#batsis!reader

[invincibledc]

Imagine the baby al ghul-Wayne twins, Y/N & Damian, these two are babbling their mouths off to each other. Bruce is just watching with an intense face, he’s trying to understand baby body language as he soon sees the brown skinned boy slap you. Your eyes widen before you start to cry. You definitely said something offensive to him in baby language. As Bruce sighs and goes to pick you up and punish Damian, Damian himself picks your hand up and makes you slap him.

Now he’s crying. Bruce just sweatdrops at this. what in the world just happened? Two baby twins crying as Damian just fails his arms around as you sit perfectly still.

Time skip, to the twins being 10. You and Damian are arguing as Bruce sighs at his kids. You hit his shoulder and he hits yours. You stay quiet as your face puff up, Damian puffs his face up as well, mimicking you. Before you can get more angry, Damian hugs you and says sorry. It’s different than what it was when you both were babies.

Bruce could only look in confusion, the twins are confusing.

[athenalvss]

Batsis X Wally West with an accidental pregnancy? How’s everyone reacting? Is Bruce (or dick) trying to strangle Wally?

FLASHGNACY — ( Wally west! )

summary: You and Wally had a little slip-up, and now it's time to tell the whole Batfam about the little bean

pairing: Wally west x batsis!reader

open request - Wally masterlist

You didn't plan it, obviously, it was irresponsible of you two, you had recently returned from a mission that had left you exhausted and stressed, and what was the best way for you to relax after a mission? Fucking. Because it had been totally irresistible to feel Wally's hands running down the back of your suit and how his hand felt holding your hips while he stood behind you, leaning his body against you, while you listened to Dick's final speech after the mission.

And it was more than enough to get to where you were today.

Now you're in the bathroom, holding a positive test, gasping for air. You've faced assassins, cosmic entities, and even Alfred's trial, but this is definitely beyond you.

And Wally is, how to put it... a little tense, the first thing that crosses his mind was you, he knew that with you he wanted to have children and have his whole life, but he didn't think it would happen so quickly, but you know what? it's okay, as long as you were healthy and nothing happened to you, it would be fine, both can make a beautiful family. Then he thought about his family, they definitely wouldn't say anything bad to him, maybe his Aunt would look at him like "I gave you a talk, remember?" but she would be happy, just like Barry, you and he weren't children anymore, so nothing to reproach.

But the problem was when he remembered what the real problem was, your family, how would you tell the richest man in Gotham City, who was also the Dark Knight, that he had accidentally make pregnat his daughter? Or your brothers, Dick and Jason wanted to kill him, Tim would be quite surprised by the miscalculation of you two, but Damian and Bruce were the real problem, Bruce would end his life, he was more than sure, but if he didn’t do it, he was sure that Damian would, that boy really hated him, he hated that his sister was dating him for some reason, and now he found out about this, he would definitely die.

It was Bruce you decided to tell everything to first; it was better to tell him in person than for him to hear it from others. The echo of their footsteps resonated in the vast space of the Batcave, the darkness barely interrupted by the faint glow of the screens illuminating Bruce's serious face. Alfred stood to one side of him. He didn't turn around immediately, but the silence between the three of you was charged with an unbearable electricity, a weight that crushed every unspoken word.

Wally paced beside you, restless, biting his lip, hands in his pockets, trying to gather his thoughts. He knew there was no turning back.

As you approached, you felt your heart race. It wasn't just the news you had to deliver, but the stares you'd face. The gaze of your father and your grandfather. The air seemed to grow thicker, almost cold, as your fingers nervously intertwined.

With your voice firmer than you felt, you said, "Can we talk?" Your voice was louder than you expected, but it didn't waver. You couldn't afford to tremble, not in front of him.

Bruce didn't respond immediately. He just turned slowly toward you, his gaze falling on you first, then on Wally, who was standing half a step behind. Alfred, at his side, frowned slightly, not that that was a common occurrence.

"Of course," Bruce finally replied, with that calmness of his that could sometimes be more terrifying than any scream.

He stepped back from the console, crossed his arms, and waited. There was no greeting. No gesture of relief at seeing them safe and sound. Just that implacable air that enveloped him every time he prepared to face a critical situation.

"What's going on?" he added.

Wally gulped beside you. You felt him shift subtly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if his legs wanted to run but their roots were anchored to the stone of the Batcave. For the first time, the fastest boy in the world seemed unsure of how to move forward.

It was you who took a step forward. You felt the pounding in your ears, in your throat, as if your own body wanted to retreat but you didn't. You couldn't. It wasn't just your truth you were about to let go of: it was the future reaching out to them without asking permission.

"I'm pregnant," you said, without embellishment.

The words didn't crash. They didn't explode. They just hung there, floating in the icy air of the cave. Bruce didn't react immediately. He watched you intently. He studied your face as if he could gauge your heart rate, your level of conviction, your fear. Then he looked at Wally, who held his gaze as if his life depended on it.

Alfred, on the other hand, was the first to move. Very slowly, as if the words had just unwound a part of his chest that had been locked away for years. His eyes widened slightly. Then they softened completely. "Oh..." he said briefly, his lips trembling a little before breaking into a small, warm smile. "My God."

Bruce glanced at him, and in that gesture, a silent conversation began between them. Years and years of shared silence, of open wounds, of a family built from rubble… and now this.

A son. A grandson.

Bruce took a deep breath and looked back at you. "How long have you known?" he asked, his voice low and not harsh.

"Couple days ago" you replied.

He nodded once, as if confirming something he'd already suspected. Bruce always knew everything before anyone told him, but this time, this time he was surprised. The silence returned, but it wasn't as oppressive this time. It was as if all thoughts were adjusting to the new order of the universe.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked you. And that question, coming from him, was all you needed.

"Yes" you replied, and this time your voice did tremble a little. But not from fear.

Alfred approached, as if he couldn't stay away for a second longer. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder, warm, protective, barely trembling.

"Darling," he murmured, his eyes glassy. "You don't know how much this means. Your father..." He paused, glancing at Bruce. "Well, he may not say it out loud, but this... this is important to him. To all of us."

Wally looked down, smiling faintly, as if he could only just breathe. Bruce, still with his arms crossed, watched him silently for a second longer.

Bruce came a little closer, close enough for you to notice the change. He wasn't the same intimidating shadow he'd always been. There was something in his eyes. Something you didn't remember seeing before.

Pride, you could see him happy, you didn't need him to express it.

"And you," he added, looking at you intensely. "You're going to be a great mother."

You froze. Because he didn't say it with emotion. He didn't say it with a smile. But he said it. As if it were a truth he'd always known.

Alfred laughed softly, breaking the tension completely. "It's about time this cave had some life."

They'd waited a week since Bruce found out. Just one. It was Alfred's idea, "Wait until you're ready. And when they say it, do it your way," and you listened to him. It was the most sensible thing to do. They were all there, thanks to a dinner you'd arranged yourself under the guise of a "family reunion." The dinner was simple. Nothing fancy. You and Wally prepared it as if it were just another moment. But deep down, you both knew you were about to cross a line.

"What exactly are we celebrating?" Jason asked, spearing an olive from his plate.

Then you stood up. “There’s something we want to tell you.”

Wally stood up next to you, clearly more nervous than you. Even though you were about to throw up from your nerves.

"We're expecting a baby," you blurted out. No beating around the bush.

The silence was immediate. At first, no one moved. As if the words hadn't finished arriving.

Jason was the first to react. "Excuse me?" He blinked. "Did anyone else hear that, or was my coffee drugged?"

Tim looked up, processing the sentence more slowly than usual. "Pregnant... really? Confirmed? Any tests? Estimated weeks?"

"Yes, Tim," you said, with a mixture of tenderness and nerves. "Confirmed."

Jason looked at you. Then at Wally.

"Wow..." he finally let out, with a dry laugh. "Wow. Do you realize we're going to have a red-haired baby running around here? A mini-Wally."

Bruce stood slowly. He walked over to you. He looked at you, then at Wally. He didn't speak immediately. "Congratulations," he finally said. His voice was firm, serious, but real. A few words, but you felt them like an absolution. A blessing.

And Alfred, from the other end of the table, raised his cup.

"The first grandchild of the Wayne family… I guess I'll have to dust off the crib."

And then, her eyes went to Damian and Dick, the only ones who remained silent. Their arms were crossed, their gaze fixed on an indefinite point.

Damian didn't move. Not a blink. He remained with his arms crossed, his jaw tense, and his gaze fixed on some spot on the tablecloth, as if he were burning it with his mind. The atmosphere had eased after Alfred's comment and Bruce's curt but firm blessing… but the air was still thick. For the two of them.

You looked at them. You didn't say anything. You knew forcing them would only make things worse.

Damian was the first to speak, standing up. He walked over to you. He looked at you for a long second. "Are you happy?" he asked bluntly.

"Yes," you said. And he simply nodded once in response.

“Then okay, I think…” Damian continued, “she’s having a child with you. And that means I’m going to have to… accept it. Because you chose him.” He turned and stopped right in front of Wally. “I swear, if you ever make her cry because of anything other than pregnancy hormones, I’m going to train until I can beat you. And when I do beat you… I’m going to beat your face in.”

"Accepted," Wally replied seriously, slightly inclining his head.

Damian nodded, satisfied, and then hugged you. He hugged you tight. Much tighter than anyone else had that night. "It's going to be hard, he murmured, his chin tucked into your shoulder. "But I'm going to want it too. If it's yours… it's mine too."

You pressed your lips together to keep from breaking. And when he pulled away, everyone's eyes went to the last one missing: Dick.

He was standing. Quiet. With his hands in his pockets. He wasn't looking at you, or at Wally. Just at the ground. As if he needed a few more seconds of air.

"Dick?" you asked softly.

"Now you're going to be a mom, with that stupid Wallace, but I'm happy" then, he hugged you as if it were the last day on earth. "You're going to be amazing, and I hope that baby doesn't look anything like you". he looked at Wally suspiciously, while whispering words that only they could hear between them. "I'm going to kill you, Wallace."

[sramoonlight]

Baby sister

What if the Batfam doesn’t care about one of their youngest?

Content you’ll see here: neglected!reader, trans!reader, yandere!batfam, mentions of death, mentions of prostitution, mentions of child prostitution

English it’s not my first language, so please be patient

It all started when you were born, well not like that but you had always been with your father, Bruce Wayne, not by choice because your mother left you without fighting back

I mean, you don’t mind, growing on luxury and being the daughter of an eccentric billionaire was enough to make every kid at the kindergarten jealous, except they didn’t know

Your name wasn’t Wayne, you kept your mother’s last name and doesn’t matter how much you ask for it

They tell you it will change once you are old enough to be presented to the public.

But the life at the manor is great, Dick is a good big brother even if he isn’t around that much and Jason? Much better! You’re much younger than him but he is the best

Probably because he always wanted a younger sister, or maybe you two just connected instantly.

None of it mattered when he was gone, when your father came with only his cold body everything felt worse

Dick stopped coming to see you, your father stopped paying attention to you and Alfred couldn’t contain his tears when he saw you.

— You know I was supposed to be the next Robin, right? — You told the replacement in front of you, looking down from the stairs

You and him were almost the same age, you were just 2 years younger than him but still, you couldn’t find yourself bonding with him

— Really? You? — He had a smile on his face, mocking the way your heart fell to your knees

He wasn’t taking you seriously, of course, the brilliant kid doesn’t think anyone could be better than him

— Big brother Dick gave me his blessing and brother Jason promised to gave me his suit once he returned from his trip to find his mother — except he didn’t

Of course, you hate Tim because of it, Jason died leaving the mantle available and still you didn’t took it because that was his legacy, no one could be Robin after him but Tim dared to took it

— You’re taking everything from us and I hope you feel how mad we are — “We” a way to tell him Jason wouldn’t be happy about being forgotten like this.

Of course your relationship was the worst, by this time he separated you completely from your father and Alfred, don’t make me talk about Dick

Everyone loved him, how couldn’t they? He was the thing they needed when everything was off, they don’t know nothing

And the worst part came, your little head peaking to see downstairs were Bruce was fixing his collar, a gala, he always goes alone but now there is a small demon besides him putting on some fancy shoes

Why does he can be in a gala? And why does he can be presented as his ward? You’re his child, you deserve it more than everyone

This is because you are a girl, right? Your father is so afraid you won’t be able to protect yourself because you are a girl, you don’t even want to be a girl, you didn’t have a choice and if you did you would absolutely ask to be a boy

What stops you from being a boy? I mean, you just need to have short hair and like cars and stuff, you don’t need to fake that last part

You do like things a boy would like, you and Jason used to share favorite things so you are technically a boy, right? But not to Bruce’s eyes, god you doubt he has ever seen your face since Jason passed away

What a sad way to say it, you’re sure Bruce doesn’t love you, not when he’s on the news laughing to a reporter about how Tim is the best kid he could ask for

— Miss (Y/N), don’t worry, you’ll be by their side soon — Alfred always said that

Always, because it wasn’t the first time you saw Bruce taking Tim to official events without even thinking about bringing you

Every time, his sweet and irritable giggle goes into your head making you want to tear your hair off or if you are lucky enough, damage your ears so you wouldn’t hear anymore

Why? Why him? You can be better than him, you have good grades, you do everything he could ask for and even better

Why? Why doesn’t he want you? You are a boy too! That excuse doesn’t work when you are trying your best to be the boy he will want! What do you need for him to love you back?

