Tim shockingly not surprised: “What did it taste like?”

Kon full panic mode because he totally made that up: “…Like a beetle.”

Part 1 | Part 2 >>

[kitkatscabinet]

MURDER ON THE DANCEFLOOR

requested by anon

pairing: dick grayson x fem! reader

summary: He hands you his drink, a simple, innocent gesture. Twenty minutes later, you're unresponsive in his arms, and what started as a pleasant night evolves into the worst moment of his life.

word count: 5.6k

"I hate these things." Dick grumped, fiddling with his tie for the hundredth time that night.

You reached up to swat his hands away gently. "What, the tie or the gala?"

"Both." He whines, grabbing one of your hands and tangling your fingers with his.

"You say that every time Bruce drags you to one of these, you're such a baby." You mock, leaning in to peck his pouty lips.

His lips twitch with the effort it takes to keep pretending to frown. "You know, I'm starting to think you keep showing up on my arm just because you like watching me suffer."

"You caught me," you grin slyly before adjusting his tie properly, "Or maybe I just like seeing you in a tux."

His breath hitches, adoration painted across his face as he leans closer, "That so? You’re not so bad yourself, y’know. Very distracting."

You rolled your eyes, trying to appear nonchalant, but you couldn't prevent the flutter in your stomach at his attention. It was hardly your first gala together, Dick had seen you dressed up plenty of times before, but everytime he looked at you as if you were a goddess.

He drapes an arm over your shoulder, pulling you snug against his side. "Let’s just get through this thing. Then it’s you, me, some cheap Chinese takeout, and most importantly, no pants."

"Oh, baby, you really know how to treat a woman." You giggled, kissing his jaw and leaving a lipstick stain that he either doesn't notice or doesn't care to wipe off.

The two of you stay like that, standing on the fringes of the room, content to ignore everyone else, until you spot Cass looking longingly at the dancefloor.

"Dick," you nudged him, "you should dance with Cassie."

You can tell he's hesitant to leave you, but Cassie clearly wants to dance and Dick would do anything to make his siblings happy. "Take this?" He holds out the drink he'd been nursing for 10 minutes but had yet to touch.

"Why, Mr Grayson, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk." You joked, gently tugging him closer by the lapels of his jacket.

He grins as you steal a kiss just before lifting the rim of the glass to your lips. "Moscato?" You raise a brow at the choice, your favourite, "You really were planning this."

"I didn't say drink it." He tries to play innocent, but you both know he's been waiting to hand it off to you. You give the liquid a swirl before taking another sip, relishing in the sweet taste as it coats your tongue.

"Now go on, dance with your sister."

Dick’s still smiling when he leans in, brushing your cheek with a kiss. "I’ll be back in a minute."

"I'll count the seconds." You joke, waving him off like a woman seeing her husband off for war, delighting in the way Cassandra lights up as Dick leads her onto the floor.

With Dick gone, Tim sidles up to your side seamlessly, your own sleepy little guard dog as he eyes the other gala goers mistrustfully.

You snort before pulling him into your side, which he readily accepts. Your heart swells with affection for the boy you'd come to view as your own little brother.

You take another drink, trying to stave off your sudden bout of cotton mouth. When that doesn't work, you clear your throat before downing the rest of your glass.

Tim gives you an odd look, but you wave off his concern, "just a little thirsty." You don't admit that your throat is suddenly drier than the Sahara as you take a glass of water from the nearest waiter.

You take slow sips, but no matter what you do, your tongue still feels like paper. Annoying, but not unbearable, an unfortunate side effect you sometimes suffered when drinking.

A few minutes pass, and you start to think something might be wrong when your vision blurs a little. You unconsciously lean slightly against Tim, who startles as he feels the heat emanating from you. Placing the back of his palm against your forehead, before you can stop him. "Jesus, you're hot."

"Careful Timmers, wouldn't wanna make Dick jealous." You joke weakly, fanning yourself with your free hand as the heat crawls down the back of your neck and chest. "Though, it is kind of hot in here."

"I guess." Tim seemed a little unconvinced, pulling out of your grip, only for you to stumble. "Oh wow, I think you might've had a bit too much to drink."

"Hmm, maybe." You agree even if you don't remember having that much. You turn your head, wincing a little as the light reflects harshly from the chandeliers into your eyes.

"Ok, I think it's time we get you home." You nod your head, only to immediately regret it when the world spins a little bit.

"What's this? My little brother is trying to abscond with my girlfriend? Say it ain't so." Dick suddenly appeared, a hint of worry hiding behind his good natured demeanour.

You beam, going to embrace your boyfriend, only to trip when your ankle wobbles. Your heart thumps wildly against your chest, as you lean heavily against Dick's chest.

You don't see the alarmed glances Tim and Dick exchange, keeping your eyes closed to try and abate the odd pressure building up behind them.

Dick says something, hand cupping your jaw as he keeps your head upright, but you don't hear it. His voice is muffled, as if he is trying to speak to you through water.

He seems worried, but you don't understand why; everything's so floaty.

"I'm fine... think I just need to... to" you trail off, losing your train of thought.

"Hey—hey, no, no, no. Stay with me." Dick’s voice cuts through the haze, low and urgent, a stark contrast to the earlier soft teasing you’d shared over stolen kisses and that glass of Moscato.

His hand is warm against your jaw, gently cradling it, thumb brushing your cheek as he keeps your head propped up.

Despite your best efforts, your vision slips in and out of focus. All you can see is Dick's face, so pretty even in his panic. You don't want him to look at you like that, you never want him to be upset, you want him happy, always.

You try to tell him that, but your tongue refuses to cooperate. You don't know why he's so frantic; you're just a little overheated. Your mouth finally opens, but you can't remember what you wanted to say. The thought, whatever it was, slips from your grasp like sand.

Your legs suddenly give out, the new glass of water you'd been clutching slipping from your lax grasp and shattering against the marble floor.

Dick is already moving, catching you before you hit the ground. His arms wrap tightly around you, cushioning your fall.

"Hey, hey—look at me. Look at me, baby."

The sound is distant to your ears, as if from another world entirely. But the commotion grabs the attention of the nearby gala goers, and alarmed whispers reach Bruce's ears from across the room just in time for him to witness his eldest catch you and sink to the floor.

He forgets his charming, genial mask, shoving through scandalised socialites as he runs to reach his son.

Tim's already calling an ambulance, and Damian has appeared suddenly as if from thin air, snarling at anyone attempting to get a closer look.

Dick is hysterical, tears in his eyes as he holds your face in his hands as he tries to get you to respond, but any words he can elicit from you are slurred and confused.

His son doesn't even register his presence until he's kneeling opposite him, clasping a grounding hand on his shoulder. Dick looks up at him, tears sliding down his devastated face. "Bruce, Dad, help her, please!" He begs, voice cracking.

Bruce inhales sharply, the word Dad hitting him like a freight train. Dick hadn’t called him that in months. Years, maybe. It's a word he'd secretly ached to hear for so long, but not like this, not tinted with raw desperation.

Bruce inhales sharply at that, at his son desperately looking at him to fix something they're both powerless to combat.

"She’s going to be okay," Bruce tells him, quietly, as if trying to soothe a wounded animal.

"You can't know that! You can't promise me that!"

Dick looks down at you, taking in the way you gasped raggedly for air, pupils blown wide as you twitch in his grasp.

"Dick." Bruce squeezed his shoulder, grounding him and forcing him back to the present moment. "The ambulance will be here soon. She's still breathing and still has a pulse, she's going to be okay."

"She just... she just collapsed," Dick babbles, as if he hadn't even heard Bruce. "She was fine when I left her, she was, she was fine! But when I got back she couldn't, couldn't breathe - "

"She’s breathing," Bruce murmurs, his hand pressed lightly to your neck. "Pulse is faint, but still there."

"She couldn’t focus. She can’t speak, Bruce." Dick sounds like he’s on the verge of a panic attack. "I don’t... I don’t know what’s happening!"

Bruce doesn’t answer right away. Not because he doesn’t care—God, he cares so much it aches—but because he doesn’t know, and that terrifies him.

Dick is muttering, a mindless stream of thoughts as he clutches you tighter against his chest. "I gave her my drink," he stammers suddenly, as if the memory just struck him. "I didn’t touch it, I just… handed it to her. It was moscato, she likes moscato."

He looks up at Bruce, haunted. "Did I do this? Did I—was it the drink? Or—what if it was something else, what if something's wrong with her heart, or she's sick or something, she was unwell last week. I don't know. I don’t know."

Bruce doesn’t answer right away. Not yet. His mind is already spinning, cataloguing symptoms, possibilities: low blood sugar, dehydration, cardiac event, something neurological. The possibilities were endless.

"We’re going to figure it out," he tells Dick quietly. "Help will be here soon, she'll be ok son."

"She has to be," Dick whimpers, thumb brushing over your cheekbones, and then a little quieter. "She promised me forever."

Bruce watches, his heart in his throat as he watches Dick's hand absentmindedly reach into his pocket for something. Was that... a ring?

That train of thought is abruptly derailed when the paramedics finally arrive.

Dick tries to stay with you as they check your vitals, his hand gripping yours like a vice even as you're lifted onto a stretched and rolled into the back of the ambulance.

One medic tries to gently pull him back, but he doesn’t budge, refusing to leave your side. "I’m staying," he snaps, voice low and dangerous. The paramedic hesitates, glancing at his colleague, who just nods their assent.

"Just stay out of our way," he mutters, but Dick barely hears him, already sinking onto the bench beside the gurney, white-knuckled fingers still wrapped around yours. 

"She was fine," he whispers to no one in particular. "Twenty minutes ago, she was teasing me about getting her drunk. We were laughing."

He can't stop the tears from falling any longer when they attach an oxygen mask, your eyelids fluttering open and closed at random intervals.

"Stay with me, please, baby, just hang in there." He begs you feverishly. Your head lolls toward him, something like recognition flashing in your eyes before it's gone again in a blink. 

"Miss," the second paramedic says suddenly, gently lifting one of your eyelids and shining a small penlight into your eyes. "Miss, can you hear me?"

"Pupils are dilated. Sluggish response," he mutters, more to his partner now. "Could be neurological."

Dick’s stomach drops. "Neurological? Like what, a stroke?"

"We won’t know until we get her stable. It could be toxins. It could be a reaction to something. Could be—" The medic stops himself, shooting Dick a look. "Could be a lot of things."

"She didn’t take anything," Dick says quickly, defensively. "She doesn’t even like taking Tylenol without checking with her doctor first."

"You gave her a drink?" the other medic asks.

Dick nods slowly. "Moscato. Mine. I hadn’t touched it; I was holding it for too long. I didn’t want to waste it—" He swallows. "She was happy. She kissed me. She was fine."

You let out a soft, breathless sound. Not quite a moan. Not quite a word. But it yanks Dick forward like a lifeline, his hand tightening around yours.

"Hey, hey, I’m here," he says urgently. "Babe, can you hear me? Just squeeze my hand, yeah? Just let me know you can hear me."

You don’t respond, you can’t, and Dick nearly starts to sob again. Helpless to do anything but watch and pray to a god he doesn’t believe in, as the paramedics work around him. He rests your clasped hands against his lips, rocking restlessly back and forth as he watches for any change in your condition. 

Your eyes flutter weakly open for half a second, glassy and unfocused, and he leaps to reassure you. "I’ve got you," he whispers, running his free hand gently down your cheek. "I swear, I’ve got you. Just stay with me."

Your fingers twitch—the smallest, weakest movement, but Dick clings to that like a lifeline. His hand tightens around yours, and you suddenly twitch again, your whole body flinching as your eyelids blink rapidly.

"Hey, sweetheart." His voice shakes as he leans forward, cupping your cheek again. "You with me?"

Your eyes are wide open, but they’re not focused, unseeing as you stare right through him before abruptly attempting to recoil. "Don’t touch me!" you gasp, trying to pull your hand away, though he doesn’t let go. "Get off me, get—"

"Hey, hey, it’s me!" Dick says quickly, panic clawing up his throat. "It’s me. It’s Dick, you’re safe, baby, you’re safe."

You’re thrashing now, feeble but undoubtedly panicked. Your pupils are blown wide, nearly swallowing the colour of your irises. 

"There’s someone! He’s behind you, Dick!" you sob suddenly, eyes locked on the corner of the ambulance where no one sits. "He’s watching me, he’s watching me. Stop looking at me—"

"There’s no one there," Dick breathes, helpless. "There’s no one there, I promise, I swear—"

One of the medics leans over. "Hallucinations. She’s panicking, we need to sedate her before she hurts herself."

"No," Dick says reflexively. "She’s scared. She needs to know she’s not alone. She doesn’t like being sedated."

"She can’t hear you right now," the paramedic says gently, already preparing a sedative. "You have to let us do our job."

You scream again, incoherent, like you’re fighting something only you can see. "I’m right here. I’m not leaving," he says, voice trembling. "You’re okay, I’ve got you. There’s no one else here, just me. It’s just me."

But you don’t hear him, head thrashing from side to side, murmuring something over and over, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. His heart splinters.

"Give it to her," he says quietly. "If it’ll help her stop being afraid... do it."

The sedative enters your bloodstream through the IV, and your breathing begins to slow within moments. Your muscles go slack, and your face's tension eases slightly.

Dick swallows hard, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand once more.

"I’m right here," he whispers. "You’re safe now. Whatever you’re seeing… It’s not real. I promise. I won’t let anything hurt you." But the words feel cheap and hollow against his tongue, because he’s already failed to keep you safe. 

His mind's a mess, but Dick’s sure that this whole thing really is his fault. The timeline, the symptoms, you’ve been poisoned, with a glass of wine that had been meant for him. If you die, it’ll be all his fault. If you die, then Dick thinks he might just die with you. 

The thought hits him like a bullet to the chest. He can’t imagine a world where he doesn’t hear your laugh, doesn’t feel your hand reaching for his across crowded rooms, doesn’t get to kiss you goodnight and pretend, just for a moment, that the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

You whimper in his arms, body twitching against the restraints that keep you from hurting yourself. The EMT had told him it was necessary, but it felt like cruelty.

You start to seize right as they get to the hospital, thrashing against your restraints as they wheel you through the ER doors. The paramedics speak rapid fire at the awaiting nurses and doctors, Dick barely hears any of it.

"Sir, you need to stay here—" someone tries to stop him from pushing past the double doors, but Dick shrugs them off with more force than necessary.

"I’m not leaving her!" he shouts, his voice cracking at the last word. His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that they tremble.

