#bruce wayne × child reader

[melloollem]

Trash|| Bruce Wayne × child!reader

Summary: In a city where survival is your main objective, you do whatever it takes, including getting involved in Gotham's criminal world.

Warnings: Common comic book violence, weapons, corruption of minors (minors involved in crimes), reader with no gender specified, comment if you want to be tagged in the continuation.

(Chapter ll, Chapter lll, Chapter lV)

(Dc masterlist)

Prologue

The problem with Gotham was that those who said crime didn't pay would soon start to think it did and those who said it did would find the end too quickly for it to be true. Your problem was that you didn't have time to decide whose side you were on. When the city became a field of war, it was better to have a side, whether it was the side of the innocent or not.

Although you were young, you had seen the city destroy itself and start over many times. At some point, you realized that it wasn't starting over, it was just continuing. Fear gas exploded in the city, chaos spread, a villain was arrested, next month another villain had his own idea for an attack and the city didn't even have a chance to repair the damage from the last attack. It was in one of these circumstances that you lost your family. What did you do without your mother in a city where fear was a constant feeling? Survive and you would follow the law of the weakest.

Petty theft, that's how it always starts, take what you want and run. You weren't the most skilled, but circumstances make the thief and it's not as if you didn't have examples to follow. You lived on the worst side of town, used to seeing robberies almost daily, it was easy, just see where they went wrong and do better. You noticed that most of the thugs who committed robberies in Crime Alley were caught, ironic isn't it? You had also calculated a gap in time when there was no vigilante on duty, it was a few minutes before they spread across the city, the police patrols in Gotham were constant, but they weren't looking for you if you committed petty crimes, there were bigger problems for the city.

In a few months, you had your own map of Gotham, with the information that really mattered: areas prone to robbery, areas that should be avoided, small crooks, big crooks, who ran what, what crime could be committed in each area, which crime was worth the most. If circumstances made the thief, you were in the circumstance most likely to make him successful. And if it had all started with petty theft, soon your preparation would prove that you were capable of more, and it didn't take long for the bandits in the area to notice your potential, now you work as a bandit's henchman, it's not as if you were a big deal, they just considered you skillful enough. You could be useful to them, but if you died in a few weeks' time there would be another one like you, this town was shit.

And if with small robberies, you were out of focus, when a major city bank is robbed with all the vigilantes busy trying to stop it, now everyone knew there was something fishy and you knew it wouldn't be long before the vigilantes were on your tail. You could escape the Gotham police, but Batman? It wasn't about being found, it was about when you would be found. Your first thought was to run away, but did anyone care if you got killed for going against the law? They were clear, you stayed until the end, it was kill or be killed.

Bruce followed your every move, if your plan consisted of staying off the vigilantes' radar, once they saw you, it wasn't hard to find the rest, every crime was in evidence. At first, he thought you were like young Jason, a kid from Gotham who was doing everything he could to survive, but without hurting anyone, and well, you were trying to survive, but if someone had to die in the process, it wouldn't be you.

He thought about approaching you at first, but you didn't look like you were going to give in, you were one of those who were always ready to attack, too scared to look into the dark before firing. If he wanted to approach you, it would have to be slowly, he didn't want you to run away or react. You might have been the one holding a gun, but you were also a child who shuddered at the sound of his shot.

But Batman's plans for you would have to hurry up. In one of the robberies you had planned and were on the front line for, you had been shot in the stomach, and it was now that you would discover that crime doesn't pay. Something peculiar about this situation was that there were no police, it was a vigilante's bullet that had pierced you. Now the Red Hood was carrying your weak body to a Gotham emergency ward, how could he have guessed that the person who shot him was just a child? The second he heard a child scream in reaction to the bullet, he ran for your life.

You looked exactly like a street kid, did you have parents? He didn't have time to find out, he wasn't sure if someone would come and stay with you in hospital, so he did. For the next few hours guilt consumed Jason, how could he shoot a child? He was in the waiting room, now in civilian clothes, waiting to hear from you. He hadn't called anyone, but after signs of a disastrous mission in a Gotham warehouse, Jason had a target on his back, so Bruce obviously wanted to know where he was.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

This is the prologue to a story that will soon be released. I hope you enjoy it and stay tuned to my profile. Every new episode released will be linked in this post, comment if you want to be tagged.

[shortnsweetsposts]

Tim: Do you believe in ghosts?

Bat!reader: I do.

Tim: I don't.

Bat!reader: Why not?

Tim: *Shrugged*

Bat!reader: You don't feel like anyone could be whiter than you?

Tim, taken aback by the comment: Wow

[invincibledc]

Twin!reader who’s easily sick. They can’t be a hero, they can’t fight, they can’t go out on patrols. They have to live that normal life while their whole family and twin fight bad guys. Damian always comes back home, getting dressed to relax. To take care of his beloved twin. He sits on the edge of their bed, making them take medicine, vitamins. You name it. The twin could only frown in sadness, telling Damian that they “don’t need care.” Damian felt a little anger, but was calm on the outside.

It was always his duty to protect his twin. He’s not letting you perish by your weak immune system. You will be healthy, even if it kills him to realize that you are actually dying inside.

His twin…

[echo-exco]

❝DOCTOR I CAN’T TELL IF I’M NOT 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. | next.

There is only one thing you ever truly wished for in this life: a purpose.

Something that would justify your existence, that would give meaning to every breath, every wound, every sleepless night.

And you found it. Not in an empty promise or in the affection of others. You found it in your own power.

A selfish desire, yes, but undeniably yours. A purpose born not out of love, but out of need.

From that strange power growing inside you, the one that forced you to look at others’ suffering with cold, almost cynical eyes. As if every wound were a problem only you could solve. As if every scream of pain were a prayer meant solely for you.

You clung to that.

To the idea that your worth existed only in your abilities.

The ability to stop someone from dying in front of you. To rip death from their body with your own hands. To stitch broken flesh with threads that hurt, yes, but worked. That was the only thing that ever made you feel alive. The only thing that ever made you feel alive, needed.

For a while, it was enough.

For a long while, you were selfish.

It didn’t matter if they used you. It didn’t matter if it hurt. If every healing left another scar on you. If every salvation cost you a little more of the little you had left.

As long as you could keep doing it—healing, fixing, protecting— the price didn’t matter.

Because at the end of the day, you could lie down on that mattress of emptiness and tell yourself: “Today, I made it worth it.”

Your existence and your power meant something.

Of course, you didn’t have a mother to share secrets with, nor guardians who offered you love. Only faces that came and went, and the bitter understanding that you were just another burden in a broken system.

Until, by some twisted stroke of fate, you had the “pleasure” of meeting your biological father.

Bruce Wayne.

Billionaire. Philanthropist. Playboy.

Batman.

Even so, none of that really mattered to you. What truly hit you was learning that you had to leave everything behind and go to Gotham.

That cursed city, that concrete jungle drowned in darkness and crime. Where dreams go to die and bodies, if they’re lucky, go to sleep.

Gotham wasn’t a home. It was a prison for someone like you.

A place where meta-humans like you were enemies, threats, problems to be contained.

Your power, your only purpose, was stripped away with nothing more than a change of zip code.

And that was the cruelest part of all.

Not being able to use it.

Not being able to save.

Not being able to be useful.

Your existence, reduced to ashes, like the bodies of those you didn’t reach in time.

It must be poetic, right? The healer who cannot heal. The savior without faith.

They hate you. You've felt it. That visceral resentment from those who survived because of you, but still blame you for what you couldn’t stop. Screams, stares, choked pleas— all of them pierced your soul deeper than any weapon ever could.

For someone who once swore to save lives, it’s only natural that those you vowed and wanted to save now express their utter disgust and despair toward the false, horrific salvation you once offered them.

And now? Now you live among strangers.

An immense mansion full of absences. With brothers who seemingly don’t recognize you, and a father who doesn’t see you.

Your arrival in Gotham wasn’t exactly ideal, at least, that’s how you think you remember it.

It’s hard for you to remember that moment. You don’t hold on to unnecessary memories… none of it will make you feel alive again.

Apparently, your new father figure has several children. Some of them are already adults. With lives of their own far from the mansion, you don’t know much about them, they were almost always too busy to say anything to you.

You can’t understand them, can’t they come up with better excuses? You don’t want these people’s attention.

These people can’t help you with your abilities. They can’t make you believe you’re still allowed to use them freely.

No, these people are just strangers who stumbled into your life overnight and want nothing to do with the problem. Not even your new father had the decency or responsibility to try forming a bond with you.

Bruce Wayne was an absent father. Not in the way someone leaves and disappears completely, but in the kind of absence that feels stronger the closer the person is. A hollow physical presence, like a ghost made of flesh and bone. One who could look you in the eyes and still not see you.

He struggled to communicate, to make time for you, to even remember that there was now one more occupied room in that massive mansion of his.

He doesn’t know how to deal with you, and you don’t know how to deal with him either. At first, you wondered if the problem was you. If you had done something wrong. If the way you talked, walked—even breathed, was so bothersome that he’d rather bury himself in work than give you an hour of his time.

But soon, you realized something even crueler: You don’t need a father. You’re not looking for one. You’re not waiting for one.

What you need is a patient. Someone you can heal. Someone who needs you.

Because that’s what you’ve always done. Heal. And Bruce… Bruce simply refuses to be healed.

But he doesn’t understand.

When you approach him, when you seek him out, when you try to speak to him, all he does is throw up a wall made of cold words, as practical and impersonal as that damn business suit of his.

“I’m busy.”

“Not now.”

“We’ll talk later.”

“It’s for work.”

Always the same. Always excuses with the bitter taste of indifference.

Is this what having a father is supposed to feel like? Because if it is, then it doesn’t feel any different from your days in foster care.

At least there, you knew you were alone. Here, they make you believe you’re not… but you are, more than ever.

You’ve learned to observe the details, as always. It’s one of the few things you’re good at, aside from using your power.

You notice the tired look in his eyes, the dark circles underneath, the way his fingers tense around his pen like he’s trying to crush it. The stack of papers on his desk never gets smaller, it’s like it multiplies just to keep you at a distance.

And the subtle changes… that lower tone in his voice when he sees you, like he can’t even be bothered to raise it for you. The way his eyebrows furrow, not out of anger, just… annoyance. Irritation.

That’s what hurt the most.

So you stopped trying. Because if you kept going, you were only going to be reprimanded by the one you were supposed to please. You convinced yourself that you don’t need his approval. That you don’t need his love. That you’re better off without him.

But then, why is it that every time you walk past his office, you pause for a second, hoping that door opens, just once, without you knocking first?

Why do you still need him to see you?

Richard Grayson is the eldest. The first adopted son of Bruce Wayne. Everyone sees him as a beacon of hope, the moral compass of this family made of shadows and scars. And it makes sense. He has that bright smile, that genuine warmth the others can barely fake. He gives out hugs without being asked, listens patiently, laughs easily, and has that absurd gift of making anyone feel seen, at least, if you’re one of his.

Because with you, it was always different.

From the beginning, Richard seemed kind. Seemed. But between that warmth and you, there was always a distance, like someone had drawn a curtain between the two of you. You heard his apologies more than you heard his actual voice.

“Sorry, I have to head out right now.”

“Sorry, I was already on my way to Blüdhaven.”

“Next time, I promise.”

He was always rushing. Always busy. Always somewhere else. And you… you’re not someone who believes in empty promises.

At first, you thought it was just bad luck. That maybe if you insisted a little, if you found an excuse, if you caught him in the kitchen, he might stay for five minutes. Just five. But those minutes never came. And you started to notice a pattern. How his demeanor shifted the moment you walked into the room. How his smile became more diplomatic. More rehearsed. How his footsteps sped up when he thought you weren’t watching.

You didn’t want to admit it at first, but something inside you began to whisper an uncomfortable truth; He was avoiding you.

And then you understood. If Richard Grayson, the kindest, the most human, the most "big brother" of them all, couldn’t be around you, then what was the point of trying with the others? What could you possibly expect from Jason, who barely speaks to you? From Tim, who seems more invested in his computer than in actual people? From Damian, who can barely tolerate his own shadow?

So you did the same.

You avoided them. One by one.

You decided it wasn’t worth it. That if you weren’t going to be a real part of this family, you weren’t going to pretend.

It’s easier that way. It doesn’t hurt as much if you’re the one walking away first.

But sometimes, when you see them laughing together from the staircase, or hear Richard speaking so fondly of the others, a part of you wonders if it was ever really your choice to walk away, or if they’d been leaving you behind from the very beginning.

Your suspicions didn’t take long to confirm. All it took was talking to a few of your supposed brothers to realize the pattern repeated itself.

Jason, Tim, Damian…

Each one was a story unto themselves. Each one was a maze of traumas, masks, and poorly calibrated emotional responses. But if you had to describe them in one word, it would be: inaccessible.

The second of your brothers was Jason, and from what little you could gather, because no one seemed eager to talk about it much, Jason had died. And then he came back. It wasn’t a metaphor. It wasn’t an exaggeration. He had been buried, and now he was not. That simple statement was enough to provoke a morbid curiosity, almost scientific. What had changed in his body? Did he suffer from partial necrosis? Brain damage? Did his muscles regenerate? What residual effects did resurrection have on human physiology? Everything in you screamed to investigate. To dissect. To understand.

It was a dangerous thought. You knew that. You repeated it to yourself like a mantra: too tempting for your own good.

But what confused you the most wasn’t his condition, it was his behavior toward you. Jason had this aura of latent violence, like dynamite that could explode with the wrong spark. But that wasn’t what kept you away. Not entirely. It was his inexplicable rejection.

You didn’t understand it. You didn’t provoke him. You didn’t talk to him, you didn’t interfere, you didn’t cross the line. And yet, his gaze was always sharp. As if your mere presence triggered something in him. Irritation. Annoyance. Maybe even disdain.

You wondered if it was your fault. If the way you were, the way you spoke, the way you were, simply bothered him. But you couldn’t find an answer. And though you wanted to, you knew that getting closer would be too risky.

Because you’ve seen the broken walls. The misaligned doors. The tables split in two like they were made of paper. You’ve felt the tension in the air when Jason enters a room and isn’t in the mood. And you know, without needing confirmation, that his punches aren’t soft. That his rage doesn’t distinguish between the guilty and the witnesses.

So, you avoid him.

Not out of fear exactly, but out of caution. Self-preservation. You don’t want to be the next crack in the walls of this house.

Tim was a different kind of strange. More than Jason, though in a completely different way. His oddity didn’t stem from aggression or visible trauma. It was more subtle. More internal.

Almost clinical.

You observed him, like you observe everything. With that gaze of yours that searches for patterns, inconsistencies, vulnerabilities. And in him, you found many.

Surprisingly, Tim was brilliant. Not just "smart for his age," but one of those cases where the brain moves faster than the body. Too fast. So much so, that sometimes it seemed like his body gave up halfway through.

The dark circles under his eyes were a constant. His responses were slow, as if they had to pass through a filter of a thousand thoughts before being verbalized. He walked like his mind was too heavy for his spine to carry. A shadow carrying ideas. You were surprised he hadn’t fainted yet from the combination of insomnia, chronic stress, and mild malnutrition.

No one asked you.

No one thanked you.

But still, you started leaving him food. Food that could sustain him without causing a stomach collapse. Nothing too obvious, of course. A yogurt here. Cut fruits there.

Something easy to eat between keystrokes. You allied yourself with Alfred in that small act of silent intervention. The old butler seemed to notice, but he never mentioned it. And you never confirmed it.

Tim would probably assume it was all Alfred’s doing. In fact, you counted on it.

Not because you wanted to keep it a secret. But because you knew that if he suspected you were behind something so... "thoughtful," it would only make him uncomfortable. He doesn’t know how to respond to care, to the intention behind such detail. Tim doesn’t know how to handle it if that sincere gesture comes from you.

Just like you would if any of them ever tried it with you.

Alfred... Alfred is a different matter.

Of all the people in the house, he’s the only one who acts like your existence isn’t a miscalculation. But he doesn’t fool himself. He doesn’t offer you love, or tenderness. He offers you structure. Routine. Measured phrases and cups of tea.

It’s not affection between you.

It’s a sort of tacit alliance.