Oh god how is it going into your head, god how you want to just cry and lay on his arms like nothing happened

Then it came, the first time you called yourself a boy in front of Bruce, it wasn’t even a big deal just a simple word that made his whole face to change

Confused and.. disgusted.

that’s not what Bruce wants, he wants a girl right? You are a girl to his eyes, okay! You can do that, he prefers boys but he wants you to be a girl, you will do everything for him to love you the same way he did

And to not see that face again.

Because he loved you when you were a girl, how dumb you are to think he will like a girl who acts like a boy, that’s disgusting and he has too many boys on his life of course he needs a girl!

He used to call you princess, so that’s why! He’s too tired, you misunderstood his real needs

And still

Why does your name sound like an insult? Why he has to be so rude? Why does he-

— Father, when I’m debuting on the galas? — You asked, your hands grabbing the ends of the dress you had to wear for him to see a beautiful little girl

One who could be at the galas, one who will be worthy enough to be called his child

— Y/N, is best if you don’t attend to one —

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why does his voice sound too dead? Doesn’t he want you anymore? Why he doesn’t look at your eyes? He has to look at you! You put on this stupid dress so he could get you are worthy of him! He needs to look at your eyes!

You need him to look at you.

You don’t know when, but you ran away from the manor and even if you want to, no one will ever look for you.

Fourteen years old, 2:35 am at Gotham, a few things no one wouldn’t ask for it to happen together but they were, your legs moving on your own until you found some light.

A whole street filled with woman on mini dresses, some of them with not even that but they all looked.. weird

— Oh? Who you might be, sweetheart? — you looked up to a woman, her lipstick was smudged and her voice sounds too deep for being from a woman

Except, she isn’t? He? They? How are you supposed to call it?

— I see those eyes, I’m a she — oh, that makes sense? You hope it does, your hands starts fidgeting with the hems of your dress and she looks at it

She lets outs a whistled making you blush, there wasn’t any words on it but she said everything with it

— I don’t like it… — you mumbled, she raised an eyebrow kneeling to be at your eye level

You kept looking down, she tilted her head trying to see your face again but you were too shy to say anything about it

— Is it.. just a woman’s thing? — she made a sound, not understanding what you meant

Do you have to say it out loud? God you don’t want to

— Can I… be a boy? — you asked, she opens her eyes just a little noticing what you meant

She chuckled, her hand covering the way her lips curved on a smile and you feel like an idiot

— Of course, honey, you can be whatever your heart feels like — her hands moved to her thighs, ah, kneeling in a short dress and heels must be hard

Why does she do it? What is she doing here?

— What is your name, sweet boy? — boy

Boy, boy, boy, the tittle makes your lips moved in a smile imitating the way she smiled at you like this was a funny joke but it isn’t

She is looking at your eyes, the way they melt at the simple “boy” word

— I- uhm, Timothy — you rushed to say, she thought about it humming a little trying to feel how it sounds in her tongue

Why did you choose that? Are you going to be called Timothy the rest of your life? Maybe then Bruce would love you

Wait

What would be his reaction? You aren’t his sweet girl anymore, oh god if he hated you before he is going to do it more, you will be a disgrace for the entire bloodline

How could you do that to him? You’re such a bad-

— What about (Reader)? Timothy doesn’t fit you well, hun — (Reader) huh? It does sound like your old name but better

Is better than Timothy, you love it and she knows by the way your eyes are filled with excitement

— Hi (Reader), I’m Dana — She offered you her hand, you took it in a heartbeat shaking it with all your strength

Everything felt right just by that.

Something Jason does as the crime lord he is, he takes the responsibility to protect sexual workers when he has the time for it, if he doesn’t he will ask someone else to do it, but that’s just a thing he does out of pure courtesy knowing the type of clients they get.

Ever since he’s been revived he does this, every Friday he lays on his stomach, a gun pointing to the nearest pleasure street and when nothing happens he can go to another one

This time, the first one is the T special street, usually this kind of girls are ready to fight back any rude client and their boss is one of the best he has ever seen so he doesn’t usually watch over them, but tonight something made him want to keep an eye on them.

He looked around, there are boys who are new and he can’t understand how women can look for something on the streets, if the clients are women, of course, men are men, they can’t be put on a normal bag

— That looks young — he used his binoculars to see a small figure with a hat

Probably fourteen or fifteen, he is sure the owner of this street doesn’t let children sell their bodies, maybe just assist the adults who are too tired to do something and it’s only if they really need the money.

By the way their hat covers their face he can’t see if it is a boy or a girl but he can see how they are talking to one of the best girls

Still, he needs to watch them more than before, if a kid is there it means they’ll attract some weirdo’s attention.

Suddenly, the laugh of this kid went too loud he could hear it from the roof

So similar to.. no, it can’t be, you are on the manor

The last time he checked you were there, being happy but the voice is too similar, no, it’s your voice, only god knows how much he has it memorized by now

He tried to focus, to see any hint that it really is you and then you laughed moving your head back

Your smile

It’s you, but how? He knows you aren’t selling your body, I mean, you can easily ask Bruce for money then, why?

No matter what it is, you took a decision and even if he can’t understand it, he will make sure you don’t find some weirdo wanting to take you away from him.

He took out his phone typing something and sending one of his people to the other pleasure streets, for now on, Jason put himself comfy because this is going to be a long night

He can’t be angry about it, his baby sister is out on Gotham doing gods know what and his duty is to protect you

Even if you don’t know he is alive, he will compensate every day he’s been out of your life.

Still, he will investigate what is his dear sister doing there.

Tbh, this story is weird to understand and I get it if you have question bc, shit I though about it while drawing for my notebook cover

I love how this is supposed to go and I hope you do too so I can write more of it! Reader is supposed to be a trans masc but if you feel like being a trans fem don’t feel ashamed about changing it!

Coments and reblogd are appreciated

[lucylockets]

bruce: have you been going to your therapy sessions?

batsis: of course I have.

bruce: really?

batsis: yeah, I love therapy. the only topic is myself.

[suigenerisisadiva]

A Sweet Talker & A Sweetheart

Pairing: Wally West x Batsis!Reader

Summary: Wally’s had a crush on Dick’s little sister for years. Everyone, from the Titans to Alfred, knows it. Everyone except you. And with your birthday party happening at the Manor, he figures now’s the time to finally say something. I mean, that's unless your chaotic, overprotective family ruins it first.

A/N: My First Solo Wally fic! Lmk if you guys want a smau for him lolol!! For my Wally Loving Moot @athenalvss 🧡

Wayne Manor was never quiet, but tonight it was alive. Laughter, music, champagne flutes (that Alfred kept strictly non-alcoholic for the under-21s), and enough rich people glitter to blind a speedster at full sprint.

Wally West stood by the giant marble fireplace, a cupcake in one hand and longing in his eyes.

You were across the room, laughing at something Jason said. The curve of your smile made Wally’s chest ache.

“She doesn’t know, does she?” Kaldur said, walking up beside him with a plate of canapés.

“Doesn’t know what?” Wally tried to play dumb.

Kaldur didn’t even blink. “That you are hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her.”

Wally groaned and fake-slammed his head into the fireplace mantle. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to everyone.”

Dick caught him two minutes later.

“If you’re gonna confess, do it after she’s had cake,” he muttered, arms folded.

“I wasn’t gonna confess,” Wally lied.

Dick narrowed his eyes. “Wally.”

“I WAS THINKING ABOUT IT.”

You were glowing tonight.

Literally. Your dress shimmered when you moved and your cheeks were pink from laughing too much. Wally had never seen you look more beautiful or more out of reach.

And then — you saw him.

“Hey, Wally!” you called, waving.

He swallowed. “Hey, birthday girl.”

You bounced over and held out your arms. “No birthday hug?”

He melted. Just melted.

“I was gonna wait for midnight. Make it dramatic,” he joked, hugging you tightly. You smelled like vanilla and expensive perfume.

“You’re so weird,” you giggled against his chest. “But, like… in a cute way.”

He was going to die. He was literally going to spontaneously combust.

Later, during the gift-opening chaos, you held up a tiny, carefully wrapped box with a red lightning bolt sticker.

“Wally!” you gasped. “You actually wrapped something this year?!”

Everyone clapped sarcastically.

“Open it!” he called, nerves frying him alive.

You tore the paper — inside was a sleek silver chain with a lightning bolt charm… and a small bat carved into the back.

Your lips parted. “Wally…”

“Speedster heart, Bat brain,” he said quickly. “Kinda like us.”

You looked at him — really looked — and your smile softened.

“I love it.”

You stood up, walked right over, and before he could panic —

You kissed him.

Just a little, sweet kiss. Right on the cheek.

He nearly dropped dead.

Dick, across the room, slowly raised a finger.

“One,” he warned.

Jason: “Two.”

Tim: “Three—”

Damian: “I’m sharpening a batarang.”

Wally: “Totally worth it.”

Hope you all enjoyed this! Likes, comments, reblogs and requests are highly appreciated! Requests are open!

Sources! -

Dividers - @hyuneskkami + @enchanthings + @edensrose

Icon Header - @pfpanimes

[dollwhite]

Batfam; incorrect quotes.

Dick: idk men I just don’t trust her

Tim: right? Like sums off bout her

Duke:why tf r u guys just sitting in the attic? and at a pretty princess table??? WITH TEA, did Alfred give u that…?

Damian: might I remember you lowlifes- that she is still my auntie, and I will not hesitate to start a fire in either of your rooms. 

Jason: I would help him.

Stephanie: GUYS! Without me? :(

Barbara: it wouldn’t be to hard to delete the camera footage….

Cass, bringing the living room tv up into the attic. Because they all promised to study ballerina videos with her: …..

……………

Alfred and Bruce down stares.

Bruce: did u give them tea?

Alfred: as long as I can finish my cleaning, I do not care what they do. That does not include killing each other.

Jason: fuck! Really, it will be painless for them?…

Bruce: get 8 kids they said, it would be fun they said. Nothing about this is fun.

[sassatoru]

lovebat

pairing. batfamily x batsis!reader (platonic).

warnings. reader is a demi-god, child of aphrodite, pjo x dc crossover, bruce screwed a goddess and doesn’t even know, mentions of war, canon typical violence mentioned, set during hoo (heroes of olympus), i definitely messed the timeline up a bit, one use of y/n, you end up in a coma, unresolved familial issues, mommy diana, gaia’s dumbass, platonic percy bc percabeth is better than you, i’m fucking tired so rushes ending, no beta sorry,

request. yes / no

a/n. i’m really really sorry for how late this came, i’ve been busy with school crap and exams, and happy birthday lovely. might rewrite after i do part two bc i’m lazy.

You hated Gotham. The stinking streets and the annoying howl of the unnaturally chilly wind. And you hated him, your dad. sure you stayed with him right up until you were old enough to go leave for camp.

Well that was the plan.

You ran. You hated running but you did it, maybe because your dad hadn’t ever been a dad to you, probably because your could see the things that he never could. the strange creatures lingering in alleyways, weird looks you’d get from strangers at you primary school — mostly teachers. They probably thought it was because your big brother had just left you behind because he was mad at your dad. But in truth? You’d been attacked, and like any self preserving ‘human’ being, naturally you ran until you couldn’t run anymore. You were scared, there were things from storybooks and monsters straight out of a fantasy novel coming for you, and you had no idea what to do.

You weren’t really sure how far you’d ran, your only indicator that it was time to stop was the weakness in your knees and the way your nose struggled to get any air into your lungs. You were tired, so so tired, you ran right into a wall, or what you assumed was a wall. That thing chasing you? Definitely not human, had the city been infected with scarecrow’s fear toxin again? No. That was the least of your worries when the wall you bumped into chuckled softly, you shrieked in surprise turning to run the other way, only to be halted by a strong hand on your shoulder.

“Easy now, young one.” A woman’s voice speaks, the leaves crunching as she kneels down to your level, you gawk, recognising the voice of the tv. Wonder Woman. “Where are you off to, hm?” She asks, gently speaking to you, sensing your panic.

“Monsters,” you whisper, on guard again, eyes flicking around to look for them. Diana raises a brow. She’d come by a monster before she found you, but you had seen it, which definitely meant… demigod. No doubt about it.

“Oh really?” She hums curiously.

“You think I’m crazy,” you mutter defensively. She shakes her head, a definite no.

“Never, I saw it too.” She smiles as you light up at the thought of someone actually believing you, of Wonder Woman believing you. “I think I might know a place you’ll be safer at… If you want to go?”

An immediate yes, coming out in the form of a quick nod.

The rest of your journey was accompanied by your hero. ensuring that your trip was safe and successful, and you’d shared many secrets with her over that time too.

Namely? The identity of your father.

It was a bit awkward at first. Diana wasn’t exactly sure what to say. “Bruce? as in…?” she trailed off, her silent question following.

You nod and huff, “yeah, the very same.”

Nonetheless Diana did her duty, explained to you the life of a demigod, or why you might’ve struggled with things other kids would assume simple were easy. Things to reassure you that there was indeed nothing wrong with you. She felt guilty though, knowing Bruce was likely searching for his missing kid but this was the best option for you, not him.

You missed Dick. how does anyone expect a ten year old to just understand that her brother wasn’t coming home because of their dad? Answer, they shouldn’t.