"Mr. Grayson!" An overworked nurse tried to calm him down, and had he been in his right mind Dick would have been appalled at his behaviour.

A hand clamps down on his shoulder, pulling him back and Dick whirls around, snarling in Bruce's face.

"Let them work," Bruce says quietly, yet sternly.

Collapsing into Bruce's awaiting arms, Dick feels like a small child again. Completely helpless. He's sobbing, gasping against Bruce's chest.

The man is silent, aware that nothing he says can make it better, no matter how badly he wants to take away his son's pain. He wishes he could absorb it all and make everything magically better. But he can't, so he remains a pillar of support, holding his son up.

Time doesn’t pass normally in the hospital. Every second feels like an eternity, every tick of the clock on the far wall drawn out like torture. Bruce tries to get him to sit, but Dick refuses, staring at the doors they wheeled you through like it will bring you back.

"Please be okay," he whispers into the silence, his voice barely audible. "Please." He doesn't know who he's begging anymore: you, the doctors, God, or himself.

The hours feel eternal, a torturous, maddening slog as they wait for any sort of news.

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting everything in a sickly white glow that makes the hospital hallway feel more like a purgatory than a place of healing.

Dick’s been pacing outside the ICU for so long he’s probably worn a hole in the ludicrously expensive shoes. Every nurse who walks by earns a hopeful glance, and every time they pass without stopping, it feels like another knife to the gut.

He’s running on adrenaline and guilt, the phantom image of your limp body in his arms haunting every breath.

Then, finally, footsteps approach, and Dick's nearly manic when someone finally adresses him.

"She’s stable. Still weak, but the anticholinergic treatment’s working. We’ve flushed most of the toxins from her system. You can see her now"

Anticholinergic treatment? That meant... poison.

Dick's already moving before she finishes, murmuring a breathless "Thank you" as he slips past her and into the private room Bruce is undoubtedlybpaying for.

The sight of you hooked up to various machines, IV lines, oxygen monitors, heart rate beeping slow and steady, makes his chest tighten, but at least you’re here. Alive.

He drags a chair up to your bedside and takes your hand, careful not to jostle the IV. It’s warm, but no longer searing like it had been in the ambulance.

"Hey, baby." He murmurs, voice cracking as he brushes his thumb gently across your knuckles.

You don’t respond.

He speaks softly anyway. He promises you’re safe, that everything's fine, that he’s right here, and that his family is already tearing Gotham apart, trying to figure out who did this.

The nurses try to get him to leave when visiting hours are over, but Dick kicks up a such a fuss that he's sure he accidentally scares them. Bruce ends up flashing some money to smooth things over, the benefits of being rich.

He refuses to leave your side; he won't leave you alone when you're so vulnerable. He does his best to stay awake, he needs to be there for you when you wake up, but eventually he succumbs to the exhaustion.

The room is quiet, save for the steady rhythm of the heart monitor and the soft mechanical whir of the machines monitoring your vitals.

Dick sits slouched in the chair beside your hospital bed, one arm resting awkwardly across his chest, the other still holding your hand like a lifeline. His head is bowed forward, chin tucked against his chest, breathing deep and even.

His suit jacket has long since been discarded, his tie loosened, his hair a mess, and dark circles paint shadows beneath his eyes.

You stir slowly, fighting desperately against the lethargy. Your eyelids feel like cement is weighing them down as you attempt to open them.

Your fingers twitch. A slight, barely perceptible movement before you manage to curl them around the hand clasped in yours.

The light is blinding, burning your retinas when you finally manage to pry them open. The world swims, but you push through it, turning your head as you follow the trail of the hand holding yours up to the blurry image of your sleeping boyfriend.

"…Dick?" Your voice is raw, no louder than a whisper. Not enough to stir him from his exhausted slump.

You squeeze his hand weakly, but it’s enough for him to jerk upright, eyes wild with panic, before they lock on yours.

"Hey," you croak, attempting to smile, but your facial muscles won't cooperate.

For a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s not sure he’s really awake. He lets out a shaky, tearful laugh before dragging the chair closer. "You’re awake," he breathes through a sob.

"I… yeah," you rasp, coughing from the dryness of your throat. "Hurts."

"I know love." He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You’ve been out for almost a day. They said you were stable, but, god, I didn’t know if—" His voice cracks on a sob, and you want nothing more than to reach out and comfort him but your sluggish body refuses to obey.

"M'sorry, didn’t wanna scare you."

"No, no, no, honey. Don't apologise, this isn't your fault." He shakes his head, eyes wet with unshed tears. "It's mine—"

"Don’t," you interrupt as sternly as you're able. "Don’t do that. Not your fault. I’m okay. I'm okay."

You start to cough again, and Dick reaches for the cup of water on the bedside, helping you drink slowly through the straw.

He helps you lie back down against the pillows, looking at you with such tenderness you almost cry. "You didn’t leave."

He smiles, a broken, crooked thing, but still shining with so much love. "I never will, never."

And you believe him.

[spicy-apple-pie]

I want to rewrite Jason’s initial Red Hood arc soooo bad.

First off, Hood is brought on not as a villian but as a vigilante same as Batman. Only he comes in the a message. He declares that Batman is a coward and not fit to protect Gotham.

Batman tries to communicate with him to try and work something out, because so far Hood’s doing good work. So if he just can figure out Hood’s gripe with him, they could team up. Of course Jason says cryptic shit to get under Bruce’s skin. At one point Tim!Robin tries to talk to him, but this seems to strike a nerve. Hood pulls a gun on Robin and threatens him to leave or he will kill him. Tim isn’t even supposed to be talking to Hood alone so he leaves, not wanting to risk a fight.

Batman and Hood are tense around each other, but overall civil. Until Red Hood makes his first kill.

It was a CEO or some higher up in a company. He all but admitted to some terrible crime, but Bruce Wayne was attempting to get him life in prison before he was found dead in his cell. The kill was claimed by Red Hood and he criticizes Batman for allowing a guilty man to potentially be let off the hook via expensive lawyers.

This starts causing some friction between them and Batman starts really investigating Hood. Things are getting heated and more personal with Hood, as he’s started to alluding to knowing Batman’s secret identity. Eventually, it becomes obvious that Red Hood is Jason Todd.

Batman goes to confront him, but Jason decides to make it super dramatic because of course he does. And leads Bruce all around Gotham before settling on a warehouse. There, Joker is tied up, beaten to the brink of death, a bloody crowbar on the ground infront of him. Jason holds a gun to Jokers head, keeping Bruce at a safe distance.

Jason then preforms his monologue. About how he never blamed Bruce for his death, even in his last moments. But how he couldn’t understand how Bruce could let him live. He gestures to Joker. And he could never forgive Bruce for letting another Robin on the streets. Not after what happened to him.

Bruce tries to talk Jason down. At one point he says “come home, son.” Which enrages Jason. He immediately shoots the Joker point blank and turns the gun to Batman.

“Will you forgive me,” He asks, as Joker lies dead on the floor, “Now that you’ve seen your ‘son’ kill without a second thought, abandon your morals when it’s convenient for you? Or will you ship me off to Arkham? Bury me away like the rest of your problems?”

Bruce slowly starts walking forward. Jason’s finger immediately grips the trigger. “Don’t move or I shoot!” He tries to be intimidating, but his voice quivers.

Bruce only stops when the barrel of the gun is pressed to his chest. He knows Jason wouldn’t shoot him. Even if he does, Bruce would understand. Maybe he even deserves it. He slowly brings his hands up to Jason’s helmet. Jason is frozen in shock as Bruce pulls it off gently and drops it to the ground. He cups Jason’s face so gently, even with his thick gloves. He pulls off his own mask, revealing his eye’s brimming with tears. They seem older and more tired than Jason remembers.

“My boy…” Bruce cries. Probably the only tears Jason seen him cry.

And Jason wants nothing more than to fall into Bruce’s arms. Allow himself to be cradled, warm and safe in Bruce’s arms. It only lasts for a moment, until he remembers the hate he has for Bruce. And he hates himself for going soft for just that moment.

He pulls out a smoke bomb from his belt and disappears before Bruce’s very eyes.

Months go past and Hood is mostly quiet, except for the few prevented robberies. Bruce doesn’t actively seek out Jason, or maybe he does idk doesn’t matter just at one point, Jason kills someone and it turns out they were being framed. Bruce knew this and captures the actual suspect and gets him arrested. News spreads about Hood’s kill streak was soured by murdering an innocent man.

A few days later, Jason shows up in the manor. He looks like he hasn’t slept at all. Bruce doesn’t say anything as he pulls him into a hug. Jason cries into his shoulder.

Bruce doesn’t let go.

But tbh I haven’t thought super hard about this. The motivations need to be figured out more. I just kinda like the thought of Jason trying to be morally better than Bruce to teach him a lesson.

[ilianasbruce]

“Something in the air.”

word count: 5,400

summary: it was either an illness or love in the air — and maybe both in your husband.

warning: +18 content with a plot. minors do not interact, please.

notes: well, hello, hello!!! ♡ i’m back with a piece that I hope i could contribute to Bruce’s early husband years with a little bit of adventures of his. i’ve been re-watching Batman: Caped Crusader (2024) since yesterday and maybe, maybe, i’d write my next piece based on the series. don’t know, but thank you so much for you support!!! see ya’, guys later!!! ♡♡ if you’ve any prompts or ideas, please be my guest and come to my ask-aways!! ♡ ♡

“What are you doing?”

You murmured as you pressed your cheek to his upper back, arms circling his waist. He had been busy for the whole day in the cave, working on a case about nauseous people in Gotham for the last two weeks. Few people got infected with some cells from the air during Christmas Eve at first, with bizarre symptoms and with the incredibly petrifying results. Then, suddenly it spread like a wildfire and the pus-covered bodies and yellow-like skin color on the poor people of Gotham started to multiply day by day. There was no indicator of what or who had caused that but Bruce couldn't let his city suffer like that.

“Working.” he muttered as his contemplative blue eyes stayed on the screen of Batcomputer. “Why are you still awake?” he continued.

“Wanted to see you.” you retorted with a small sigh through your lips. It had been a few times during the day that you’d seen him throughout the whole two weeks.

It was either a morning kiss before he left the warm bed of yours or an afternoon glimpse bypassing each other or a whisper of his ‘Go to sleep.’ when you were trying to stay awake to see him a little bit of time. Nothing more than those.

You and Alfred were trying to have an effect on the process — his day and night working schedule since the infection had started. Keep him at least sleeping or eating since Bruce was too concentrated on his city to think or care about. Poor Gordon was sending his Bat-Signal for him to appear as much as he could. Constant patrolling and the first week of investigation led Batman to be busy with the enigma about the cells that caused the sickness all over Gotham.

He was constantly telling you not to come down the cave. The main reason was that he did not want you to catch something from him. Maybe some amount of partitions would be on his suit and he couldn't risk it. As a man of science, before he slipped into bed, Bruce had to take a double shower — with water and alcohol to prevent any cell. Thus, he was taking extra caution for you.

“I told you not to come down here.” he said matter-of-factly.

“I missed you.”

He smirked but not out of amusement. “I’m at home all the time.”

That husband of yours had a habit of accepting that being at home meant you shouldn't miss him. You huffed, still pressing your cheek to his black shirt. “That isn’t a reason for not missing you.”

His eyes found the curved numbers of the clock on the screen. “I’ll be in bed after a few hours. Go to bed.”

Liar.

Alfred had to drag him to bed every single night — technically every morning. Since Bruce was prohibiting you from coming to see him, you were always bound to sleep the night without him. And Alfred was good at his job, with years of experience in knowing his son to take the reins into his hands. You’d usually find Bruce’s form nuzzling you as he slept when you woke up.

You wished you could stay in the cave but you knew better. You reluctantly kissed the part you pressed your cheek on and unwrapped your arms from him. He could’ve sensed your distaste (as he always did when you were upset), turned his head to you.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

“Alright.”

But before you moved, he grabbed your hand to pull you to him. He placed one hand on your waist, the other palm on your neck as he pulled you in for a kiss. He kissed you lovingly, in a way of saying he meant his words.

He would see you later truthfully.

A few seconds of kissing you ended up with his “Go to bed, baby.” murmur. You nodded your head, marked by his lips, and unwillingly left the cave for your room. You knew his responsibilities and you supported him no matter what, but when Gotham had him more than you did, as if he belonged to her, (not to you) it upset you. She had all of his mind and body as if he was not a human being. That was what worried you also.

The next few weeks passed in chaos. Gotham was inflicted. Even the criminals were infected with to do something, thus the crime rate was significantly below. Nevertheless, the city was a nest of pus-covered illness. You did see them on TV or when you had permission to be in the cave for fifteen minutes. You were horrified as well as the whole of Gotham. It was obvious that this was planned by whoever released them into the city, but Bruce had other thoughts about that.

The freezing January days weren’t helping, either — not to the city or Batman. The heavy snow-covered streets of the city and on some days snowstorms had you apprehensive and tense about Bruce. Alfred made sure to feed him with the nutritional foods to keep him intact as he promised but you were scared.

“Come to bed early.” you, on one night, said to him. He was searching for an article on the Batcomputer.

“I can't.” he said, his focus on the screen.

“I am scared that you’ll catch the disease. Either the infection or the cold.” you reasoned. He did not make any remark on your words.

“I am scared, Bruce.”

And your fears became true, unfortunately. Well, he just caught a cold but still; it made you apprehensive. You were trying to keep him in bed at least for a few more hours after his usual short sleep schedule, but to no avail. He was just headstrong about the situation of Gotham, running to the cave as soon as he was awake. That led to an argument between you. You two quarreled and he gave you a cold shoulder from then on.

Bruce had a habit of staying silent instead of arguing with you. He knew his potential — knew his quarrels with Alfred and how he sometimes left him speechless with his harshness. And he knew all too well to shut his mouth before saying any word to you. He loved you and he wasn’t stupid enough to hurt you.

As you were irritated with him, he just gave you a nonchalant stare and then continued with his daily sickness-covered activities. No lie, you were annoyed with his action but you did not push more, because you loved him, too. It was almost a terrible month in Gotham that left everything in chaos, including your home.

You were watching him as much as you could, sometimes waking up earlier than him to see his condition. The first few days of his cold-catching passed with a light fever but he was good. Then, it affected his throat. He did not have a fever anymore — after one week of his sickness — but his throat was sore. Other than that his immune system response was expectedly good. You’d sleep in your bed naturally, even though he was sick. It was your anger that compelled him to the bed of yours, because you couldn't let him get out of your sight. You did not care about catching a cold, you didn’t want to play by his rules anymore.