Two functional people in the middle of a broken ecosystem.

You know he tries. But you also know it’s not enough for you.

You’ve seen children like you. In hospitals. In refugee camps. In temporary homes. Children who cling to an adult figure as if their life depended on it, and are then destroyed when that figure leaves. Or worse, when they stay but stop looking.

You don’t want that for yourself.

You convince yourself this is better. A working relationship. A dynamic where each one fulfills their role and no one crosses the line into the personal. Because if you get attached, if you let yourself believe this could mean something...

You know how that ends. They can’t give you what you’re looking for.

They can’t give you purpose.

They can’t return what was taken from you when you understood that your value only exists if you can heal, if you can serve, if you can be useful.

You still don’t know who you are when you’re none of that.

Back to the subject of your "family," the last on the list of who your siblings were, was Damian.

The youngest of the group. The second biological son of Bruce Wayne.

You said it out loud once, casually: "Ah, so he is the real one."

No one found it funny.

Unlike the others, Damian didn’t need time to show you that you weren’t welcome. He didn’t bother to fake courtesy or neutrality. From the beginning, he made it clear that your existence was expendable.

Maybe it was your silence. Maybe it was your lack of reaction to his provocations. Maybe he just didn’t like you. But he pointed his katana at you the first month you arrived.

The blade against your neck wasn’t a metaphor. It was real, cold, intimidating contact. You felt a thread of power activate instinctively in your body, a reflex of defense, of desperation. If you had let it go, well, you wouldn’t be here, mentally recalling this account.

You didn’t. Not for him. For you.

Because it wasn’t worth it. Because using your power on someone in your “family” would mean admitting they were important enough to hurt you.

They weren’t. Not yet.

You can’t risk being discovered. No one can know that you actually have this power. None of them can know.

Bruce appeared just in time to prevent the confrontation from escalating. Did he protect you? Not exactly. He simply said something like, “Damian has a complicated history,” as if that justified a death threat in the family kitchen.

Is it common in Gotham to justify a child’s homicidal impulses if they've had a difficult childhood?

That was your question. You didn’t ask it out loud. No one would have liked the answer.

It was also that day you found out that Damian was Bruce’s biological son. And you couldn’t help but think about the irony of it all.

The same Bruce Wayne who, in the public eye, was a scandalous figure, a charming, charismatic playboy billionaire with endless parties, had exactly one biological child. One. Not five. Not a legion of illegitimate children scattered across the world. Just one.

That kid turned out to be a ticking time bomb with a traditional sword.

Everything fit so perfectly wrong that it almost seemed planned.

With the girls, it's complicated. Maybe even more so because, deep down, a part of you thought they could be different.

Stephanie. She was like a female version of Richard, a constant smile, a vibrant energy that everyone seemed to adore, except you.

She greeted you with empty enthusiasm, one that never went beyond the surface. It was easy to see that behind her good mood, there was a locked door she wasn’t going to open for you.

And you understood. Because you'd seen it before.

People who act as if everyone is welcome, except you.

Stephanie was just another confirmation that no matter how hard you tried to fit in, this home was already full. You weren’t in the original plan. You never were.

Barbara, on the other hand, was simpler. She was hardly ever at the mansion. You’d see her sporadically, a red ghost in the shadows of fleeting visits. And still, in that limited time, she always found a way to smile at others, share a joke, a quick conversation, a knowing glance… Never with you.

Not once.

It was as if your presence went by unnoticed, not even worth including out of courtesy.

Cassandra was the most honest, in a way. She didn’t pretend. She didn’t smile. She didn’t speak.

She ignored your attempts to help with almost admirable efficiency. You could attribute it to her trauma, her history, her way of seeing the world… but that excuse starts to wear thin when it’s the only one left to justify everything.

Maybe you’re just not interesting. Maybe you don’t even stand out enough to be actively rejected.

Or is it because you don’t even deserve her attention?

It was easier to believe that they all had a reason not to see you.

Easier than admitting that maybe, you weren’t that hard to ignore.

What was dangerous about this family wasn’t the weapons, nor the katanas, nor the fists that had broken ribs more than once.

It was the mask.

It took you time to understand it. First, it was a hunch. Then a suspicion. Finally, a certainty: they were all vigilantes. Heroes of Gotham. The same ones who make your hands tremble when you try to use your power. The ones who make your gift feel useless. As if it were a mistake rather than a blessing.

The irony is so perfect it could almost make you laugh.

You can’t feel useful, can’t do the one thing you know how to do perfectly, because you’re surrounded by those who fight so that people and beings like you are neither necessary nor welcome.

And yet, you prefer them this way.

Cold. Distant. Detached. Unknown. Because connections are dangerous. Because memories weigh. Because at some point, someone taught you that affection is the hook that precedes the pain.

Because you know it better than anyone. When you get attached to someone, it’s not just pain that you feel when you lose them. It’s as if a part of you dies too. Not because you lose them, but because without your power, without that “usefulness,” you feel like you never deserved to have them in the first place.

In Gotham, you can’t do anything.

You can't heal.

You can't save.

You can't be useful.

You can't be loved. Or at least, that’s what they taught you to believe.

Here, you have no parts left that you can afford to lose. Not while you're trapped in this city that doesn’t need what you can give. A family that doesn't know what to do with you. You don’t know what to do with yourself either.

They can’t give you a purpose.

They never could.

They didn’t even try.

You expected so little, that not even that surprised you.

Until you found him.

The only living person who not only recognized your power, but accepted it for what you wanted it to be:

A miracle.

He called himself Doctor Masashi. A kind voice, a serene figure. But behind that calmness was surgical precision. He knew exactly how to shape you. How to rebuild you, only to destroy you again with elegance.

He was the only one who never lied to you about what you were:

A weapon.

A tool.

A precious jewel that only shines when it bleeds for others.

A perfect puppet.

And you, grateful for the strings.

He gave you direction when all you had was guilt.

He gave you structure when all you had was emptiness.

He gave you… meaning. A cruel meaning. A conditioned meaning. But still, you took it.

It can't be that bad, right?

Clinging to that.

Clinging to him.

Clinging to something that tells you that you can still be "something."

Because if someone, even just one person, can look at you and say that you are good for something, then you're not broken.

Then you're not alone. Then everything that hurt was worth it.

Even if guilt drowns you every night.

Even if the nightmares never rest.

Even if the hands you tried to save still drag you from their graves, begging for a second death.

It doesn't matter. As long as someone believes that keeping you alive makes sense... then that’s enough.

Right?

Maybe you're a weapon.

Maybe you're selfish.

Maybe you did it all just out of fear of disappearing, for that unbearable need to feel alive.

The need to feel that you matter. To have a place to fit in.

But at least you're something. In this shattered world, that's already more than many have.

But how much more can you take before you truly break? How much longer before you completely crumble, like so many times you did on the inside? How much will the price of his greed cost… and your desperate desire to remain useful?

Because in the end, it wasn't Bruce.

Nor your brothers.

Nor your sisters.

None of them ever knew who you were.

None of them understood.

Only him. Only Masashi.

That’s what scares you the most. Because if even he can make you believe that’s all you’re worth. If even he manages to make you cling to that idea, then maybe, you were never more than that.

Maybe you were never more than your power, and in Gotham, where you can no longer use it...

Not even that belongs to you.

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

"In a world where you can be anything......

..............be kind"

Pt1 Pt2 This is part three. Girlscout reader! III

If someone asked you what the cutest thing in the world was you'd probably say otters ,or pandas depending on the day.

But as Bruce looks at you from across the table he could almost swear on all his money that nothing in all the world was cuter then you.

You ate happily and babbled about your favorite Powerpuff girl not noticing the tense atmosphere he and your mother noticed because of their disagreement moments ago.

It was funny how one moment you had been dropped off to sell your girlscout cookies like usual. And the next you have a billionaire super hero absolutely wrapped around your finger.

But you pay no mind to that fact as you continue with your ranting and your mother doesn't seem to stop as she peaceful eats her food.

This must be normal for the both of you Bruce's thinks to himself.

Both talking -well more like you talking but her listening to your every word. Even as you talked about things that didn't make a link of sense she'd happily agree with you as she ate her food.

You and your mother must've had dinner together every day. That was pretty clear on how natural this seemed for two of you. Bruce never had all his kids at dinner. And on the rare occasions that he did it'd always end in a fight or disagreement.

But you and your mother had none of that. No, this dinner was very diffrent then the dinner that took place at the manor. This dinner was...calm.

Even if the food would in Bruce's eyes be considered a 'struggle meal' and nothing like the lavish food Alfred prepares ,you both ate it happily. Just grateful that you both had food. Watching the small interaction of how you and your mother were content with your small life simple life Bruce had begun feeling overwhelmed with.....jealousy?

Some might laugh at the thought a billionaire being jealous of a nurse that make minum wage and her daughter? What foolishness they might think.

But it was clear as day to Bruce how jealous he truly was and if you or your mother had known him well enough you'd see it too.

His jaw was clenched tight something that not even his kids worst attitude could bring was the lump in the back at his throat from trying not to scoff.

What would he scoff at? He doesn't even know but he was angry. Not at you or your mother but at himself.

Because he's one of the richest men in the world and yet he can't have what you and your mother so simply have.

A simple dinner with his family.

"Who's your favorite my little pony character?!"

Your excited voice and question snaps Bruce out of his trance.

"I...I've never watched that movie." Bruce says which earns an amused laugh from your mother and a fits of giggles from you.

"My little pony isn't a movie ,silly!" You pause and think to yourself before you continue.

"Well it does have some movies ,I guess..." You mutter the last part looking deep in thought almost like you couldn't decide if my little pony was a show or movie.

But Bruce just felt like an idiot. Especially because he could see your mother trying to muffle her laughs. I mean I how was he supposed to know it was a show? He has all sons! And they literally never watch TV with him anyway....

The dinner went on almost in peaceful silence other then you babbling about just about anything.

And though the dinner isn't as extravagant as his usual dinners he finds himself becoming addicted to love ombroded into it.

It was a simple life you and your mother lived and probably a hard one too. But Bruce couldn't deny the fact of how the family atmosphere in your house. Or the way you respected and loved your mother.

No matter how bruce looked at it your house unlike the manor at times was a home.

Not a nice or big one but a home.

The dinner has soon came to an end and despite Bruce's disappointment it was time for him to leave.

You hugged him right before he left looking up at him with big puppy dog eyes.

"I'll see you Saturday...." You say quietly and he smiles softly at your words. It was like one of his kid actually wanted to see him. It was like you were already one of his kids.

Your mother holds the door open for him and as he's walking out he can't help but think.... how can he just willingly leave you without a fight?

But the cruel reality of you not being his child hits him. But still.....so he thinks fast. And before your mother can close the door he puts his foot infront stopping it from closing.

"Actually....my..my sons birthday is tomorrow....I'd love if you guys could come." Bruce says and now he's the one looking at your mother with pleading eyes.

Hoping she wouldn't deny the offer. She sighs and you know that sigh. She's about to say no. So just like bruce you think fast!

"Can we please go mommy? Tomorrow's Sunday you don't have work and I don't have school... pleaseeeeeeeee?" You whine and beg.

And she curses your smart brain for memorizing her schedule before she sighs but this time it's a defeated sigh and you smile knowing you won.

"I'll think about it....it'll be at your house right?"

Your mother says already dreading the thought. And Bruce nods with his charming smile. "Yep 2pm....don't be late." He says smiling as he turns around acting like he already one. (Which he kinda did.)

Your mother scoffs watching him walk off like he made a statement.

"Idiot." Your mother mutters under hear breath but she smiles as she hears your excited squel.

"We gotta go mama! We gotta!"

And gosh she can practically already see your happy smile before she even turns around.

But she isn't complaining especially when your this happy.

Much to your mother's dismay you and your mother are both standing outside with a gift bag in hand outside the manor the next day.

It's a pretty gloomy day so it's obvious the parties inside. Your mother is pretty confused as to why there's really no one here because the son of a billionaire has a birthday party and there's not hundreds of people? That's crazy...and very unusual.

But she ignores that as the door opens and you both see the big kiddish birthday banner that's hung up near the chandelier.

"I'm so glad you two could make it....please come in." The sweet old butler you had told your mother so much about says.

And you were right he does seem pretty sweet your mother thinks. Walking in ,there seems to be about two or three other family's inside but other then that it's just you guys and the Wayne's.

You look around excited and let go of your mother's hand before she can react.

"Kitty!" You yell squealing as you chase the cat to the kitchen.

Your mother tries to grab you but stops when she sees its useless. Bruce seeing the whole interaction walks up to your mother before she can go looking for you.

"She'll be fine..." Bruce says before clearing his throat. "I'm...um glad you two could make it." He says his usual confidence faltering.

Your mother bods giving a awkward smile.

You on the other hand are having an absolutely wonderful time as you pick up the surprisingly calm cat.

"Good kitty..." You say softly to the cat as you gently rub its back not noticing the confused and slightly irritated preteen walking up to you.

"He's not a kitten anymore. He's a cat." Damian says sternly looking at you up and down trying to figure out who you were.

"All cats are basically kitties...." You say and damian looks at you like your ridiculous because to him you are.

Dick the ever golden child tries to defuse the fight before it happens.

"Hey there sweetheart....who's your parents?" He asks putting a hand on Damians shoulder to calm him.

"Yes who is your parents? I specifically told father ,I didn't want anyone other then family at my party." Damian says before you can answer.

You giggle as the cat begins to purr from you rubbing it.

Looking at you and your behavior Dick can't help but guess.

"Is your dad Clark? Like Clark kent? You don't look like him...did he adopt you?"

You giggle again at their confused faces and shake your head.

"No? Well thats unfortunate.....Clark usually has the happy kids....anyway who is your parents then?" Dick says now very curious.

Now you have Damian and Dick both curious but before you can respond Bruce steps up out of nowhere.

"This is the kid I was telling you guys about....remember?" Bruce says putting a hand on your shoulder and you look up at him smiling. Which really throws them off.

"Bruce...can I talk to you for a moment?" Dick says sounding worried. And Bruce nods confused did you not make a good first impression?

Walking to the side Dick speaks up.

"So that's the kid your planning on adopting?"

"Yes....is there a problem?" Bruce says utterly confused.

"Well no....but usually the kids you adopt...are different....." Dick says motioning his hand around to make a point.

"Well yes she will be the first girl but...."

"No she's the first kid not traumatized ,father." Damian says interrupting Bruce.

"Oh......."

Bruce takes a good glance back at you as you carefully continue petting the cat with a smile....yeah you were definitely different then his other kids....

"Well I think it's a good thing!" Tim says with a smile popping out of nowhere.

"The hell did you come from?" Dick says taken back.

"Don't ask stupid questions." Tim says rolling his eyes.

"I just told her about quantum physics and she actually listened! She didn't call me lame or anything! She actually told me I was smart like twilight...and I have no idea who that is....but they sound smart!" Tim says happily as if he just won the lottery.

"See atleast one of you already likes her." Bruce says trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't not like her....I just didn't know you chose her is all...." Dick says shrugging.

"Impossible" Damian says and all eyes turn to him.

"What's impossible?" Dick questions.

"That." Damian says pointing to you.

And low and behold what you are currently doing is nearly impossible. You still holding the calm cat in your arms have begun talking to the one an only red hood. Or like he told you Jason Todd.

And not only are you talking you have him....smiling? Damian is right.....it's impossible.

"When the hell did he get here?" Tim asks confused.

To which dick shrugs and replies.

"I stopped asking those stupid questions a long time ago."

Bruce just stares in disbelief...and happiness.

"That's no fair...he's stealing my future favorite sibling away from me!" Tim say throwing his arms up dramatically.

Damian scoffs rolling his eyes.

"Oh please drake don't humor us. Everyone knows that she'll favor me."

"And how exactly are you sure of that little wing? I mean the youngest usually favor the oldest...." Dick says with a mocking smile.

"Well she is holding my cat." Damian retorts.

"That doesn't count." Tim says putting his hand on his hips.

"Well it looks like she already has a favorite...." Bruce says looking as he looks at you and jason from afar... It was a quiet a sight a big druglord smiling and having a calm conversation with a little girl in a puffy pinky dress.