You did your best to never think about them. Not Alfred, not Jason, not your big brother, and not thinking about how your dad hurt you was easy.

Especially when you met Percy, those four years of adventure and probably too many near death experiences were awesome. Percy called you ditzy for thinking so though, something about children of aphrodite being completely blind when it came to anything but love and make up.

He was joking of course, you’d saved his ass too many times for him to think that.

Back to the present though.

You needed away from camp for a bit, and not wanting to burden Percy’s family, especially with all the worrying the woman did about percy alone on — you’d made sally a beautiful gift she kept on her counter top to see everyday and you opted to return to the manor. And hopefully to ease some guilt that’d been eating at you for abandoning your family.

So you returned to the only place you knew. Gotham, not home, but just… Gotham.

Diana, ever the saviour, offered to escort you back, hoping to make it easier for you and Bruce without giving the full story. Mortals, especially sceptics like Bruce shouldn’t know the full existence of a place like camp half-blood, or maybe that was her father’s made up reason. But it was for the safety of those children, they were always in a state of unease, that didn’t need to be multiplied because the Batman is a paranoid freak.

Either way she feels terrible asking you to lie and leaving you stranded in that cursed mansion, Bruce should really get someone to make sure the place wasn’t actually haunted.

The days are quiet and the nights are awkward, with no around at the normal hours of the day and everyone bustling around at sundown.

Any interaction you have with the family is strained and short, though better than being subjected to long and awkward silences though and tough conversations.

Alfred is always as welcoming, just glad to have you back after so many years, even if you gave a rather confusing explanation to where you’d been.

And Duke, a the new guy, he hadn’t been here when you were living at the manor or maybe he was and you were just that out of touch with your father.

No matter, you could appreciate being able to talk to somebody during the day, someone with a normal schedule like yours.

But oh gods, Damian. the little bastard, you swear to Hera you’d have murdered the little bastard if it weren’t for your incredible patience you definitely had not inherited from either of your parents.

The little shit had the audacity to tell you that you were normal, just a civilian who contributed nothing to saving lives, as if you didn’t fight in a war — multiple if you counted the internal war you were constantly having.

But you couldn’t exactly share that. No, that’d be far too easy and life was never easy for demi-gods.

You thought you were making slow progress with your new and old siblings, before that was all interrupted with a iris message from annabeth informing you about Percy’s disappearance and the sudden appearance of a child of Zeus.

And you’re gone again, like the wind, no note or explanation, just an empty room you hadn’t ever really moved into.

You didn’t care though, not when Percy was gone and something was definitely wrong again.

And like a vicious cycle you’re sucked back into your godly parent’s war that no child should ever have to fight for but unfortunately gods are just as childish as lovesick fools.

War is hungry and desperate, eating away at everyone you love until it takes you too.

Percy’s shouts filled your ears, the last sight you’d been given was one of the closest thing you had to a brother rushing towards you before being launched backwards into the ground as you were flung the opposite way, into the ocean.

By the end you’re laid out on the dirt of your mother’s first home, Apollo kids and rookie (barely) healers run around trying to save people. Some don’t make it, and others like you end up unconscious for weeks.

Dionysus, or Mr D as you call him, doesn’t let many things slide, he’s already ready serving eternal punishment with the brats at camp, what’s a couple more years on eternity?

He sends Nico to inform your mortal family of the travesty that occurred and your condition. Diana is far too late to intervene anyways, plus if she really cared she’d have been there with the kids fighting.

So the bat’s are in for the shock of their lives when the scrawny pale Italian boy pops up out of literally nowhere, staring into their souls eerily, in a way that even sets Bruce off.

“Who the hell are you?” Damian hisses first, always the first to recklessly start a fight. Nico barely spares him a glance.

“Y/N is in a coma,” Nico says, eyes trained solely on Bruce. “I’ve been asked to… give you the details.” So he did, offering a vague and cryptic explanation of whatever he could, your demigod status, your role in camp, the war you fought in at 15 and the one you just fought in. The details of your injury and any other detail he could spare before disappearing through the shadows again.

They weren’t given details to find you though, Nico assumed from what you’d shared about your family during the trip across the globe to find Athena Parthenos, that you didn’t want them to find you.

[lillilybells]

Ruined plushes✧₊⁺

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing|batfam x batsis!reader (featuring; Wally West)

summary|someone left your room door open and Damian’s cat ruined one your favorite plushies.

word count|1522

warnings|wally west x reader.

notes|this is my first fic literally ever!! Please keep that in mind.

“Oh no…” Cassandra whispered as the gray cat leapt onto the couch beside her. She had taken just a moment to rest and maybe watch a show — but no. The universe (or more specifically, Alfred the cat) had other plans. He curled up with the mangled remains of a battered plushie clutched in his claws, white stuffing clinging to his fur.

It might’ve been an adorable sight under different circumstances. But not for Cass. Not when she recognized the destroyed plush: the fluffy white bunny dressed in a Kid Flash costume — part of her sister’s cherished collection, each holding deep sentimental meaning.

She quickly scooped up the fluffy remains and rushed downstairs, skidding into the kitchen where the smell of cheese invaded her senses and the sound of soft popping echoed.

“Hey, Cass,” Dick called, glancing up. “Wanna join us in the theater room? We’re watching… well, I don’t know yet.”

He returned his attention to the snack he was making, totally unaware of the incoming emotional hurricane. He was visiting Gotham for a few days — and naturally, everyone (mainly you) had insisted he stay at the manor. And when Dick was around, Jason’s “coincidental” visits became more frequent. So with all five brothers under one roof, a movie night with excessive gore was practically a tradition.

“Uh… Dick…” Cass said.

He turned, raising an eyebrow — only for his eyes to land on the pile of ruined fabric in her outstretched hands. He choked mid-chew.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, walking over to gently take the bunny corpse from her.

“‘Alfred the cat’ happened,” she replied flatly.

Dick sighed, holding the sad remnants of cotton, red, and yellow fabric.

“And who left the door open?” he muttered — just as heavy footsteps echoed.

“What door?” came Jason’s voice as he popped a grape into his mouth, appearing behind Cass. Both siblings snapped their heads toward him.

Dick didn’t answer. Instead, he tossed the plush remains onto the counter in front of Jason, who frowned.

“Shit—Billy? That’s the first one Wally ever gave her.”

Tim entered, took one look at the counter, and let out a horrified, “Jesus!”

Duke followed, frowning at everyone’s frozen expressions. “Oh…”

And then Damian appeared, arms already crossed. “Which absolute moron left sister’s door open?”

The chaos ignited instantly.

“You’re the one always snooping around her room!” Tim snapped.

Damian scowled. “I would never make such a trivial mistake. It was clearly Richard or Todd — they’re the temporary residents.”

Jason threw his hands up. “I’ve been here for like, an hour.”

“And I barely even remember which room is hers!” Dick lied with a completely unconvincing expression. Damian squinted.

“Don’t even look at me,” Cass said firmly.

They all obeyed, promptly turning to Duke.

“Seriously? It’s not me! I always close the door,” he insisted, but his panic didn’t exactly help his case.

“Well, someone’s gotta take the fall,” Tim muttered, inching away.

“Which would be you — you’re her favorite,” Dick said, arms crossed.

Tim opened his mouth to object, but Damian beat him to it.

“That’s debatable,” he muttered, arms folded tighter.

“Yes, Spawn. You should take the blame,” Jason jumped in quickly.

“He’s right — it’s your cat,” Tim added. Damian looked ready to commit a felony.

“Don’t you dare bring Alfred into this! He’s the least responsible for this treachery!”

“Okay, okay — let’s not repeat the dinosaur incident,” Dick cut in with wide eyes. Everyone flinched a little at the memory.

Tim suddenly turned on him. “Wait — she’s known you forever. You’re clearly the favorite!”

“Excuse me?! She’s known Jason for pretty long as well, and she practically explodes when he visits!”

“How would you even know that—?”

“Nope! Not blaming me! I’ve already died once—”

A collective groan filled the room before Jason could finish that sentence.

“What about Cass?” Tim suggested. “Sisters don’t stay mad at each other for more than like- a day.”

“First, that’s not true. Second, no.” Cass said firmly.

They all sighed. No convincing her.

Then — footsteps. Alfred entered the kitchen, eyes locking onto the ruined bunny. He approached, gaze unreadable.

“And who is at fault for this?” he asked calmly.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. No one’s stepped up yet,” Dick replied.

“can’t you stitch it up, Alfred?” Jason suggested almost naively, wanting the situation to wrap up.

“I’m a butler, child- not a magician.” with that he picked up the bunny with delicate fingers, studied it with a faint look of mourning, and muttered, “Even my grandmother couldn’t fix this. Good luck.”

He dropped it back on the marble and turned to leave, the click of his shoes echoing ominously.

The silence lingered for a beat too long.

“Was that weird to anyone else?” Tim asked. “It was, right?”

“Pennyworth abandoning us in our time of need? Disturbing,” Damian agreed with a grim nod.

“Guys, focus,” Dick said. “Who does (Name) let get away with the most bullshit?”

All heads turned to Duke.

His eyes widened. “No. Nope. Not happening.”

“At least break the news to her—”

The doorbell rang.

Everyone froze.

“Duke, we don’t have time!” “Be a team player!” “Take one for the team!”

“NO—!”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

They gathered in the main hallway, Duke at the back, clutching the ruined plush behind his back like it might explode.

“Oh—hey guys. This is so sweet, you’re all here,” you said, smiling at the full sibling lineup, all offering awkward waves and forced grins.

You brushed it off and tugged Wally inside. “Hey guys…” he said, smiling uncertainly at their unnerving silence.

“I don’t know what’s worse — that you’re dating my sister or that you wear your costume on dates,” Damian muttered.

“We don’t know that’s the worst part,” Jason started before getting smacked.

“We ran into a robbery,” you explained. “Wally stepped in, and I told him he could clean up and stay over. Since everyone’s here, we thought—slumber party!”

They exchanged tense glances. No one smiled.

“Okay—what’s going on?” you asked, suspicious now, hands on hips and head tilted.

“Is it because of Wally?” You asked. “Because he can leave-”

“Hey!” The ginger protested snapped.

“No, it’s not because of Wally,” Dick said gravely with a sigh. He walked up to you like he was delivering the news of someone dying, placing both hands on your shoulders. “Duke has something to tell you.”

Duke was shoved forward. With a dramatic inhale, he slowly revealed the bunny.

Silence.

You stared. And then… your lip wobbled, and eyes glossed over.

“Baby—don’t cry,” Wally was the first to speak up, hugging you gently.

The room burst into chaos.

“I’m so sorry—” “It was an accident!” “I told them to close the door—”

you on the other hand could only be described by one word- hysterical.

“Why would— do this—i always tell— keep the door close— Billy— the first you ever— our first date—” none of them could fully make out what you were saying through the sniffles and the sobs but they definitely understood, understood very well.

Wally looked like he was going to cry too. “It’s okay babe- I’ll find another one! I’ll get you thirty—I mean.. I think they’re discontinued.. — I’ll steal one from a toddler if I have to!”

“you don’t get it Wally! This- this holds so much sentimental value you don’t understand- it reminds of you when you’re gone- when I’m worried about you-” you ranted, your tone getting more agitated and angry even through the weeps.

“It’s true,” Tim muttered, “She hugs it while ugly crying whenever she misses you…”

They eventually moved to the living room, where you continued to rant. Jason tried a joke about how no one cried like this when he died. A pillow hit his face before the words were fully out.

Bruce wandered up from the Batcave, bleary-eyed, ready for bed — only to find his kids in the middle of emotional carnage.

“What the hell is going on…”

He was quickly caught up. You ended up curled beside him, ranting while he patted your hair and validated every single complaint.

“They never listen, Dad! And now Billy is gone! The symbol of a huge milestone — gone! It’s blasphemy! And they just sit on their asses-”

“Language.”

“Butts, while denying any accountability! It’s rude.”

“They’re being mean to you?” Bruce asked, voice soft and rumbly.

You nodded in his chest.

“You can’t be mad at them forever, sweetheart. People make mistakes. And Billy… Billy will be remembered.”

“yea babe- what he said, i promise ill get you a thousand more! you won’t even remember what happened to Billy..” Wally added his own two cents.

You sniffled. He reached for your thigh comfortingly — only to flinch under a Batglare and retract his hand.

“Okay!” Dick stood with a clap. “How about we go watch Sinners, and let Billy… rest in peace.”

Grumbling agreements followed.

The night ended in bickering, snacks, laughter, and sleepily leaning on each other — with a pile of yellow fluff forgotten in the corner.

And Alfred, standing in the shadows, watching with a faint smile.

He was the one who left the door open.

[moviecritc]

✦ ˚ : · NOBODY'S DAUGHTER · : ˚ ✦

pairing ☆ batsis!reader x dick grayson (platonic), roy harper x reader (implied relationship)

word count ☆ 2.8K

summary ☆ after holding all your feelings, you finally confront your brother about everything he has done to your life after jason's funeral.

warnings ☆ AU where Dick knew Jason had died and didn't attend to the funeral deliberately, kinda neglected batsis, you are blood related to Jason (and look like him physically) you are part of the Titans, I probably made some things up, let's just vibe with it. Also this is pure angst, absolutely none comfort, mentions of death, funerals, cigarettes

a/n ☆ i got super inspired by seeing the ending of season 4 of The Bear, when Carmy says that he leaves the restaurant and Richie and Syd crash out. Also if you guys like it MAYBE i do a part two

main masterlist | letterboxd

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Roy raised his voice louder than you could handle, and you flailed your hands in frustration.