You needed to switch on the bedside lamp, since the curtains were drawn every night, lighting up the room. He was sometimes disheveled in his slumber, sometimes comfortable; it was different every morning. You’d press your warm hand to his forehead to see if he had an extra warmth. When you were sure that he was good, you’d switch off the light and cuddle him until he woke up. It did not matter that he was still quiet with you, you still missed your husband. He was probably being quiet for not to push your worries about Gotham and Batman up and keep you safe until everything was promising. After everything was normal again, he’d gladly come back to you with his zeal.

You’d sleepily count the mintues, knew the exact time when he woke up before leaving the bed in silence. Sometimes, he’d catch your sleep-filled but longing eyes, looking up at him from your pillow. He’d keep his composure, grab his robe, and head to the bathroom while you'd watch his form. Sometimes, you were asleep after counting the minutes, unaware of his lips on your temple — a softest kiss — and him leaving the bed. You’d wake up to the empty bed. Either way, you were counting the days of the misery to end.

Well, it did end on the earliest week of February. A few days ago before January ended, you were informed by the news that the city was safe to leave the Manor. You were stunned by the things you heard from Alfred but you could finally breathe in peace.

Three of you.

None of you were allowed to leave the Manor — it was decided by Bruce after the early weeks of infection. Only on the vital conditions Alfred or Bruce himself was the exception — for grocery shopping, for instance. You knew every point and curve of the Manor now, after wandering its halls.

The chaos must have ceased completely so that you were now allowed to leave the Manor. You were elated by the news, but you would be more elated if you saw your husband.

“Where is he then?” you asked Alfred, as you followed him. “Master Bruce has left for a few hours to check the city, madam. Would you like some tea?”

That husband of yours.

That night you tried to stay awake in your bed because you were withered without him. Almost one and a half month passed in the dreadful slowness; the foolish tension between you and him addition to that. You missed your Bruce overly.

Unfortunately, your usual bedtime hour and warm quilts were enough to put you to sleep before Bruce came. The last thing you remembered was that your eyelids were heavy under the dim light of your bedside lamp.

When you woke up the next morning, your bed was empty again. He must have woken early as his habit. You left your bed with great excitement to see your husband after all the days and tension. You were sure that he was in the cave or a little chance of eating breakfast in the dining room (he usually ate with you there or he ate in the cave alone). But when you heard the news that he left for Wayne Tech, you were disappointed.

Truly.

Alfred saw the expression on you and he was dissatisfied with the scene, too. He tried to lighten your mood, but to no avail. Your zeal was smudged. You spent the day in the Manor, reading or playing chess against yourself, counting the hours until he would be at home. You did not just miss him, that was not the whole reason why you were disappointed, but you were also worried about his health. He was still sick with a sore throat and he was refusing you to give you a word about his health for the past weeks after the quarrel. Just the small words of “I’m fine.” or “I can handle that.” were on his lips and a nonchalant look was in his eyes. You did not know what was going on in his head, but you did not like it.

So, when you woke up from the nap you took on the sofa in the reading room, your feet took you to the kitchen. Your mind was still filled with sleep as you walked through the corridors. But you walked into the scene of Bruce’s back towards you as he listened to Alfred. He must have sensed your presence so he looked back at you from his shoulder, his blue eyes finding yours.

You two stared at each other for a few seconds, before he turned his attention to Alfred. And you… well, you were silent when you walked to one of the chairs.

“Oh, I see you’re awake, madam. Would you like to eat dinner?”

Alfred was always kind to acknowledge you and your daily routine — and the tension between you and Bruce.

“No, Alfred, thank you.” you answered in a quiet tone of voice but your eyes stared daggers at Bruce as you were sitting. He seemed to be aware of your gaze, but he did not cast you a single glance. You were now both irritated and hurt by his act, unaware of his reason. A few minutes of Alfred’s dialogue about something trivial for you and the sound of a dish clinking, Bruce finally murmured something in return to him. Then added a “I’ll be at the cave.” as he turned to leave.

A silence took over the kitchen, except for the sound of the plates. You knew exactly why he was speaking in a low tone since his voice was altered slightly by his throat. Oh, you knew you should go and make a hell out of his ridiculous sore throat, but you knew better. You just gave Alfred a knowing stare of your anger and he immediately nodded.

“Do not worry, madam. We are making progress on that.”

A few days later, Alfred really did make progress on Bruce’s damaged throat but the tension between you two was still piercing. You were either seeing each other in the silent and glacial February mornings — two of you still under the quilts, catching each other’s eyes blurred by sleep. But before you made a motion, he was already leaving the bed. That would leave you quiet through the whole day around him. You did not understand why he was still doing that; the damned city was almost cured after the infection, and it was absurd that he was still giving you a headache. So, he kept being quiet and you kept being quiet, too. It continued until the earliest hours of one morning after a few days.

You woke up to the darkness of your shared bedroom. It was too dark, both from the winter season and Alfred’s curtain-drawing habit. It must be early, you thought because you were still sleepy and nuzzled to your pillow. However, you were not the only one who was nuzzled.

You felt Bruce’s sturdy body pressed against yours from behind as he slept in peace. His arms were on either side of your body, his face against your temple. He was asleep, you could tell from his steady breathing and softest snores, on you. You sighed at the sensation of the moment, savoring the sweetness of it because you did miss him and your mornings together. You tried to prolong the feeling, bask in the feeling of him. Who would know when you’d gone back to your normal days again? But the warmth of his body was too much for you at the moment, scorching you under the quilts you two shared which was the reason why you were awake in the first place.

You tried to get some space from his body, at least some air to hit your skin. But it was futile. He was holding you as if you could be a dream, wrapped around you with his arms and legs that were tangled up with you. You were drowsy already; unable to have the power to gain some space. Yet, you tried to do something under him.

“What are you doing?” he muttered sleepily. Before waking him up or maybe he was slightly awake, you never knew, you attempted to unwrap him from yourself. It was unsuccessful. You tried to utter something before he tightened his arms around you.

“It is too warm..” you murmured to your pillow. He kissed your temple before saying anything. “Is it?” he breathed out to your skin. Then he drew a few warm kisses on your skin, from your temple to your left cheek, your jaw, and the skin of your throat before pressing his nose to your neck. He stayed there for a few minutes, breathing your scent.

“Bruce,” you sighed in need of some fresh air on your skin.

“Hm?”

“You are so warm.” you said. “You are, too.” he replied with a yawn. You smiled sheepishly on your pillow.

“I did not mean that way.” you retorted. But you understood he knew what you meant since he sighed as he let you go. He loosened his arms around you and lay on his back, one arm still on your waist. You sighed in pleasure as you finally found some air after his resignation, whispering a ‘thank you.’ to the dark covered room.

You two stayed quiet for a long period of time. You thought he was asleep again since he was breathing steadily as he did when he slept peacefully. You were saddened by the thought since you thought you had his attention again. But it was silent again. You did not blame him since he needed sleep and rest. Thus, you turned to his side and did what you always did — pressed your face against his shoulder. But to your wonder, you found him tightening his arm around your waist.

“Hi,” you murmured barely. He got his face closer to yours before kissing your hair.

“Hi.” he whispered back. Your hand went up to his face, trying to find his cheek in the dark. But it instead found his messy hair. You dived your fingers through them, started to slightly playing with them. You two were quiet for a few minutes before you spoke.

“Why are you awake?” you murmured to the darkness and his warm skin. “Why are you awake?” he muttered back.

“Couldn’t sleep.” you said in honesty. His earliest morning — hell, you did not even know if it was morning or still night. You just woke up to the suffocating warmth of his body. — nuzzling made you miss your usual, sweet Bruce in your sleep-blurred mind and heart. He just hummed to your words.

You did not know what to speak about and your fingers were curling the lock of his hair, causing your eyes to close. But Bruce must have sensed that he took your hand into his and started to kiss your fingers. That made you puzzled but you knew what his motives were in the next mintues.

“I missed you,” he muttered to your knuckles. You murmured back without any hesitation. “I missed you, too.”

That must encourage him well enough to let your hand go on his shoulder and incline you back against the sheets. When his lips found yours in a sweet kiss, you were so glad that he was not asleep.

You two kissed for quite a while — some of them left you breathless, some of them were light with his hand on your bare thighs. You pulled him by his hair to your lips again and again, sighing in pleasure on his lips. He had made your wishes true by kissing you more to the point you were drunk on him.

When he pressed his lazy kisses to your cheeks or your jaw next while his fingers played with the waistband of your panties, you were quiet. The only sounds heard by you two were his lips on your skin or the soft ruffling of the sheets. Bruce made sure to wake you up more with his soft bites on your throat, which made you tug his dark hair between your fingers to the back to halt his teeth. That made him laugh with a ‘Too much?’ of his baritone, morning (or whatever time of the night) voice.

He kissed the skin where he bit and came back to your lips. “Do you want to take the lead?” he asked you. You answered him with your kisses. You had missed him dearly and you did not even hesitate when the words left his lips. Your kisses were rushed and needy compared to his. You kissed him as much as you wanted which led you to feel his action of altering the position of yours.

You found yourself on him, him on his back and your face hovering over his with your hips in his hands. You couldn't see his gorgeous blue eyes until his hand suddenly went from your hip to the bedside lamp. The sudden flicker of light made you close your eyes and then open them with a few flutters of your lashes. When your eyes adjusted to the light with your creased brows, you saw his face finally. He was looking up at you with his exhausted but focused gaze. When he realized that you adjusted to the light, he gave you a small curve of a smile and a whisper of “Something got your tongue?”.

You stared at him for a few seconds before your eyes found the digital alarm clock. It was 04:13. It all made sense why you were tired when you woke up. When your eyes found his again, he wasn't smiling anymore but gazing up at you in an unreadable expression (he was actually adoring you but you were dazzled to notice it).

“Do you want me to take over?” he asked you. You shook your head as a ‘no’ and leaned on to kiss him. God, why was he inclined to the idea of having sex as soon as he woke up, you never knew. But the fact that it was the first thing he had in his mind in the darkness was enough for you.

As you kissed him with idleness and neediness, one of his hands found your soft things, covered with your cotton, white panties. He grazed his fingertips on your skin with great pleasure, slightly guiding them to open for his next move as you were breathless from kissing him. His other hand was already in your hair, his fingers threading through it. You broke the kiss with a soft moan when he pressed you to his bulge — he pulled you back to his lips through your hair, causing you to melt into him. But it was slightly challenging when he was hard and you were sensitive in your morning body.

You did not wish to stop kissing him, but you were weakly balancing yourself in his arms. You sighed in pleasure as you withdrew your kisses. He looked into your eyes with a hazy look, questioning you silently.

“I want to kiss you but,” you told him in a complaining tone, not even finishing your sentence. That earned you a smile on his handsome face. “Can't be in the position?” he asked you as he pulled you slightly to himself.

“Yes.”

He kissed you one more time and then, he whispered. “Let me, baby.” he said as he pushed his body with his elbows to the headboard with you on him. He fixed his part, got himself in a sitting position as you ended up straddling him. He pulled you back to his lips with a “Good enough?”.

You answered him by kissing him as your hands found his shoulders. You two made out until it was breathless for you. He broke the fervent kisses of yours by slipping his fingers through your panties, earning a soft moan from you. He pecked your lips with his words.

“Will you-”

“No,” you answered him, interrupting him quietly. “I just want you.”

He was not expecting that honestly, and after your yearning, he did not have any other question. When you started to catch his lips again, you let him slip your panties from your legs, letting them fall on the floor. Then your camisole afterwards followed by his deft fingers, leaving your bare chest for his eyes. In exchange, you let your fingers free his throbbing cock from his boxers. When Bruce had you where you two wanted to be, he helped you to straddle his hips to take him fully.

You gripped his shoulders when you started to take him. But without a good stretch, it took some time for you. Your soft moans were against Bruce’s mouth as he kissed you while you had him to yourself.

“Shit,” he muttered to your lips when you took him fully, your viscous walls wrapping him utterly. You just pressed your face to his throat at the feeling, the rich thickness of his cock. He kissed your hair before muttering to you.

“Are you alright, baby?”

“Mhm.” you hummed. He dipped his face close to your ear while his hands found your thighs.

“Yeah?” he kissed the sweet spot below your ear. “Do you want me to help?” he went on with his words. You just shook your head as a ‘yes’, pressing your cheek to the crook of his neck. He muttered an ‘Okay.’ and helped you to move. The first few thrusts were overwhelming and left you with moans and creased brows against his skin. But his groan against your ear and words of desperation eased the whole process.

“Fuck, can we do this until morning?”

Oh, when you got used to his thickness in you? It felt so good. So sweet, perfect, and left you yearning for more. As if you were made just right for him as he was made for you.

When it started to feel good enough, you withdrew your face from the curve of his neck. He caught your lips immediately. But it was not easy to kiss when you were almost breathless with soft moans against him. His hands were gripping your thighs slightly as you rode him. It could be easy if you let him stretch you out first, but you missed him so much that you wanted only him.

Bruce could see the clumsy attempts of you and he nuzzled to your face before speaking. “Do you want me to take over?”

You nodded at him with your sweet “Yes, p-please.”

He kissed your lips briefly, then helped you to take him out of your cunt. You sighed at the emptiness in disappointment, but as soon as you lay down, he was on you in seconds. But before he slipped where he belonged, he opened the drawer of bedstand. He took the usual condom packet out of it, then opened it hastily for not to waste any time.

“I don't want to come out of you,” he told you before capturing your lips when he was between your thighs. When he entered you again, the feeling was so sweet for both of you. He hooked your legs around his waist and your hands were around his neck, started to thrust your scorching pussy. She was wrapped around him too perfectly that his thick brows were creased in pleasure.

“Damn,” he muttered against your lips. “It had been one fucking month since I touched you.”

It really had been and you had no idea how he was pent up. That was the reason why he was throbbing just by kissing you and your warm body against his. Bruce started with his usual steady and gentle pace for not to overwhelm you. Then, he found his pace slightly faster.

You were a breathtaking mess under him. Your hair was slightly messy, cheeks flushed by your earlier position, and your eyes were closed, preventing Bruce from seeing your gorgeous eyes as he thrust into you. He was too good at fucking you so right. Never missing any spot, any angle you wanted to see the stars. Just against your expensive sheets, under the quilts in the slightly dim bedroom.

He was balancing his body with his elbows on either side of your ribs, one hand on your hip and the other under your pillow, caging you in. You were always touch-starved of each other and you managed to fix the issue during the sex. That was the reason why you were always wishing to stay close to each other.