But Bruce loved the fact that you and jason were getting along and he could see why. You had that special spark about you. That made you light up a room...just like jason had when he was robin......

Jason finally seeing that the others are watching him he kindly ends your conversation and walks over to them.

"Who's the kid?" Jason says gesturing back to you as you continue petting Alfred the cat.

"That's the kid Bruce plans to adopt." Dick say with a smug like smile.

Jason's eyes narrow but not enough to be considered a glare. "Hell no, Bruce." Jason says his voice firm and Bruce shoots him a puzzled look.

"Not that one....you don't get to ruin that one." Jason says and Bruce can't hide the fact that Jason's words sting.

"Don't be ridiculous Todd...it's already being done." Damian pipes up clearly eager to have you in the family.

"Actually no it's not....this one actually has a family....a mom. A good one too." Tim says in a 'know it all way'.

"Well that can be easily fixed....." Damian whispers shrugging as if it's simple problem.

"You see what I mean! Even the biological one is fucked up!" Jason says pointing at Damian.

"Now let's all calm down... I'm sure Bruce has a good reason why he feels the need to adopt her." Dick says trying and failing to calm everyone down.

"Is her mom abusive?"

"A drug addict?"

"Neglective?"

"Irresponsible?"

"Well no.....she's a good mother..." Bruce says awkwardly. Rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Have you ever heard the term if it's not broke don't fuckin try and fix it!?" Jason says sighing and rubbing his face.

"Alfred wants her too." Bruce defends quickly.

All eyes turn to him in shock. Because Alfred had never told bruce to adopt one of them. Sure Alfred loved all of them the second they stepped foot in the manor but he had never told Bruce to get them.

"Your lying....." Dick mutters in disbelief.

"Sadly he is telling the truth." Alfred says walking up to them.

"Well I change my mind. I'm in." Jason's says which makes everyone more confused.

"Why are you in now?" Tim asks.

"Well if Alfred wants her....she must be pretty special." Jason says shrugging.

"She indeed is." Alfred clarifies with a smile.

"In what ways is she exactly 'special'." Damian questions confused.

"I believe she could....fix us." Alfred says nonchalantly.

".......huh?"

"Alfred's right.....we could use some help...." Bruce says nodding.

"Well I won't speak for all of you ,but I do speak for myself when I say I personally don't see anything wrong with me." Damian says raising his eyebrows silently daring anyone to tell him he's wrong.

"You literally just offered to kill the girls mom so we could adopt her." Dick says shaking his head like a disappointed mother.

"I was trying to be a good big brother ,and offer assistance. You should try it some time ,grayson." Damian says scoffing.

"See what I mean where fucked up!" Jason says groaning and shaking his head.

"Well I wouldn't say she'd be helping us improve. I prefer to call it needing light in a time of darkness." Alfred says calmly putting his hands together but he isn't looking at any of them.

They all trace his gaze and look the way he's looking which leads back to you.

Looking back at you they see your mother already scolding you for running off but there's no true bite behind her words and they can tell.

I mean who could yell at you when your pouting so cutely?

"What about the mom?" Jason asks not taking his eyes off of you.

"Like I said that can be arranged."

"No Damian!" They all say in sync.

"Well then pennyworth....since this is your idea. What do you suggest?" Damian asks quietly so you and your mother don't hear.

Now all eyes are on Alfred but Alfred doesn't take his eyes off of your mother.

And like always the butlers words are calm ,and surprise everyone.

"Marriage."

Thanks for reading!!

Likes reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

Notes: this is not proofread please do not judge!

Taglist: @rovcarmen @yua-who @nervousalpacalady @jsprien213 @blue-flower-lady @ghost-0rch1d @vanilliona @vanessa-boo @cat-lover-over-9000 @itsmossy @nightstarblue @imhere2dosomething @hearts4mica @minny-ka @alishii @tsxukikami @its-simply-just-krys @maskedvoyance @theworldscalamity @kazuuhali

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug like angel

You're here, that's the thing

You woke up the next day.

You were on the fancy velvet family couch you were never allowed on.

The couch was where every movie night, every game night, and every family hangout would happen.

The same ones you'd never be invited to.

You looked up to see Bruce and Miguel sitting in the pristine, white dining room arguing over something.

They lowkey looked like a divorced couple fighting over the ustody of their child.

You let out a giggle at that thought.

You got up and tried to stabilize yourself, still healing from the stab wound from yesterday.

You had a runny nose and a slight sore throat from the rain yesterday.

You hated your spidey luck sometimes.

As you got closer to Miguel and Bruce, you could make out some of their argument.

"She's staying with us, it's for the best," Bruce said, crossing his arms.

"Since when do you decide what's good for her?" Miguel argued, standing up from the seat he was sitting on.

"I am her father. I decide what's best for her," Bruce said, still keeping a straight face.

"you haven't been a father to her at all." Bruce flinched slightly at Miguel's words.

Miguel continued, "You were never her father. You were nothing but a sperm donor." Miguel put his hand on his hips, his bold red eyes piercing into Bruce's blue ones.

"When were you when she needed you? Where were you on her birthday? Where were you at her performances and concerts? You don't know anything about her." Miguel slammed the table in front of him, and Bruce's neutral facade faltered.

"I am still her father. we are blood." Bruce raised his voice.

"The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

Miguel and Bruce were now full-on arguing.

A full-on screaming match.

You decided to intervene, you just wanted to go home.

"What's going on?" They both couldn't hear you, and you saw Miguel about to flip the expensive dining room table.

You weren't against him breaking anything Bruce owned, but that table cost way more than Miguel could afford.

You ran up to him "Hold on a minute, please won't you listen?"

They both stopped to look at you.

Bruce spoke up "Are you doing better now, sweetie?" You cringed at the nickname he gave you.

"I'm fine. What's going on?"

There was a tense silence for a moment.

"C'mon, spit it out. I wanna go home." You put your hands on your hips, copying Miguel's stance

"You're going to stay with us," Bruce said, his piercing blue eyes glaring at Miguel.

"What?! You can't do that! Dad, tell him he can't do that!" you pulled on Miguel's sleeve like a tall child

Miguel looked and you and looked away guiltily.

"Dad? What's going on? Tell him he can't force me to stay!" You were tearing up.

You didn't want to stay.

You didn't want to be back where everything went wrong.

You didn't want to see everyone play happy family while you sat in a corner sobbing.

"I'm sorry, but you're 16 and can't legally stay with me. I'm so sorry, arañanita." you tried to suppress your tears, only for them to all spill out when he hugged you.

You felt like a child.

"This isn't fair." your lip slightly trembled.

Bruce put a hand on your shoulder which made you flinch and push his hand away.

"Don't touch me." you shrunk into Miguel's arm more.

You hated being here. You just wanted to go home.

"Can't we agree on something else? Like maybe one week each person, or something?" you tried to reason

Bruce raised an eyebrow "What do you mean?"

"I mean like, one week with with Miggy and another with you. Wouldn't that be easier?"

Miguel was about to agree with you when Bruce interrupted "No."

"Why not? Everyone would be happy!" You tried to reason

"Because I'm your father and that's final."

You rolled your eyes at that.

"What?! That's so not fair!"

"life isn't fair." Bruce started practically pushing Miguel out the door.

You started clinging onto Miguel by his leg, you didn't want him to leave.

It took your father and your brothers to separate you and Miguel.As soon as Miguel left, you

ignored your family's offerings to hang out with them.

You were in your room, still sulking about what happened.

You were texting your friends everything.

You heard a knock at the door and tried to ignore it.

You weren't in the mood to talk to any of them.

After a couple of minutes of knocking, Bruce got impatient and let himself in."Why didn't you open the door?"

"I didn't feel like getting up." You kept texting your friends, not even looking at him.

He took a seat on the edge of your bed. "Look, since you're already here, why not go out? We could go to that one, uh, museum you wanted to go to a while ago." You glared at him.

"I asked to go there years ago. My friends already took me there."

"Oh, is there any other place you'd like to go? or anything you'd like to do?"

"I want you to go away. I'm sick and you just pulled me away from my friends." You kept scrolling on your phone

Bruce sighed and left your room.

Next to annoy you was Dick.

You were in the kitchen trying to get a snack when you heard his agitating, grating voice.

"Hey, baby bird!" He was going to ruffle your hair, but you swiftly avoided it due to your spidey senses.

"Don't call me that." You continued to look for your favorite snack.

"Why not?" he playfully pouted

You started giving up hope on finding the snack, it wasn't anywhere! "Because I said so."

He saw you were struggling to find something. "What are you looking for?"

"Nunya." you crossed your arms and started looking in the fridge.

"look, if you're hungry, we can go to that one restaurant you wanted to go to! How does that sound?" he smiled.

"I asked for that years ago. I already went there with Miguel anyway." You walked away into your room not caring how dick was slightly frowning.

You were in your room fixing your belongings.

If you're going to be forced to live here up till you're 18, you might as well make everything look nice.

While you were organizing your closet, your spidey senses went off.

You turned around to see it was warning you about the door, and suddenly Jason barged in.

"Get ready, I'm gonna teach you how to ride a motorcycle."

"No thanks, Jess already taught me." You continued to fold the clothes

"Who's Jess?" Jason raised an eyebrow

"A friend. Look, can you just leave me alone? I want some alone time."

"I'm your older brother, you can't kick me out of your room." He crossed his arms.

"Except I can. Get out." You started pushing him out of your room, your strength surprising him.

Tim was in his room when he remembered about that one time you asked him if he could fix your computer.

You accidentally gave it a virus downloading Sims mods, and it was tweaking.

Tim was the most tech-savvy person you knew, so you asked him.

Unfortunately for you, he was working on a tiring case.

He was in a bad mood and half-asleep, so it wasn't a surprise when he yelled at you to go away.

Sure, it had been 2 years since then, but he still felt bad.

He made his way to your room, noticing how separated it was from the others.

When he got to your room and opened your door (you seriously need to get a lock) he saw you were face timing one of your friends and laughing.

He cleared his throat and your smile fell.

"I'll call you back later, bye Pavi!" you hung up and looked at Tim "What do you want?"

He smirked "Wow, so hostile. Do you still need me to fix your computer? I have time now.

"You rolled your eyes. "it's fine now, peni fixed it for me."

"Are you sure? I could probably add an upgrade or two, or maybe get you a new one?" He put his hand on his neck

"Yes I'm sure, you can leave now." You shooed him away with your hands and started calling Pavitr again.

Tim scoffed and walked away.

Last but not least, Damian.

He was always a headache.

Ever since you were younger, it's like he was out to get you.

He wouldn't ignore you or push you away like the others, instead, he would threaten and berate you.

No matter how much you tried, he'd always go out of his way to push you around.

You learned to stay out of his way.

You assumed he would still hate you, so you continued to avoid him.

It was surprising when he walked up to your room and demanded you to watch him train.

Not wanting to get stabbed by him, you begrudgingly agreed.

You were being escorted into the training room and saw a chance to practice your moves.

While he wasn't looking, you snuck away to practice your tricks.

It was the perfect place to do it as well, huge gymnastics area, rock climbing walls, and hurdles.

You were having the time of your life!

After around 10 minutes you noticed Damian looking for you, with Dick helping him.

You sighed and continued practicing.

Your way of swinging and moving was Heavily inspired by Gwen and Pavitr's, all the spider kids trained together so it wasn't much of a surprise.

After training for a couple more minutes, you noticed Dick and Damian had found you.

Dick was surprised you knew how to be that flexible and have a lot of movement and personality in your tricks.

As soon as you sat down to take a water break, Dick and Damian ran up to you.

"Where did you learn how to move like that? did you do gymnastics?" Dick sat down next to you, only for you to scoot away.

"No. I learned from Pavi." You took another sip of your water

"Was he the one who came to the manor last year? The punk?" He took a sip of his water

"No, that's Hobie." you got up and walked away, ignoring Dicks other questions.

Dick just sighed in defeat and watched as Damian ran after you.

Damian would not leave you alone.

The whole way to your room, he was complaining and berating you.You tried slamming your door in his face, but he fought back.

Suddenly you were trying to push him out of your room like the others and he pushed a bag of yours onto the floor.

After a couple of minutes of you both tumbling around, he finally left.

You let out a sigh of relief and went to pick up the bag.

Once you picked it up you noticed it felt a slight bit heavier, less empty.

You grabbed what was making it so heavy and noticed it was a watch.

The watch you needed to move universes.

Miguel must've snuck it in there while dropping you off.

You put it on, and right as you were about to go back to Miguel's universe, your spidey senses went off yet again.

You quickly turned off the watch and pretended you were playing on your phone again.

This time it was Alfred.

You assumed he was going to scold you for fighting Damian yet again.

You prepared yourself only to be met with something you didn't expect.

"The others are expecting your presence in the theater room."

Movie nights.

The same movie nights you longed to be a part of years ago.

This time, you didn't want to be part of it.

"No thanks, I'm busy." You continued to scroll on your phone.

"You must've misheard me. They're requiring your presence." Alfred walked away before you could argue.

You sighed and put on some slippers.

This was gonna be a long two years.

hi ik rhis chapter is sloppy and rushes BUT THIS TIME I ACTUALLY HAVE EN EXCUSE

i typed all od this at a wedding lmfao

yeah rheyre mareying the love of their life but im updating a fic so whos really winning

anyway

taglist(please lmk if i forgot you!): @bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n @welpthisisboring @itsberrydreemurstuff @lovebug-apple @crazycaoticsimp @bellethesleepypotato @blackhood1229 @jsprien213 @sirenetheblogger @awawage @holybatflapexpert @vanessa-boo @ryuushou @whiskeygirl7 @seemeee3 @inojinieeee @oliviaewl @djpuppy-kittens @w31rd3rg1rl @br33zy-blizzardz @eyeless-kun @strangelymid @twismare @cat-lover-over-9000 @jaemindontberude @galaxypurplerose @paastaboi @senhoritaapple @whiskeygirl7 @chezze-its

[pomegranatelifethis]

Why doesn't anyone see me?

Warnings before you start There are disturbing elements, self-harm, eating disorders, and implicit mentions of harassment.

The grand hallways of Wayne Manor looked magnificent from the outside, but to you, they were nothing more than cold stone. You were sixteen, and in this house, in this family, you had always been just a shadow. The man you called your father — Bruce Wayne — had left you to drown in his darkness. The marks on your body, on your arms, back, legs... each was a silent scream. Each one reminded you how a world you once trusted had torn you apart. And the worst part? The one who did this wasn’t a stranger. It was someone who had existed in the background of your life, like a ghost.

You tried to speak up once. That night, you opened the door to his study. Bruce sat at his desk, surrounded by files and glowing monitors. His Batman suit hung in the corner — as if that costume was his real face.

“Dad,” you said, your voice trembling. “I need to talk.”

He looked up, his blue eyes tired, distant. “What is it?” he asked, but there was no real curiosity in his tone.

You took a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in your chest. “I... Something happened. A while ago. And it still…” The words got stuck in your throat. You didn’t want to show him the scars — but maybe, just maybe, he would understand. Maybe he’d see you.

But Bruce lowered his head back to his files. “Now’s not the time,” he said, voice flat. “A lot’s going on in the city. We’ll talk later.”

Later. Always later.

You closed the door behind you, and tears began to slide down your cheeks. Batman could save Gotham — but he didn’t even try to save you.

The next day, you turned to Jason. The rebel of the family, a soul forged in his own pain. Maybe he’d understand.

You found him in the garage, working on his motorcycle.

“Jason,” you said, stepping closer. “I need to ask you something.”

He looked at you, wiping his hands with a grease-stained rag. “What do you want, princess?” he said with a mocking lilt.

You swallowed hard, gathering your courage. “Something happened to me. Something bad. And no one’s listening. I have scars—here,” you said, pulling up your sleeve slightly to show a faded mark.

Jason fell silent for a moment — then laughed.

“Everyone’s got issues, little lady. Go outside, see what I’ve seen. Then come back and cry.”

His words hit like a blade.

“But this is serious!” you cried, your voice cracking.

“Serious?” he snapped, standing and getting close. “You mean your little princess trauma? Grow up.”

Under his sneer, you felt yourself shrink. He didn’t see you either. He left you, too.