You were in the roof of Titans Tower while everyone else argued inside over which movie to watch on your first free night in weeks. You and Roy had stepped out for a smoke. At first, it was just that, now you were caught in a fight you didn’t know how to get out of.

"Exactly that," you shrugged with a grimace. "I'm leaving."

"Why?"

Roy’s jaw was tight, and he was smoking faster than usual.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been on the team, but Roy had been by your side from the very beginning. He knew Jason almost as well as you did, and he’d never treated you differently after the incident. The two of you had become friends in a strange, roundabout way, and now he was the person you cared about most on the team. He'd spend hours in your room when you didn’t feel like going out with the rest, always managing to convince you in the end, because he’d be there, and everything was a thousand times better when he was. You couldn’t bring yourself to say you loved him. No one knew. But you did.

"Because I don’t know how to do anything else," you snapped, sniffing and taking a cigarette from the pack in Roy’s hand. You pulled your lighter from your pocket and struggled with it for a moment until the wind finally cooperated.

Roy sighed, pulling off his cap and running a hand through his bright orange hair.

"What the hell does that even mean?" he asked, pleading.

Roy thought he knew you. He knew you were weird (in the best way), that you had hundreds of issues you’d never talked about and that your social skills were practically non-existent. But you’d let him in. You’d shown him a piece of what went on inside your head, and he’d embraced it, kissed the scar. But now he didn’t understand anything you were doing.

"I’ve spent too long fighting knock-off villains, burying my thoughts in punches, ignoring how bad I really am," you swallowed. "How broken it left me."

"Then talk to me," he reached out a little, and you stepped back. "Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me how bad it is. You don’t have to hide."

"It’s not that simple, Roy." you bit the inside of your cheek, watching the ash fall onto your shoe.

Roy clicked his tongue and looked away. You felt cold, like a terrible person, dragging him into this unnecessary fight.

"Nothing’s simple with you." he muttered tensely.

"I don’t know how to do anything else, okay? I don’t know how to live outside of this chaotic mess."

Roy frowned, took one last drag, and flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushing it underfoot. He didn’t say anything. Just stared at you like he could force you to stay with his eyes. Like if he stared hard enough, leaving would hurt more than staying. But he didn’t understand, it already hurt.

"And walking away from everything’s gonna fix it?" he finally asked. His voice was lower now, more controlled. It cut through you. Like it hurt him to even ask. Like he was reluctantly accepting he had no say in your choice. "What the hell are you gonna tell Dick?"

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not daring to lift your head all the way.

"Dick only let me on the team out of pity."

"Pity?" Roy let out a bitter laugh. "Are you listening to yourself? You see yourself as a victim. You think we all see you that way, like someone who needs fixing. But that’s not true… I don’t see you that way, dammit. And- and you belong here. Donna and Kory adore you..."

"I don’t even know what I’m trying to fix anymore," you said quietly. "Jason’s dead. Bruce only talks to me through Dick. And I’m giving whatever I’ve got left, and no one sees that there’s barely anything left."

You tried not to hold it against Bruce, how he wouldn’t talk to you. How he couldn’t look you in the eye. Everyone said your eyes looked like Jason’s. Same look, same nose, same stance. Even your voices were alike.

Roy shook his head, fast, frustrated.

"You’re not Jason" he said, voice trembling with pent-up rage. "You’re not your brother. No one expects you to be."

You hugged your arms around yourself, like that might keep everything in. The need to cry, the need to scream that you knew that, but it killed you to live in the spaces Jason had left behind.

"I’m not trying to be. No one left me another choice."

Roy stepped closer, jaw clenched and brow furrowed.

"I don’t believe you. Not after everything you’ve done, everything you’ve fought for- for others, for yourself. You can’t say no one gave you a choice when you’ve always had one: to stay. To keep going. To speak up."

"For what? So I can keep being the shadow of someone who’s not here anymore?"

"You’re not a shadow!"

Roy grabbed your wrists, gently but firmly, forcing you to lift your head. To look at him. To stop hiding behind that tiny voice you only used when you were about to break.

"What if I don’t know who I am without him?" you confessed. And it felt like you’d ripped something out of your chest with your bare hands.

Roy looked at you like he wanted to say a thousand things at once. Like it hurt not being able to piece your heart back together himself.

One tear fell down your cheek. "I hate being here, Roy. I hate having to follow Dick’s orders, I hate that he won’t let me kill the Joker, I hate that he calls me his sister in front of everyone and ignores me every time we’re alone."

Roy let go like your words burned him. He stepped back, hands in his hair, frowning.

"So what, you’re running away because Dick’s a self-righteous asshole? Surprise!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up. "We all hate him sometimes, but that doesn’t give you the right to quit. To leave us."

"I’m not leaving you," you snapped, hurt. "I’m saving myself."

"From what?" he roared, wounded. "From us? From me?"

"From myself!" you screamed back, shaking. "From this version of me that drags herself through the halls waiting for someone to tell her she’s not completely broken! I’m sick of living with Jason’s ghost and pretending I’m okay just because I have the same damn last name!"

Roy was about to reply when the rooftop door burst open. Dick stepped out with a calm smile, unaware of everything.

"Hey, we’re waiting on you guys," he said, pressing his lips together. He looked at you first, your trembling lip and a tear on your cheek, then at Roy, already on his third cigarette, not looking at either of you. "Everything alright?"

You didn’t try to answer.

"She’s leaving." Roy said, nodding at you.

You sighed and finally lifted your head.

"What? You’re what?" Dick asked again, hand on his hip.

"I’m leaving, Dick. I’m done. Don’t ask again like you didn’t hear me." you snapped, voice broken but firm.

Dick blinked, unmoving. That damn Nightwing face again, like nothing could affect him. Like it was just another mission. Like you were just another mission.

"And this decision… you made it on your own?"

"I don’t need your approval to make decisions, Dick."

"That’s not it," he replied, sharp. "It’s just, when you’re part of a team, those decisions affect others. You’re part of this team. I thought you knew that."

"Me? Part of the team? Do you even know what being part of something means, Dick? Or do you just know how to lead it?"

It hit him. You saw it. A subtle flinch, like he didn’t expect that from you, of all people.

"I don’t know what the hell you want me to say," he muttered, low but sharp. "That I should beg you to stay? Hug it out and lie that everything’s going to be fine? Because I’m not that guy."

"I know," you whispered. "That’s why I’m leaving."

Roy lowered his head. Dick huffed through his nose and took a step closer.

"You can’t just walk away. Not without talking it through. Not without- without explaining. You don’t get to break something just because you’re broken."

"And what the hell do you know about what I’m breaking?" you said through clenched teeth. "You weren’t there when Jason died. Not for me. You went around telling everyone you’d look after me like a brother. All you did was keep me at arm’s length like I was about to explode."

"Because I didn’t know how to help you without breaking myself too!" Dick suddenly yelled, and Roy flinched at the outburst.

Silence.

The wind whispered around the rooftop, and the murmurs from inside the Tower felt like they came from another planet.

"I lost him too," Dick continued, quieter, jaw clenched. "And I barely held it together. All I knew how to do was lead. Give orders. Keep going. And you… you reminded me of everything I couldn’t protect. And I couldn’t look at you without feeling like I failed him."

"You did," you said softly. "You failed me too."

Dick nodded once. Slow. Pained.

"I know."

You crossed your arms, trembling. Wanting to stop this conversation but unable to.

Dick walked over to Roy, grabbed the cigarette pack and took one.

"What the hell, Dick?" Roy blinked. "You don’t smoke."

"I know," he muttered, cigarette between his lips, fingers fumbling with the lighter. "Fuck."

He gave them back to Roy, eyes down. Silence returned. Roy looked between you and Dick, trying to understand. You stared at the ground, dirty sneakers, crushed cigarette butts, nail marks on your arms.

"I went to the funeral."

You swore your heart stopped. You remembered the day—five people had attended Jason’s funeral. Six, if you counted the preacher. And Dick hadn’t been one of them. You’d never talked about it, but you held a grudge after Barbara told you Dick hadn’t gone because he couldn’t bear it. Because the loss felt too heavy.

You never thought you could hate someone more than you did after that talk with Babs. Until now. Dick kept proving he could crush every expectation.

"You’re a fucking liar, Dick Grayson." you stepped closer, grabbing his shirt, pulling him so your foreheads touched. "You should’ve been in that warehouse instead of Jason."

Roy took a step forward, alarmed, but didn’t intervene. Not yet.

Dick didn’t move. Didn’t push you. Just looked you in the eyes, lips trembling, your rage clinging to his skin like static.

"Say it again," he whispered. "Say it if it helps. If it makes you feel better."

"It doesn’t help at all!" you broke. Rage poured from your eyes, hands, voice. You pushed his chest with both hands, not hard, just desperate.

"I sat in the car," Dick muttered. "I couldn’t bring myself to go in."

"Oh, poor little Dickie, couldn’t say goodbye to someone who wasn’t even his fucking brother!" your voice rose with every word. "If I could do it, if I could watch my little brother be buried six feet under, so could you, you fucker!"

You pushed him again, fighting your tears.

"You’re a coward," you hissed.

Dick didn’t react. Didn’t deny it. Didn’t defend himself. He just stood there, taking it like a bullet to the chest. Closed his eyes for a second, like it hurt physically.

"You’re the one walking away." he said, looking down at you.

"Dick." Roy finally intervened, stepping forward. But before he could say more, you slapped Dick across the face.

He didn’t react at first. His head turned slightly with the hit, hair falling in his eyes. His expression tight, like the pain wasn’t physical but something deeper. He looked at you, not angry, not hateful. Like you were a shattered reflection.

"Don’t talk to me like you have the moral high ground of having buried him," he said at last, voice broken and trembling. "You don’t own pain."

That hurt worse than any shout, any accusation. Roy stared at the ground like this was killing him. Like he was witnessing something too intimate.

You took a step back, chest heaving like you’d run for miles. Your knuckles burned. Your eyes threatened to spill over again, but you wouldn’t cry, not in front of him.

"I don’t hate you." you said suddenly, surprising even yourself.

Dick looked up, confused.

"I wish I could," you continued, eyes on your hands. "I wish blaming you was enough to make me leave. But it’s not. Because if I hate you, I’d have to hate myself. And I already do enough of that."

Roy let out a shaky breath, half frustration, half fear.

"Then don’t go." he murmured, barely audible.

"I have nothing left here, Roy."

"You have me."

The silence that followed wasn’t tense. It was dense. Like the world paused to see if you’d answer.

"And that’s the only thing that hurts to leave," you whispered at last, more a confession than goodbye.

Roy pulled you into his arms without asking. You didn’t say anything. Just closed your eyes and let him hold you, knowing it was the last time.

Dick watched silently, fists clenched at his sides. He couldn’t do anything more. He shouldn’t. He’d lost that right long ago.

"When you leave," he said from where he stood, "just promise me you’re doing more than running away."

You pulled back slightly from Roy, just enough to look over your shoulder at Dick.

"I’m not running. I’m finding a way to live that doesn’t kill me inside."

Dick nodded. No anger, just exhaustion.

"Then good luck."

Roy lifted his head from your shoulder, looking into your eyes. He leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead. You froze for a second, eyes closed, feeling that unmistakable gesture, so him, so full of warmth in the middle of this chaos. When he pulled away, you clung to him tighter, like he was your anchor.

"I won’t forget you," Roy whispered, like a vow. "And you won’t forget me."

You didn’t know what to say. Your voice was caught in your throat. You brushed your lips against his, tenderly.

Dick turned away, still standing tall, but softer now.

"If you leave, hold your head high," he said firmly, trying not to sound wounded. "No one here wants you to disappear, even if it feels that way."

Roy nodded, his hand still resting on your back, steady.

"And if you lose your way again… we’ll be here."

Silence settled again, gentler this time. The tears wanted out, but you held them back.

"Thank you," was all you could say.

[yanderelovebites]

Been seeing a lot of neglected batsis fics but may I say?

Imagine if Thomas and Martha Wayne’s ghosts are also looking out for neglected reader not just Alfred. It’s even better if batsis can see them. Just imagine the impact one day if batsis started wearing makeup in a way Martha did, maybe styles her hair like hers too because ghost Martha teaches them how to be a lady.

Bonus points if batsis is another biological kid to Bruce. The shame the couple feel when Bruce neglects her.

They get annoyed with Damian the most because that’s his sister, what the hell was he thinking? Imagining Martha ghost blows the card Bruce set to the side on Father’s Day right in his face XD

I could make a list of scenarios of ghost grandparents being good grandparents for batsis. Imagine one time Batsis asked to do something with Tim and Tim rejects her rudely so Thomas makes his computer short-circuit.

Martha would cut his phone off. Weirdly it works JUST FINE when off the property.

Thomas hides Damian’s katana because he used it on batsis. They can’t find it for weeks until Alfred goes up to the attic and there it is in a box labeled ‘Disappointment’. They freeze dick next time he visits for not keeping a promise… the list could go on.

Meanwhile batsis is taking a business course because Thomas insisted, completely unbothered.