You felt Bruce’s wet kisses on your neck, nestling after every thrust he gave to you. He had missed you very much, as much as you missed him. After that tension and the case in Gotham had him starved for you and your pussy. He pressed and sucked whatever skin he could reach on your bare shoulders or chest, with the equal pleasure he was having from your tight walls around his cock.

He fucked you so perfectly at the five in the morning — as if either of you cared the hour, hitting every single spot with an effortless skill.

When you told him with broken sentence that it was too much for you, his hand on your hip went to your clit for the stimulate you. Oh, it felt too overwhelming for you that you couldn't fully remember where you let go and see the stars. But after your first-ever climax, you thought he could be coming, too. But, no.

Bruce continued with his thrusts, solemnly focused on you. He did not care about starting all over and getting you to the finishing point one more time. A few more fervent kisses, and his sped up pace made your toes curl again. Your forehead was against his neck, nails digging into his skin on the back of his shoulders as he dived into you again and again, until you called him with a broken voice.

He kissed your ear before having you finish again. You were so relished in the feeling of your orgasm and he saw it with his bare, hazy eyes. The delight on your face was the reason he tried to try something again but he couldn't do it anymore. He was already holding himself back with great effort since the beginning. You just remembered from your heavy-lidded gaze that he came with gritted teeth between your arms.

You two were breathless, gasping from the pressure and sweetness. You just held him right in your arms, while he was nuzzling your neck. For a long time, you stayed like that, catching your breath. You were playing with his dark, sweaty locks curled on the ends of his neck while he was snuggled to you.

He kissed your neck before raising his head and looking at you with his yearning eyes. “I missed you.” he muttered to your lips before stealing a kiss from you. Then, pressed his forehead against yours with his closed eyes.

“Missed you more.” you murmured back. You wanted to guide him to sleep. But he did not want to sleep; not for now. He sweetly caught your lips in a kiss, hovering over you again. He kissed you until you pushed him slightly to breathe. He smiled down at you sheepishly, his blue eyes filled with a lovely glint.

“Your throat,” you muttered to him the words that had been running through your head for day and night. “How is it?” you asked more.

Your flustered cheeks and worry in your eyes made him laugh. He leaned on to kiss your cheek or the skin of your face as he resumed his genuine delight.

“Baby, we just,” he murmured to your cheek, “We just had sex and I thought we could have it again, but you are worried about my throat?”

He saw your furrowed brows and stopped laughing. “I am good,” he said truthfully, with a kiss on your temple. “I’ve said that to you earlier.”

But you both knew he was just telling a white lie earlier. Well, it was your turn to create a fuss to make him learn but he pressed an apology to your lips. “I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen again.”

“You worried me-”

“I’m sorry, baby, so sorry.” he pressed another kiss to intoxicate you with him. “Won’t do it again.”

Truthfully, Bruce was not good with vulnerability or apologizing. Maybe he could be good, if he wasn't stabbed in the back in his younger years for letting his guard down, or gave his care unconditionally. But, you weren’t a renegade to him and it still struggled him to realize that. So, when you looked at him with a pang in your eyes to tell him he did no good, he only did what he was good at.

Loving you with his lips and body.

He sealed your lips with his needy kisses, getting you drunk on him as he was between your thighs. Because he couldn't handle the thought of wounding you or letting you down when you were the rarest thing in his hands. Thus, when he had your attention again, you just let him.

thank you so much for reading! ♡

[theglamorousferal]

The Anti-Ecto Acts have been repealed.

War with an infinite army of the dead and concepts of existence has been avoided.

Damian was glad. On opposite sides of the battlefield is not where he would have wished to reunite with his twin.

She was stubborn enough to become a ghost.

To have to face her, still so small, because she never had the chance to grow would have wrecked him. To have to explain to the family why he hesitated with that once ghost would have wrecked the rest of them too.

Damian was glad the war was averted. Maybe he could ask the ambassadors for the Infinite Realms to pass along a message to his sister’s spirit? Maybe he could help her find peace?

The five ambassadors were coming to the Watch Tower today, and Damian had convinced his father to let him come. He had agreed mostly because the five appeared to be around Damian’s age. This admittance had made Bruce’s mouth form a thin line of displeasure at the thought of young adults being the party chosen to speak on behalf of an entire dimension. Damian knew the displeasure is at the thought of the responsibility thrust upon the shoulders of ones so young, not at having to face younger people on even footing.

They had zeta’d in earlier that day and Robin was making use of one of the training rooms when Batman came to get him for the meeting. He will admit to himself that he was nervous about this meeting. He wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate to ask to send a message to his sister, but he did want to at least try.

The door to the larger meeting room swished open in front of him and he took a seat to Batman’s right. He sat there trying to collect his thoughts when he felt his hair stand on end more than usual. The temperature dropped and a bright green tear in reality formed at the other end of the room.

White fingered gloves appeared at the center of the tear and seemed to pull it wider, large enough for them to fit through with their armor. They floated about two feet off the ground and stood seven feet higher than that. They cast an eerie white glow and their eyes glowed the same bright green as the edges of the tear. Another being floated from the tear, this one just as tall with bright yellow eyes and a teal glow. Another wore a helmet to prevent anyone from seeing their eyes, but they had a red glow to them as they glided in on a hoverboard, they were still nearly six foot tall. The next was shorter, with a pair of goggles that glowed an unnatural blue and had glowing circuitry with hieroglyphics running along that arms. The last entity stepped out.

Damian knew that face. He had mourned it the last ten years.

Purple eyes, a genetic anomaly, but ones he would never forget. The same dark hair as him, thoughts flowed more like Mother’s. She had gained Father’s complexion, always fit to burn if out for too long.

There was just one thing. That face never reached that age. That face never grew to be a teenager, yet alone an adult. Why was this specter wearing his sister’s face?

[rin-may-1103]

Delilah's language (part three)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Danny stood next to Mr. Bruce, watching as people milled around and chatted. a large group gathered right in front of them.

They had flown to Gotham last night, and Danny had been given a nice room to stay in at some fancy hotel. motel? which one was supposed to be fancy?

eh, either way, Danny settled into the room and promptly went back to sleep. He managed to get a total of twelve(12) hours of sleep before waking up. he spent the time after that just sitting and playing on his phone until his alarm went off.

that was two hours ago, and now here he was, standing in the middle of Gotham City Zoo at 8 in the morning. No one had noticed them yet, which Danny was greatly appreciative of; he had not been ready for this.

Sure, Mr. Bruce had said he invited all the scientists, but this? this was not what he was expecting.

he was expecting maybe one or two scientists to be standing around, watching Dalilah and her family as some rich kid hounded them for answers. they were scientist, surely, they had better things to do than attend some kid's birthday party.

but no.

All of them were here. All. Of. Them.

the whole scientific team was in attendance, and right in the middle of them was the birthday boy. his voice drowned out by the scientists all hungrily trying to force their knowledge into his brain.

oh dear ancients what had Danny agreed to?

suddenly, an older boy (slightly younger than Danny, it seemed) approached the group and turned the birthday boy to look in their direction. Danny's poor overstimulated enhanced hearing instantly zeroed in on what they were saying, a pool of dread settling in his stomach. "look, Damian. Bruce is back with that dude you wanted to meet."

Immediately, the kid's green eyes lit up in excitement as they settled on Danny and the kid's father. The boy promptly shoved past the other scientist and marched over to them, mouth somehow set into a scowl even though Danny could feel the kid's excitement increase tenfold. The older boy easily followed behind in amusement.

before the kid could open his mouth, Danny felt the air shift next to him. It wasn't a ghost, they wouldn't have been so obvious, and his sense hadn't gone off, so human then. (he should have heard them earlier, but with how loud it was? Danny wasn't too worried about how he had missed the person) which means, Danny couldn't react obviously or people would ask questions.

tensing up, to prevent his body from reacting on instinct, he waited for the person to act. Not even a second later, someone threw their arm around Danny's shoulders and pulled him close to their side, their voice bright and cheerful. "Damian! look who Bruce dragged in!"

Danny turned his head to glance at the man, he had black hair and blue eyes. This wasn't a surprise, considering almost all the kids Bruce adopted had the same features, so which one was this? One of the older ones, obviously, hmmm. Slim frame, but still musculer. perfect for swimming or gymnastics. So, that would mean, this was Dick Grayson, the oldest?

"tch," Damian scowled even more, "release him, Grayson." bingo. Danny had been correct then. and that was one heck of a scowl, how did the kid do that? Danny could feel he was happy at the sight of the older boy, but somehow, he looked like he'd rather be eating snails than deal with the man.

maybe he should introduce him to Sam, she'd love to learn how to do that.

"Alright! Alright!," Grayson chuckled, what was Danny supposed to call him? Dick or Grayson? Richard? "I'm just trying to be nice."

he turned to face Danny, releasing him from his grasp, his smile almost blinding, "Hi there! my name is Dick. Yes, that is my name. No, I'm not joking. It's nice to meet you, what's your name?"

Danny blinked, then hesitantly shook the man's hand. he should have stayed home, anything would have been better than this. oh, shit they're all looking at him now. "uh, my name's Danny. Danny Fenton."

"Danny! nice. So, what did you do to be invited?" Dick asked, resting his hands in his pockets and lifting a brow. Mr. Bruce had walked away a while ago, so Danny would have to deal with this himself it seems.

Damian rolled his eyes but looked curious as well.

"uh, Mr. Bruce," This got an immediate reaction from all three of them; their eyes widening in surprise and maybe a hint of glee, "invited me. something about how Damian wanted to learn how to speak with Dalilah."

"Really?" asked the other boy, Tim? "you can actually speak with them?"

"Tch, of course not, Drake. The purple-backed gorillas do not have a spoken language, they use their bodies to communicate. Daniel here is the only person in the world to figure out how to communicate with them."

"Don't call me that," Danny cut in, wincing when they turned to look at him, "my name's Danny, not Daniel."

"isn't Danny a nickname for Daniel?" Damian asked, his brows furrowed. "I do not call people by their nicknames, it creates a false familiar connection."

"Usually," Danny conceded, "but my name isn't Daniel. My parents chose Danny, it's not a nickname. and if you really don't want to call me that, then you can use my last name. It shouldn't be a problem considering I'm the only Fenton here."

"Oh," Damian blinked, then thought about it for a second, "Danny it is then."

The other two shared a glance, clearly surprised for whatever reason. Sighing, Danny waved his hand in agreement. The kid could call him whatever he wanted, just not Daniel. Anything but Daniel. (Ancients forbid if he gets called Dan.)

"Anyway, like you were saying. Delilah speaks with her body movements but there is a vocal part. It's a little like sign language and that one whistle language combined, but instead of just using your hands, facial movements, and whistles to communicate, you have to use your whole body. All at once."

Danny then rubbed his neck, "And I'm sure someone else would be able to speak with her if they just paid attention. It's not that hard."

"Not that hard?" Grayson asked, glancing at the gorillas. "how long did it take you to figure out her language then?"

"Oh," Danny blinked, then shrugged, "like, two hours. Like I said, it's really not that hard, you just have to watch her talk for a while."

"two hours?!" Tim, Danny's pretty sure his name was Tim, gaped, staring at Danny like he was nuts. which, Danny didn't appreciate by the way. "It only took you two hours to figure it out?"

Danny wasn't sure if he should feel offended or amused...

"That's impossible," someone scoffed, dragging all of their attention to an approaching scientist. "It takes upwards of three months to multiple years of hard work to even understand human sign language, let alone animal gestures. You couldn't have learned it in just two hours."

Danny rolled his eyes, he remembered this guy. Dr. Trynul or something or whatever, he absolutely refused to believe Danny the last time they talked. he was a real stick in the mud if Danny ever saw one.

"Danny Fenton is listed as the only person in the world to have the ability to communicate with the gorillas. It even says as much in the scientific papers your group released last month." Damian huffed, narrowing his eyes at the man.

Dr. Trynul rolled his eyes, "I requested they leave that false information out, but Mertil absolutely refused to listen to reason."

"and it's a good thing she didn't," another researcher cut in. Danny remembered her from the first time he had to talk with the scientist involved with Dalilah. Real stern but a nice lady.

"This young man can communicate with them just like he would if he was one of them. I've seen it with my own eyes." she then turned to the group, a small smile growing on her face.

"Danny, it's so good to see you again! Delilah has been just such a sweetheart, and her baby is just the cutest thing in the world. You have to come and see them."

Danny rubbed the back of his neck and smiled back, "Sure, Oh!" He turned back to Damian, "maybe I can introduce you to them if you haven't been already?"

The boy nodded his head, his excitement rolling off of him in yellow swirls. Turning back, Danny nodded his head with a small smile, "Please, lead the way."

Next

[ashlovesfood]

Ass Up April!

Tags: No nut november mention, cute fluff moment, bruce bending you over, arch, pounding, use of slut and whore, pet names, full up sex, shorter o(╥﹏╥)o, creampie, squirting, multiple orgasms, face down ass up! aftercare

Link ≧◡≦

Everyone knows about No Nut November, but what about Ass Up April?.. Look, Bruce would may or may not do NNN but you, he was gonna torture you in the best way ever.

April 1, when it all started. “Doll. You wanna make a bet for the month?” Bruce walked into the bathroom, leaning on the doorway as you did your skincare. You were wearing a headband to prevent stray hairs from falling, and a green clay mask was on your face. It looked as if you were a zombie lol!

“A bet? What kinda bet baby?” You were focused on cleaning up your face, making sure the clay didn’t get in your eyes or mouth. “Mm.. Well, what about Ass Up April? Like, I get to bend you over anytime I want and you get to come 24/7.” “And what do I get in that B.” Your eyes were looking at his figure in the mirror, seeing how smug he looked talking about this bet like it was nothing. “I’ll let you use me as your personal dildo..” Maybe this was 50/50…

You thought about the bet for a moment, then replied to his comment. “Alright fine. Just, try not to be a horny dog all the time alright..” Your thighs clenched together at the feeling, your wild imagination running around freely.

Bruce chuckled, looking at your face before he pretended to walk away, hiding behind the wall. You finished applying your mask and cleaned up the counter, turning off the light when Bruce scared you. “Got you!” He grabbed your waist and held you close, laughing at how you tried to escape his grasp, light punches against his chest as you laughed. “You’re so annoying B.” You looked into his eyes as he held you, the moment forever locking into your memory. The air stilled as you embraced each other, smiling like two highschool lovers. Maybe this could’ve been forever.