You decided to try Damian. Despite his young age, he had a sharp mind. Maybe he had noticed something.

You found him in the training room, practicing with a sword.

“Damian,” you said from the doorway. “Do you have a minute?”

He turned to you, green eyes cold and calculating.

“What do you want?” he asked, stabbing the blade into the floor.

“I… Something happened to me. And it’s hard to carry,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

He frowned, then smirked. “You’re weak,” he said, flatly.

“What?” was all you could manage.

“If you can’t carry it, then you don’t belong in this family. I know pain — but all you do is complain.”

His words were poison. His scorn felt worse than Jason’s mockery. Because Damian saw you as a burden. And in that moment, you felt the final thread tying you to this family snap.

You found Tim in the library, headphones in, eyes on his laptop.

“Tim,” you said, sitting beside him.

He pulled out one earbud. “Yeah?” he replied, eyes still on the screen.

“I need to ask you something. It’s important.”

“One sec, let me finish this line of code,” he mumbled.

Minutes passed. You sat there, waiting.

Eventually, he said, “Just tell me later,” and put his headphones back in.

He hadn’t even heard you.

Dick seemed different — or so you thought.

You found him in the lounge, laughing, mid-conversation.

“Dick, can we talk?” you asked, voice faint.

He turned to you with his bright smile. “Of course, little one! What’s up?”

But before you could say more than “I…” his phone rang.

“Hold that thought — I gotta take this,” he said, walking away.

He never came back.

That night, in your room, you stood before the mirror. You looked at the scars — each one a story no one wanted to hear. Tears wouldn’t stop. This house, this family, was a prison. Bruce didn’t see you. Jason mocked you. Damian belittled you. Tim and Dick didn’t even notice you were there. You might have been Batman’s daughter, but in this place, you were nothing.

You walked to the window and looked out at the lights of Gotham. Maybe it was time to leave. Maybe you couldn’t escape your family, but you could escape this silence. You packed a small bag — a hoodie, some money, a long-sleeve shirt to cover the marks. At the door, you paused. Maybe someone would notice. Maybe someone would stop you.

But the hallway was quiet. No one came.

As you stepped into the street, the cold air slapped your face. Were you free? Or just stepping into a different kind of shadow? You didn’t know. But at least now… now, you were trying to find your own voice.

Gotham’s streets swallowed you whole. You had escaped Wayne Manor, but the darkness inside you came along for the ride. What you thought was freedom was just another kind of prison — this time, one built within your own mind. With your bag slung over your shoulder, you walked under the flickering streetlights. The cold concrete beneath your feet was a warning: No one here is coming to save you. But you weren’t expecting to be saved anyway. Your family had never seen you; maybe you really were invisible.

Days passed. You holed up in a cheap motel, using the credit card your father once gave you. You knew the money would run out — but you didn’t care. Under the dim lights of the room, you stared into the mirror. The scars were still there — on your arms, your back, your legs. Each one whispered that you were something filthy, something ruined. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms.

“Why me?” you murmured.

No answer.

The reflection staring back filled you with disgust. This body, these scars… it was all your fault, wasn’t it? If you had been stronger, if you had spoken louder, maybe your family would have heard you. But you hadn’t. You were weak. Damian was right.

---________________________________________---

Days blurred into weeks. Gotham’s gray sky felt like a mirror to your soul. In the motel’s small bathroom, you sat with a cheap razor in your hand. You stared at your scars… and added new ones. Thin lines of blood appeared — but they didn’t bring relief. Pain couldn’t fill the emptiness. Every cut echoed the rejection you’d endured. Bruce’s cold “Not now.” Jason’s mocking laugh. Damian’s “You’re weak.” Tim and Dick’s silence. It all etched itself into your skin.

Every time you looked in the mirror, the hate grew.

“This is my fault,” you whispered.

Your eyes were swollen. Hair tangled. You’d stopped eating — your stomach turned at the thought of food. Sleep brought nightmares. Again and again, you relived the trauma — shadows, hands, the silence of your unheard screams.

When you woke, clutching your pillow, all you felt was emptiness.

Your family hadn’t called. Maybe they didn’t notice. Maybe they didn’t care.

Batman saved Gotham.

But not his own daughter.

Depression wrapped itself around you like a blanket — cold and heavy. Hurting yourself became a routine. Your arms were covered in cuts, but even that wasn’t enough.

“I’m worthless,” you said one night, your voice breaking.

“No one wants me. Not even me.”

You punched the mirror. Glass cracked. Your knuckles bled.

Still, you felt nothing.

Then, one day, everything stopped.

You lay on the stained motel bed, razor in hand again. Sirens wailed outside, but your world was quiet. You looked at your scars one last time.

“It’s over,” you said.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Tears slid down your cheeks as you thought of your family — Bruce buried in files, Jason fixing his bike, Damian swinging a sword, Tim staring into his screen, Dick laughing…

None of them had seen you.

None of them had heard you.

This time, you used the blade one last time.

There would be no coming back.

The blood soaked the sheets — slow and silent.

You stared at the ceiling. Through the window, Gotham’s gray sky watched over you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure to whom.

Your breathing slowed.

Darkness closed in.

The sirens faded.

Bruce Wayne’s daughter vanished into the shadows.

---________________________________________---

The next day, the motel worker knocked, but there was no answer.

They opened the door — and found you.

The police report was brief:

“Female, aged …, suicide.”

When the call reached Wayne Manor, Bruce finally put his files down.

Jason went quiet.

Damian dropped his sword.

Tim turned off his screen.

Dick’s smile faded.

But it was too late.

They hadn’t seen you.

They hadn’t heard you.

And now… they never would.

---________________________________________---

[starvales]

a/n : a small contribution to bruce wayne x gn!neglected!reader bcs i love these kinds of stories. the reader is bruce’s child (younger than dick, older than jason ((reader not specified if biological or adopted)) and is in their mid-twenties.

“After all these years, of neglect and ignorance and dismissals, why should I do anything for you? You don’t know anything about me!”

“I know everything about you. Your full name, your birthday, your qualifications—”

You cut him off.

“—If you know me so well, tell me something about me that isn’t projected on a screen in your man-cave.” You slam a specific folder onto the strategy table and snatch the contents inside.

“Tell me something about me that isn’t public knowledge—” Throwing the few and sparse pages at your father, you don’t falter at his stare while he does nothing to stop you.

You remembered praying for a day like this, begging every night against your bed. A day where your father spared you a glance, for even a second. And what did it take?

“For fuck’s sake, tell me something about me that isn’t on a piece of flimsy paper tucked away in an old manila folder gathering dust!”

Almost two decades of complete familial solitude and a favour that apparently only you could fulfil.

One of the pages fall in front of Bruce and he gently takes it into his hold. There’s a picture of you at the top left, barely hanging on by a cheap paper clip. The you in the portrait is staring mechanically at the camera, staring back soullessly at him.

You’re… fifteen in this photo, he thinks.

“Sure, you know my birthday. But what was the flavour of my cake for my first birthday that was celebrated in the manor? I wouldn’t know, because I didn’t have one, let alone anyone to celebrate with.”

You’re seven years old, sitting in front of a sloppy attempt at a cupcake in a cold kitchen, because you couldn’t reach the switches to turn on the heating or lights.

“You know my list of achievements and qualifications— But goddamnit Bruce, why did you not come to any of my award ceremonies or graduations?”

You’re sixteen, graduating high school early with high honours, thinking that maybe, just maybe, your family will show up. You end up walking back to the manor in the dark.

You’re twenty one, graduating gotham university with a doctorate in engineering. The only difference with this graduation, you drive yourself home.

“I was busy and you know that,” Bruce states. States instead of says, because you know he doesn’t know how to speak to you.

“No, I didn’t know that. Wanna know why?”

You round the table, clenching your fists and grinding your teeth, you got right in his face and spat venom.

“Because you didn’t have the decency to tell me yourself.”

[deebris]

The Misteryous Visitor 6

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Being alone with Damian after so many years didn't lead to the ideal conversation you two should have had, but every little word seemed to have helped you two get closer at least a little bit. However, the chaotic turbulence of the night returned when your mother decided to leave.

Warnings: Family discussion; mention of kidnapping; maternal possessiveness;

Word count: 4k

Note: I wanted to post this and part 7 together, because they are the last two, but it didn't turn out as planned. I hope you like it.

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

Damian walked to the end of the hallway and turned right, heading toward the living room. His only goal at the moment was to find you and try to prepare you for the catastrophic revelation he knew would come at some point. He was already tired of seeing you so unaware of everything; you weren’t an idiot and didn’t deserve to be treated like one.

But it seemed he didn’t have to try too hard because as soon as he turned the corner and walked a few meters, he abruptly stopped upon seeing that you hadn’t disappeared. In fact, you were there, sitting on the floor next to an old portrait of Martha, your grandmother, curled up as if just waiting for someone to come and get you. Someone who wasn’t your brother, apparently.

“There you are.” He took a few steps back and made no effort to crouch to your level; instead, he stood staring at you with a reproachful look that made you pull your legs even tighter to your chest. “Get up, quickly. The floor is for rats.”

He was trying to ignore the tension, but you were giving him the silent treatment, which made him uncomfortable, though he would never admit it to himself. You had done this to him many times before, but it was always over silly reasons, so he never minded.

You also could never hold a grudge for long, and when you were younger, within an hour, you would have forgotten any disagreement between the two of you and would then come to annoy him again. But now you were older, it wasn’t a tantrum anymore, and the reason was much more complex than any other. You weren’t ignoring him because you were simply irritated, and he feared it was different now.

Damian couldn’t ignore the irritation he felt seeing how ashamed of yourself you seemed since he first saw you. He hated that trait of your personality, always very aware of everything and everyone around you, though it was contradictory to your incredible ability to do unthinkable nonsense.

From where you both were, he still had a view of the bedroom door. The boy couldn’t help but glance over there, curious about what kind of discussion your parents were having. At the same time, he was contemplating various ways to say something or maybe try to fix the awkwardness between you two now, but your guilty voice caught him off guard:

“I didn’t mean to cause harm.” You sounded hoarse, and you two stared at each other, and unlike his sharp eyes, yours were wavering. He gave you a hard expression, but not because of the aversion you thought he had for you, but out of confusion.

It was a pity that Damian’s feelings weren’t easy to read, so you thought he was angry because that night you found out Bruce was someone very important to your brother now. “I didn’t mean to hurt Mr. Wayne. I really don’t know what I did to make him like this. I’m sorry.”

So you thought you had done something wrong to make your father that way, Damian concluded. He hadn’t reflected on how you might feel that way, and fighting against his own callous nature, he made an effort to relax his posture and crouched down in front of you. Damian didn’t dare sit the same way you were, balancing on his toes and leaning his torso forward.

“It wasn’t anything you did.” You’re not sure, but you risk saying this was the first time you heard your brother so soft in your entire life. Damian had always been very loud and was almost always yelling or offending someone, but now, combined with the gravity his voice had gained with puberty, it was tender.

He was going to say something else, but suddenly a strange noise sounded. It was muffled, but it seemed like something had fallen, and you both could feel the ground vibrate. It came from the bedroom, which made you become alert. You started to get up, worried, but your brother’s firm hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“It must have been nothing. Don’t worry about them.” The tenderness had been replaced by harshness, but it wasn’t directed at you.

Sliding your back against the wall again, you rested your chin on your knees while admiring your own shoes, and just like always, you couldn’t maintain your silent treatment with Damian for long:

“I think I bothered Mr. Wayne by coming here. Mom will be mad at me for this later, I know she will.” You were obviously nervous, seeking refuge in Damian as you always did when you had to face her. Your mother didn’t have a good relationship with Batman, and now having to deal with you for disturbing his evening would make her furious. The little relief you felt earlier had vanished, suspecting she had only been affectionate before not to show Bruce.

“Mom is mad all the time.” He tried to calm you down. It would be unbelievable for someone who knows Talia only through her assassin image to hear such a thing. She was a cold and calculating woman, but you both knew when she was upset. She didn’t express it in a conventional way, and Damian had already gotten used to it. Your mother’s mood didn’t concern him much, but it was still scary for you.

“You were mad…” Your statement made him sigh because it was true. A few minutes ago, he had reacted that way, but there was context he couldn’t immediately explain to you. “Maybe I can apologize to him? If he forgives me, I promise I won’t do it again, and then mom-”

“Y/n.” Your brother cut off your frantic speech sharply; you were almost hyperventilating. “No one is mad at you.” He said it as a statement, leaving no room for you to contest him.

“He was calm.” you started to ramble, picking at the fabric of your clothes with your nail. “He read something he took out of his pocket and started feeling sick, I was trying to help…”

Damian frowned. He had seen Dick give a small piece of paper to his father downstairs. That idiot wouldn’t have been stupid enough to write on it that you were his daughter, right? What a wonderful way to tell something like that.

“Idiot.” Your brother muttered aloud without meaning to, feeling immense anger at the thought that Dick had done that. And only after he blurted out the word did he realize you were still beside him, listening. “Not you.” He tried to explain hastily, still with a furious expression on his face.

It was strange for him to talk to you that way. He had called you an idiot many times during childhood, and you used to call each other much worse things, as siblings do. But your relationship now was delicate, like a strand of cotton candy, since that intimacy you once had was lost.

“By the way, Bruce is just stressed about Strange.” Damian analyzed your reaction at the mention of the name. To you, Strange was just another enemy of Batman, never suspecting that the man who appeared at your house years ago could somehow be him.

The League of Assassins had many enemies scattered across the globe; at that time, you thought it was just another one of them. You also never asked or wanted to talk about it, which was unusual for how chatty you could be sometimes. For you, Hugo Strange and the person who kidnapped you back then had no connection.

“There must have been something about our investigation there. I’m sure it was Dick who gave him that card. You didn’t do anything.” He said.

Your heart returned to its normal rhythm, but it grew heavy again as you understood the facts. Damian was blaming Dick for that thing Bruce was holding onto, but it was you who had given it to him in the first place. Bruce became distressed when you mentioned the gift and quickly pulled it out of his pocket. That must have been the object Strange gave you.

“Dami.” He heard the nickname leave your lips, and a flicker of hope hit him. There was still a certain closeness between you there. “I was the one who brought the card here; it’s not Dick’s fault. Strange gave it to me to give to Mr. Wayne.”

Damian abruptly stood up, returning to an upright posture. “Strange did what?” Neither Tim, Dick, nor Jason had mentioned this. They said they were telling the whole story, but none of them mentioned any kind of message. Was that why Tim had been acting so strange when he arrived? He remembers seeing him throw a box in the trash and getting all nervous when Damian got irritated and asked what it was. “Was it a small gift box, by any chance?”

“Yes, the same size as the card.” You made a square with your thumbs and index fingers, trying to show the shape of the object. “Just like this. But Mr. Wayne didn’t let me read it; I acted badly by trying to see what was in there too. I shouldn’t have been nosy.”

So Bruce didn’t let you know on purpose? Maybe he just didn’t want you to find out this way. He should have told you. Damian was about to open his lips to take the initiative, but the sound of someone approaching stopped him.

Alfred paused for a moment, finding it odd to see the two of you here. He had returned to make sure you were okay once more and then leave you alone until later in the day. “Master Damian,” He said the boy’s name as a form of acknowledgment, “I thought you were asleep.” The butler added, addressing both of you.

“Alfred!” You got up and walked over to him, who rested a hand on your head expectantly. He saw the way you looked hesitantly at your brother, seeking some kind of approval before returning your attention to him once more. “Something bad happened to Mr. Wayne; he wasn’t well.”

Alfred's eyes widened, looking at Damian for an explanation or just confirmation that it was true. He was obviously tense and speechless for a moment but quickly composed himself.

“What happened, dear?” He asked, and once again you sought your brother’s approval, who took the initiative to explain in your place.

“He…” Damian began, trying to find a way to say it. “Bruce discovered something about Strange.” He said with a suspicious tone and the butler quickly understood the underlying implications.

“Where is he?” Alfred asked, worried.

Damian wasn’t planning to answer, knowing Alfred’s aversion to Talia, but you jumped in: “He and my Mom are talking.”