Imagine they forget her birthday and they for the next week ruin any cake that comes in the house.

And when they do their turn around imagine they lock the door of whoever locked batsis’s room last until next meal time. Nothing works to let them out. NOTHING. Oh they told her she couldn’t have friends? Oh look your window is wide open and they just made them all go to sleep.

Just some thoughts :3

[sangunary]

- Hush now Crybaby.

YANDERE BATFAMILY X NEGLECTED READER.

\\ Part 1 // \\ Part 2 // \\ Part 3 //.

You would stay by your rotting corpse, gently brushing your hair out of your face or just starting at it in general. Your corpse was becoming stiff and extremely cold, at times you tried to warm it by holding it.

A soft sigh left your mouth as you give up on trying to warmth the body display infront of you.

"How much longer do I have to wait...?"

You've been thinking alot, wondering why your body is still chained to Earth and you realised your physical body never got the rest it deserves.

The body laying on your coffin underground was a decoy made by your father, as twisted as it sound he only did it in hope of putting your soul back into the body.

Alfred and Bruce knew that, they knew that your current physical body was hidden inside the batcave. Alfred was hesitant at first but Bruce assure him that what he was doing might be morally wrong but it was the best option they have, if they want a new start.

Even after death nothing was better, your life only change slightly and it was for the worst. No one could see or interact with you, but you can uncover all the secrets which was alot more depressing than you expected.

You've found out how your mother died recently after a drug overdose... She was found stiff and unresponsive in her motel and a foam seeping out her mouth, surprisingly everything was clean, no missing things or any sing of struggle.

It was ruled as a sucide, the media claimed it as 'Woman killed herself after her daughter died of her neglection' it was Ironic... You couldn't help but stump your feet a little at that information, first your mother would never neglect you... and Second she was the best mother you could wish for.

You couldn't bear the silence inside the room so you decided to go outside to check on a particular individual.

Dick Grayson.

He was sitting infront of your grave cleaning it with his bare hand, replacing the previous flowers with Rose's. Since your relationship with him was on the edge when you died he doesn't even know your particular taste in flowers , as a result he would pick out new flowers everyday and replace them each day.

Your ghostly figure sit next to his watching him clean your grave once again, atleast he was being productive. Some especially Tim was coping in an unhealthy way.

Locked himself and barely ate anything, everything reminded him of you... His favourite coffee was now leaving an extremely bitter taste on his tongue, it was only because he realised how involved you were in his life and how without you his daily routine weren't the same.

Tim have also started to spiral into madness, doing research on you instead of his usual detective work. Who have hurt you and who have been nasty to you, he was willing to do anything but blame himself for your death or the family.

He's been looking back at every video footage of you and him and storing it into new files each file were specifically made for each video.

"Im sorry little wing... I couldn't find anything new today, so you'll have to take this for today"

Grayson gently murmured as he pluck out the old Lily's- old by one day - Wiping the vase carefully, holding as if it were the most fragile vase in the word.

"Life been abit hard... I know I shouldn't burden you with my problem especially when... You never had them. But, Kory and I took a break..."

His voice was more high-pitched than normal... Yet he continues to look after your grave, dealing it with great tenderness.

His mind flashing back to everything he had done wrong, prioritising joker over you... He remembered how he left you inside a burning building and instead saved the joker, as a result you got a nasty burn mark on your left hand.

Although he doesn't know who to blame you or the joker. Cause you're a hero, he thought you could save yourself... It doesn't matter that you were like what 7? Thought he did half heartily apologise after being lectured by Bruce.

"If you were back... Everything would be fine, im not blaming you of course... Just, I don't know anything good from bad especially after you left us"

"I do not know what possess you to be so reckless... I can't imagine what you must have felt but it's selfish"

"If you were here, Kory and I would take you before any of those... people could. It'll be just the three of us, I'll be the one you will depend on... You won't need to worry anymore, We'll never let you get hurt. Never again"

Dick continues to pour his heart out and slowly he began to smile, his mood began to shift from gloomy to thrilled, suggesting places and activities as if you were still alive.

If anybody was to come across this interaction it's either they'll lable him as mentally challenged or is high on sadness that they ended up talking to a grave.

You stood up getting ready to walk away, it's abit hard to pity them. They never acknowledged you when you were breathing and it's messed up that they only care after realising their mistakes.

"...Huh?"

A mysterious man was standing infront of you, you wouldn't be startled if he wasn't staring right into your eyes. A white lantern...?

You know him only because of the file you would read when you were bored out of your mind. Bruce must have called him, afterall he was a very new and surprising face to see in Gotham.

"...Nice to meet you?"

After your short introduction and your very long introduction on why he must not interfere at all, because as much as it suck being a ghost being alive with your current family would be hell.

Thought he does not seem to value your opinion at all, directly telling Bruce about your presence.

"You can speak... she can hear you"

Deadman informed Bruce.

"I apologise for my negligence and your mother unexpected death. She was a great woman just like you... I don't expect you to forgive so easily but, I want to see you smile again"

You didn't utter a word. You wanted to comfort him yet it was hard pitting the same man who avoid your presence when you were alive.

"Can't you bring her back...?"

"No, she's too far gone"

Your corpse look fine from outside but your inside were rotting and molding. Bruce tried his best yo preserve your body but what's gone is gone. All you want is for your body to rest.

"I refuse to believe. There must be a way for her to be back."

"I have no saying in logic. But there are artifact's that allows one to see ghost"

"I will do anything to see that smile again... I want to apologise to her face to face as well"

Your Father was one of the rare people in the family taking the responsibility in your death, this wasn't the first time he utter an apology. He would slept in your bed missing you, crying or talking in his sleep apologising it seem as the guilt never stopped chasing him.

Though he was the same man who left you unattended during gala surrounded by random man while you were a child. The same one who lecture your brother for leaving you in a fire only because he would have to explain why the burnt mark was there and not because it was wrong.

It was only natural for guilt to cling onto him the longest, he already lost Jason. But you were different, Jason died while having a somewhat happy memories. You died with nothing but bitterness and salty tears.

As much as you would love to fulfill your father's dream you couldn't help but be uncomfortable.

You've overhead Bruce and Jason conversation once and you regretted it. Jason being the most experienced in dying suggested the worst thing possible.

A new bedroom, made just for your liking.

A dingy room with chains to restrain you. All the window must have bars, even if you somehow managed to broke the iron chain you wouldn't be able to jump out and possibly risk breaking a bone.

"It's a necessity, I went mad when I came back, what gives you the idea that she won't be the same and in our case you'll be her first victim"

Jason harshly spit out. You couldn't help but disagree you wouldn't dare to hurt your family, even if they have hurt you in unexplainable ways. Your heart still ache for them in vain.

"Even if she dare to break out I have another method, far more wise and useful but I rather we use it as a last resort"

The last resort was, smashing your ankle. It was simple and Jason already have experience to make sure you won't be in more pain than necessary.

To put anything between your foot and for that object to be used as a support, tying the foot and arm's to restrain you. With a hammer all they have to do was to smash the bone into pieces, you wouldn't be able to walk at all but it was also necessary to treat the bone to avoid disability.

If the bone was to be left to heal by itself it would reconstruct themselves wrong leaving you to excruciating pain, not being able to depend on your foot and you might need to cut your foot off.

Another reason why you dread to be brought back, no amount of convincing or pleading would make them understand... They'll break you and rebuild you as if that was nothing.

They can't treat you like a daughter or a sister even tho they seem so willing... To you they only love you because of the guilt and not because they understand.

Damian was a reason itself, didn't even let a single tear drop during your funeral and the visit at the hospital. He did cry in secret which was pleasant to watch.

He's either beating people into pulp for the smallest crime or is actively trying to bring you back in another form. He have asked Raven to assist him but even the girl found it inhuman, suggesting for him to just mourn you and let your soul be in peace.

It was now noon the whole family jam inside the living room discussing.

"She can't be brought back? Jason died, the Lazarus pit can and must brought her back"

Damian argued, as much as he doesn't wanted to be emotional your absence was taking a toll on him.

You were the first to treat him like a human and he took that for granted. When he realised others weren't as understanding as you were he would get bothered... As much as he hate you that was just the crust of his heart, to him the core matter more... It was totally not an excuse for his horrible behaviour.

"You haven't tried that, father we must try before coming into conclusion!"

"I have tried Damian, nothing worked. Her body was rotting from the inside I was not aware"

Finally Barbara spoke up.

"You have tried? I have been visiting her grave everyday when did you di-"

"It was a decoy"

Jason decided to told the truth. The room felt into a long silence and suddenly shouting and names. They weren't happy that Bruce didn't tell them about the decoy, to them that was a breach of trust Bruce desperately tried to build after your death.

"Silence! There is another way we can see her, Deadman suggested using special artifact's that allows people to see ghost... We will us that as a temporary comfort and we'll find a way to bring her back... with us "

Everybody agreed, unknowns to them you were contemplating life whether you should leave your family and risk the chance of being brought back to life against your will or... Leave.

TAGS: @lovebug-apple, @leeiasure, @invinciblewaffles, @dangeroustravelermultiverse, @shycreatorreview, @bellethesleepypotato , @cluelessteam , @fortunatelydifferentqueen, @doggyteam2028 @icryat2

SPECIAL TAG: @megasweetbones.( TYSM for the great idea 🫶)

[invincibledc]

Batsib!reader: Good responses for being stabbed with a knife?

Dick: Rude.

Damian: That’s fair.

Jason: Not again.

Tim : Are you going to want this back?

[athenalvss]

Omg I just stumbled onto your page after reading your “Flashancy” fic. It was so cute! If you don’t mind me asking could I ask for a follow up after that? Like the months of bat!sis pregnancy, how everyone helps, Damian glaring daggers at Wally if she even so much as sniffles, and how Wally through his panic steps up when it’s time for the baby to be born? 💕💕

DONT BE WALLY PLEASE (Wally west! )

summary: Everyone accompanies the young couple during your pregnancy.

pairing: Wally west x batsis reader

1 part - open request - Wally masterlist

Month 3

After the announcement, the initial chaos gave way to a tense calm, like the silence that comes after a storm... although everyone knew that the worst, or the best, was yet to come.

The mansion felt different. Not in any specific way, but in the small details. Conversations lowered their volume when you entered a room, as if everyone was trying to size you up. There were constant glances, some concerned, others simply curious. And a silent care in the air. As if everyone, subconsciously, knew there was now something fragile between you, something precious.

Now you were spending more time with your family when you weren't with Wally, because none of them wanted to miss the progress of your pregnancy; it was the first time they had experienced it so closely.

Coffee disappeared from your cup and was replaced by mild infusions. Training was replaced by short walks. Nights on patrol became quiet dinners with Wally, who went out of his way to learn how to accompany you, even though he still forgot basic things like how strong smells now made you nauseous.

No one talked much about the baby because, well, they don't know much about pregnancies. But someone was always nearby. There was always a hand extended if they saw you hesitate on a step, an excuse to stop by to "check on you," even if it was just to sit in silence for five minutes.

Your father said almost nothing, but it was clear he was always attentive and looking after you in every way, from the reinforced security reports, to the health analyses reviewed with double attention, to how his gaze lingered on you a little longer than usual when he thought you weren't looking.

Wally, for his part, was on his own emotional roller coaster, but he was always there, worried and caring for you and his baby. He was there for every ultrasound, every appointment, every discomfort. He spoke to you tenderly even when you were irritable. He held your back when everything hurt. And he held you tight every night, as if that way he could protect you from everything.

Sometimes you cried, over small things like a song, an old photo from when you were a child, a smell. Sometimes you laughed so hard your stomach hurt. Your hormones were a mess, and you really hoped it would all pass quickly, but someone in your family was always willing to try different methods to ease everything you were going through.

And that was the greatest show of love you could ask for.

Month 6

By month five, pregnancy was no longer "news" or a "surprise." The whole situation had become normalized, or at least for you, because while you remained calm and didn't have to put up with anything, those around you seemed to be going through the pregnancy for you.

Dick treated you like you were made of glass, with slow hugs and gentle steps, as if you were about to shatter at any second. Tim filled the refrigerator with meals scheduled by calories and nutrients, having Alfred prepare the recipes he'd found.

Jason didn't say much. But he came by more often. Always with some other excuse: bringing you a soft blanket, a romance novel, and a box of homemade cookies. "Don't ask who made them, just eat them."

He didn't ask any questions. He just put his things down, leaned against the door frame, and said, "Is everything okay?"

And you nodded, and that was enough for him. But one night, as you shared ice cream in the kitchen, he looked at you sideways and murmured, "You're going to do just fine. And that baby... that baby is going to be lucky to have you for a mom."

"Thanks Jay"

And Damian...

Damian followed you like a hawk. He didn't say much, but he took note of everything. He checked your sleep schedule, your posture, what you ate, the room temperature. If you frowned, he'd already call Alfred.

More than once you found him standing in the middle of the hallway, fully dressed in his training robes, in the dark.

"Dami, you know I don't mind you coming to my house, but what are you doing there in the dark?"

"I'm keeping watch. If you get hungry at midnight, I'll be ready. And if that useless ginger falls asleep, someone has to be awake."

You rolled your eyes with a smile and closed the door, already accustomed to his Operation-like vigilance. But when you turned around, you found Wally lying next to you, face down, his head on your stomach and his eyes closed as if waiting for the universe to speak to him directly.