Bruce let you go, laughing at how silly you looked with the mask on, your mouth turning into a small pout as you hit him. Life couldn’t get any better than this.

Time hit harder than you thought, because now you're being bent over the kitchen counter by Bruce! “Needed to get a taste of this sweet pussy angel..” He was memorized by the sight of your glistening folds, your tiny hole throbbing around nothing as you wiggled trying to feel any friction. His cock was rubbing against his pants, the sight of you being all wet and needy made him so damn hard.

Bruce dove face first into your thighs, a long stripe up your folds made you shiver. “Oh baby.. Be more gen- ah!” He was making out with your hole, spit and slick drizzling down your thighs in a wet mess. It was a pornographic scene, your back arched against the cold marble while Bruce ate you from behind. You squirmed, trying to push away from his mouth as he ate you, earning a hard smack to the ass. “Don’t move doll… Need this meal so fucking bad..”

He made you cum on his face, your juices dripping down his maw onto the kitchen floor with a dripdripdrip. The first orgasms of Ass Up April were insane, the sensations leaving your body sore and sensitive.

Oh, Bruce didn’t stop there tho. It led to being face down ass up in the bedroom, his pelvis connecting with your back. “Bruceeeeee! More ngh- please handsome g’mme more!” You were begging, but you didn’t know what you were pleading for. Bruce made you cockdrunk. He pounded into you over and over, the wet squelches echoing around the room and your moans bounced off the walls.

Bruce landed a hard slap on your ass, his handprint being left behind with a large red mark, his very own mark. “Little slut- taking my cock so fucking well angel.. God m’gonna breed you so damn good..!” His 9 inches made you tremble, the veins and mushroom tip hitting your sweet spot over and over felt like heaven and hell.

You were too dumb to reply, your mind repeating his name as stars filled your vision. Another orgasm pushed through your body as you screamed, hot wet squirt landing on the sheets and bruce’s dick.

“Oh B! Ngh..! Cumming!!” Bruce felt your tight walls clench around his length, the slick adding to the creamy white ring around his base, arousal shooting straight up his body at the sight. You were sweaty and shaky, your hair was sticking to your forehead and you had the most pretty arch ever. Bruce’s dick was twitching, he buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, a loud groan ripping from his vocal cords.

“My fucking little whore..! Your mine sugar- this pussy is mine..” Bruce slid out, your pussy filled up like a cream donut as you slumped against the sheets, hazily trying to recover.

Bruce walked towards the bathroom, wetting a towel to clean you up. He returned to the bedroom, opening your thighs with the towel, wiping away your slick and his cum, whispering sweet nothings. “So sensitive Brucey..” You jolted at his touch, the towel touching your inner thighs making you twitch. “Sorry doll. Hope I didn’t go too hard, yea? Next time you can use me.” “Mm.. That sounds nice.”

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜ ❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

A/N Guys if this was shitty i’m sorry i’ve been having a block for a few days and i have more tests and work to do (ㄒoㄒ)

[scriptseekstories]

What if the reader's mother had never died?

Queen Bee’s Hive: What if?

If Reader’s mother never died, most likely you wouldn’t have met the Waynes until years later.

She would still provide for you, work hard to put food on the table just for you. You’re her priority ever since Project: Honey fell off, but that doesn’t mean she gave up on her dreams and ambitions just yet.

Life would still go on if she didn’t die, where she taught you many forms of science, form bonds with bees and with the new finding from another industry (ahem LexCorp ahem-), you grew up with a bright smile and a loving mother.

Maybe years later when you’re a teen she finally discovers a breakthrough in her research and you both ended up in a fancy gala to congratulate on her work, where you unfortunately bumped into Bruce.

He would at first see your mother, chatting her up as if he didn’t ghost her. Your mother may not have seen him as a potential love interest, but with so much similar passions and humor, she thought he could’ve at least been her friend.

Your mother was not fazed by his suave words, though she did want to escape the conversation with how his apparent son, Damien, was glaring at her, and the fact she lost you.

She eventually found you! By witnessing you eat shit while trying to run up to her and crashing into Damien, who was cursing at you while talking about his katanas. If this wasn’t a gala, she would’ve punt the little brat into the sky.

Bruce would be shocked, seeing how you’re the spitting image of both your mother and him combined. Your mother would be polite and confess about who your father really was, all the while Bruce was silently confirming her claims by doing math in his head. You were baffled at the fact BRUCE WAYNE was your dad, but it’ll soon fade away when you realized that he never talked to her again, so you went like “fuck that bitch”.

And once Bruce and Damien found out, the whole family found out. That gives your mother another headache, seeing as not only she had a Bruce who is begging to see you and even trying to flirt with her (she pulled out a shoe and threw it at him), but now she’ll need newer security from these damn vigilantes breaking into your house.

You once screamed in shock seeing Damien on your desk glaring at you as if seeing if you were worthy of being spared, but your mother burst in with a broom and shooed him away like an angry cat.

“Mom, why are these dirty vigilante people trying to break into our house?” You asked her while she nonchalantly body tossed an unconscious Dick in his Nightwing suit out of the door when he tried to sneak up on her with a surprised hug saying “mom!!”.

“Because they don’t know a thing about boundaries,” She simply smiled while covering your ears to prevent you from hearing Bruce holding a boombox outside.

But if she heard about the neglect and abuse you went through in their care? Oh ho ho… Bruce will have another lesson about family with the help of your mother’s fist and a shoe. She loves you, and she would be damned if she let this man who never once contacted her after the Project: Honey failed now finally wanting to “bond” with you.

She didn’t care if Damien wasn’t her son or didn’t even respected her, she would also fight Talia after doing Olympic stone tossing with Damien’s head after knowing what he did to you. She would also comfort you and make the best reassuring comments about your scar.

“Remember where to hit when a man decides to put his hands on you, okay Bumblebee?” She would coo so sweetly while menacingly hovering over a terrified Bruce and Jason holding her shoe over them.

She may not be their moms, but she’ll scold the batsiblings as if she was. They would be on their knees looking down in shame as your mother held a shoe while yelling at them, to which Bruce tried to calm her down (he ended on being next to them being scolded)

Though that didn’t really matter as the Batfam decided to deem her as “mom”, even though you didn’t like sharing your mom with a bunch of neglectful bums.

Dick would try to get “mom hugs”, as you called them, Jason would want her to read stories with her, Tim wants to be taught all sorts of science stuff, Damien tells his mom Talia to date your mom so he could have both moms, Cassandra, Barbara, and Stephanie would want to do “girls night” and dragging you with them, and Duke would actually want to bond with you both and give you space (jk he’ll watch you sleep)

And Bruce? He’s punching the wall for fumbling a baddie and losing a child. You find them all weird as your mother chased them away while clinging onto you.

Don’t let her love for you fool you guys, most likely she’ll be a yandere with the batfam, just not filled with guilt and shame but with love and protectiveness.

Bruce may be deemed as the “King of Gotham”, but your mother is the Queen Bee of your world.

But if she was still alive, she would’ve prevented what was going to happen to you in that lab.

Taglist: @pix-stuff @jellystar-star @moom0goddess @lithiumval @bad4amficideas @lettucel0ver

[deebris]

The Misteryous Visitor 4

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Bruce finally confronts Damian, and hates how tonight's events seemed to turn out just to remind him what a terrible father he is. He felt like he didn't deserve you, and he wanted at all costs to avenge the injustice Talia committed with you two.

Warnings: Family discussion; maternal overprotection; Bruce has psychiatric problems and is mentally unstable, besides being very angry; mentions depression, post-traumatic stress and the like.

Word count: 3.7k

Note: I apologize for taking so long to post the fourth part. I was looking for inspiration to continue in other fandoms. Now I feel engaged again to continue posting

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

"She is not a secret." Damian tried to sound firm, looking Bruce in the eyes to avoid suspicion. But no matter what he did or how long he tried to maintain the lie, his father had already decided what to think about this enigmatic and strange situation.

"Hmm..." He let out a disheartened murmur, and the boy never thought something like this would happen, but he frowned with worry as he saw Bruce pour another drink. It wasn't like his father to act this way.

When Damian first met him in person at ten years old, he could have sworn Bruce and Talia were somewhat enjoying themselves that day, even with the barbs hidden in some exchanged sentences. Or maybe he was mistaken; after all, it had been so long. Perhaps he had preserved a false memory.

"How much have you drunk?" The boy asked with a disdainful voice, trying to hide that he was truly concerned.

"Why have you never talked about her? She is your sister, Damian." Bruce ignored the question but in a kind of silent acknowledgment, he rested the glass on the side table, preventing himself from getting drunk.

"Why are you acting like this? As if it's a big deal." He made a face of confusion. "Why do you care so much about this? She isn't even your problem. I won't stay here being interrogated because of her." Damian got up, taking hurried steps to the front door. He was running away, and he knew it.

"Where are you going?" Bruce stood to follow him, finally showing some kind of emotion beyond stoicism since they had been alone in the room.

"I'm going to wait for my mother outside. And when she appears, I'll come back to fetch Y/n. Then you won't have to see her anymore, ever again." Damian said, and although Bruce didn't know if in the last part his son was referring to you or Talia, he didn't dare ask for the detail.

"Why didn't you ask any of us for help when you found out she was missing? If she is someone so close to you, you could have talked to us." Bruce was speaking in that strange way again, like when he found out Jason was the Red Hood. He was hurt, and as if a whistle had snapped in his mind, Damian understood that his father was like this because of him. It wasn't Talia or how she always ended up causing problems; it was him. "You hid from me that you were still talking to your mother."

"And did I need to inform you that I talk to my mother?" The boy tried to maintain a haughty tone, repressing the urge to shout so that Bruce wouldn't see his conflicting feelings.

The truth is that it hurt to lie like this. It hurt even more to lie to you. Damian didn't show or openly say what he felt; his mother once told him that was weakness, but honestly, now he was disgusted with himself.

"You didn't need to inform me, but you made an effort to hide it!" Bruce didn't shout. His voice was grave, authoritative, and deep down had a tone of betrayal that had twice the impact of a shout. He seemed to reflect on something, and patiently Damian awaited a lamentable outburst, but just as he himself would do, Bruce was avoiding becoming emotional.

"I don't understand why, but you came to live with me and seemed to exclude her from your life because of us. She is your sister and didn't even know I am your father! You sent letters, which I'm sure you hid not just from me but from her too. And she ended up here in the middle of the night like a fugitive. Will you tell me again that all this has no reason?"

"Even if there were a reason, it wouldn't be your business." The young man replied harshly, and once again: it was a lie. It was his business. Seeing Bruce's angry scowl turn into a defeated look made one of his fingers tremble. Realizing only after saying something that what he did was wrong made a panic arise in his chest.

Bruce sat back in the armchair, giving up on the discussion once and for all. He felt so stupid for thinking he was succeeding in freeing his son from the League of Assassins' clutches, that he was doing a good job showing him he didn't need the blind loyalty Talia taught him to have. He feared that Damian would succumb to a villain's life, exactly as Ra's al Ghul wanted Bruce to be: cruel and ruthless.

Talia stirred bad reactions in him, and his sense of justice hammered in his head. How could he simply hand you back into her hands after you came here tonight? That woman was a bad influence on anyone, and it didn't matter if you were her daughter; you were a child. And wasn't that what he did with all his children? Took them from the streets and bad parents?

He wanted to vomit at the idea of allowing you to continue being raised by someone like her, among those people, but if he couldn't even change Damian, what could he do for you? Bruce couldn't force you to stay, but at the same time, he grappled with the internal conflict of corroborating that one day you would become like they. He is Batman, his duty is to protect. He should protect you too.

Bruce rubbed his eyes, feeling an intense headache and he day was already dawning again"Your mother isn't coming, Damian." He asserted, noticing that a long time had passed since they started waiting, getting up to return to his own room.

"You said we had a lot to talk about." Suddenly, the boy felt the need to prolong the conversation, if this could even be considered a conversation. It was as if they would never speak again if he allowed his father to leave.

"We don't anymore." Was cold, and that made the boy swallow hard. Bruce knew he would regret being so harsh, but at that moment, he wasn't thinking straight. The rational part of his brain was being dominated by his impulsive side.

Bruce opened his bedroom door with unusual violence. Lately, these episodes of anger were frequent, perhaps due to interrupted sleep; this damned insomnia was worse than in the last months. Alfred had already suggested he see a psychiatrist, but Bruce was sure he would leave there with a worse diagnosis than expected, so he avoided it as much as possible.

The butler once dared to mention that he might have some type of post-traumatic stress, but Bruce was stubborn and that led to an argument. He was a controlled man, but that day he shouted. The reaction was not unexpected, considering the tension from the chaos Scarecrow was causing in the city at the time, but Alfred was observant and knew the problems went beyond that.

The death of his parents was a delicate subject, and combined with the pressure of being Batman, Alfred saw Bruce become more obsessive, anxious, and even depressed over the years. Fortunately, the emergence of Dick was a break in the sad loneliness for him. And then came Jason, Tim, Damian, and things improved for a while, but the relapses still existed.

Bruce sighed as he admired his bed, wishing he could sleep again, but knowing he wouldn't be able to without taking another dose of pills, which certainly wasn't an option. Then he noticed your coat there. The garment had been left in his room, carefully placed on the arm of the room's couch.

He walked over and picked up the coat, rubbing the soft fabric with melancholy and noting how well-kept the garment was. It would probably be a good idea to return it to you; Would also be an opportunity to check if you were well accommodated.

Cautiously, he walked to the guest wing. Bruce thought he would need to check the rooms one by one to discover where Alfred had placed you, but a beam of light leaking from one of the doors indicated which one. He hesitated to turn the knob; it felt too intrusive. So, he knocked: three soft taps on the wood. He waited a few seconds, but you didn't come to open it, and he gave in to the act of opening it himself.

In slow movements, he leaned to look inside the room, without entering yet and checking if everything was okay. He saw your figure well wrapped in the covers, eyes closed and breathing in a consistent rhythm. You were sleeping, and the light he saw was the bedside lamp.

He entered, doing everything to control his steps, going to a chair to place the coat there. He felt the need to be gentle with the garment for some reason, handling the coat with such care, as if holding you in his hands.

He was envious of how pleasant your sleep seemed, wishing he could sleep like that too. He thought of turning off the lamp, but regretted it when he saw that his act interrupted your sleep. As soon as everything went dark, he heard the rustle of the covers, signaling that you had woken up. You stayed still for a while, staring at the shadow in front of you, knowing someone was there but too embarrassed to ask who it was, until the light was turned back on and you saw Mr. Wayne.