The butler was obviously displeased and furrowed his brow. He had planned to tell Bruce privately about his supposed daughter, but apparently, things had moved ahead of him. But Alfred knew Bruce well and understood that despite his instability, he would handle things as rationally as possible. Or at least he hoped so.

It was unsettling how a simple night so suddenly turned into yet another Wayne family drama.

“Well,” he sighed, “It seems it’s too early for breakfast, but also too late to go back to sleep.” He gave your hair a gentle tousle with the hand that still rested there, and you appreciated it. Indeed, the sky was already beginning to lighten. “How about some tea to start the day, miss? Or maybe coffee?”

“That’s fine.” You said, accepting that he would guide you through the mansion once more, but stopped when you realized your brother wasn’t making an effort to follow. “Damian, aren’t you coming?”

Your hopeful tone made him huff and approach to follow you. “Let’s go then.” He joined you, heading downstairs.

Damian was deeply irritated by how easily you let your emotions come and go. To him, it was inconceivable that you weren’t resentful, even hating him, as he had presumed you would be just moments ago. The way you let your emotions dissipate so easily bothered him, and he couldn’t understand how you could forgive so simply.

This behavior had always been the target of Damian’s criticism, as he didn’t have the same ease with forgiveness. What ate him up inside, however, was the certainty that even if you found out everything he and Talia had done, you would still be able to forgive them.

Damian suspected that this readiness to forgive came from a lack of options. Throughout your life, you had only him and your mother, and breaking away from either of them would be devastating. Perhaps that was Talia’s greatest fear; even if she tried to convince herself that she kept you hidden for your own good, away from the League and Batman, Damian knew that deep down, she wanted to ensure a safe harbor, someone who would always be emotionally supportive.

Although you might appear to be an very naive girl, your morals were unwavering. And incredibly, Talia managed to keep you loyal to her. Both of them knew that you secretly hated criminals and dreamed of a perfect justice that would never exist, at least not in Gotham City.

Damian knew that his mother’s real fear was that you would find someone else beyond her, people with whom you could connect, not out of obligation or lack of other options, but because you genuinely wanted to. This emotional dependency, nurtured by Talia, made you more spoiled than Damian, who in turn always confronted Talia with stubbornness and resistance.

“Do you like any fruit?” Pennyworth asked you, who were with your arms crossed on the counter, while your brother sat at the end of the table, just keeping watch over your figure.

“All of them.” You replied, and Alfred laughed contentedly. It was nice to hear something like that, especially as he opened the kitchen cupboard and saw the colorful cereals inside, all from Tim’s never-ending stash of treats.

“Master Damian?” The butler asked the boy.

“No, thank you.” He declined with a grimace.

You watched with curiosity as Alfred grabbed a bunch of colorful fruits and began cutting them. There was some kind of dough resting in a container nearby, which you noticed when he moved a cloth to check, and it smelled so good. It was comforting to see him there in the kitchen, even doing something as simple as cutting fruits.

Talia was a very busy woman, and cooking definitely didn’t suit her elegant demeanor. Housework was not part of her routine, so you often ended up eating at expensive restaurants. That’s why every move Alfred made captured your attention, and he noticed.

“Do you want to help me, miss?” He asked, intrigued.

“Can I?” You asked back, already moving to stand next to him with excitement. The butler nodded and instructed you to wash your hands in the sink on the other side of the kitchen.

You were distractedly scrubbing soap on your hands and far enough not to hear Damian whisper: “Bruce isn’t going to let Mom take her home.”

Alfred looked up, not at all surprised by the news. “Does your sister know, Master Damian?” He kept his voice at the same low tone as the boy’s.

“No, Pennyworth. That’s why I’m telling you.” Damian checked to see if you were still far, seeing you drying your hands and hurrying: “When they both come out of that room and Mom leaves, she’s going to make a fuss.”

“What should I do?” You came back, interrupting their conversation and asking for instructions.

Alfred set you the task of removing the stems from the strawberries until a noise from upstairs alerted all three of you. It sounded like glass, and it didn’t take long to hear Talia’s voice calling for the butler, who moved to go to her.

“I’m leaving,” Talia said with a firmness that disguised well the inner turmoil she was facing behind her attitude.

You were stunned, and a rising panic took hold of you. Alfred hadn’t noticed you had followed him until you heard: “I’m going to get my shoes and coat.” You declared. Your mind was spinning with the idea that your mother was angry with you, seeing how she was acting.

Talia turned slightly to you, but the look she gave was impassive. “You’re not coming,” she said. The coldness in her voice wasn’t unfamiliar but struck deep in your chest. “You’re going to stay here with your brother.”

“But…” You tried to process what was happening, needing to look at Damian next to you for a moment until reality hit you back. “Why?” You asked with a trembling breath, already approaching her and grabbing your mother’s hand in desperation.

“For heaven’s sake, Y/n. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She rolled her eyes and looked at you with impatience. “You and Damian will get to spend time together again.”

“But what about you, Mom? Why can’t we all be together?” You clung to her hand even tighter, trying to keep her there forever, but all you received in return was the look she gave when you upset her.

“I’ll send your things with someone. Be obedient.” She said, but her real desire was for you to be rebellious, especially towards Bruce. Your mother crouched to your height and pinched your cheeks with her hands while whispering so the other two wouldn’t hear: “But remember, you’re mine daughter, understand? Your mother will always be here for you. I’ll get in touch.” She gave you a strong kiss, leaving a perfect lipstick mark, and grabbed the coat that was already in Alfred’s hands with haste.

“I want to go with you!” Talia felt your arms around her waist and sighed.

“You're old enough to be acting like this, Y/n. Let go.” She tried to wriggle free on her own, but your grip was so strong that her fingers barely moved. “Y/n, enough!” She shouted genuinely furious, and you jumped back in fear. The sight made her wilt, but she still suppressed it and opened the door.

You were in shock, never imagining that your actions could have led to this. It was as if she hated you for it, and you felt a pressure on your forehead, unsure if it was from the anger you felt at how your mother treated you or from the desperation.

“Don’t go after her,” Damian ordered, knowing you would do it anyway, which is why he held you in place.

You couldn’t accept it. The idea of being left behind, the feeling of being rejected by the only family you knew, was overwhelming. “Mom!” You shouted, struggling to free yourself from Damian’s grip in fury, the sadness totaly replaced by a burning rage. “Don’t leave! I’m sorry for disobeying! I didn’t mean to do anything wrong!” you screamed. “Why are you like this with me?!” You shouted louder, not caring about making a scene.

Talia’s feet were already buried in the snow, trying to hide the pain she felt, but your muffled voice didn’t help. The sound of the door closing was like a final blow, and her heart sank even further. She didn’t care whether Bruce was right or not; she hated him like hell now.

You were sobbing and gasping, the pain of rejection still present in your chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disobey. I didn’t want you to leave…” You murmured lower, feeling your throat ache.

As she took more steps towards her own car, her thoughts raced. She knew that sooner or later you would need to know the truth, and deep down, she wished the news had come from her.

She tried to keep her mind clear during the brief walk to the car, passing by a snow-covered tree where ravens had gathered to rest. She was so distracted for a few seconds that when she felt an arm pull her back, she instinctively threw the stranger away, who hit the trunk and caused the birds to start flying erratically while cawing discordantly.

“What the hell is this!” She shouted furiously, shocking the boy who immediately began to apologize while getting up, feeling pain.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?!” She was outraged by his assumption. As if she would be scared by a kid like him. “And which of Bruce’s little pests are you?”

“My name is Tim.” The boy assumed a serious tone now, abandoning the polite courtesy he had before.

“And are you going to stand there like an idiot, or are you going to tell me what you want?”

Despite her hurry, Tim stared at her and looked back, checking if there was anyone outside the mansion and taking a few seconds to do so. Talia’s arrogant look didn’t intimidate him, and he spoke firmly:

“A few years ago, in that alley…” The phrase made her eyes widen, but she still took a deep breath to compose herself. “It was you.”

Talia never thought she would have the opportunity to face that boy again after that day. When Strange fled, she followed him and caught up with him. She remembers how she grabbed the man by the collar when she didn’t see you there. After wringing the truth out of that pathetic man, Talia had to let him go as she rushed desperately to where you were, but not before leaving a beaten face as a gift. But that night, that boy... Tim, had heard your call for help.

“So, you were the Robin.” She let out a curious laugh, looking Tim up and down. “And so what if it was me?”

“You tricked me. Pretended to be a helpless person.” He frowned while narrowing his eyes at her. “I remember the little girl I saved; it was her.” Tim turned his face towards the mansion again, as if to point at you.

“You just had the luck of arriving before me. And what did you expect me to do? Tell you who I was?” She took her gloves out of her pocket and began putting them on. “Do you think you could have caught me, kid?” She laughed sarcastically this time, belittling him.

“You could have told me the truth. You had the opportunity to tell Bruce about Hugo Strange all this time. We could have protected her.” Tim’s eyes moved around, trying to process. “After I left there, Bruce and I continued on patrol and found him passed out. If we had known who he really was, he might be in jail now.”

“Spare me your laments, kid. She’s going to stay here, isn’t she? So what else do you want?” Talia said, and Tim wasn’t surprised by the information. He had already assessed the scene while waiting to approach her outside. He had jumped through the bedroom window, having not been able to sleep after recognizing your face.

Tim remained silent. It seemed that Talia had a very concrete idea about everything, and it made no sense to try to circle her with assumptions about how things could have been. He couldn’t help but feel foolish, realizing that you had been so close to him at some point, and he couldn’t do anything for Bruce since he didn’t know.

“Listen.” Talia’s surprisingly soft voice caught him off guard. “Thank you for helping, even though I didn’t exactly need it.” Despite trying to be understanding, she couldn’t help but emphasize. “She means everything to me, you understand? Put some sense into your father, or I’ll find a way to take her back, and I promise you’ll never see her again.”

Tim swallowed hard at the mention of Bruce but snorted indifferently soon after. “He’s not as bad as he seems.”

“I noticed.” She murmured with irony and turned to walk away, with Tim not interrupting her this time. The boy watched her go to the car, but suddenly she stopped at the gate. She ran her fingers over the electronic lock, and suddenly some loose wires became visible. Tim found it strange, and Talia looked at him with a smile, which even from a distance, he could see.

“I think you’re going to need someone to fix this.” She shouted for him to hear, and for a moment, Tim thought if she had done it, but only now did he wonder how you had gotten past the front gate. It seems that your innocent face hid some skills. “Don’t pamper her, and tell your father and Pennyworth not to let her eat too much sugar.” She let the wires go while grumbling, slamming the car door, and driving away.

Tag list:

@lafrone @sylum @mileskisser @belowbreadcrumbs @riddle-me-im-sirius @rafa-the-beautiful @shehrazadekey @fairuzwhat @bedeater @arianapjs @idonthaveanameforthisacc @azulawayne @nciolisa @lovelywritersgarden @spideybv28 @faimmm @cherry-peach-flavored @godknows-shetried @randomrosie01 @whatsupstark @paastaboi @m3ntally-unstable @masterradd-28 @justanormalpersin @6000-fandoms @fennecspage @homan-oid @fluffy-strawberries @animegirlfromvietnam @tamsyien @ari-sama21 @kataraluvr @boatempollstriper @lokisgoodboy @enjisthings @thereeallink @lumalesa-kadichizho @fyodorssimp1 @shintax-error @lara20aral @sulatsadark @notahappystan @nebuluma @thetiredtoad0-0 @tmt-alexis @anuttellaa @strawberrymangoes @lorastone-000 @starryhiraeth @worldussysblog @urminebutidontwantyou @herondale-lightworm @nyra-42 @ohnoivefallen @an-introverted-nishinoyasimp @ellie-x0xo @blkmystery @formula-space @sparks0918 @cosmicqueenieb @rukia-uchiha-98 @leeleecats @camilo-uwu @phoenixgurl030 @rosegardenpatsu @nickey-diano @wpdarlingpan @xxrougefangxx

@m4chine-girl @kellyyn02 @urminebutidontwantyou

[hattersrabbit]

SICKNESS OF THE HEART

batfamily x mileena! reader | sfw

CW! all platonic, good parent Bruce Wayne supremacy, mk1 mileena, gn reader, hurt comfort, r has killed people (under tarkot), Hugo Strange is creepy, mentions and use of needles, implied cannibalism, Damian & r are the same age (14), androgynous/nb! reader, implied future su!c!de attempt, implied future yandere batfam

Summary! Bruce finds a child under a threatening disease that seems to have no cure, and under Dr. Strange’s horrid guidance.

✎ᝰ.backstory for reader is inspired by my dc oc’s backstory (+ mileena is one of her inspiration as well)

next | series

˖꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

“Dear, please be still.”

You growled lowly as the needle entered your skin and the disease went away.

“Can’t have you attacking me now can I?” Dr. Strange smiled creepily. In your sober mind; clear of the disease that plagued you hatred filled your being.

A glare in your eyes that were no longer a form of orange, red, and yellow. No slit in those eyes, and not a like a predator without a mind of their own.

“Do behave won’t you, child.

You still growled. He found you after you murdered your father, mother, and twin sister. Covered in their blood. Around your mouth and sharp teeth.

Gone was your humanity and then a monster. A cannibalistic monster in front of him who was in tears and no realization of what just happened.

You were old enough to know clearly what happened.

After all, they used you to deal with unruly patients.

“Good job though. You swallowed him whole.” The bones were clear enough. Blood and spare flesh on the ground. Blood around your mouth and on your hands. You stared at your palms in horror.

Hatred for him and yourself. The wish to die from this disease, but this man wouldn’t let you die. You were a curiosity.

A rare disease never seen before. Mysteriously he conjured a cure of some kind to stop it, but not forever. It wore off and back your humanity would come.

But you’d always be a monster. Always.

-

“There’s a child in Arkham Asylum?”

Batman stared at Harley, whose normally smiling face was wild. She wasn’t now, and her expression was full of worry.

“Yes, Damian’s age if I remember correctly.” She played with her low pigtails with a worried face. Her eyes were wary as they thought of the child. “Under Dr. Strange’s watch. I talked to the child quite a lot before, and I smelled blood.”

“Blood?” Batman stilled.

Harley huffed, “I asked about and…was disturbed. Like they knew, but didn’t.”

“I think it’s a disease. A rare one or something like that. They went wild, and immediately were pulled into somewhere else in the asylum.” Harley went quiet. She wasn’t thinking, or not able to articulate what she wanted to say.

“Harley?”

“I heard screams. They are loud and guttural. They stopped in an instant.” Harley shivered. Harley doesn’t shiver.

“Save them. Save the kid because I fear otherwise he’ll make something of them, and they won’t be themselves ever again.” Harley looked with pleading eyes.

Batman stared blankly. His brain going miles a minute about the information he was just told. A child in the care of Dr. Strange, and he was a dangerous man.

A child with rare sickness that was both dangerous to others and the person itself. That child would be made a weapon he was sure.

“I’ll save them, Harley.”

-

“They have a child in Arkham?” Stephanie blinked crazily. Her brow furrowed down because she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Yes, and I’m afraid they are in big danger.” Bruce wiped away the grease paint off of his face. “Tim, please.”

The pale boy made no comment and did what he was told. “This is crazy.” He whispered to himself as he looked for files on this child. A child that was Damian’s age.

The demon child himself was thinking. “Father, how exactly are we to get this other person out of Arkham?”

“We’ll come up with a plan.”

Damian stared and went back to where Tim was working.

“Indeed there is a child in Arkham Asylum. Very discreet, but nothing is too hard for me to find.” Normally, Tim would be smug but he was grim. His gaze dark and concerned over what he’s found.

“What did you find?” Dick asked, as he and Damian looked over his shoulder. Bruce most importantly listening intently.

“A report of a child named [ ] [ ], whose parents and twin sister reportedly killed. The details surrounding their deaths are murky, but considering what information Harley gave, it’s best to assume they got the illness and killed them.” Tim’s brows furrowed. “The file on the child shows that they are under Hugo Strange’s watch, and there have been complaints from civilians of not being able to see relatives.”

“Are you saying that…?” Duke asked. Cass grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Her eyes glazed over with anger. “Yes, the child was used to kill them if that’s the case.”