"Did you know the baby can already hear voices?" she asked suddenly, her voice filled with restrained excitement.

"Yes, I read that. And they can kick too."

"Kicking? Already?" he asked, sitting up slightly, excited. "Did you feel anything?"

"Sometimes. it's like... little bubbles. But I don't think you can see them from the outside yet."

Wally went completely still. He rested his cheek against your belly again and placed a hand gently on your skin, as if it were something fragile. "Hi, little one... it's me, Daddy, the one who's going to run by your side until you get tired of me. I promise."

And the first time the baby kicked him in the face, he froze. Then, with his eyes wide open and a mixture of shock and overwhelming love, he screamed at you. "He kicked me in the face! A kick! Right here!" He pointed to his forehead, completely overwhelmed.

"You sure?"

"Yes! Yes! It was real. It was… it was like, 'You silly old man, I heard you, let me sleep.' Do you understand what this means?"

"Were you beaten before they were born?"

"He recognizes me! My son recognizes me! I'm his favorite!"

You laughed so hard your tears flowed. Wally stared at you, grinning from ear to ear, then pressed his ear back against your tummy, hoping for another little kick, like a secret code between the two of you.

he stood there, whispering to them as you stroked his hair, your heart in knots and the absolute certainty that this baby was already loved. Deeply. Ridiculously.

Wally, with all his nerves, his clumsiness, and his uncontrollable enthusiasm, was ready. Or rather: he was learning to be ready. Step by step. Kick by kick.

And that night, as he fell asleep with his head on your belly, his arms wrapped around you with protective tenderness, you thought there was no safer place in the world than that.

Month 9

It was early in the morning. Of course it was early in the morning. You were in the kitchen, eating cereal straight from the carton because you didn't have the patience to find a bowl, when you felt the first contraction.

It didn't hurt that much. Yet. It was just a strange, uncomfortable pressure, like something big was about to happen. You knew right away.

"Wally..." you said calmly, as if you were letting us know you were out of milk. "I think it's time."

Wally, who was half asleep on the couch with a ridiculous duck blanket, raised his head, blinked, and paused. His face went from sleepy to completely panicked in a matter of seconds.

"Time? Time like 'we're going to the hospital' or 'just a little longer' or 'he's coming out now'?"

"Time to say 'grab your stuff and take me now.'"

Wally disappeared in the blink of an eye, running through the house. You heard him shout unintelligibly, stomp up the stairs, throw something that sounded very expensive, and then return with three bags. "We're ready!" he announced, his eyes wide, as if he'd just completed a level impossible mission.

"Wally… "you said with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

"Don't be nervous."

"Me? Nervous? No! I'm perfectly calm. Absolute control. Total serenity."

"One of his eyebrows was twitching."

"Wally. I'm fine. Nothing hurts yet."

"But it could hurt at any moment! That's what terrifies me! This can escalate in seconds! One minute you're eating cereal, and the next...!" he made an exaggerated gesture with her arms" BOOM! Baby!"

"Wally," you cut him off, grabbing him by the shirt. "Breathe."

He stood still. He looked at you. He took a deep breath. Again. And little by little, the color returned to his face. Then he hugged you, quickly, clumsily, with a kiss on your forehead that was more an apology than anything else. And then, with a flash and a gentle whirlwind, they shot off toward the hospital.

In less than half an hour, the hospital waiting room looked like a crime scene.

Alfred was at their side, with a folded blanket, a diaper bag, and a face that looked like he was going to take control of the situation if someone else panicked.

Bruce stood, serious, arms crossed, pacing. Every five minutes he asked for the doctor. "Have they said anything yet?"

And Dick and Damian… well.

"I'm just saying, if the baby has red hair, we're going to have to dye it," Damian said, his tone serious.

"We're not dyeing the baby, Damian. It's a baby," Dick replied with a sigh. "There's always the option of leaving it on the Kents' doorstep."

Wally, who had just gone back inside to get some water, froze in the doorway. He looked at them, offended, one hand on his chest. "Excuse me?!" he exclaimed. "What's with me today? I'm the father! You should want them to look like me!"

Damian didn't bother to look up. "That's precisely what we're all trying to avoid."

"I'm just saying," Dick repeated seriously, "that I appreciate your friendship very much despite everything, but I don't know if I want another Wally."

Just as he opened his mouth to continue complaining, the door opened with a subtle creak. The doctor came out into the hallway, his gown wrinkled, his mask hanging around his neck, his expression tired but warm.

"Miss Wayne's relatives?"

Everyone stood up instantly.

Even Bruce, who until that moment had remained in sentinel mode, motionless and silent.

The doctor nodded gently. "Everything went well. Mom and baby are healthy. It's a little boy."

The silence that followed was absolute. The only sound was Wally's glass falling to the floor.

And then Alfred sighed and smiled, his eyes moist. "Welcome, little West," he murmured. "We've been waiting for you."

Wally blinked. Once. Twice.

And suddenly, he burst into tears. he wiped his eyes with her sleeve without even realizing it. "Can I...?" hhe asked, his voice breaking. "Can I see them?"

The doctor nodded with a smile. "They're waiting for you."

Wally went out first. He didn't even run. He just walked quickly, as if he didn't trust his legs, as if the excitement was too heavy to move at his speed.

The others followed behind him, one by one, leaving the tension and nervousness behind, entering as a family.

And in the background, Damian murmured softly, not looking at anyone. "If he has his smile… he can stay too."

Dick patted him on the head. "Don't act tough, you'll spoil him in less than a week."

Damian didn't answer, but he smiled a little, just a little, as they walked toward the room where a new life had just begun.

[echo-exco]

❝OH DOCTOR, THAT’S TOO HONEST! THEN PRETEND YOU DON’T HEAR ME.❞

୨⎯ ┊BATFAM X NEGLECTED!HEALER!READER ꒱

✰ ৎ──────SYPNOPSIS: all you ever wanted was a purpose. something that would give meaning to your existence, your power. healing others was the only thing that ever made you feel alive, needed… until you ended up in that awful place.

✰ ৎ────── masterlist. | prev. | next.

Gotham was a charming city.

Not for its architecture, nor its people, never its people, but for what it represented: a machine of constant pain, unpredictable, volatile. A city where you could do something truly filthy and, if you did it with the right smile, you didn’t just walk away unscathed, you walked away applauded. Gotham was charming because it suffered.

And suffering was the only honest thing humanity had left.

Masashi leaned back in the chair of his suite, one leg crossed over the other as he observed the city through the window of the building where he had temporarily settled, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest. Sirens, screams, flashing lights, helicopters flying overhead.

"Like an infected wound." He thought, with something that resembled a smile.

Gotham was a city screaming for help in every language possible, but its so-called heroes didn’t know how to do anything but slap band-aids over a gaping throat.

What a waste of time.

What annoyed him were the parasites who wanted to cleanse it. Vigilantes, justice seekers, heroes. That obsession with fixing, restoring, healing. Such absurd arrogance. Gotham was beautiful precisely because it couldn’t be fixed. Trying only deepened its fractures.

The vigilantes were a plague. Not because of what they represented—morality, hope, the rigidity of what's “right”—but because of how useless they were to those who truly wanted to build something. Their existence forced Masashi to look over his shoulder more than he liked.

It wasn’t that he feared them.

They bored him.

They interfered with his research, his work. And to him, that translated into contempt.

They almost discovered him once. Just once. And that was enough to make important decisions.

That was how he sent you away.

Y/N.

His dear one. His.

The first time he saw you, he didn’t think you were special. Just another child. Small, quiet, with that broken, lost look in your eyes that made others uncomfortable. But not him.

Masashi was fascinated by it.

You were a broken child, empty, but useful. Obedient, starving for purpose. Masashi liked that about you. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t disobey, and you looked at him as if he held all the answers. For someone like Masashi, it was almost perfect.

Then he knew. The child he had been molding all this time wasn’t just any child, you were Bruce Wayne’s daughter.

Disgust hit instantly.

Not toward you. Never toward you.

His emotions turned to annoyance. Then anger. Then a dense silence that lasted for weeks. How could someone like him have a daughter without knowing it? A part of Masashi laughed. Another part seethed. Not because of the revelation itself, but because it meant he would have to send you away.

The very existence of Bruce Wayne made him sick. And now he had to send you —his little girl, his—to that man, to someone else.

That thing he had so carefully shaped.

You weren’t Bruce’s.

You belonged to Masashi. You were his.

Masashi had wanted to laugh. Maybe hit something. Maybe both.

But in the end, he only looked at you. At that little broken thing that clung to her threads and needles as if they were her only identity. So calm. So eager to serve. So hungry for purpose. And so absolutely his.

That was when he saw it clearly.

Masashi traced a finger along the rim of his porcelain teacup. Still warm—white tea with mint. Gotham didn’t know how to appreciate subtle flavors, but he did. Just like he appreciated you.

You left because he told you to. Because you trusted him. Because you still believed he wanted what was best for you.

And he did.

But what was best for you was to return to your place, by his side.

Masashi turned his wrist and opened a folder on the table. Matte-printed photographs, hacked reports, camera captures: you entered and exited the least-used wing of the mansion, avoiding contact. Slipping through like a ghost.

No one suspected. Not even your own father.

What a fascinating family. So powerful, yet so blind. So full of justice and so incapable of seeing the rot in their own actions.

Masashi gently touched one of the photos. You had just left a pharmacy with a bag in hand. Your face was partially covered by a scarf, but he recognized the stiffness in your shoulders. That restrained expression of someone hurting from the inside out.

You were desperate.

And he knew it perfectly. His poor, sweet Y/N, suffocating and hopeless from not being able to use your powers. Not being able to feel alive must be horrible, right?

Because no one but Masashi could understand you, no one else could interpret your powers. Especially not your family of heroes.

Sending you to Gotham was risky, yes, but brilliant. If Batman discovered something, he’d be distracted. If not, you’d collapse on your own. You’d be forgotten, left aside, just another child without skills or value.

And when that happened, when abandonment took root, when your need to stitch, to heal, to feel useful became unbearable—then you’d return. Crawling if you had to. Crying if it came to that.

Because again, the pieces fit together with beautiful precision.

He watched you for so long. At first, you were just a lost child, broken, desperate for purpose. But when your powers blossomed—when those grotesquely perfect healing techniques emerged, with pain, with blood, and with that childish sense of “helping”—Masashi understood something deeper: he could mold you. Give you purpose. Make you functional. Dependent.

And you… you obeyed him. Every order. Every correction. Even when it hurt. Even when you cried. Even when you laughed. You clung to him with a blind faith that almost resembled absolute devotion. Blind. Perfect.

He made you feel useful. And that was all you needed to stay.

Now you were in Gotham. Surrounded by people who didn’t understand you, who didn’t see your power, who didn’t know you had a purpose. Who would make you feel invisible. Useless. Forgotten. It was perfect. Eventually, you would need to use your ability. You’d crave it. It would consume you. Because your worth, your whole life, depended on it. And when you used it wrong, when you hurt others thinking you were helping, when your hands left scars instead of cures…

Then you could start to break.

Masashi allowed himself a calm smile. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring it.

He still remembered when you used to scold him with your brows furrowed because he wasn’t “following protocol.” It was funny because you’d puff your cheeks like you were playing at being an adult. A little girl pretending to be serious. And still, so precise. So dedicated. So… his.

“It’s adorable.” He murmured to himself with mocking tenderness, intertwining his fingers with surgical care. “That thought of yours... believing you’re saving lives. Thinking that makes you good. Thinking you're in control.”

He found it endearing. Touching, even. And he couldn’t wait to see you crumble when you realized it was all a lie.

That you never had a choice.

That you weren’t even a complete person.

Just a weapon.

His weapon.

His, again.

Masashi smiled, almost fondly.

Gotham was charming, yes.

But even more charming was how it devoured its own.

And you, his sweet Y/N, were about to be devoured.

Masashi wanted this moment etched in your mind. He had sent you to Gotham so you would remember him.

And it was time to come for you.

Masashi knew he would go after you.

Not because you were ready.

But because you would think you were.

Because that was the perfect moment. When you believe you’re making a choice, when you think you’re choosing—that’s when the success of a mold is truly tested. Not when someone obeys out of fear. Not when someone obeys out of need.

But when they believe they obey by their own will.

And he had worked toward that all along. That was the goal. Not to break you with force, but to make you collapse from within and still look at him with devotion.

Like a dog rescued from a burning house running into the arms of the man who set it on fire.

Masashi could wait for you. He knew you’d come. Maybe with wounds. Maybe with tears. Maybe covered in blood.

But you’d come.

Because no one else would understand what you’d done. No one would know why it hurt so much not to help. No one would see your scars as acts of love.

Only him.

The thought made him smile.

Not because he needed you.

Masashi didn’t need anything from you. Not your affection. Not your voice. Not your gratitude. He already owned you. Every part of you. Every decision. Every thought.

But if you returned.

If you crossed that door on your own, no orders, no chains, no begging...

Then it would be real.

His masterpiece would be complete.

And you... you would think you had chosen him.

“Come for me, Y/N.” He whispered into the darkness of his study, eyes fixed on the monitor where your trembling silhouette exited a pharmacy, alone. “Do it yourself.”

“Make me real.”

Because if you chose him, if your voice called for him, if your hands touched him like it was right...

Then there’d be no denying the truth.

You weren’t his victim.