"Sorry, I think I woke you," he said softly, genuinely feeling guilty. "I brought your coat. I left it to dry better; it's still a bit wet," he continued, gesturing towards the chair.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you replied groggily due to the minutes you spent sleeping. Thinking he would leave, you clasped your hands as if praying and placed them under your cheek on the pillow. A common but funny position.

"Call me just Bruce," he sat on the edge of the bed, looking at your face. He had a question stuck in his throat and thought it would be a good idea to start a conversation. "Are you okay?"

"I am. Thank you for letting me sleep at your house." you answered serenely, and he nodded in agreement. "And you?" You asked back. Bruce blinked, surprised by your question, realizing that your eyes were shining. The truth is he couldn't say how he felt, so he said what anyone would say: 

"Yes, I'm okay," he said, more focused on your face, knowing you might be uncomfortable with that but wanting to see you better. 

“Can I ask you something?” He seemed anxious, and you waited expectantly in silence, which he took as a yes. “Why did your mother separate you two like that? Why didn’t she tell you anything?”

You stared at a random spot on the mattress, feeling a pang in your chest at the memory. “She did, in a way. Mom doesn’t like you very much, Mr. Wayne. I think that’s why,” you said, looking back at him, seeing him raise his eyebrows in amusement; you corrected yourself with a gasp: “Bruce.”

“Did she speak badly of me to you?” Bruce was curious like a silly child, even though a serious scowl was etched on his face.

“Not exactly about you. Mom and Grandpa hate Batman.” By this point, you had already figured it out. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots between your family and Robin with him after a few minutes of reflection. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Bruce let out a dry laugh, caught off guard. “Yes, it’s me,” he confirmed, and you shifted to sit more upright on the bed, excited.

“Is it true that you killed the Joker?” Your question made Bruce’s scowl turn puzzled. So that was the kind of rumor circulating.

“No, I didn’t kill him. He just... disappeared one day,” the same day Bruce thought he had lost Jason, and although deep down he wanted very much to have done it, he didn’t find it appropriate to admit that to you.

“I’m confused,” your voice became more relaxed, he thought it was due to the casual tone the conversation was taking. “If Damian is Robin now, what happened to the other one? He didn’t die, did he?” You asked the last question in a whisper, fearing it was true.

Bruce laughed at this. He had never thought about how people assumed Robin was a single person all these years. “No, he’s fine. You’d be surprised if I told you five different people have been Robin.”

Your eyes widened, and suddenly you remembered a detail: “There was a girl, wasn’t there? I remember seeing some photos in an old newspaper.”

Bruce was perplexed at how much you seemed to know about him, but in a good way. “Yes, there was a girl. She’s Batgirl now,” when he said that, your smile widened even more. It seemed like you were a secret fan, he would say, since in your own words: "Talia hates him" and Bruce knows she would hardly allow you to have such admiration.

But your smile faded, and that worried him for a moment until you spoke: “I didn’t know that man was Hugo Strange,” you looked at him with regret. “If I had known, I would have caught him for you.”

“Would you?” He asked, doubting you really could.

“Well... I would have tried,” you defended yourself, shrugging your shoulders.

“Very brave. But it’s good you didn’t do anything,” he said playfully, stopping to think for a moment. “Y/n, what did he tell you?”

He saw you wrinkle your nose in a grimace before answering. “I thought we met by chance. I was walking and saw a man smoking a cigarette on a corner. I was going to walk past, but then he asked if I needed help.”

“Which corner?”

“I don’t know, but it wasn’t far from home. I was trying to figure out the street on a map I found in the municipal library’s phone book,” you sighed, frustrated at not being able to give the information. “I ignored him, but he followed me. I got scared and started running, but he said he was a cop, so I trusted him.”

“Did he have a police car nearby?”

“He said he was undercover. But I don’t know what that means; I thought it was the same as being off duty.”

“It could mean that too.” Bruce saw your guilty expression, your lip trembling and your hands nervous.

“You don’t need to feel bad for believing him,” his larger hand enveloped both of yours like they were nothing. Were warm, and it was comforting. “I know Damian said horrible things, but he speaks in the heat of the moment.”

“It was not in the heat of the moment... He never just speaks,” your voice dropped so low it was almost inaudible. Your eyes burned, but there were no tears. Crying for your brother would be the last thing you would do again. “What was in the box?”

“What box?” He was confused by your sudden change of subject.

“Didn’t Dick give it to you?” You asked, feeling his hand move away from yours and touch his left pocket. What Dick had given him was a card and not a box. Maybe he had taken what was inside. “I guess he forgot.”

“No. He didn’t forget,” he quickly responded, snapping out of a stupor. A curiosity grew in his chest, a need to know what was in that card.

Bruce fumbled in the pocket where the card still was and pulled it out. He quickly examined the paper, turning it over to check the back for anything. For a long time, his voice was muffled, and Bruce could only hear a buzzing in his ear. It was impossible for those words to have any real meaning. His breathing became loud and shaky, as if he were in the cold, and you were startled to see his eyes blinking frantically.

“Are you okay?” You moved to approach him, seeing moisture suddenly form on his forehead. It was cold sweat.

“How is this possible?” You heard him ask himself, bringing his fingertips to his eyes, rubbing them to make sure he was really seeing. That card had left him unsettled, you realized, and hesitantly, you tried to take it from his hands to remove it from him, but his grip tightened at the feel of your fingers, so tight that it completely crumpled the paper. “Sorry. It’s nothing,” he stammered, seeing that the abrupt movement had scared you.

He got up from the bed, completely oblivious to you or anything else now. He staggered before reaching the door, very disturbed and seeming out of it. Maybe it was you who did something wrong and didn’t realize it?

He didn’t seem fit to walk, so you quickly removed the covers from your legs and went to him, supporting and guiding him to the chair where he had left his coat. He was very heavy, but he was so disoriented that he went limp. He seemed so shaken that he didn’t protest and simply sat there. You stood in front of him for a few seconds, not knowing what else to do to help him.

“Shouldn’t I call someone?” You asked.

“Dick,” he mumbled without looking at you, and that worried. It seemed intentional, as if it was too difficult to face you.

“Where do I find him?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of something, but Damian’s voice on the other side of the door caught his attention:

“Y/n, open the door.” You stood still, recognizing your brother’s voice, until he continued: “Mom is here. She’s going to take you home,” he said as a warning, opening the door after a moment without even asking. “Come on. Why are you standing there like a statue?”

He was perplexed when you didn’t respond, and then he noticed his father sitting beside you in terror.

“Dad?” He approached, kneeling to assess the severity. He was having another episode. Lately, Bruce had only been getting worse every day and still refused to ask for help.

“What happened?” Your brother turned to you, but your face already showed that you had no idea.

Damian tried to place his hand on his shoulder, but Bruce pushed it away aggressively. Your father would never act like this just because of the argument they had before, much less give him a venomous look as he did now, but beneath it all, there was hurt. He had found out about you, somehow.

He should have felt bad about how the news seemed to have been revealed, but he was relieved not to have to lie anymore. At the same time, he regretted choosing to cater to his mother’s whims once again, deceiving his father this way. But the omission had grown so much over the years he spent in the mansion and, after so long, it didn’t matter when he told him, the damage was already done.

Bruce wasn’t in a perfect mental state. He wouldn’t react like this normally, and knowing that, the man felt pathetic in front of the two of you.

“He asked for Dick,” you said to Damian, giving him space to breathe by stepping back.

“Forget Dick,” Bruce replied firmly, surprising. In an instant, he had a fit, and as quickly as he entered this state, he left it. Now, he seemed furious. “Where is she?”

This was a ploy by Talia and Strange. They were planning this together to hit him, a way to weaken him. It could only be that. It was too much of a coincidence Strange had found you just that night; nothing made sense. When had he and Talia gotten involved again after that day that led to Damian? He couldn’t remember and wasn’t good at recalling such old things. Maybe that wasn't even true. It was as if there was a big blank page in his mind.

“Get out,” Talia’s silhouette appeared at the door where she was leaning. Like most times when referring to the children, her voice was imposing, leaving no room for contestation. “Both of you.”

“You were supposed to wait downstairs,” your brother tried to contradict her. Despite everything he did for your mother, unlike you, he was the only one who had the courage to face her.

Her frown deepened at Damian’s defiance, but her stern expression softened at your trembling voice: ‘Mom...’ She sighed and opened her arms to you, casting a challenging look at Bruce, who returned it with an even harsher one, as she wrapped your smaller body than hers in a tight hug.

She knelt to your level, her hands gently brushing your cheeks and hair, noting how frizzy and messy it was. ‘Look at you. Your hair is all disheveled.’ She ran a finger down to your lip, grimacing at the cut there.

‘I’m sorry.’ Although less anxious now that you knew she wasn’t angry, you still regretted disobeying her.

‘My sweet girl,’ she said in a soft, genuinely affectionate voice. She kissed your cheek, casting that same malicious glance at Bruce again, as if provoking him. He felt a wave of nausea seeing her use you as a pawn just to taunt him. ‘Let the adults talk,’ she ordered, standing up and regaining her authoritative tone.

‘I’m staying,’ Damian protested. Leaving his father alone with her in his vulnerable state was a mistake.

‘Go and stay with your sister, Damian,’ Bruce was as harsh as Talia, but unlike her, he was seething with anger.

The boy closed his eyes in frustration but gave in, knowing it was useless to argue. He glanced at you, who had already walked out of the room and into the hallway. Damian was about to follow, but his father’s voice stopped him again:

‘She’s not leaving the house, Damian,’ his firm tone carried the weight of undeniable authority, with bitterness seeping through. The coldness in his voice left no room for warmth; it was distant. Bruce had finally gotten the push he needed. The possibility of you being his daughter gave him a sense of entitlement, and it made Talia’s arrogant expression falter for a moment; she looked apprehensive. ‘Do you understand?’ It was a question directed at both his son and Talia.

‘Yes,’ the young man replied simply, avoiding eye contact with his mother as he left. Damian paused in front of the door before fully departing, and his mother slammed it shut in his face.

He resisted the urge to eavesdrop and turned to look for you in the hallway, but you had vanished.

‘I deserve this,’ he muttered impatiently. You were avoiding him, and Damian couldn’t help but feel irritated at how childish that was. But he was one of the villains here; he was the one who lied, insulted, and rejected you. Realizing this filled him with shame, and unlike the first time, he repeated the words, this time with a tone of regret: ‘Yes, I deserve this.’"

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Eternal Engagement Chapter 03

Cowardice and stubbornness

During breakfast, phone rings in a corner of Wayne manor. There's a call. But Alfred has gone out to buy some food. The phone keeps ringing, thinking that if it's an emergency or something unexpected happens, there's really no other way but for you to answer it.

You follow the direction of the sound, approach it and answer it. Before you can say hello, Damian's voice comes from the phone, "Pennyworth, bring me the suit in my closet, the dark one, remember."

"Huh?! Wait a minute, Damian—" Before you tell him a word, the phone beeps, indicating that it has been hung up.

Alfred hasn't come back yet, Damian's tone seems urgent. You feel nervous outside his bedroom door, feel a desolate breath coming from the door. You wonder if he will be angry that you broke into his room without permission. You shake head and take a deep breath. You are Superman's daughter, what are you afraid of?

Turning the doorknob and opening the door with a click, you can see the neat and orderly bedroom at a glance. The desk is full of business folders related to Wayne Enterprises, each with a lot of information, he has put a lot of effort into it. As expected of the heir of the Wayne family, you don't go near the desk to avoid messing it up.

Opening the closet, you are confused. What the hell are these things? All the neat suits are hung inside, but most of them are dark. What exactly is the dark color he is talking about? Does it mean that the inner wear is dark, the outer wear is dark, or both are dark? What is the style of Damian Wayne's clothes? It's hard to tell the difference. You should reflect on yourself and read more fashion magazines.

You touch each piece with hand and feel the texture is very comfortable, each piece has a light fragrance. You take a suit jacket to smell, a light woody fragrance that is not pungent permeates. It smells so good... Wait! Why did you do something perverted?! You quickly put the suit jacket back to its place, almost forgetting the main purpose.

When you woke up, he had followed Bruce to work. Don't know what his style today, white or dark inner wear, have no idea. If Alfred is here, maybe he will choose the right one with his eyes closed. Ignore it, you choose a dark gray suit jacket, a white shirt and a black tie.

You carefully put them neatly into the clothing bag, zip it up and seal it to prevent damage. Next, you have to change your clothes. Bruce and Damian's dressing style is the image role model of Wayne Enterprises. You took out phone and searched for women's wear, the results showed that you were surprised.

You usually wear casual clothes such as tights, sports jackets, tight jeans and sneakers. You have no experience in this kind of dressing, elegant dresses and exquisite and fashionable shoes. You take a deep breath, you can't lose face of Wayne's family, this time you go all out.

Go back to your bedroom and open the closet immediately. Great, there are a few dresses and high heels that Bruce gave you before. It's the first time to try this kind of style, very nervous for no reason. Jon will be shocked to faint on the spot when he sees it, always saying that his sister doesn't like to dress up.

You dress up simply, wearing a white knee-length dress and black low-heeled retro shoes. Open the drawer to find jewelry to wear, and the first thing you see is the ring box with the engagement ring. Damian always wears it on his finger, but you don't. You think about it and decide to wear it this time.

Arriving at Wayne Enterprises —

You stepped into Wayne Enterprises with clothing bag. The exaggerated outdoor and indoor styles are surrounded by busy office workers. It is a place full of vitality and busyness. You saw the receptionist at the front desk just handling business. She put down her phone and typed on the keyboard.

You gathered courage walked forward with clothing bag. You tapped fingers on her desk. She heard it and cast eyes on you. She stood up with a smiles and said tactfully, "Excuse me, is there anything I can help you with? Or do you have any appointments?"

"I'm here to deliver clothes for Mr. Damian." You pointed at the clothing bag.

She raised eyebrows and cast a suspicious look. "I'm sorry that I can't accommodate strangers. It's usually delivered by Mr. Pennyworth. Please go back."

You understand her position, but know from the phone call just now that Damian is in a hurry. "How about you help me deliver it to him? He is in a hurry."

She bowed politely and shook her head. "I'm so sorry, I can't make an exception."

She sat back and continued to work. You sighed but saw the engagement ring. You were Superman's daughter and Damian Wayne's fiancée. You should be confident instead of shrinking like a puppy.

You tapped to attract her attention again. When she wanted to repeat what she just said, you said without hesitation, "Please tell Damian Wayne that his fiancée is here. The name is Y/N Kent."