Dick breathed in a sigh. He didn’t even realize he was holding in his breath.

“Who would do that to a poor child.” Stephanie mumbled to herself. “That poor baby, and she’s only Damian’s age?”

Bruce huffed grimly, “Yes, unfortunately.”

“Guys! There’s been an outbreak at Arkham Asylum!” Barbara’s voice rang loud and frantic.

“What?!” Dick exclaimed.

“Got it! Everyone get ready and head out! Oracle, let Jason know!”

“On it!”

Upstairs Alfred stood listening to the radio with a blank expression. The information that a young looking child was seen running away from Arkham Asylum. A crazed kind of look in their eyes.

Frantic and looking to get away from that horrid place. Even Hugo Strange’s voice saying that he was willing to pay anyone who’s call in on his missing patient.

The butler breathed a sigh of relief when the radio reported that the figure had been seen going towards Crime Alley.

-

The urge to bite into someone was heavy on your conscious. You did everything to evade this illness.

Hissing every time the needles poked your skin. You didn’t like them but they stopped you from going crazy and loosing your mind. You couldn’t handle another life loss due to your affliction.

Maybe when you got somewhere then you’d could end it all. Stop the horror that was you and nobody would die.

You were in Crime Alley and on the run. You knew that it was a good place to hide; you grew up there with your sister.

A life you wished you could get back. To get back your beloved mother and father. If only you didn’t get this damn rare disease. You wondered why it affected you, and you couldn’t get treatment either.

And then you killed them.

Covered in their blood. Them inside you and becoming a part of your soul. Carrying their souls on your back.

Unfortunately you wouldn’t be able to do what you planned because you were stopped in your tracks by a man in a red mask. Tall and intimidating.

Guns held in his hands.

You froze in the alleyway and backed into the corner. You only wanted to take a breath, and you were found.

They’d take you back to that horror, and face the other patients. The fear of being used as the punishment against disobedient patients.

The man didn’t step forward. He was silent and observed you. Slowly he put his guns in the holsters. He focused even more when you hissed from needles pricking your skin once again.

“You’re the child that escaped Hugo Strange.” He spoke lowly. Studying you carefully.

On instinct you growled. Who could you trust? And this man, whoever he was, didn’t know who he was dealing with. He could get the disease too and you didn’t wish that on anyone.

How you wished for the illness to take you six feet under. To be rid of this pain and carnage you dealt.

The man said nothing still watching you behind that red mask.

“Stay away from me! I-I’ll hurt you!” Yelling back at him. Already you could feel the pressure of your illness in your mind pushing. A parasite in your body that you tried so hard to refuse. No, you wouldn’t kill and you didn’t want to.

The man didn’t moved nor did he say anything. He reached up to face and pressed something. A soft “found them” from his covered lips surfaced.

Your body flared up at the fact he told someone he found you. They would send you back to Arkham Asylum and you would be with Strange again. You would will and suffer again.

People would look at you fearfully again.

Even Harley, the one person who still gave kindness to you, still acted in apprehension. Her eyes on you changed after you lost it and went on a rampage. You didn't blame her, and honestly, you expected it.

The masked man placed his hands up. The guns are still in the holsters. He was calm and slowly approaching you. Instictivley, beastly; you let out a growl.

The needles are once again hitting your skin. You hissed as you felt the tears of your cheeks retracting. Maybe then he would kill you. The red-masked man would see you for the monster that you really were.

But at the same time, you would attack him.

You would hurt his man. He seemed kind enough if he was placing his hands up in the air. Letting you know he was coming in peace, despite stepping closer to you at every step.

"Hey, kid, it's alright. I'm not here to hurt you, or throw you back into that hell hole." His voice was calm and gentle talking to you. Hearing his voice, but the voice of the disease was haunting you. The need to chomp onto his bare neck was stronger than ever.

He kneeled in front of you.

You're backed up against the wall and trying to get away from him.

"I'm..." He thought for a second. Flinching hard when his arms lifted to his face, and off came the mask. A fair-skinned man with a fair amount of scars, and black locks with a white tuft. Most alarming, you caught sight of a J etched into his cheek.

"You can call me Red Hood, or Jason kid." Serene blue eyes that seemed uncommon for such a hardened face. A face that had been hardened for a long time. You only nodded in response. The itch of the disease was getting worse, and you were pushing back.

"I'm not here to hurt you." His eyes flickered to your bare arms, where numerous scars lay. Some deep and some shallow, some old, and some fresh. "He hurt you?"

You nodded. Nails digging into your skin to keep the monster at bay,

"I'm here to help you, okay? It'll be alright, just come with me."

You shook your head. His blue eyes widened when you released your arm to reveal sharpened nails and breached bleeding skin. "I-Im a monster..."

You cried as the disease tore your mouth apart and into a wide mouth of sharp teeth and a long tongue. Disturbing for anyone to see. A fourteen-year-old morphing into a monster. Frantically, you grabbed a needle while, with a single leg, you pushed him away.

He made a noise as your above normal strength pushed him away. "Hey! You'll hit a vein-"

He watched as you desperately stabbed a needle into your neck and pushed in the serum.

Just as you did, you felt a blunt object hitting the back of your head. A faint yell from Jason was heard as you fell unconscious.

"Robin!" Jason expressed to the child next to you. Having hit you in the back of the head with his katana.

"They were going manic? Weren't they, Red Hood? You should have tread more carefully. The illness they have could have sparked at any moment." His gloved hand removed the needle from your hand. Numerous of the needles were seen by the two.

"Fuck-"

"Yes, as you would say. They could have killed themselves if they hit right here. Luckily they didn't hit a vein." Damian informed as he collected the needles into his utility belt.

"Pick them up. Everyone else is at Arkham Asylum and trying to find Dr. Strange." Under his breath he cursed a name.

Jason made no complaints as he picked you up from the ground. His eyes glazing over the numerous scars on your arms and legs. Seeing how your mouth morphed back to normal. "Those needles must have a serum that keeps it from taking over."

"Yes, however it's incapable of stopping the disease."

"Let's get home." The two took you home.

News you could be heard that Arkham had been ransacked. Batman was more ruthless than ever. Mean ever than before. Black Bat, she was more violent than ever.

Files found by Red Robin and Spoiler of the many experiments and who exactly you were. A young child who contracted a man made disease, and murdered your parents and twin sister. Having heard of it affecting someone, Hugo Strange retrieved you.

Saying a young child with problems that needed much more complicated help. Hiding the fact that a manmade disease hadn't affected you and turned you into a monster.

Using you as a punishment for disobedient patients. Eating them alive and making the entire asylum listen to the carnage.

After reading such things Nightwing; ever the more angry he slammed the doctor hard for what he had done. "They aren't a weapon!" He would yell in defense of you.

A feeling of protectiveness overfilled them. As did Red Hood, Robin, Signal, and Alfred you looked at you so much more deeply.

Other serums in your body. Most scars having been caused by attempts to keep you contained. Pulling at chains and rope. Your neck bleeding heavily due to the needle you stabbed into your neck.

A child that was forced into Arkham Asylum because of man and forced to become a weapon against human kind. Ridding the world of people who needed help.

The vigilantes cursed the doctor heavily. Releasing exactly what had been done, and there was pushback. Nuanced views of it being a child, but a monster who still killed people.

A disease with no cure that could potentially kill more people. Others may be after your head.

It was at that moment when Jason and Damian met up with their family is that they saw what horrors you saw and experienced.

A certain horroric feeling of protecting you, from death. Taking away the disease eating at you and making sure death never touches you ever again.

Anyone who tried to take you away from them would face the wrath of vigilante. A child that needed help and wasn't at fault for anything that happened.

Bruce would brush your face of blood on your face. Soft blue eyes promising that he would give you the love you never got.

Your new siblings willing enough to give you the sibling love you lost so early on.

Truly you would be safe and sound. Away from all the horrors of the world.

[sramoonlight]

Bad feeling

What if Conner saw the light on someone?

Content you’ll see here: Conner Kent x Bat!sis, platonic!yandere!batfam, neglected reader

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

One thing you hate about your family is how they keep telling you how much they love you but then they send you to this kind of galas

They don’t want to deal with having a social persona who keeps telling everyone what they want, so they just send the least favorite

The one who they don’t care if it’s not on movie night.

You always thought it was okay, maybe one day you’ll be feeling their gratitude, so you kept telling them when you were leaving

Dressed in fancy clothes, bag in hand as you tried to catch their attention

Never works.

They say a quick bye before going back to the TV, you hate how they just act like nothing happened

Like you weren’t waiting for someone to tell you to not go, for someone to invite you to this movie night, for someone who offer you a seat next to theirs.

It never happens.

You’re their sacrifice, but maybe one day they’ll see how much you do for them

Always talking to people who try to have a place on the Wayne family, they just don’t know how neglected you are.

You sighed before taking a sip of your champagne, you just walked away from a rich couple who tried to have a relation with your family

And you can feel the urge to run, it’s getting late, you usually call Alfred to send a chofer for you (because they complained about Alfred leaving in middle of the movie)

You took your phone and then a voice made you stop your movements

— Is it my eyes or is a cutie here? — you turned, ready to face this bold guy who tried to flirt with you

Surprisingly, your eyes shined at the sight

Black hair and ocean blue eyes, locked on yours

The worst part, that smile like your attention was the best thing he could ever have

A gorgeous look, one that made you melt in an instant.

— Such a boring night, isn’t it? — he offered a hand, without hesitation you gave him yours

He kissed your knuckles, he never stopped looking at your eyes.

It made your heart beat like a lion was chasing you, you tried to ignore it with a smile but the color on your cheeks was enough to make him smile even more.

— but I must say, it got better when I saw you, Miss..? — He asked for your name with that charisma that kept on your knees

Wait, he doesn’t know your name? He doesn’t know your name!

You wiped out the blush on your cheeks clearing you throat

— (Reader) Wayne, but please just call me (reader), may I know your name? — You smiled at him, he trapped that smile and you noticed how he kept holding your hand

He doesn’t want to let your touch go..

— Conner Kent, what about if we leave this place? — you don’t know why, but you found yourself following him like your life depended on it

He’s the first man who ever looked at you for what you were and not what you could do.

By the time you were back at the manor it was passed midnight, you can hear how a few voices are on the living room and a couple of games sound

They grow old of the movie, in other circumstance you would ran to tell your father how bad the gala it was only to hear a quick “oh, must’ve been horrible, go to sleep” but now you can’t hide the smile on your face.

Floating steps as you walk to the room, Alfred was picking up the plates of popcorn before facing you

— Ah, master (Reader) I thought the gala ended at eleven o’clock — he acted like it was nothing to not noticed if you arrived or not

But now you don’t care

— Yeah, it did — you chuckled, a laugh filled with joy as you kissed his cheeks running upstairs.

— That’s new — Tim said, before going back to the game.

Everything felt like cake and stars since then, texting Conner at all times and smiling at you phone was a routine everyone looked weird

You never smiled that much, you always had a dark aura around you, it will usually grow when everyone finished their meal and you were left there eating by your own.

Now, you eat quicker than ever leaving the room in a rush while you smiled at the phone

It was weird, and still they let it pass.

Then you started dressing up, wearing perfume and you got yourself some makeup

And the worst was, you asked Bruce for some money

You were used to always shut you mouth when you needed money, because you didn’t want to be seen as a spoiled brat

But now you asked him for money, not only that, money for going out

Bruce is scared, he doesn’t know why you don’t see him with that glowing eyes anymore, he remembers how you used to look so excited when he asked you how you were

And now, it looks like he is someone else to your eyes.

You get downstairs, a scent of Chanel filled everyone’s nose

Stunning as ever but still casual, Dick had to control the ached on his heart when he noticed you were wearing makeup

— Dinner is almost ready, master (Reader), are you joining us? — Alfred said with a plate on his hand, small cookies everyone eat before dinner on it.

You fixed your hair looking at a mirror on the hallway

— Oh, I’m sorry Alfred, but I’m leaving now for my date —

And the silence was set on the room, even Damian stopped playing with Titus.

Dick was the first one to talk

— Do you… have a date? How wonderful! — that last part sounds too forced, and it was, he can’t hide the bad feeling on his chest.

You faced Alfred hugging him as a goodbye, he’s the only who doesn’t look surprised, of course you’ve told him about this days ago

— May we know who it is? — Bruce tried to wipe away the sudden jealous feeling in his chest, he stood walking to you.

You looked at him, those eyes that doesn’t shine with excitement for some attention

— You may know him, it’s Lex Luthor’s son — you smiled at the mention of him, even if it was just a mention of his father

— Conner?! — the most surprised was Tim, he tripped out of the couch before running to you

His arms trapped your shoulders as he shake you, he knew Conner was seeing someone, but his sister?

— He isn’t someone you want as your boyfriend! He would cheat on you the first week! — he doesn’t hate his best friend, but God he knows he is such a womanizer

Well, every men are womanizers if they are dating you.

Your eyes trapped how Jason left the room, good to know at least one isn’t crazy like them.

— Good, so we passed the curfew two months ago —

Two months ago?! You have a boyfriend and none of them knew? The one who is most hurt is Dick, his little sister didn’t tell him! He can understand if you didn’t tell the others, but HIM? He could’ve stop you from doing this big mistake

— Little bird, you’re too young to be dating someone — he tried with all his heart to make you realize it was bad

Not only you were dating a man, but Conner Kent! He can’t date you! You’re so small and so innocent, he can’t let him stain your pure beauty, you’re just fifteen!

— I’m eighteen, Dick — ouch, it hurt to notice how he doesn’t know a thing about you being older than that

And you’re not surprised, with a sighed you turned to see Alfred

— I’ll be back before midnight — you smiled at him ready to go, and you could see how his eyes opened wide

bang!

You felt onto the floor in a loud noise, Damian was carrying a pan on his hands, the weapon he used to knock you out

Jason behind him, leaning on the door frame

— What? You were taking too long, we couldn’t let her go out with that Kent trash — and no one complained about that

Dick picked you up, now he could see how beautiful you were looking, all of this for a boy? God no, he won’t let anyone have his gorgeous sister.

— Tim, go for the Kryptonite on the Batcave — Bruce said as he followed Dick upstairs like a worried dad, what about if you fall? His baby can’t fall, you need to be okay.

Somewhere, a place where Conner was leaning on a wall, his eyes closed

He is used to hear you before going out, it was a way for him to know when you were ready so he could just appear on your door

And he opens his eyes, a little smile on his face

— So we are fighting for her, huh? —

And he was ready for it, because the day he met her, it was the day he knew he could have a soulmate

They are not taking you from him, he worked so hard for it.

[melloollem]

Trash lll| Bruce Wayne × Child!reader

Summary: In a city where survival is your main objective, you do whatever it takes, including getting involved in Gotham's criminal world.

Warnings: Common comic book violence, weapons, corruption of minors (minors involved in crimes), reader with no gender specified, comment if you want to be tagged in the continuation.

(Chapter l, Chapter ll, Chapter lll, Chapter lV)

(Dc comics)

There were murmurs all around you, but you didn't make a point of paying attention to them. You stared at the car window as if there was something interesting there, but you didn't really pay attention, lost in your thoughts.

The streets weren't exactly the place you'd like to call home, but now in the direction of Wayne Manor, they were exactly the place you'd like to be, you didn't know the person sitting next to you and you didn't want to be with them, you'd learned not to trust and now you had your whole life in someone else's hands, it frustrated you.

A slight discomfort in the area around your stomach snapped you out of your thoughts. You put your hand on it, feeling the relief of the bandages even on top of the winter sweater you were wearing. That wound was a daily reminder of why you should stay with Bruce Wayne, even if you didn't like it.

"Can you hear me?" Bruce's voice stopped being a whisper and became clear to you, who just nodded in confirmation, which he didn't seem to believe. "We're almost there. I have to remind you that you're not completely healed, but you'll be fine soon." He had probably noticed the way your hand was on the exact spot of the wound.

"I'm not worried about that," you replied, your voice low and hoarse, since waking up in hospital you had made little point of using your voice, not very interested in talking to Jason (the man who was there with you almost every day), Bruce, the doctors or the wards, your main interaction was with Jason who, while you were awake, made a habit of watching television with you.