You were his.

Because nothing is sweeter to a master than a pet who returns by her own will.

The trip back felt longer than it really was.

Maybe it was the accumulated exhaustion. Or maybe it was the anticipation. Because Duke had been waiting weeks, if not months, for this moment. And not just to return home, to his room, to his city. This time was different. This time, he was coming back with a purpose he hadn’t anticipated.

The mission was only supposed to last a couple of weeks. A request for international aid, evacuation, containment, the usual. Just one of many favors extended to allied cities when they couldn’t handle an outbreak, a disaster, or a social crisis on their own. But bureaucratic delays, unstable weather, and an unexpected surge of meta-human activity in Eastern Europe turned his short assignment into a long, tense stretch, where every day felt like a forced extension of the last.

Still, even in the middle of the chaos—even when the radio failed, even when the reports mentioned missing civilians, even when he had to sleep in makeshift shelters beneath collapsed structures—he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you.

The news had come with the kind of simplicity that important things often have when said by someone who doesn’t understand their weight.

“We have a new sister. She lives with us now.”

It was a message from Dick, short and without context, as if he were announcing a grocery run. Duke read it three times before reacting. First he frowned. Then he blinked. After that, he simply froze, as if waiting for the phone to buzz again—this time with a joke, a clarification, an explanation. Nothing came.

He stared at the screen. His distorted reflection in the glass, marked by dark circles and raised eyebrows.

A new sister. Just like that.

And technically, it wasn’t like he didn’t already have sisters. Cassandra, Stephanie, even Barbara, if you counted the way everyone spoke of her with such casual closeness. But none of them had joined the family from scratch. None had been a younger sister in the truest sense. They had all come with their own traumas, their own broken pasts, their visible (or invisible) scars.

But you… you were different.

Young. Almost Damian’s age, they told him. You had no training. You weren’t a vigilante. You hadn’t been rescued from a criminal organization or a violent past, and you didn’t seem to be connected to the usual madness that followed the family. You were just… there. As if you'd been left on the doorstep and Bruce had simply said, “It’s fine. She stays.”

At first, that idea confused him. What kind of girl ends up living with Bruce Wayne? What were the adoption criteria now? Where was the tragic backstory? The loss? The dramatic turning point?

But then he thought it through. And he started to feel excited.

Because for the first time, maybe they had a sister who hadn’t been broken before arriving. Someone who wouldn’t look at them with the tired eyes of someone who had already lost everything. Someone who could learn to love them, not as fellow soldiers or fractured figures to fear or admire, but simply as brothers.

He promised himself he’d get it right with you. He’d introduce himself with a smile, maybe a gift. He’d apologize for not being there from the beginning, but do everything he could to catch up. He even began making a mental list of things he could bring you: books, candy, a stuffed animal if you were very young. Would you like music? Comics? Did you have a favorite character? Favorite colors?

During one of his transfers, he took out his phone and texted Tim. Just to be sure.

“Hey. What do you think our new sister might like? Her name was Y/N, right?”

The reply took a while. Long enough for unease to creep in.

Finally, Tim answered:

“Who? Y/N? I don’t know… I think anything’s fine.”

Duke blinked. Pressed his lips together. Texted again:

“What does she like to do? Colors? Books, movies, music, anything?”

The silence lasted even longer this time.

Until the response came:

“She doesn’t bother anyone. She’s quiet. Doesn’t cause problems. Give her anything, she’ll probably be fine.”

And that’s when Duke felt it, an unexpected sting.

Not jealousy. Not annoyance. Something deeper. Colder.

Concern.

Because that wasn’t a description. It wasn’t a thoughtful answer. It was what someone says when they don’t actually know. It was what people say about someone they’ve barely looked at.

And it didn’t make sense. If you’d been living in the manor for so long, how was it possible that no one knew anything concrete? No hobbies? No funny stories? No quirks? A weird phrase? Something?

He thought about how everyone talked about Damian. Or Cass. Even Jason. There was always something. There was always context. But with you, there was only a void.

And the more he thought about it, the more uncomfortable he became. Not because it was odd, but because it forced him to ask a question he didn’t want to ask: What if they’ve been ignoring her?

When he got to Gotham, instead of heading straight to the manor, he stopped by a quiet café, sat by the window, pulled out his phone and started searching.

News. Rumors. Photos. Blogs. Anything.

Bruce Wayne adopting a girl, that kind of news should’ve been everywhere. A media bomb. The usual circus. But this time… nothing. Almost nothing at all.

And what little he found was worse than scandal: it was passive-aggressive criticism, veiled mockery. Cruel comments. “The bland new addition.” “Some random girl.” “Looks more like the help than a daughter.” Some headlines were more offensive, others simply dismissive. But they all agreed on one thing: you didn’t stand out.

You were invisible.

And that hurt. Not for him. For you.

Because to be defamed, at least someone has to be watching. But to have nothing… that means you’re completely disposable in the world’s eyes.

He wanted to believe it wasn’t true. Maybe it was part of a plan to protect you. Maybe you’d asked for privacy. Maybe the media just hadn’t caught a clear photo. But then he remembered Tim’s messages, the dry way he answered, the lack of stories, the absence of detail, of warmth.

And suddenly, the idea didn’t feel so far-fetched.

What if it wasn’t the media ignoring you?

What if everyone was?

How quiet, how invisible did you have to be for even the nosiest family in Gotham to be unable to describe you in more than five empty words?

That’s when he made his decision.

It wasn’t just excitement. It wasn’t simple curiosity. It was something bigger. A necessity.

He was going to get to know you. For real. With time, with patience, with intention. Not just as someone who lived under the same roof—but as his little sister.

Because if no one else had bothered to really see you, then he would.

And nothing, not distance, not lost time, not the silence that surrounded you, was going to change that.

Sure, maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. But Duke would make sure to truly see you. It was his duty and responsibility as your big brother.

One he would gladly accept.

Bruce wasn’t a stranger to insomnia. Or to cold coffee, misprinted reports scattered across his desk, or endless searches that led to nothing but empty streets and blurred faces. He had lived his whole life with those things. But that night—and many before it—he realized something was different. This time, he wasn’t just chasing a ghost. He was turning his back on someone real.

His daughter.

His daughter. The word still lodged in his chest, too large and too fragile to hold. Not out of shame, or doubt, but because of what it meant.

He didn’t know how he was supposed to act around you. He didn’t know what to say to you. He didn’t know how to look at you without feeling like he owed you a debt he would never be able to repay. Because you were there, in the mansion, under his roof, among his family… and he didn’t have a single memory with you. Nothing. Just paperwork. A DNA test. A young face in a photograph taken without care. A medical history that felt more empty than complete.

He didn’t have stories from when you were a child. He didn’t know if you had a favorite stuffed animal. If you liked to sleep with the lights on. If you were ever afraid of storms. If you had been sick and no one noticed. If someone had taught you how to read. He didn’t know if you liked hot chocolate or preferred tea. If you woke up early. If you were scared of bats.

He didn’t know anything.

And that destroyed him more than he was willing to admit.

He could pretend he was busy. That the city needed him. That the looming threat that had begun to stir overseas—that faceless, nameless shadow—was more urgent. And, in part, it was.

There was something out there. Something that moved with precision, that knew how to cover its tracks, that manipulated medical, financial, even governmental networks with a level of control he hadn’t seen in years. Something that had been right under his nose, and now was starting to knock at Gotham’s door.

It had started as a rumor. A clandestine medical operation with impossible results. Then a series of disappearances disguised as voluntary transfers. Patients who never returned. People who reappeared healed, yes, but with vacant expressions and wounds sealed in ways that defied logic. Then, an unsigned file. A lead that went nowhere. Just a face distorted by the digital fog of an old camera. No name. No fingerprint. No record in any country. Just a few dead doctors who, in hushed voices, had spoken a single word: him.

And every time Bruce took a step forward, something pushed him two steps back. Databases locked. Footage disappeared. Witnesses recanted. Someone was cleaning up the trail in real time. Someone extremely intelligent. Extremely meticulous. Extremely dangerous.

And still… that wasn’t the real problem.

The real problem was that Bruce couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you had spent years close to someone like that.

Because while the data on that man was a black hole, yours was, too. Every attempt to reconstruct your life led to a wall: medical records redacted, schools that didn’t exist, false addresses. Everything had been carefully erased. The only constant was a name, scribbled on one of the first files: the mother.

That woman.

Bruce clenched his jaw. Closed the file.

He didn’t like holding grudges. He’d learned that anger made him careless. But deep down, he couldn’t help the sting that rose every time he thought of her. Not for keeping him out of the equation. Not for denying him the chance to raise you as his daughter from the start. But for the danger she had put you in.

If your mother had just said something. A letter. A message. A signal. Bruce would’ve moved heaven and earth to protect you both. He’d done more for less. But no. Instead, you, his daughter, had reached him like a distant echo, like a consequence no one had bothered to explain fully.

And now, you were here. In the same house. Sleeping under the same roof. Eating at the same table. Walking through the same halls.

And he knew nothing about you.

Not even your favorite color.

All he knew was that you were quiet. That you never asked for anything. That you locked yourself in your room and avoided everyone. That your siblings treated you with the empty politeness people offer to a well-mannered stranger. That you didn’t complain. That you didn’t make noise.

And somehow… that was the worst part.

Because Bruce recognized that kind of silence. He had seen it before. In children trained to obey without speaking. In victims who had learned to make themselves invisible to survive. In himself, when he was a child and Gotham had torn everything away from him and the only thing he could control was his own silence.

He didn’t want you to be like that.

He didn’t want you to feel like a shadow in your own home.

But he couldn’t go to you. Not now. Not while that thing, that man, that something, was still out there, lurking from the shadows. He couldn’t risk getting distracted. He couldn’t promise you time and then fail you. He couldn’t say I’m here when every part of his mind was caught in that case without a face, without a voice, without a trail.

So he watched from afar.

Sometimes he heard your steps on the ground floor. Or saw you passing by on the security monitors. Sometimes his reports showed up neatly organized on his desk, someone had brought them, and he’d find a note in simple handwriting: Thank you for letting me stay here. No signature. Just that. Short. Calm.

Too calm.

And every time Bruce read those words, he swore he’d fix it. That he just needed time. He just needed to find that man. That ghost. Take him down. Stop him.

And then—

Then he’d give you every minute. He would learn everything about you. Ask how you liked your breakfast. Teach you what it meant to be part of a family. To fight, if you wanted. To defend yourself. He would tell you about your mother, about the Waynes, about the mistakes he’d made. He would tell you that you didn’t have to be useful to stay. That you didn’t have to be quiet to be loved. That you are his daughter, and that’s enough.

Bruce leaned over the files. Closed the notebook filled with nameless leads. Took a deep breath. He wanted to be with you. Wanted to sit beside you and ask how your day had been. See if you liked storybooks. Take you to the park. Help with your homework. Ask if you had a favorite friend. If you were afraid of the dark. If you wanted a bat-shaped nightlight.

But he couldn’t.

Not yet.

Not while that man, that someone, was still loose. Not while he didn’t know who he was. Not while he couldn’t guarantee that his daughter was completely safe.

Because this time, it wasn’t Robin. It wasn’t Nightwing. It wasn’t a vigilante.

You were just a child.

And Bruce swore he would do whatever it took to make sure you could stay that way.

Even if he had to hunt a ghost first.

But first…

First, he had to find that man.

First, he had to get him out of the way.

And then, with everything clean, everything quiet, with the shadows gone, he could finally be a father.

Someone better.

Someone you deserved.

After all, Bruce still had time to get to know his daughter.

And he would make sure of it. Personally.

taglist. ( closed ! )

@prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue @victoria1676 @ithoughtthinks @maybeethan69 @moonsunlights @ghostxmio @niamcarlin @mys0cksrwet @joseylouge @kore-of-the-underworld @lithiumval @ryuushou @jellystar-star @bbsaeko @sadeem575 @buckturd @justonerandomreader @amaryilia @shycreatorreview @galaxypurplerose @hearts4mica @lonely-entity @bronermalls @justafank @theholyharp @jjoppees @raiyuxa @bbmgirll @hattersrabbit @1abi @a-lurking-fae @cristy-101 @eli-chris @kenman00001 @aaaaailo @c4xcocoa @funtimekoda14 @shrimp38 @ghostgirl-207 @yarn-mony @expressodepressogetoffmyproperty @java-lava @on-a-sugar-rush @hwaissooo @endaculi @shadowsofapastera @deaddino3 @lalana1703 @ash1 @iloveeverythingiread @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter @noone1233nobody @yuyuzi-ling @cupid73 @st4rz666 @zhentheraven @angwngss

[lucylockets]

(whispers) what about wally west x batsis!reader

dividers made by: @cafekitsune

pairings: wally west x fem!batsis!reader (and other members of the batfamily)

a/n: inbox is open if anyone has any requests!

batsis, who starts dating wally a couple of months after working with him. wayne’s know what they want, and they don’t wait around for it.

wally’s ecstatic. he’s seen her long before meeting her, of course. she’s on the covers of magazines, articles are written about her newest outfits, and there’s always some new pictures of her uploaded.

wally thinks she’s beautiful. yeah, he’s flirted with pretty girls before, but she isn’t comparable to anyone he’s ever met. he can hardly believe that this gorgeous girl wants to be with him. actually wants to be in his company.

they keep the relationship private for the first few months. not exactly a secret, she’s just not declaring it in interviews. she wants something to herself for once in her very public life. he’s telling everyone he knows with a proud smile.

they’re spotted one day. a picture taken of her kissing his cheek goodbye after a day together and is uploaded. articles the next day, ‘Gothams Princess is dating . . . who exactly?’

she finds him one morning, looking at the article on his phone with a worried expression. she comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around his bare torso, her face resting on the back of his shoulder blade.

“what are you looking at?” she mumbled, looking around his arm to peek at his phone before scoffing and returning to his back. “don’t bother with those silly things.”

“but what if-“ “doesn’t matter.” she cuts him off with a small yawn. wally doesn’t look convinced.

“you’re not even a little bit curious as to what they’re saying about us?” she shook her head without thought. “i stopped reading anything to do with me years ago. even if the article is nice, it isn’t good for anyone to read about themselves.”

wally huffed, putting his phone down. “i hate when you sound smart.”

she just smiled, pressing kisses to his shoulder. “another smart suggestion from me is us going back to bed.”

wally west, who accompanies her to a gala when asked. he declined at first, but then she sighed.

“alright then. i just asked because one of the sons of bruce’s business partners is always asking me to dance. i sort of wanted to show you off.”

that’s all it took to convince him.

and now he finds himself in a new suit, in a room with some of the richest people in gotham. a group of older ladies are cooing at him, touching his hair and saying how “precious” and “interesting” red-heads are.

his shoulders sag in relief as an arm links with his, and he sees reader at his side. she smiles at the ladies. one of them lowers her champagne glass to talk to her.

“(name) wayne! i didn’t know you went for red-heads.”

she laughs. she seems at ease, but wally can feel her fingers gripping his arm just a little tighter. “well, i suppose i just couldn’t resist this one.”

wally smiles to himself and barely registers her tugging him away after giving the ladies one last smile. he looks at her with a lazy smirk.

“couldn’t resist me, huh?” “shut up or i’ll kick you out.” wally just smiles.

wally west, who will just have a dreamy look on his face when reader is scolding him. it might just be a little petty thing that she’s annoyed over, but wally will listen to her with his hand under his chin thinking “she’s giving out to me. it’s me who she chose to give out to. she’s so amazing. she’s cute when she’s angry. it’s kinda hot.”

wally west, who knows he’s a goner pretty early. he has the wedding playlist made before half a year together. probably has kids names picked out too.

reader, who just lets him talk. it isn’t uncommon to find them together, her doing a menial task while he chats her ear off. wally thinks she’s ignoring him, and just letting him get it out, but then she’ll reference something he said at a later time.

like one time he was yapping about the differences between the different fast food restaurants, and thought that she had forgotten about the whole thing. but later that week, when dick suggests going to BatBurger for food, she shakes her head and says “wally prefers Chicken Whizee. he was telling me about it earlier.”

wally’s heart probably jumps, and he goes red at the smirk that dick gives him.

wally west, who probably had a million and one pictures of her in his camera roll. pictures of times where nobody else sees her, just him. her in her pyjamas with her hair in curlers. a mirror picture of them both in matching face masks. her in the morning with her hair messy and mascara smudged. her asleep on his shoulder.

he doesn’t post those. they’re for him to smile at and fall in love with even more every-time he sees them.

he does post her non-stop though. candid photos of her smiling or laughing. the captions are 100% the cringiest lines ever.

‘she must be the flash because she makes my heart speed’ ‘partner in (fighting) crime’ ‘the peanut butter to my jelly’

and everytime dick will be in the comments like “caption makes absolutely no sense walls”

she’ll post him too. on her public account, it’ll be more proper pictures of them together. anniversary pictures with hearts. most of the comments are happy for them, and every so often they’ll be a guy (or girl) burning with jealousy.

but on her private with just her friends and family, it’ll be pictures of him passed out on the couch with his costume still on, or eating cereal together in bed (i do not recommend btw)

and i can totally see dick posting one of those pictures of the three of them where wally and reader are kissing in the background while dick is just standing there. the caption: ‘when you literally introduced them to each other and end up third wheeling’

wally west, who will spam her phone with those videos of animals together with the caption “us ❤️” with messages declaring love and she’ll just respond with “ok.”

wally west, who quotes shows at her all the time. they watch friends together? now he’s constantly saying that she’s his lobster. parks and recreation? now the line “i love you and i like you,” is a common phrase said by him. jerry maguire? he’s now always saying “you complete me,” while doing the hand motions. he practically glows when she does it back.

he’ll sing love songs to her in the kitchen together, and smile when she sings back.

wally west, who brings batsis to his house for christmas. she meets his mom, uncles, aunts, and cousins (she probably already knows barry and iris).

he’s a bit nervous about showing her his modest house that he grew up in. “it’s not much compared to wayne manor-“ but she just takes one look at the warm lights and the people who are so comfortable in each others company that she just smiles and says “it’s amazing.”

she tried to help mary with some cooking, but she’s never made a meal bigger than grilled cheese before because of alfred, so mary gives her small tasks to do like stirring.

she shows reader how to line pastry, and she just copies mary’s movements. it’s a pretty good bonding experience.

wally west, who loves summer with her. he especially loves beach days and pool parties. he’ll shake like a dog after coming out of the water, spraying her despite her protests. if she’s reluctant to go in the water, he’ll literally toss her over his shoulder and drop her in (and then make up for it with kisses). his fingers will playfully toy with her bikini straps before she smacks his hand away.

and if she steps out in a red and yellow bikini? his brain short circuits. they end up 30 minutes late to the function.

wally west, who loves annoying her. when he asks her on a date while they’re in the relationship, and she says yes, he’ll immediately say “chat is this rizz?” to nobody.

a second after every kiss he’ll say “that was awesome sauce,” or “chat clip that.”

if they’re on a mission together and encounter bad guys, he’ll say “are we cooked?”. she’ll repeat “what does that mean?” while he’s just saying “i didn’t know bad guys were invited to the function,” or “no cap, we’re gonna mog these guys.”

wally west, who calls her every nickname under the sun. she has to check sometimes that he still remembers her name because of how little he actually calls her it.

the normal ones are okay. i can see him being a massive “babe”/“baby” guy. he also sometimes greets you with a “hey gorgeous,” or “hi beautiful,”

it’s the weird ones that he uses to tease. he’ll jump onto the couch beside her, giving a loud smooch to her cheek with a “hey sweet cheeks.” or he’ll put his head in her lap, grinning up at her before saying “what’s up honey bunches?”.

he ABUSES the line “what’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

wally west, who’ll sit in her space happily.

he’ll make himself comfortable in her bed with the floral bedsheets, setting down onto the silk pillow cases. he watches her do her skincare, and won’t protest if she dabs a bit of moisturiser on his face. if she asks to do a spa day with him, he’ll already have the headband pushing his short fringe up. he’ll watch her with stars in his eyes as she puts those under eye things on him.

wally west, who gets her siblings to come around to him. eventually.

dick was no problem, obviously. he was ecstatic to see his best friend and sister together (though he did threaten wally by reminding him how much he likes having kneecaps)

jason might be a little more difficult. he’s protective of the things he loves after loosing so much. wally respects that. he’ll give jason a casual compliment disguised as a passing remark if they pass each other, with a beaming smile on his face. jason will hum a little, and wally takes this as acceptance.

“you’re like a brother to me, jason.” “don’t push it, west.” “noted.”

tim was alright too. wally paid bart to really talk him up (subtly, of course). they were able to bond over niche video games. wally’s also pretty good at science, specifically physics, so they work together sometimes.

cass wasn’t hard either. reader brought wally to one of her ballet shows, and they gave her a bouquet of flowers after. wally congratulated her.

“i normally don’t have the patience for these things, but you were amazing up there.” and cass smiles and thanks him.

his mouth runs a million miles a minute, while cass rarely talks. he notices that she sometimes uses hand gestures to communicate, so he learns some of the common ones she uses. she’s able to read his body language when he’s around reader, and she can tell by the way he’s always turning to her that he likes her very much. wally gains cass’ approval to date her sister.

wally’s convinced that damian still hates him. reader claims that damian just doesn’t know how to show that he likes someone, but wally thinks that the narrowed eyes he gets from across the table every dinner is a sign in the opposite direction.

first time wally was at dinner, damian made a show of the sword on his side, patting it every so often. he also managed to mention that he knew how to gut a person, and wouldn’t mind some extra practise.

reader tuts at damian and tell him to stop, but he’ll just tilt his head up and claim that he’s making sure that wally is “worthy of someone at your level.”

wally west, who traces her scars with care. he’ll slow down for her. in fact, he likes it when their time is slow. lying on either the bed or couch, bodies together. his warm hands will slip under her shirt to feel her skin, his fingertips gently running along the scars from her years of being a vigilante.

his expression doesn’t change. it doesn’t form into one of discomfort, or confusion. his eyes don’t avert awkwardly. he’ll just kiss her shoulder and murmur words of adoration.

if she ever begins to feel unsure of her body or dislike, he’ll be there for kiss every inch of her skin, whispering words of praise and love.

wally west, who during the night, will hold reader close. his arms will be around her torso while hers are around his shoulders. he kisses under her jaw, saying “i love you,” quietly.

he prays she can’t hear his racing heart when she murmurs “i love you too,” into his hair.

[suigenerisisadiva]

Wrong Universe, Right Girl

Pairing: Miles Morales x Batsis!Reader Summary: One wrong step during a Gotham mission sends you spiraling through a multiverse rift, straight into Brooklyn, and straight into the path of a very confused Miles Morales.

CW: Use of Y/N, swearing, Multi-dimension travel, no Gwen here, violence, Gotham city ew

A/N: Guys I finally learned how to make aesthetic gradient titles!! Courtesy of @moviecritc!! She's so cute <3 Also, it appears I have a thing for the alternate dimension trope somebody stop me </3

Tags: @aetheriis - @inejinn - @luciel1

Gotham – 2:14 AM

The skyline was burning.

You sprinted across the wet rooftop, cape snapping behind you, the echo of your own ragged breathing filling your cowl. Tim’s voice crackled in the comms - distorted, panicked.

“Y/N - the device! It’s activating again - it’s destabilising the-”

You dove into a roll as a blue-white blast erupted just behind you, the heat lashing against your back like a whip. The glow pulsed, then screamed - a raw, animalistic sound of bending dimensions.

At the centre of it: the LexCorp prototype, jury-rigged to stolen multiversal coordinates.

The dipshit who’d activated it - some ex-LexTech psycho in a lab coat - was laughing manically as the air fractured around him.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, scrambling back on your feet.

“Bat's little soldier,” the man rasped, pupils dilated with power. “Let’s see how you handle infinity.”

The machine exploded in light.

And you fell.

Brooklyn – 2:17 AM (another universe)

Miles was three hours into patrol and already running on bodega snacks and unmedicated vibes when the sky tore open over Brooklyn.

It wasn't like a portal - but rather like someone had punched a fist through reality.

“...Okay,” he muttered, clinging to the side of a fire escape. “What the hell.”

A body - a figure - burst from the tear like a comet, trailing smoke and cape, slamming through scaffolding and crashing onto the rooftop across the street.

Miles blinked.

"...I swear to god, if that’s another variant of me-"

He shot a webline and launched toward the scene.

You were already up.

Covered in soot, bleeding from your temple, one leg limping from the fall - and standing like it didn’t hurt. Your dad told you to not acknowledge pain and you'd be fine.

Your suit was black and matte - not unfamiliar, but not quite like anything Miles had ever seen. Sleek. Tactical. Military. Gotham.

He landed softly on the ledge beside you, hands raised.

“Hey-uh, you good?”

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look.

Instead, you leveled a batarang at him without turning around. “Back off.”

“Oh good,” Miles muttered, hands still up. “You’re hostile. I’ve missed this energy.”

Finally, you turned around - and goodness, your glare could burn down buildings.

“What are you?” you demanded.

“Spider-Man,” he said flatly.

“Not mine,” you shot back.

That made him blink. “Wait-not yours?”

You scanned the sky - no crack, no tech, no familiar signal in your comms. Your jaw clenched.

“I’m not on my Earth anymore,” you said under you breath, more to yourself than him.

Miles tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “You’re… a dimensional fallout?”

“I’m a Bat,” you snapped, like that explained everything. “From Gotham.”

“Cool,” he said slowly. “I’m from Brooklyn. And I think you just crashed your way into one hell of a multiversal problem.”

You eyed him again. This time, slower. His posture. His voice, which sounded awfully young, almost as if he was your age. His suit - not tech-based, but sleek and alive, like it moved with him.

“You’re really Spider-Man?” you asked, like you still didn’t believe him.

He gave a half-shrug. “Kinda comes with the job title.”

You paused, then finally holstered the batarang.

“...I need a tech base. A way to trace energy frequencies. Your city has a Tinkerer, right?”

He blinked. “How do you-?”

“I read. Fast.”

He stared at you, eye lenses comically wide.

You stared back.

After a long pause, he exhaled. “Alright. You’re either very smart, very dangerous, or extremely hot and out of my league.”

“Correct.”

"Sooo..." He started

"So? Are you gonna help me or not?" You launched your grappling hook and started flying, you heard his voice call out behind you, making you chuckle inwards. Maybe this won't be so bad, you thought.

Oh how wrong you were.

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