She was surprised before could start to say anything, you found a seat by the window and sat down. She was stunned for a moment when saw you were not leaving. She had no choice but to call Damian's office. Unintentionally, your super hearing was awakened again, could hear the voices and conversations in the entire building, including the receptionist who was making a call.

"Sorry to bother you, there is a woman who says she is your fiancée who wants to see you. Her name is Y/N Kent." Damian hung up the phone without replying just after she finished speaking. You trembled and clenched your hands, thinking, is he angry?

A few minutes later, your super hearing disappeared again. You pinched earlobe and sighed, why did your superpowers always exist intermittently. The receptionist kept staring at you with a suspicious. The elevator door opened, and Damian walked out. People around him greeted and bowed politely.

The receptionist pointed at you, immediately stood up from your seat and held the bag tightly, nervousness emerging. Damian looked at you was stunned for a second. Your style of dress was completely different from before. If it weren't for the long dark black hair and sea blue eyes, he almost failed to recognize you.

You walked slowly noticed there were traces of coffee on his suit jacket. No wonder he was so anxious to ask Alfred to deliver it. You nervously handed him the bag in your hand, "This is for you. Alfred is not at home. I delivered it as soon as I received the call, but I don't know if this is the one you want..."

He fixed his eyes on the engagement ring, a sense of satisfaction filled his heart. Then there was your dress. He had never seen you dressed so exquisitely. For a moment, the word he thought of was charming. You tilted head curiously because he kept staring at you without saying anything.

You looked down, wondering if your outfit was weird or didn't meet the requirements. He reached out and gently lifted your chin with his fingers to let you look at him. He smiled proudly, "Be more confident, don't look down."

"Oh...." You murmured, he took the bag from you.

Under everyone's attention, he took your hand and led you to the elevator, which quickly went up to his office floor. He took out the access card scanned the door, which opened automatically. It was the first time you stepped into this place, you couldn't help but look around, feeling very cool. He immediately took off his suit jacket and put it on the chair. There was a little trace of coffee on his white inner wear.

He opened the bag took out the dark grey suit jacket, white shirt and black tie you chose. He looked at you with his emerald eyes and raised his eyebrows said, "Did you choose it?"

You nodded slightly and said awkwardly, "Yes, does it not meet your requirements?"

"I didn't say it, don't always overthink about it. I'll go to the back to change, you wait there." He quickly left the office and walked to the bathroom.

You sat in a comfortable chair and waited, suddenly someone opened the door and it was Bruce who walked in. He said with a very serious expression, "Damian, I handed you the documents - eh? Y/N, why are you here? Why are you dressed like this?"

You immediately stood up, "Uncle Alfred is not at home, I brought Damian a change of clothes."

"Wow, that's thoughtful. If I remember correctly, this dress of yours is-" Bruce stared at the dress on you with a smug smile.

"Shut up, father. Don't say unnecessary words." Damian appeared from behind. He had already changed into the clothes you chose. He was adjusting his tie and sleeves.

All the dresses and shoes in your bedroom closet in Wayne manor were not given by Bruce. They were bought by Damian in various countries during his business trips. He is a tsundere, as Dick said, who is stubborn and takes care of his dignity. You didn't know that Damian picked them for you. You mistakenly thought they were given by Bruce.

"Not bad, quite handsome. You have good taste in matching clothes for your future husband." Bruce leaned over looked Damian up and down chuckled.

Damian put the coffee-stained suit jacket and shirt into the bag zipped it up and sealed it. When you reached out to take it, he unexpectedly held your hand and intertwined your fingers. "Father, she and I are going out to have lunch."

He took the garment bag and pulled you out of his office, leaving Bruce alone in a daze. He couldn't help cover his mouth and laugh. He really couldn't get tired of Damian's stubborn personality. Bruce took out his phone secretly took a picture of the back of the two of you holding hands, then found Clark Kent's chat room to send the photo.

CK: Wow, they are making progress.

LL: Hmph! Damn Damian.

BW: Hahaha, give them some time.

CK: Has the little princess changed at all?

BW: Not yet, I will observe for a few more days.

BW: But... she is starting to gain confidence.

LL: Really?! Great! I was really worried that she would feel inferior because she doesn't have super powers.

CK: I believe in her, it just takes some time.

Cafe near Wayne Enterprises -

He parked the car and got out. When you unbuckled seat belt and were about to get out, he opened the passenger door leaned over extend his hand to you. The sun's rays shone on the earth. His emerald eyes looked so clear when you looked at them closely. His height and broad shoulders were enough to block the sun for you. You felt the hand extended to you. If you hadn't held his hand, you really wouldn't have noticed that his hand was so big and warm.

You two have known each other for so long, playing together. At the beginning, he was shorter than you and Jon, but now he has caught up with Jon in height, you still haven't grown taller. When you stand next to him, you are only as tall as his shoulders. The little Robin at the beginning has transformed from a boy into a man. And you are becoming more inferior because you are entangled in the fact that don't have superpowers. You are trapped in the abyss and not as cheerful optimistic as before.

Wonder Damian willing to see your optimistic side now...

You pouted to show dissatisfaction with his height. He raised eyebrows and put his hands on the car door. "What's that expression on your face? Are you dissatisfied with me?"

"You are too tall. Why are you and Jon so tall? What do you eat?" You tilted head and stared at his face, then moved your eyes to his tie.

He raised eyebrows and smiled, not mocking but happy. It has been a long time since he has seen you with this personality. Finally, he has waited for this moment. The naughty and noisy little girl back then. He stretched out hand and ran his finger across the tip of your nose. "Drink more milk, do more exercise, and reduce inferiority complex."

"You are so annoying." You rolled your eyes and moved your eyes to his chest instead of looking directly at him.

"Always." He smiled arrogantly.

You lowered eyes. "Just now, the super hearing appeared again..."

"Really...? Is there anything else abnormal?" He asked, leaning against the car door.

You shook head to indicate no, he sighed silently. He closed the car door walked into the cafe, leaving you alone in the car. A few minutes later, the driver's door opened, he got in the car handed you a bag with cakes in it. He closed the car door and leaned back in his seat with a cup of coffee in his hand, which he put into his mouth and tasted carefully.

"I just contacted Pennyworth, when you return to the manor, go to the batcave immediately. I arranged for him to set up the Meta-Analyzer to test your body." He pinched his nose and fell into deep thought, with a very serious attitude.

"Meta-Analyzer... I didn't have any conclusion at the time." You murmured.

"Maybe there will be changes, or do you not believe in yourself?" He focused his eyes on your face, his tone seemed to hit you but not with bad words.

You opened mouth and closed it again, you were very nervous. Afraid that the conclusion would be the same, but you can't go on like this. As he said, don't be inferior anymore, you are very tired. You showed a firm look and told him, "I believe in myself."

He curled his lips smiled and nodded slightly, "Very well, future Mrs. Wayne."

Late evening -

Damian had just got home from get off work, as soon as he parked his car, Bruce was surprised his son immediately opened the car door and rushed into the manor. He quickly went to the batcave, when arrived, he took off suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves to expose his arms and untied his tie to show his collarbone, and threw it all aside.

"Pennyworth, where is she?" He approached the batcomputer.

"Master Damian, I have handled it as you ordered, she is currently resting in the bedroom." Alfred stood aside and said silently, pouring tea into his cup.

He nodded to show that he understood, cast his eyes on the batcomputer and sat down in the chair immediately, his fingers began to tap the keyboard non-stop, the large screen displayed your test data, and complex chart analysis was displayed at once. Bruce arrived at the batcave and saw Alfred picking up Damian's suit jacket and tie, Damian's eyes were focused on the content displayed on the screen.

After about an hour, he finally sorted out all the analysis and memorized it in his mind. Bruce stood behind him, leaning aside and looking at the big screen. "What's changed?"

"Beyond imagination, it's no longer a mortal's physique. It's the same as Jon's conclusion, the only difference is that her superpowers haven't erupted." Damian leaned back in his chair and sighed silently, tapping the keyboard with his fingers.

Bruce fell into deep thought. "Damian, I've always been curious, are you saying bad things to her to increase her negative emotions in order to force her to use her superpowers?"

Damian, who was drinking tea, trembled in his hands, he didn't answer but chose to remain silent.

"Damian, you can show that you care about her, you don't need to hide it. You are no longer in the League of Assassins now, you can be more-." Bruce gently pressed on his shoulder to try to comfort him.

There was an echo of Damian putting down the cup in the Batcave. He was calm but very nervous inside. He looked at Bruce lowered his eyes with a bitter expression. "Father, I understand your concerns. But what I want to do now is to stimulate her superpowers and rebuild her previous confidence. That's all."

Damian got up from the chair and walked past Bruce. Bruce grabbed his arm to stop him. "Damian, let her step into your life. You want her."

He touched Bruce's hand gently pushed it away. He remained calm and slowly looked at Bruce sighed helplessly. "Father, I'll go to training first."

His footsteps echoed clearly in the batcave, Alfred put his hand on Bruce's shoulder remained silent. Bruce no choice to guide him silently. Maybe one day when Damian is willing to open his heart, things will get better, especially the confusion of both of you.

"Alfred, prepare coffee for me. I need to tell Clark about Y/N's physical changes." He sat down leaned back in the chair. To distract himself from his worries about Damian, his fingers kept tapping the keyboard.

Alfred prepared the coffee put it aside and handed the phone to Bruce. After calling Clark, he told him everything he knew. Clark was of course happy for you when he heard the news, but at the same time, a worry emerged. Although you have superhuman genes, your superpowers are still a mystery.

The Batcave was filled with the sounds of panting and punching. As Bruce was talking to Clark, he noticed through the screen that another surveillance camera was watching Damian in training. His breathing was rapid, movements were a bit messy, and his batarang holding position was not standard. The conversation just now made him uneasy.

"Master Damian is not in good condition today." Alfred stood aside and said frankly.

"Let him be, he is no longer the boy who rushed around." Alfred's frankness was true. Bruce replied calmly continued to discuss your superpowers with Clark, but his eyes would still stay on the big screen.

"Perhaps it was the influence brought by Ms. Talia and the League of Assassins." Alfred's emotionless words made Bruce ponder the past.

Clark was still talking to Bruce on the phone, but distracted and ignored Clark's words. Looking at the big screen with a sharp gaze, a trace of worry surged into his mind. Even if the two were a father and son, he didn't understand Damian thoroughly enough.

"Clark...Did Jon and Y/N have any moments that made you feel helpless?" Bruce revealed the confusion he wanted to express in bitterness.

Clark on the phone fell into silence, thinking for a few seconds to find the right words to guide Bruce "Every moment is helpless. From the time held a little baby in hand until now..."

"Is that so..." Bruce muttered with a sigh of relief.

"But since they choose to be our children, we should accept their growth. Maybe we are helpless, but this is the way to grow up." Clark was confused about this matter, but still maintained an optimistic attitude and expressed his inner thoughts.

"Thanks, Clark. I will learn more about the situation of your little princess, will inform you if there are any problems." Bruce hung up the phone after speaking.

The echo of the fists became clearer, the panting sound was still messy. Pound by pound, the fists hit the dummy with fierce momentum, like a beast gnawing at its prey. Damian kept venting his emotions and releasing confusion, the past in his mind seemed to reappear in his memories.

There was a memory that Damian returned to League Of Assassins, one of his hometowns and birthplaces. He once told his mother Talia about this marriage with you, but he did not get a blessing but Talia's harsh and unpleasant response, "Superman's daughter is your fiancée, well done, son. This is one of the new forces of the future League Of Assassins.

"Mother, what do you mean by this?" He clenched his fists and frowned at her.

"When did you become so stupid, don't you understand? Superman's genes are very strong, an invincible and powerful existence. You marry his daughter, and the new life you two will give birth to in the future will definitely be an indestructible miracle." Talia drew her sword and her delicate fingers touched the line and the tip of the string.

"Giving birth to new life..." He gritted his teeth a trace of anger surged up.

Talia pointed sword at Damian's chest and smiled, but deep in heart she was plotting like a snake. "Your father arranged the only right thing, a wise choice, Superman's daughter and Batman's son. The future League Of Assassins will be stronger, and your grandfather will be glorious."

Damian had a blank expression but was very annoyed. In a rage, he snatched Talia's sword pointed it at her neck. Talia took a step back remained alert. His emotions fluctuated, he swore words to his mother without hesitation, "I don't need her to give birth to any life for me, and this marriage is not for the future of League Of Assassins."

"You are so stupid. You are an assassin. Don't forget you have our blood in body. With such a powerful gene that will merge with you, you don't want to use this opportunity to change the fate of your offspring." Talia said to Damian sarcastically and arrogantly.

"I am also Robin, Batman's sidekick. Even my fiancée has strong genes, it doesn't mean that she needs to become a reproductive tool for the benefit of future generations." After playing with the sword, he threw it on the ground kicked it at Talia's feet, as if he was fearless.

Talia felt that she had said too much and didn't take his feelings into consideration, but in order to make the League of Assassins stronger, she couldn't bear to compromise because of her emotions and Damian was her son. "If I had known this, I shouldn't have let you follow your father. You become weak. If you and your father stood by me, our family would not be broken, we would be strong and indestructible."

"I am the grandson of Ra's al Ghul, the son of you and Bruce Wayne. It is my decision who to follow. And my engagement with her is a matter between the two of us. It is not for anyone else, no one can tell us what to do." Damian retorted her mercilessly.

"Damian al Ghul, you will regret it. She will become our property in the future, and so will you. You two can't escape the fate of the League of Assassins, no matter how invincible you are." Talia glared at him, her words were full of a strong sense of mission and meaningful meaning.

"I will take it as your blessing. Goodbye, mother. I will come again. I hope you don't have anything to do with my life and hers. Damian curled his lips, turned around and walked towards the exit to leave the world full of blood.

Talia stood there watched her son leave, her long dark brown hair fluttering in the wind. She clenched fists and looked at him fiercely, cursing, "Oh my son, Bruce my beloved. You two are as stupid as a little bat hiding in a cave, too weak to be saved."

A stinging feeling brought Damian back to reality from the nightmare memory. You were bandaging the wound on his fist. He did not refuse your touch, but waited quietly for you to treat his bloody fist. You applied a thick layer of cream on his fist and then fixed it with a bandage.

"Thanks. Pennyworth will take care of it, you don't have to do this." The first thing he did was to take back his hand, put the engagement ring on the chain and put it on. Then he stroked his fist with his hand and drew circles on the bandaged part.