"Are you in pain?" Bruce asked calmly, not even looking at you, which for no apparent reason brought you a kind of comfort. You didn't answer the question, you felt some pain, but you couldn't identify what it was. Bruce looked away from you for a brief second, but didn't insist on talking, contenting himself with listening to the car radio.

There was an old man driving the car, and you watched him from a corner, trying not to show too much interest. You also noticed how Bruce looked at his watch every few minutes, as if he was waiting for something. You weren't curious enough to ask him about it, but you had another question that you thought he could answer.

"Do you know who shot me?" Bruce's eyes shifted from the clock to you, something told you that the man driving the car was also paying attention to the conversation. "We don't know yet, we-” "Could you forget it?" You brutally interrupted him. "I don't want to go after..." your voice faded for a brief moment, Bruce didn't know if it was because the conversation had made you nervous or if it was just a lack of habit in using your voice.

You struggled for a moment, taking up the phrase "I don't want to go after them-, I don't want the police involved in this, okay?" You had a certain terror on your face, Bruce wondered who you thought had done this to you? Was there something he didn't know?

"Could you forget it?" You brutally interrupted him. "I don't want to go after..." your voice faded for a brief moment, Bruce didn't know if it was because the conversation had made you nervous or if it was just a lack of habit in using your voice.

You struggled for a moment, taking up the phrase "I don't want to go after them- this. I don't want the police involved in this, okay?" You had a certain terror on your face, Bruce wondered who you thought had done this to you? Was there something he didn't know?

"We'll talk about it later, but we can do things your way." He made it clear that the matter wasn't over, but the statement was enough to bring you some relief. You didn't trust Bruce to actually tell you anything. You knew he was aware of your criminal record (something he made a point of getting rid of), but he certainly didn't know everything.

The moment you arrived at the mansion, Bruce apologized to you, saying that he couldn't stay, but that Alfred (the one who was driving the car, now finally introduced) would take care of you. Right after that, the butler took you to the kitchen and offered you a lot of food. While you were in hospital, you discovered that your recovery was so difficult because of the state of your body, you were malnourished, which explained Alfred's insistence that you always try a little more food.

Alfred wasn't very talkative; while you were in his company, he only adjusted a few items in the kitchen while he waited for you to finish your meal (which got longer and longer after he offered you a new option). When you were finally satisfied, you were guided to a room that he said would be yours from now on. He said he'd be back soon to change your bandages, but that for now you had some time to settle into the room.

In the Batcave, Batman was updating some criminal files. The conversation between you kept going through his mind, he opened the file that belonged to you, all your information and crimes there. He was looking for something that had escaped his sight before, something that justified his fear that they would investigate who shot you.

He could hear footsteps approaching, Red Robin stopped beside him, also looking at your file. "He's got quite a file, why are you looking at it again?" Right after the question, the boy left a cup for Bruce on the computer desk. Bruce took the cup and thanked him with a slight nod. "I think I missed something," he replied before taking a sip from his cup of tea. "Well, he's upstairs, ask him those questions," Tim replied simply.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

Tag list: @lockofspades @anuttellaa @joudy78bes7er @anime-hair05 @amber-content @camilo-uwu @sparks0918 @redzluvvesage @drdoofenshmirtz124 @suninwalls @tenthmilo @rainnyydaysworld

[shortnsweetsposts]

Bat!reader, calling Bruce: Come on, pick up pick up pick up...

*Bruce answered the phone*

Bat!reader: Hiiii, love you so much! Can I have 25000 dollars?

Bruce: NO?!? Why on earth do you need 25000 dollars?

Bat!reader: Oh, you know... For an escape room...?

Bruce: You're joking right? What kind of escape room costs 25000 DOLLARS??

Bat!reader: Prison...

Bruce: I'll be there at 10, idiot.

[invincibledc]

IMAGINE! Bad parenting!reader

Random idea for a yandere!batfam writing that i might do.

Imagine you, the reader take the place of Ron from bad parenting. People in the apartment you live in have reported domestic abuse in the places. You are dead, but can be seen in night. So imagine the batfam’s reaction to see a kid just smiling. Not knowing anything, just pure of light and curiosity. You call the big bat man “Mr bat!” Running up to him holding a doll that looks like you. They notice the snapped neck, but with how you show no sign of abuse because of your father drinking himself sleep.

They search the place, they see you are unable to live here. Batman already has an adoption certificate ready under his suit as you grab Damian’s hand. Jumping excitedly as you show them around. You made new friends!

While the batfam, made their new obsession on how to take you out of this house. Not knowing you are dead.

[bluetooththereptile]

The other family

(Yandere batfamily x reader) (Coraline coded au)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

This fic was inspired by this post.

Note: I've loosely based this on Wika by Olivier ledriot and tales of Bogymen taking abused and neglected children away to punish the parents.

Tw: yandere tendencies, child neglect, horror?

The sound of the crickets outside your open window was mixed with the distant noises of the fan in your room working to help with the heat that had haunted Wayne Manor for a week now, the heat wave that had hit Gotham a few days ago was unbearable, even during the nights. You tossed around in your bed, refusing to let go of the green dragon plushie that had been your loyal companion for your days at daycare. You looked into its faded eyes because of rough use and a pout came to your lips, maybe you should take Hamlet with you, yeah, the other mom would allow it right?

You had spent your days enjoying your slushies, and milkshakes, playing video games, and rolling on the cool sheets of your bed, but whatever you did you found yourself slowly losing your patience, they had said you could go back to them every weekend so where was the other cat? You poked your head out of your bedroom now and then to catch a glimpse of its white fluffy fur but it was nowhere to be seen in the dark hallway that seemed to stretch on.

Trying to pass the time you snuck out of your room to take another ice cream from the freezer, maybe its taste would calm your nerves, you were supposed to be asleep by nine pm but you knew you had to stay awake until midnight for the other cat to come and find you, it was it's routine by now even if it meant you'd get scolded by Alfred, the only person that cared for your sleep schedule, it was worth it!

You walked past the empty rooms of Others who had gone to patrol that night, your feet made little noise as you walked past the rooms one by one, turning past the corners to get to the main staircase of the Manor, you glanced at the few doors you could recognize in the dim light, holding hamlet closer to your chest as you walked past Dick's guest room, he always said he'd be there for you, but you couldn't remember the last time he had sat down to talk to you like he did with others, maybe it was because he was too old for you? But he always told others that he didn't care about that. You couldn't comprehend why you were invisible to your oldest sibling.

You walked past Tim's room as well before poking your head to the corner that lead to the room Mom and Dad shared, you padded closer, peaking in with curiosity through the ajar door to see your mom sitting behind her vanity desk, lazily filing her nails as she talked to her phone. Her back facing the door. She had put on her usual hair curling rolls, the sound of her soft chuckles in the air as she spoke with her friend. Mom never laughed like that when she was with you or Dad, unless she was shopping, maybe she liked buying gifts for herself so that was why she was happy shopping? You loved gifts too!

"Yeah I don't know, Bruce is getting rather boring, to be honest" Selina sighed as she leaned back in her seat, putting her slender legs up on the low-level vanity, "yeah, good thing I've dragged on the engagement, imagine I bite the trap" She snorted as she filed her forefinger, "Y/N?" You tensed at hearing your name "I'm not sure about the kid, I mean I never wanted a child to begin with but now that I'm strapped to a grown-up toddler what else can I do but stay? I don't know maybe I give up the custody to Bruce or something like that, you know me, I'm not for the domestic life"

Hearing your mom say those things was both confusing and sad, you didn't understand why mom didn't love dad, dad loved her so much! To the point that he always made sure to call her every day! Dad rarely called to the daycare to talk with you, unless he wanted to say happy birthday or something like that since rarely came home at night, Alfred would pick you up or send someone trusted to take you back home, but Dad made sure to take Mom everywhere himself! Plus if mom didn't like you why did she give birth to you? Were you unwanted?

You clutched Hamlet to your chest and buried your face into its fur as you walked passed the door towards the kitchen. Maybe you would take a bag of snacks with the ice cream, yeah eating always soothed you. Getting down the stairs you walked inside the kitchen, sneaking in to open the door of the double freezer only to be stopped by Alfred who gave you a knowing look, making you freeze as you sheepishly looked up.

"I just wanted a chocolate ice cream, it's too hot in my room," you said trying to give your best puppy eyes look, the older man put his hands on his hips giving you a scolding look in return "Too much dairy makes your stomach hurt, remember?" He spoke, his voice firm but not harsh, you pouted as you held the handle of the freezer's door "Please just tonight? I've been good today" you pleaded, Alfred sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he gave in and handed you a small tub of ice cream with a spoon. "Just be careful to not spill it alright?" He spoke softly, his eyes saddening a little as he watched your small smile, you rarely smiled these days.

You walked out of the kitchen, holding the cold tub in your hand before you froze at the sight of the white feline at the end of the hall, looking at you expectantly, the tub and the spoon fell from your hand as if you were under a spell and you enthusiastically followed the cat, eyes wide with excitement "Alfred!" You called in a hushed tone to the other cat who was sitting patiently for you, its crimson eyes blinking softly as its long tail swished about, Damian's cat Alfred never liked you for some reason, but this one loved being around you purring as it came to your vicinity.

"Hello, kitty kitty!" You bent down to pet the fluffy creature who arched its back to your touch, lovingly rubbing against your legs, gently kneading your slippers. The soft "mrrp" sound of the cat made you smile more, searching under its chin. "Good kitty!" You cooed, before giggling softly as the cat licked your fingers gently, rubbing its head to your fingers to make you pet it a little more, purring a storm.

After the cat had its fair share of your attention it turned around and padded away before turning back to look at you as if to say "What are you waiting for? Follow me!" You followed the feline creature with a big smile on your lips, walking through hallway after hallway, not noticing the walls and temperature shifting as the other cat guided you to another world. It was your weekly routine now.

It soon turned too cold as you walked deeper into the hallways and you started to shiver, holding Hamlet even closer as you finally walked through a single door at the end of the hallway you were at, entering the entrance hall of the Wayne Manor again, where you had started your journey with the other cat, but the coldness of the air and the eerie lights of the lamps and candles gave you the signs that you were at the Other Side.

You looked around squealing with joy at the sight of the other Alfred who held a large blanket for you, standing by a large chair close to the light fireplace greeted you with a warm smile, chuckling as you ran to him, opening his arms before snugging you in the warm blanket in his hands. He gently wrapped you up fully, putting you on the chair to warm you up. He hummed a soft song under his breath, making you giggle as he wiped your face with a warm towel he had nearby. The other Alfred rarely spoke for some reason.

"My baby!" The other mom called for you loudly, making your head snap up and you nearly fell from your seat from excitement at the sight of her in a comfortable set of clothes, so much different than what your mom used to wear, making you feel uncomfortable even if she was at home with you. "Mo-!" Before you could say anything you were in other mom's arms, showered with her kisses. "Oh, my baby! How I've missed you!" She kept kissing your now rosy cheeks, giggling with you as she held you close. She smelt of lilacs, and she was even more beautiful than your own mom, her silvery eyes were warm, just like her smile. She didn't wear too much makeup that would cake on your skin like whenever your own mom kissed you. Her skin was soft and her unpainted lips were always smiling, making your little heart flutter.

You let out a soft squeak when you felt more pressure around you, sneaking a peak from the other mom's embrace to see the other dad holding both you and the other mom, smiling warmly. "How have you been my sweetling?" The other dad's voice was deeper and he had the same silver eyes as the others on the other side. You felt your cheeks hurt from how much you were smiling. A loud laugh left you as the other dad tickled you through the blanket, the couple chuckling at the sight of your joy. The other dad was always home when you were visiting the other side, even if others were on patrol he was there, he still loved the other mother just like your dad did, but the other also loved...you.

The other dad held you two for a long time, as if he wanted to make sure you wouldn't run away just like the first time you did when you had gotten into the other side. Which had become a side joke with your other family. "You need a good bath and new clothes before dinner" The other mom hummed as she sniffed your hair, her comment finally breaking the hold of the hug around you.

The other dad picked you up without a struggle, making you giggle "Daddy!" You called, making a soft shuddering breath leave his lips at the way you called him that, you had started opening up to the couple and it filled them with joy, you had heard the other Alfred and the other Dick discuss this before, apparently, the other mom and dad were depressed for a long, long time. You couldn't see how the other mom put her hand over her mouth as she nearly teared up at the way you called the other Bruce that. "Again" the other dad whispered "hm?" You tilted your head to the side, holding Hamlet with your hand as the other held onto the other dad's shoulder "Call me again" the other dad insisted, and you smiled as you called him again "Daddy!", he closed his eyes as he buried his face into your hair for a whole minute, his board shoulders tense as he tried to hold back his tears, his baby was alive again, alive!

The other dad took you to your other room filled with everything you liked after he had come to his senses, the other mom had made sure to decorate your room to your tastes and had even changed the wallpaper three times for you. The fireplace there was on, and the bathroom was already filled with steam coming off of the glistening marble bathtub there, when you got close to the bathroom you curiously looked at the bubbles in the air, gasping. You had never seen a bathbomb make bubbles! "Bubbles!" You squealed in joy as you popped one, making the other dad's smile widen. He kissed your forehead before he put you down gently, the other mom undressed you carefully, and then she shooed her husband away when she started to take off your underwear "It's a private moment with me and my baby!" She had said,  making the other dad groan. You jumped on your feet as the cold air hit you, making the other mom coo as she picked you up by your sides "It's okay! It's okay!" She then lowered you into the warm water, watching with satisfaction as your body eased down.

The other dad left the bathroom as the other mom washed you, soothingly wiping the dried sweat off you with a soft loofah. You had never been washed like this before, sure Alfred washed you nearly daily or you'd manage to shilishali your way in a shower, but it wasn't as enjoyable as this one. The other mom would coo and softly praise you for heeding her gentle orders to put your arms up, holding her hand over your eyes as she poured water on your hair, making goofy hairstyles with you as you watched yourself in the mirror at the other side of the bathroom. Your giggles filling the air, ignorant of the snow falling outside.

After washing you up the other mom carefully rinsed you, drying you up before she gently put soothing lotion on the soles of your feet and your knees that you had scrapped after a rough play at daycare. You loved seeing the other mom dote on you and pamper you like no other. She even made sure to dry your ear canals, making you scrunch up your nose as she hit a spot while drying up your left ear "It was itchy wasn't it?" She asked, chuckling as you nodded. The other mom laughed a lot with you, and you never grew tired of it. Her voice was like an angel's always making you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

The other mom dried your hair with a blow dryer, brushing it carefully before putting on a pair of very cozy and warm pajamas for you. "But Mommy I shouldn't wear pajamas to dinner!" You said, confused "Mommy makes the rules and you can wear whatever you want to dinner" She booped your nose after that, She then gave Hamlet back to you before putting on your fuzzy socks. You wiggled your toes to watch the googly eyes of the bears on your socks move, oh how much you had begged your mom to buy you those cute socks but she hadn't, calling them too silly.

The other mom held you as she walked to the dining room and by the moment she opened the door others burst into energy and mirth at the sight of you, Everyone was there, even the other Damian was smiling! Speaking of your other brother he was quick to rush towards you and hug you tightly after the other mom put you down, Damian never hugged you like this, even if he said he was your older brother, him saying that always rang hollow, but with the other Damian? Oh, it was something else!

Damian held your hand as he guided you to your seat and helped you sit on it, petting your head and Hamlet's. The other mom sat at your left side and the other Damian sat at the right, and as others spoke with each other the other mom put a napkin on your lap and neatly snug one on your collar and chest before she put a spoon full of your favorite stew in your mouth, and you ate with enthusiasm. Chewing the savory roast with both your cheeks full.

The other dad smiled leaning on his elbow as he watched you eat, putting his hand on the other mom's shoulder as she put spoonful after spoonful into your mouth, his eyes soft and full of love for you. You still remembered the first time you had met him, his face was of shock and confusion "Angel?" He had called you but you had meekly mumbled out your name, making him gasp and speak of something along the lines of "Our prayers were answered, glory to Balor!" Who was Balor? No one answered you that.

The other mom was so kind, dabbing napkins on your mouth if a bit of food smeared the corners of it, watching you chew and swallow before putting another spoon of the hearty stew, giving you the juiciest cuts of meat that melted into your mouth. You scrunched up your nose again at her as you tasted a tangy bit, making her giggle "It's alright sweetie, just try to swallow it" and you did with slight difficulty. "Good job!" She clapped her hands together, the ring on her finger shining. The other mom had married the other dad, unlike your mom who seemed to hate that.

You noticed the small dark tint to her nails, her nails had started to darken more and more since the first time you had met, maybe she liked black nail polish? Your mom put on some now and then, but your mind couldn't see how she had grown taller at each visit, oh how her actions had turned more and more clingy, you weren't privy to her tearful night with her mate, when she'd hiss and growl as she shredded the body of another child by the alter of Balor, begging him to give her a chance of a sacrificial ceremony, to which the being had agreed to. Her lost child was coming back home once more.

Your gaze looked around as the other mom put a piece of bread for you to munch on in your hands as Hamlet sat on your lap. You noticed Dick, smiling at him as your memories with him flooded your mind. Even if the other Dick was busy speaking with the other Jason but he still waved to you every time you looked at him, as if he could sense your gaze.

You noticed the other Jason waving your way as well "Nice plushie" he commented, making you hold up Hamlet proudly "Ooh very nice!" The other Jason was so much kinder than the Jason you were used to, he would pick you up and tickle you, blowing raspberries on your belly and smile whenever you talked to him, even if you still could see the pain in his eyes he made sure to dote on you, playing with you and Hamlet.

The other Tim was busy eating his food, but he gave you glances, each time smiling as your eyes met, he had insisted on reading you books when you took naps at the other side since the very first time, though it had turned into more a rivalry with him and the other mom and the other Damian to take turns tucking you in.

The other Damian held your hand as he ate his food in silence, gently squeezing your hand every so often, offering his piece of food as if to mimic the other mom "Damian you know my baby gets stomachaches if you give your baby sibling too much dairy" She gently reminded the other Damian who with a loud "Hmph" took his spoon away from your mouth, making you pout. "It's okay sweetie, I'm just looking out for you" She chuckled as she pinched your nose gently. 

The other Duke and Cass were nowhere to be seen, maybe they were on patrol that night, but you missed Cass's warm hugs and Duke's play times as you and him made pillow forts, having the other dad and Damian force siege onto it.

Everyone was happy, you were happy, and blissfully...ignorant. Maybe it was for the better as the other Alfred once had said to the couple "Let the child be oblivious to everything happening, it helps the transition to proceed smoother, stress and anxiety affect a child's choice."

It all had started with the bridge between the parallel worlds becoming thin when you had passed into a door during a restless night, entering a darker version of the world you lived in that was shrouded in perpetual night and winter, where the dark fae resided. You didn't know every human alive had a fae double living their own life on the other side, that was why you didn't know your own double had been long dead at the hands of the other joker, and how much your other family were overjoyed to find you there. And the other Selina, became obsessed with the idea of taking her child back by any means possible.

"It is against the rules" the other Bruce had said as his wife suggested the idea of taking you into the fold of the kin residing on the other side, but she had reminded him "They don't want the poor thing! We can give the sweet angel the love a child like the little one deserves! Look how eagerly the child clings to you! The child needs us, my love, the child needs me!" And that was when the family decided on setting a plan to turn your weekly visits, into a permanent stay.

"Sweetie" the other mom called for you" Everyone quieted down as they realized the moment of truth was going to happen "Do you want to stay with us?" The other mom asked softly as she rubbed your back "I'd love to stay the night Mommy!" You answered, making Alfred smile at your blissful innocence "No sweet baby, I mean do you like to stay with us forever?" The other father chimed in and you frowned as you tried to think. The other mom bit her lip nervously, maybe it was too early for her to suggest it? The couple watched anxiously as you tried to think about your decision "If I agree, I will be with mommy and daddy forever?" "Forever sweetie, and we won't leave you, ever" the other mom cooed, holding your hand as Hamlet fell onto the ground. "We will have lots of fun, mommy will be your best friend, and Daddy and others will play with you nonstop!" You smiled at the thought of it, melting the dark hearts of the fae sitting around the table. "Yes, mommy!" You agreed, and upon that, the mood shifted.

At hearing that the lights turned a greenish hue, as if on cue, and everyone seemed to grow taller and taller as your own body turned heavy, the illusion magic was wearing off and yet the couple was surprised to see you weren't panicking. "I'm sleepy Mommy" you mumbled with a soft yawn, and the female fae cooed softly at hearing that "It's alright sweetling, mommy will make sure to tuck you in" She reached out and picked up Hamlet from the ground, the plushie morphing into a grotesque figure of a dragon in her clawed hands before she tucked the toy in your arms. Your eyelids grew heavier as you sunk into the large seat behind the table, not noticing how everyone stood up from their seats, bowing to the haunting shadow appearing in the room.

A hissing voice spoke in a language you didn't know, and the female fae picked you up, holding you by the back of your knees and shoulders, passing you into the massive bony arms of the God of the dark elves, Balor, who wrapped you in its tangible shadowy form "Do not worry for the babe, rest this night my children, for tomorrow we will rejoice for a fae, reborn."

Your eyes closed as you slipped into a peaceful slumber. Before you found yourself in a bed of flowers, lying beside an angelic man in a lush garden. "Shush my child, sleep" the man soothed you "Birth will be painful" he murmured, gently tapping your chest as he lulled you into rest in your dream before the emergence of another life. "Your parents are waiting for you" he whispered in your ear with a warm voice, and then, your mortal heart stopped in his arms, your soul leaving your body that would soon the body of the many children in the garden of Balor, to land into the carefully preserved one of the sweetling of the other family of yours.

Born anew, in bliss and pain.

It took three days for everyone to notice you were gone, without a trace, nothing was lost but you and your favorite plushie, leaving your parents forever haunted by the memories of the child they took for granted.

Tags: @craulo13 @gaozorous-rex-blog @090909yh @demonprodegy @marise-eternal @jersules @goodsoup19 @candlejuice @worshipcoffee @geniegirlrocks @ghostgangleader @obsessedwithromance @theblacksirenofwinter2004 @ranshin03 @prettyboys247 @kinuraoj @iwannabeapinkaesthetic @legendarylearner18

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Platonic Yandere batfamily x

Child Girlscout reader!! Pt1 Pt2 Pt3

'In a world where you can be anything...Be kind.'

Kindness was like a sickness to Gotham.

People avoided it at all cost. And they mostly had a good reason to. Kindness could cost you your life in gotham.

So instead the people in gotham were a little harsher then most. Some were sweet enough to offer pity but none offered true kindness.

Not even the children in gotham were dumb enough to trust people. Just like their parents they hid from opportunities to be kind.

The richer kids in gotham were cruel mostly because they were spoiled. And kids who didn't have a dime in their name only cared about themselves.

So bruce was surprised when you willingly got in his car. With a smile none the less. Of course you didn't really have a choice he was going to make you get in one way or another.

But Bruce doesn't necessarily think your dumb just a little too trusting with people.

But your not helping with the way you don't even ask how he knows your address.

Alfred sent it to him of course.

You sit happily in the passenger seat with your wet red wagon in the trunk.

And as you talk about various things Bruce can't help but to imagine how you grew up to be so....kind.

Sure your still a kid. But he doesn't know one kid that smile drops at every homeless person they see.

Or how when he asked you what you want to be to grow up you say 'I want to doctor like my mama...so I can help people!' You'd say with the brightest smile.

And gods bruce would do anything to keep light in your eyes bright forever.

He knew how painful Gotham could be especially to the less fortunate and by the looks of your torn up shoes you are one of the less fortunate people.

But that doesn't stop the smile on your face from becoming bigger each time you see a kitten in a yard.

Pulling up to your small house that's in Bruce's opinion not big enough to even be called a house.

But still you smile as the car comes to a stop right infront of your small house.

Hopping out the fancy car that has no business being in a place like this you pay no kind to the nosy neighbors that whisper among themselves but Bruce does.

Walking up to your front porch and pulling out your key from your pocket ,you unlock the door and Bruce pulls your little wagon inside.

The house is small but Bruce has to give it credit it is quite cozy and neat....but far to cold.

"Oh no...." You say as you walk up to the old beaten up thermostat.

Giving the old thermostat a couple of good hits it still doesn't turn on and you sigh as you make your way to your room.

While Bruce just stands in the living room awkwardly as he closes the door.

Walking back into the living room you hand Bruce a blanket thats far to small for him but he takes it anyway.

"The heaters not working agian...so we'll just have to cover up!" You say giggling as if it's funny.

"Again?" Bruce mutters repeating your words.

But as Bruce watched you and how you comfortably sat on the couch with your cover that wrapped around you. You seemed so nonchalant about it. To nonchalant about it.

Because to you this was normal.

Awkwardly Bruce takes a seat beside you on the couch. And you unconscious snuggle up to his side closing your eyes.

Bruce can't help how his heart flutters in his chest at your cute action. None of his kids have ever really wanted to touch him.

Atleast Not without having gone threw something traumatic.

So by you simple snuggling up to his side had made the man feel wanted. No needed.

Looking at the walls Bruce sees some pictures of you and your mother and one with a man.

He doesn't exactly know if he's your father or not but either way Bruce is undeniably jealous of the unknown man.

Oh, what the billionaire would give to be your father instead.

It's not long before your breathing evens out and your passed out snuggling up to Bruce.

It's a peaceful moment but Bruce can't help but think that your still far to trusting. But he's partially thankful for that.

Because he knows if your weren't so trusting he'd never be in this situation right now.

But before bruce can even really enjoy the moment the house phone rings and you jump at the sudden sound.

And much to Bruce's disappointment you stand and up and wipe your sleepy eyes answering the phone.

It was your mom...and she did not sound happy at all.

"Baby how the heck did you get home?!" She says talking so fast you could barely understand her. But you did hear her old car as she drove.

And as you glance at the old clock you see it's 2pm yep she was definitely off her shift now.

Which meant she was on her way home.

"And please baby for the love every living thing on the earth tell me that the neighbors are lying. And that you didn't let a rich man drive you home?!"

Oh now you know she's mad. And you hear her car getting louder through the phone as she hits the gas as if she already knows your answer.

"Mama it was raining.....I was scared." You whine and your mother can't really stay mad at you because it is partially her fault.

And because your far to cute to be mad at.

"Where is the man now baby?" She asks her voice quiet so no one but you could hear.

"On the couch mama...."

She groans and mumbles a quiet "of course he is." Under her breath.

"Pass him the phone baby. I'd like to talk to him for a minute please." She says her voice shaking with fear and anger and you don't dare disobey her.

So you walk up to Bruce and hand him the phone.

Bruce being puzzled and prepared for what the women might say takes the phone and puts it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"I don't know who the fuck you are but I swear to every fiber in my fucking body if you even think of touching my baby I'll kill you!" She swears.

And Bruce glances at you and you just give him a nervous smile. And he can't help but notice how diffrent the women in all the pictures sounds then what he would expect.

In all the pictures she looks sweet. Not as sweet as you but with big smiles and happy looks. But as she screams every curse in the world at him he can't see the resemblance.

"I'll be home in literally 2 seconds you better be fucking praying to God you didn't hurt my baby." She says as she hangs up the phone and she was true to her word.

Because before Bruce can even begin to process everything she said she pulls into the driveway. And quickly makes her way to the door.

She hurriedly pushes the front door open ignoring how hard the door hits the wall.

She looks like a crazy woman furious and her eyes almost red.

But Bruce thinks he'd be the same if he where in her shoes.

Your mother's gaze immediately softens at the site of you. And she sighs as you walk up to her.

She deeply inspects every part of you and cups your face. And after she sees that your just fine and haven't been touched.

Her gaze hardens at the sight of Bruce. Bruce sensing the uneasiness of the room decides to speak up.

"Hello ma'am.... I'm Bruce Wayne," He says already prepared to be the good person he is but he's surprised when your mother doesn't reach for his out stretched hand.

And she doesn't even react to his charming smile.

Instead?

Instead she smacks him.

"I know who the fuck you are. And if you ever touch my baby again it'll be your last fucking day." Your mother says and you gasp at the sudden action.

Even Bruce is to stunned to speak. He's more....surprised....and dare be say intrigued?

"Mama he didn't hurt me! He's really nice!" You say trying to stop your mom before things exploded even more.

And as your mom looks at you her gaze softs once more and glancing back at Bruce she feels sort of bad....

He doesn't necessarily look like a bad person.....

And you wouldn't lie...but then again you trust just about anyone.

She sighs going against her better judgment and teaching and let's her guard down.

"I'm sorry....for...hurting you. But you can't just take people's kids without permission..." She says and her hand grips your arm tightly still not trusting Bruce.

And Bruce likes that she's protective of you.

Because he knows he is too.

"It's...alright...if I was in your shoes I'd probably do the same." He says calmly as if the smack didn't faze him at all.

And your mother likes that he isn't being mean about it but forgiving. But still she feels bad and you tugging at her arm and giving her puppy dog eyes isn't helping her case.

She sighs agian knowing exactly what you want.

"How about you stay for dinner...." She says her voice betraying her true want for him to leave.

And Bruce reading the room would normally leave but as he glances at you your already smiling at him silently begging for him to agree.

And of course he couldn't just let you down! So he obviously agreed. Much to your mother's disapproval.

With a sigh your mother nods and mutters a quiet 'make yourself at home' to Bruce before she goes to start making dinner.

You being the absolute sweetheart you are you grab his hand which Bruce gladly let's you take. And he lead him to your bedroom.

"This is where I sleep! This is my bed! My toys which are really my best friends!" You say and your voice gets a little quieter at next words.

"And this is my picture of my daddy....."

Bruce takes a good like at the picture seeing that the picture was recently taken since you looked the same in the picture.

Bruce could almost taste how much he hated the man he knew so little about. Bruce takes in how the man looks having never seen him before.

Since he wasn't on your birth certificate Bruce couldn't find out anything about him. But just judging the man by how he looks. Bruce is definitely not impressed. Especially by how your tone goes quiet as you talk about him.

"Here's only here sometimes...." You say and your mother who had been standing by the door.

Since she definitely did not trust the a random man to be in a room with her baby alone. She speaks up. "Bruce...can you help me out with this?" She says and it's obvious that she doesn't really need anything but you obviously don't catch on by the way you keep staring at the picture of you and your father.

Bruce nods understanding her need to talk to him.

"You just continue playing with your toys baby...foods gonna be done soon okay?" Your mom says in such a sweet tone.

You nod putting down the picture and begin playing with your toy.

Walking into the kitchen your mom hits the thermostat and sighs as it still doesn't turn on.

"Here..let me..." Bruce says and your mother moves out the way letting the man do whatever it is he is doing.

And your mother still keeps her eyes on him as he continues working on the thermostat and she continues cooking.

"How often does this thing not work?" Bruce asks keeping his eyes trained on the thermostat.

"More often then not." Your mother says sighing.

"It's not very healthy for your daughter to be in this cold...especially when she's inside the house." Bruce adds and your mother scoffs.

"Not everyone was born with a silver spoon shoved up their ass." Your mother says as she rolls her eyes.

How dare he comment on what she could barely afford?

Now usually bruce would have something even more harsh to say back. But this time he didn't. Because he didn't want it to turn into a argument.

No, he needed her on his good side.

Atleast for now.

So he'd bow his head and apologize.

"I didn't mean any disrespect..."

"I know exactly what you meant." Your mother snaps and that throws Bruce off.

Because why isn't she buying his facade?

"I'm not dumb. And your not going to stand in my house and try and play me dumb. My daughter isn't a street rat." She says and her eyes are giving Bruce the meanest glare he's ever seen.

And he's quite....impressed.

"I didn't mean-"

"And she ain't no poor kid on the street either." Your mother continues interrupting him.

"She's good. She's a good kid. My kid."

And Bruce agreed to almost everything she said. Yeah you're a good kid.

but soon enough you'd be His kid.

💗Thanks for reading! 💗

Comments, likes ,and reblogs are appreciated!

This was highly requested so I hope you guys enjoy!

Taglist: @its-simply-just-krys