You were puzzled by his habit of never taking off his engagement ring, but didn't ask him the reason. You felt a little happy , as if he valued this engagement very much. "Uncle Bruce and Uncle Alfred are busy, I came to the batcave saw you sitting here in a daze..."

"Is that so? Thinking about something, bad memories..." He scratched his head.

You took a towel gently wiped the sweat from his forehead. He shuddered thought you wanted to attack him, because the memory just now made him more alert. But you didn't attack, just wiped his sweat, you murmured "Do you want to tell me? Maybe you will feel better?"

He glanced at you with a thorn in his words "It has nothing to do with you, don't worry about it."

You felt that his attitude indicated that he didn't want to continue the discussion, you nodded slightly to show that you understood. When you were about to leave, he pulled you into his arms, you sat on his lap. He held your waist tightly with both hands, your back leaned against his chest, his face buried on your shoulders. A wave of tension came over you , and his breath on your skin made you feel itchy.

"Damian?? What's wrong with you?" You said with a tremor in your voice.

Recalling what Talia said, he didn't dare to tell you what his mother said. He didn't dare to imagine that he and you had fallen to that state, creating nightmares for him to give birth to life. He didn't need you to give birth to life for him and League Of Assassins, he just wanted you to be happy, but he couldn't say these words "I'm fine, stay like this for a while, okay?"

You glanced at him over your shoulder and nodded silently, holding his arm around your waist with both hands to give him a little comfort "Okay."

— Chapter 3 The End —

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[kenwio]

Joker's kid! reader : observations from the sidelines

Route: black fog

Warnings: grammar mistakes, bad writing, angst

Author's note: it was written in hectic conditions. Maybe in the future, I will rewrite it, but I struggle with finding time for anything aside from my studies right now. I'm sorry

Your days in manor went by slowly. All this time, you stayed away from the family of bats. Every time you tried to end up becoming another painful memory, and since it felt like you were the one messing things up, it was your responsibility to prevent things from becoming ugly.

The time of this intentional or not exclusion from made you give up all hope to try become part of them, the part of family. And as much as it was painful, you got used to it. It wasn't something you weren't used to. You had to deal with lots of pain before, maybe a different kind of pain, but still pain.

And you made peace with it. Well, that's what you were saying, trying to convince yourself that it's for the best, and yet the earning for belonging left deep ache in your heart, that sometimes was unbearable to handle. No matter how irrationally it was to expect something more from them, after they gave you a roof over your head, your room, safety and food, you still wanted the warmth that family share, that they all share. Why taking you in at all if they just placed you on a sideline? That question bothered you more than anything else. You couldn't understand that logic, the way they think, the way they act... function even. That's when you felt it, the curiosity, the willingness to learn. And if they placed you to the sideline, why not use it to your advantage. After all, the position you were in allowed you to observe. It would be a perfect position to study them, to find what made them tick, to see what they hold dear, to notice what they avoid. It could be your own since project, the study of almost dysfunctional family. In the meantime, you will also tend to a few of your own things...

One day, you just asked Alfred for a notebook and pen. It surprised me, but he brought them to you. You saw how sometimes while experimenting on you or with his venom your father took notes on various ripped pieces of paper, so you though note taking was essential for experimenting and observations, but since you had resources to use nit ripped papers but something nicer why not use it.

The first obstacle on your way was the fact that I struggled to write, which was essential for your note-taking. Well, you struggled to read, too. But you but knew words, quite a few actually, and you knew basics of writing and reading, you just wasn't trained enough. You decided to train yourself before you start observing everyone and keep an eye on Alfred in a mean time. He may be wary of you, and that's why he won't get close to you, but he helped you either way. He even showed you how to properly hold the pen. On one occasion, he saw you writing. You learned that Alfred was compassionate. He showed care even to you. You saw that even if he was in some sort like you, the character that stayed in the background, you noticed his role was much bigger than that. He had a really big role in this family. He was the one who did most care of the family. He kept track of everyone, their moods, their conditions. And, maybe because of this, he had so many skills that you couldn't keep track of them. He knew tastes and preferences of each and everyone, and it takes either professional or a really caring person for it. And you knew he was both. If only this care is applied to you.... on this, you ended your first observation notebook.

If Alfred was an emotional anchor that was essential for this family to function, Bruce was the sole reason why this family existed at all. But out of all of them, he was the most hard one to observe. He didn't give you time of his day at all. And it confused you. But given the history of taking unfortunate children in, you understood that maybe he took you in for this exact reason - you were unfortunate. And you knew another thing, your father was the bane of the Gotham existence. Given that Bruce was Batman, you figured that he took you in only to prevent you from going to darker path. He didn't need more villainas. He had too many to pay attention already. You don't know why, but taking notes about him was harder than anything.

Soon, your notebooks started filling up with your other notebooks. In each and everyone you wrote about their moral code, their desire for justice and their obsession. The obsession with crime fighting was in blood not only of Bruce but also each and every child of his.

Tim spends nights without sleep, solving cases nights on end. You noted in gray notebook.

Richard, soon you found out, was not only vigilante but a police officer in his city. You wrote in blue journal.

Jason was fighting everything that was wrong in his view. You noted in red notebook.

And Damian just fights everything, showing his despise for criminals. You mentioned in green one.

Ans as much as you hoped that you will only see that cold side of them, so that you could just move on. As much as you tried to concentrate on their crime fighting, while observing them, you knew it wasn't right. You saw other things.

"Alfred loved his family" - you wrote in a white notebook. It was the title for paragraph about things you noticed. Like little moments when he was alone in kitchen baking cookies that all family loved. The sound of light humming made the kitchen more welcoming

"Bruce kept his eye on his kids" - you observed. You noticed him taking some sort of note when he saw one morning that Damian didn't particularly enjoy his meal. You and him both took notes about family members... you wondered if he had notes about you.

"Dick was the one who was raising spirits up" - you concluded one day, when he came over, when Tim needed emotional support. You even caught him looking at you once, as if he was trying to gather strengths to talk to you

"Jason loves library" - you wrote in "Jason Tod likes". You were surprised to see how calm Jason can be when he was paying attention to his book and not something that aggravated him. This sight of him made you want to want to train read more

" TIm is helpful" - you scribbled in "Tim : personality". You also saw how Tim was quick to help others. Even if he went a few nights without a second of shut eye, he was willing to help others.

"Damian loves pets" - you noted one day when you saw Damian taking care of his pets, his dear Titus and Alfred the cat. You were so surprised to see him smiling

But these good sides of them, for you this side, were unreachable. You knew from previous experience that no matter how hard you tried, for you, it won't work. The pages of your plans on how to get along with them half written and covered in tear stains.

Their obsession with the criminal world made it impossible for you to be seen as an innocent human being.

But you also weren't as dangerous as a threat to be considered seriously.

After some time of thinking, you found a solution for your lonely situation... you began a new notebook.

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[peepreadscomics]

Thinking about the nightmare 90s!Tim has in YJ01...

Tim's kneeling on the sidewalk, gawking in horror at his hand. His wrist is wrapped with bandages, and his hand has been replaced with a batarang.

His actual hand, glove, and all have fallen off, swarmed by the killer cockroaches of Gotham's streets.

Young Justice 1998 01

Idk, I can't stop thinking about how part of him is replaced with something Batman made, honed, and curated for efficiency and vigilanteism.

A part of Tim is just laying there... swarmed and consumed by the unkillable vermin of Gotham streets.

Here it is again; Tim's fear of slowly becoming someone that he isn't. Becoming a tool and a weapon, less human and more machine.

And then there's Batman in this nightmare. Standing tall, ready to move on... nonchalantly asking Tim to grow a beard so he can make a personal use of his shiny new appendage.

But it's the,

Don't worry, Robin... No one will notice.

that's just smacking me across the face.

A part of Tim is dead and gone, but dont worry, kid! No one's gonna care enough to notice! (This is not a dig towards Tim's parents btw. Ill talk abt the Drakes in a different post.)

Batman brushes off Tim's horror—when lil bro's literally choking with horror—with an assurance that everything that Tim's afraid of will come true and, hey! it isnt a big deal.

Of course, this is Tim's nightmare view of Batman and not a characterization on Bruce, but it's just another example of how Tim sees Batman as a symbol that has consumed Bruce. (So, also not a dig towards Bruce, btw. He gets his own post later, too)

Since Tim's first few appearances, he's been terrified of becoming consumed by justice (?), vengeance, and vigilanteism.

Between his visceral fear at the comfort/hug from Bruce when his mom died, to a different nightmare featuring nightwing, to this nightmare, to rejecting comfort from Bruce at Steph's funeral, to hating Robin and himself after his father's death, and faking an uncle to get away from Batman??

It just shows how terrified he is of becoming someone he isnt...

And this nightmare in particular adds this: he's afraid no one will notice.

Young Justice 1998 01

It makes sense how his attempts to try and prevent the erasure of who he is would slowly escalate with every death. And with so many other heroes just... coming back... and coming back the same or even "close enough"?

It's easy to reach the point of rejecting death entirely. (am i side eyeing people who compare his reactions to certain people's death as a valid measure to who's more important to him? Maybe. Thats a different post tho)

Anyway. Fast forward like 3ish years later...

Red Robin 2009 01

Haha. I love self fulfilling prophecies.

Bart's Nightmare

Kon's Nightmare

[jellybeesblog]

𝙍𝘼𝘽𝘽𝙄𝙏 𝙃𝙊𝙇𝙀𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄: 𝓣𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓛𝓸𝓸𝓹

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 𝐔𝐏 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃ᝰ.ᐟ

𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚝'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙽𝚎𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝, 𝙰𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛, 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗; 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚎, 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎 ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

The familiar silence brought her back to her senses as she slumped the upper half of her body against the table. Time seems to fly fast when you're doing something fun, right? (Name) tapped her pencil against the page of her sketchbook, her face resembled one of frustration. It was currently 21:03am and there was not a single trace of anyone or anything. “Maybe they're still preparing for it....I did ask Alfred yesterday to tell them that today's my 11th birthday.” A knock on the door interrupting her racing thoughts.

“Miss (Name)? Are you still awake?” She sprung up from her chair and rushed to open the door. Her eager eyes looked up at him hoping for good news but was met with a pitiful gaze. The outstretched smile slowed faded as her shoulders slumped down. “Are they are here...Right? To celebrate my birthday?” Alfred looked down at her small form in silent sorrow. The way she pulled at the sleeve of her nightgown using it to prevent the tears from falling, the tremble of her lower lip and her bloodshot eyes that avoided his own.

“I'm afraid not, Miss (Name).”

“Maybe next time...”

“Maybe.”

Each and every year whilst Bruce trained the rest of the family, (Name) was nothing more but a bystander. The moment she had set foot in the house no matter how hard she tried to get along with Dick, he'd brush her off offering his usual charismatic smile and a brief pat on the head. But as time passed, so did his attention on her. Jason wanted nothing to do with her and made it clear. She tried to sit next to him? Next (Name) knows he sits up and walks out of the room.

Tim acted as if he didn't notice her presence and carried on with his life. However if push comes to shove them she'd manage to get a sentence out of him. Each time you entered his office as a kid to show off your sketches, Bruce would always turn a blind eye to it. A glance was all you would get if you were lucky. Most of the time he was on his laptop typing away at it and during night he would become the masked hero, Batman. There was no time for you in his schedule and you knew it.

𝗦𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺?

“....ame?)”

“(Name)?”

“Young lady I'm talking to you!”

Your body jolted slightly as you snapped back into reality, the whole class was staring as the history teacher, Miss Bateman shook her head in disappointment. “You do know I've been calling you for like two minutes, correct?” You sat up straight on your chair from your desk and began to feel heat rising in your cheeks. “Sorry Miss Bateman I just-”

“Zoned out? Daydreaming? Honestly (Name) trying to get your attention is like trying talking to a brick wall. No response and it's as if I'm talking to myself. My question was name a famous structure that hasn't collapsed to this day.” You hadn't drank water since this morning so it was beginning to take a toll on your poor throat. “Pyramid of GiZA-” Your voice cracked a bit but it didn't seem to bother Miss Bateman who gave you a satisfied nod and continued to teach. “You should learn to pay more attention in class. No wonder why my grades are higher than yours.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

Damian also attended every class you went to and as always he had to leave a bitter comment that made you want to wrangle his throat. Not like you could without getting knocked down to the floor with a bleeding nose. “Nobody asked you dipshit. You always have some kind of comment for everything I do. Focus on your own life.” You whispered back before turning back to writing down notes. You felt the pinning gaze of some of your classmates burning at the back of your head. You had to admit that you envied him infact you were envious of your family.

Especially Stephanie, the girl of the family. They pampered her and treated her as though she were porcelain, you were nothing to her. Nothing to them. Sometimes you sit on the rooftops watching them fight and work together to defend their city. You wished you were special like them. Whilst Dick and Damian got all the attention at school with a few secret admirers here and there. Instead you were looked down upon and you would hear hushed whispers of rumors about you. Why you?

Decades later and you had finally gotten a job as a detective in order to be acknowledged and respected by Bruce and your siblings. Not because it was your dream to become one. Decaf coffee and stale bread was a delicacy at best and files full of cases unsolved stacked in piles on your desk as you would stay up late solving them and end up falling asleep on top of them.

Days became a blur as you worked on your cases, having to see the mutilated bodies of the deceased and again feeding off of scraps of food. Scars of the past decorating the skin of your clothed arms, scars that brought back memories. Some of your younger colleagues admired you from afar as you helped families and companies with their case with ease.

“You know Detective (Name)...Sometimes I wish I was like you.” You turned to face your younger colleague who leaned against the doorway, eyes as bright as street lamps following your movement. What they didn't expect was for you to laugh at them. And as your mocking laughter died down you turned back to your board full of pictures of cases you were almost done solving. “No you don't.”

You hadn't heard from your family for a long time- no you haven't heard from Alfred in for a long time and wondered how he was doing as you spun around your office chair, a bleak expression lingering for a moment on your face. As a kid, sleep was your only escape from reality but now the only thing you wanted to do was stay awake. Whenever you slept visions from the past pestered you with such intensity, you would wake up drenched in sweat, clothing soaked and clinging to your skin.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱

Standing on top of the Gotham Museum's roof, you looked down at the racing cars on the grimey streets of Gotham. It was raining heavily, the sound of the raindroplets colliding with the ground made you forget what you were about to do. All it took was a leap of 'faith'.

The next day your face was plastered all over the newspapers along with your body covered with blood stained cloth in order to censor the graphic scene of suicide. The death of (Name) Wayne.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍ᝰ.ᐟ