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klemen-tine · 2 months

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Blowing Raspberries

Batfam x Male!Reader Platonic

@jaythes1mp Sorry this took so long and is not all in one part! But here is the first half.

TW: Break in, Child Abuse (not the Batfam), and neglect

Publicly, Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson is the oldest Wayne sibling. Taken in by Bruce Wayne at 8-years-old, he is the first child and the oldest. In the eyes of the law and adoption papers. In the eyes of the Wayne family however, the oldest sibling title belongs to Y/N L/N. Similar to the Drakes, the L/N’s live on the other side of the Waynes, and similar to Tim, Y/N had been left home alone… a lot.

Which meant he was over, a lot. So much so, he had his own room, Alfred made him a plate for every meal, and he was aware of their little nightly activities. Y/N L/N was a needed normalcy within the Manor, reminding them that there is more to life outside of crime fighting.

“Did you see that new cafe?” Y/N asked, looking into Dick’s exhausted eyes while resting his chest against Jason’s head. Dick shook his head, “No. Why?” Y/N pouted, “Because you guys literally broke their windows last night.” Jason winced, remembering the shattering of glass and wide-eyed stares as he handled some thugs.

“Please tell me that isn’t the cafe you wanted to go to today.” Dick buried his head in his hands and begged every deity that it was not that cafe. Y/N has been talking about it for weeks and finally found a time where all their schedules aligned so they could do it.

“It was.” Jason and Dick groaned while Y/N stared at them with an annoyed expression. His arms that were wrapped around Jason tightened in a mocking chokehold, knowing that if Jason wanted to he could easily get out and have Y/N pinned. Dick groaned again, “Is… is there somewhere else you want to try?”

“Not really.” ‘Fuck!’ Jason and Dick stared at one another, trying to figure out a way to still have this day with Y/N. If they don’t hurry, the vultures will swoop in and suggest something that will catch Y/N’s attention and–

“Y/N, how about we got to the petting zoo.”

“Dami!”

“Buzz off short stack!” Y/N thumped Jason’s head with his chin, “Don’t talk to Dami like that.” The youngest Wayne smiled victoriously while his two older brothers glared at him. Dick looked offended and Jason was actually ready to strangle him. Y/N shook his head, “Dami, aren’t we going on Friday? I’m picking you up from school to go.” Damian scrunched his nose, “We can go twice.”

Y/N couldn’t help but to chuckle, “Hmmm, those rabbits are cute.” Jason’s grip tightened, “The new bookstore in downtown! There’s a new bookstore that is supposed to have a cafe attached to it.” Damian scowled at Dick perked up, “Yeah, I forgot about that.” Y/N hummed, staring at Jason in concern, “Jay, you hate downtown.” It’s full of rich snobs and people who have nothing better to do than walk the streets in designer clothing.

Jason made a face, “It’s our day with you, I’m fine with it as long as you’re there.” Dick gagged and Damian looked ready to chuck a knife at him. Y/N blinked at the younger man in shock before laughing, “That’s cute, okay. Let’s go there then.” He released Jason from his hold, unwrapping his arms from Jason’s neck and standing tall. Dick smiled at Y/N, who was talking to a pouting Damian and ruffling slicked back hair.

“Alright, Y/N, I'm assuming you’re ready.” Unlike the Wayne brothers who had a father that did not care why they landed on the NEWS or magazine as long as they didn’t kill anyone, Y/N’s father was different. For someone who was always gone, he had a firm hold and opinions on Y/N’s life.

Bruce may not care that his kids go out looking like they haven’t showered in three days, but Y/N’s dad has ordered the maids to get rid of all the ripped jeans Y/N had because the paparazzi made an opinion on them when Y/N wore them. Jason remembers listening in on that call, and numerous other calls from Mr. L/N, as he hollered at his child he did not care about.

“You are a L/N! If you still want that last name then you will dress like a L/N!”

Unlike Dick and Jason who are dressed in jeans, Y/N is dressed in slacks and a nice polo shirt. His hair was clean and styled and the shoes he wore still shined. The aesthetic is called ‘old money’ and boy did Y/N have that. He and the Wayne siblings have become the newest trend setters in Gotham.

Whenever the paparazzi caught them together it was always Old Gotham vs New Gotham. Slacks vs Jeans. Hair combed vs natural. Clean vs Rugged. L/N vs Wayne.

They were the topic whenever they were out together, which was a lot. The only reason Mr. L/N hasn’t said anything is probably because Bruce is keeping his mouth shut about the child-neglect and abandonment. Point is, seeing the Wayne kids and L/N son together wasn’t odd, in fact there were jokes of Bruce Wayne adopting him, but they still always turned heads.

“Y/N, I am telling you that is a horrible choice and you’re not gonna like it.” Said young man raised an eyebrow at Jason and tutted disappointedly, “Jay, you haven’t even read it.” The guy motioned at the cover, “Look at it! Dick! Come ‘ere and look at it!” The other made only a side glance at it and sighed, “Y/N… this is only going to lead to problems.”

“It is literally a book about romance.” Jason screwed up his face, like someone had shoved a lemon down his throat, “But like… young adult romance. Read the classics.”

“I have read the classics. You have read me the classics. I read them in class and if I have to read how Ms. Elizabeth Barnett falls in love with Mr. Darcy one more time I’m actually going to throw myself in traffic.” Dick agreed with Y/N on that, remembering all the time he had to read the damn book.

“It's Elizabeth Bennett.”

“Jay, I swear to God.”

“Are you sure you read them because there’s no way someone who’s read them would get that name wrong.”

“Little wing–”

“–Dickie, maybe. But not anybody else.”

“–Excuse you.” Y/N snorted at the now bickering brothers, watching in amusement as Dick pulled Jason’s ear and Jason to Dick’s hair. Sighing, Y/N stepped between the two. Y/N L/N is possibly the only person, other than Alfred, who would dare do such a thing. Fear was absent on his face as he calmly walked into the dog fight, and helped release their bites with gentle tugs and stern words.

“Enough. The line is picking up at the cafe, so let's checkout and head over.” Y/N is the person who quells the fights and mends the bonds. The only person in the Manor that knew how to communicate their feelings and help others realize and communicate theirs.

He is the kind, patient, and understanding older brother of the Batfam. Always paying attention to other’s needs and always willing to listen to someone vent their frustrations and offer sound advice. Y/N is –

“–And what about the company?! How come the sales are low this month?”

“Father, they are riding average, it’s just the last month was a boom because–”

“I don’t care about last month! Why are the sales low this month?!”

– not Bruce Wayne’s ward, and therefore there isn’t much he can say in this scenario. Bruce listened and watched Y/N slouch as Mr. L/N continued to scream and berate him from across the world. He watched the exhaustion take over Y/N’s features and the way his forehead creased, Bruce knows that a headache is now present.

“If you still want the company then you better act like it! Enough of prancing around like the money you spend is yours!” Y/N is grateful his father hung up after that, because Y/N had a clapback to that and he’s sure his father would fly back from wherever he is just to smack him around for saying it.

Setting his phone down on the coffee table, the weight of the conversation making his shoulders sag and melt into the armchair with a huff. Bruce chuckled at the pout, “For what it is worth, fluctuating prices are normal in businesses. As long as it doesn’t go too low, you are fine.” Y/N smiled at the man, fixing his posture and picking up the mug of coffee.

“You heard all of that?” The man can still remember when he first met Y/N. The property alarm was triggered, and when Bruce and Alfred went out to investigate, an 8-year-old Y/N was there, his hands holding the wild raspberries and his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.

He huffed at the memory, making Y/N give him a weird look. Bruce had been grateful to Y/N’s impromptu trespassing, because when Dick came into his care, a now 10-year-old Y/N had welcomed the traumatized and blubbering 8-year-old. Something Bruce had little to no idea how to handle.

Then Jason came and that was a wild ride, followed by Steph, then Tim, and now Damian. That's just the Robins. It doesn’t include the others that have become family but never took the Robin mantle. Y/N had been there through it all, and welcomed each one with a smile and open arms. At the same time giving Bruce a raised eyebrow and icy glare that screamed, ‘Really? Another child?’

Y/N never faulted Bruce for his lack of communication, but he did let the man know repeatedly that while words may start fires, they can also put them out. Y/N had laid it on him one time, after a particular nasty fight with Dick and Jason.

“For a man who loves using his vocabulary to start arguments you sure don’t have the vocabulary to fix them. What are you, a toddler?”

Mending things with Y/N is always easy, because Y/N does not hold grudges. Not to mention having the emotional intelligence of a therapist, Y/N was always in-tuned to his emotions and whether he was projecting or not. Or if anyone else was. Living in a manor filled with people who have traumatic backstories and skeletons in the closets, Y/N has become the voice of reason and unbiased opinions. Similar to Alfred, just without the sass.

“Do you still like raspberries?” Bruce asked, and Y/N nodded, “You ask this every time a celebration of some sort comes up and the answer is always the same. Yes, I still love raspberries.” Y/N had once confided to Bruce, over a glass of wine, how he had asked his father if he could paint the bookshelves in his room. Little did Mr. L/N know that the color would be burgundy, the closest color to a raspberry he could get without poking someone’s eye out, and when his father found out he had the bookshelves removed and set ablaze.

Y/N got his ass handed to him when Mr. L/N came back from his trip, and was then prohibited from decorating his room without prior approval of design and permission.

Bruce had the bookshelves in Y/N’s room in the manor painted burgundy, and when Y/N saw them, it was like watching a child be told that they were not the bad child. The relief and the path to healing across his face as he took in the bookshelves.

The man watched Y/N sip his cup of coffee, watching how exhaustion seemed to seep off of him like cologne and fill the air with his tired and somewhat annoyed state. Phone calls from Mr. L/N we’re never received well by anybody, and Jason and Tim have more than once thought about sending the hateful man a few messages. Damian offered to ambush him when he came home.

Y/N quickly shot those down.

Tim came from nowhere, his face screwed tight and body tense. Y/N gave him a once over, before making space for the college student on the couch. He gave him a worried look-over, “Is everything alright?” Tim melted into Y/N’s side, huffing and grumbling about something.

Bruce’s phone vibrated, and it was a message from Tim sent before he got down here.

‘It’s in Cabo.’ Bruce huffed, already knowing that if Tim was listening then so was everyone else. Referring to Mr. L/N as an ‘it’ seemed to be everyone’s favorite pastime. Everyone but Y/N’s, but as long as it wasn’t said around him then it was fine.

“You’re going to the Gala, right?” Tim asked and Y/N nodded, “Of course, when have I ever missed one?” Tim continued to grumble a bit, but relaxed into Y/N’s side as he ran his fingers through Tim’s messy hair. God he loves it when Y/N does this. There was barely anything better than Y/N’s head massages, easily lulling him to a calm state as everyone mentally prepared for the Gala tonight.

When Y/N had turned 13, that is when he started showing up to the Galas representing L/N Industries, and he would be in Bruce’s care while there. Whoever Bruce met, Y/N was expected to make a great impression. Bruce never missed the way Y/N would sometimes stare at the Wayne kids in jealousy as they got to do whatever they want, while he is forced to be an adult and try to win other adults over.

Then forced to be yelled at afterwards by his father on the phone afterwards for something miniscule. Either someone commented on a piece of clothing, or how he wasn’t smiling, anything that was negative Y/N got yelled at for. It was like Mr. L/N didn’t know how to do anything else other than yell at his child.

Tim took no offense when the fingers in his hair stopped moving, and Y/N’s body became limp. The other was knocked out on the couch, napping away the stress and enjoying the weekend. Unlike Tim who had Bruce’s help when managing Wayne Enterprises, Y/N is all on his own. Learning from his dad’s assistant, and also Bruce’s, Y/N was basically alone when his father had forced him to take the mantle. In face only, because as far as Mr. L/N was concerned, the company’s profit was still his profit. None of it going to Y/N, except as a monthly allowance.

Jason had once said he should just stop managing the company, and if his father loved it enough, then he’ll take over. Y/N chuckled-the bags under his eyes were deep and he had just gotten over a stress cold- and he said that although his father may care a lot about the profit, it was his late mother’s company and he wouldn’t want to embarrass her soul by purposefully failing.

However, now all that company did was cause him stress and make him sick more frequently. Bruce had said it was probably stress from his father, and not so much the company, but that didn’t stop them all from wishing the company would just go away.

Tim looked up Y/N through his eyelashes, taking in the similar dark circles they both shared and how Y/N looks paler than usual, and he knows that Y/N’s health would only get worse if they targeted the company. His oldest brother would do everything in his power to keep the company afloat, and it would be devastating on both sides. Y/N would run himself ragged trying to keep it alive and that would mean less time with them.

“Let him rest, Tim. He needs it.” Everyone has asked Bruce if he plans to do something. However, there isn’t much Bruce can do now that Y/N is an adult. He’s offered a room in a manor for Y/N to stay at forever, but Y/N has always been a bit hesitant about leaving the L/N’s home. Bruce can understand why.

Aged blue eyes observed the steady rise and fall of Y/N’s chest, and he wondered if there was anything that could convince Y/N to stay here.

++++

“Mr. L/N, what a surprise.” A surprise it is too, because instead of Y/N being here, it is his father. The one who was in Cabo earlier today. The man smiled, looking nothing like Y/N’s, and he held out a hand, “It has been a while. I figured it was time to show my face and give my son a rest.” Dick stared at Mr. L/N in shock and weariness, not liking how he said ‘his son.’ If it was a jab at Bruce, it didn’t land. Brucie Wayne, the social bug he was, laughed and clapped his hand on Mr. L/N’s shoulder.

“Is Y/N not showing up?” The man’s eyebrow twitched, “No, unfortunately he felt under the weather so he’s taking a break.” Dick’s eyes narrowed, and Bruce’s smile faltered, “Is that so? How unfortunate, he’s fun to talk to.” Mr. L/N’s smile tightened, “Indeed.”

The Gala was tense, at least it was for the Wayne family, because Y/N never misses a Gala. Never. Dick saved a slice of raspberry cheesecake, for when Y/N comes over tomorrow. He’s going to be upset that he missed a fresh slice, but knowing Y/N, he’ll worry about missing the Gala. The cheesecake will act as reassurance that no one is mad. They just had to wait until tomorrow, when Y/N will show up.

Only he didn’t. Dick can’t remember the last time he hasn’t seen Y/N in a 24-hour period, but he does know that he didn’t like it. Almost like there was a force keeping his shoulders tight and chest heavy. Looking around, he could already see the effects it was having on others.

He didn’t answer his phone, and when they called the L/N Manor, it was one of the maids picking up and stating that Y/N was either out, sleeping, or feeling under the weather. Which doesn’t make sense because when Y/N is sick, he is always over at the Wayne manor. No one makes a better chicken noodle soup than Alfred.

They let it go. Maybe Y/N wants to be home because his dad is home?

Then the next day, there was still no Y/N. Not a text message, not a phone call, complete radio silence. Following radio silence while on patrol, radio silence from Y/N had to be one of the more terrifying forms of silence.

There was nothing. His father left late last night, and usually that would mean Y/N would be over. He would be over complaining about his dad and how he needs to work harder. He’d get a stress cold that would last for two days before he would be back to normal.

Every phone call, every text message going unanswered.

‘Y/N, I swear I’m about to break into your house. Please answer.’ The threat was real and Dick meant every word. He’s talked Jason, Damian, and surprisingly Tim from doing it but now four days of radio silence was enough to make even Bruce stir-crazy. Batman has become a little more violent throughout the week, and Bruce Wayne a little more stressed looking.

‘Hey! Sorry for the silence, I’m just not feeling too well. I’ll see you in another few days.’ Everyone read the text message, and everyone’s mind filled with the same idea.

“Honestly, with how often he’s with us you’d think he knows better than to lie.” Damian’s nose scrunched, eyeing the message as if it spit in his face. Tim shrugged, “It just means he’s hiding something.”

Bruce said nothing, falling into the role of silent protector.

“You are not actually going over in your Bat costume are you?”

In the L/N Manor

Y/N walked the dark hallways back to his room. Under his arm was a book and in his other hand was a cup of coffee, still steaming and warming his fingers. The lightning that occasionally flashed filled the area with white light, casting long shadows and creating an eerie atmosphere.

When Y/N was younger, he used to sprint back to his room. He hated how dark and silent the hallways are, reminding him that he is alone in a place that does not want him. When he whispered to Dick that he was scared of the lightning, Dick had told Bruce and sure enough Y/N would be spending nights at the Wayne manor whenever it was forecasted to thunderstorm.

Y/N had gotten over the fear, but he still occasionally slept over when the forecast predicted rain. Just because he no longer feared it, didn’t mean he liked it.

Pausing to look out the window like some gothic prince trapped in a tower, Y/N recalled the argument he had with his dad. The older L/N making a surprise visit and berating his child when he first saw him and when he left. Y/N wondered if with the allowance he was given, if he could just move out. Apartments in the upper end of Gotham were expensive, and he’d never hear the end of it if he moved to East Gotham.

Not to mention, if he did leave to move out on his own, he’d be further from the Wayne family. Sure, Jason and Dick live on their own, and it wasn’t like Tim or Damian needed him around all the time, but it was home for him.

Maybe, he’s the one that needs them.

Lightning flashed and there was another reflection in the window.

“Ahhh!” Y/N threw his cup of coffee at the stranger behind him, and only paused in throwing the book when he saw the familiar cowl.

“Bruce! What the hell?! Oh my God, oh my God, I think I just lost like 10 years of my life.” Y/N clasped a hand over his heart, trying to calm the organ. Taking deep breaths, he finally managed to steady his heart beat and scrunched his nose at the older man. To which, Bruce Wayne glared back, “What happened to your face?”

‘Oh shit.’ Y/N sighed, “Nothing Bruce. I just fell, but what are you doing in my house? Did…did you break in?” Y/N tried to get around the taller and bigger man, but Bruce grabbed his arm. He spun Y/N around and thanks to the flash of lightning, Bruce’s jaw clenched at the fading bruises on Y/N’s face.

“Did F/N do this?”

“Bruce, I told you I just fell.” The lenses on the cowl narrowed, and Y/N saw the frown grow on the man’s face. Sighing, Y/N scrunched nose and winced when a bruise scrunched with it, “Honestly though Bruce, how did you even get in here? No, how did you even guess this hallway?”

“You’re rooms this way.”

“Ahhhhh!” Y/N screamed and ran into Bruce’s side for protection against the voice.

“Dick! Ho-wha- why are you here?!”

“We were worried.” This time Y/N only flinched, and whirled around to see Damian in the Robin costume. He gaped at the pre-teen, “Oh my God, you all are just spawning out of nowhere.” Damian grabbed his hand, and Y/N couldn’t help but to hold the youngest’s hand. Muscle memory.

“Y/N, you’re face,” Dick whispered, gently tracing the swollen and discolored skin, “We thought you were sick.” Y/N smiled, leaning into the palm of Dick’s hand, “I was. I’m just getting over it, as for the bruises… Like I was telling Bruce, I just fell.”

Damian’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened and the oldest sibling smiled down at him, “What’s wrong Dami?” The youngest gave a small glare through the lenses of the Robin mask, “I find your lies insulting and belittling, Y/N. The truth would be appreciated before things get more drastic.”

“...Excuse me?” Y/N tried to remove his hand from Damian’s grip, and panicked when Robin refused to let go.

“Y/N, please be honest. What happened?” Dick, in his Nightwing costume, rested his hands on Y/N's shoulders and tried to coax the truth out of the person he sees as his oldest brother. It only made the other tense, and tried to get out of Damian’s grip.

“Guys, you’re scaring me.”

“Y/N, what happened?” Bruce’s voice did nothing to ease the fear that Y/N was experiencing, and for the first time ever in the time he’s known the Wayne family, Y/N didn’t want to be around them. He struggled some more to get away from them, but with Robin’s grip on his hand, Nightwing’s hands on his shoulders, and Batman’s gaze keeping him in place, Y/N found it harder to move.

Batman sighed, and with a nod that Y/N would have missed if he wasn’t focused on the man, Nightwing’s hand moved closer to Y/N’s neck. The other’s eyes widened, his one free hand moving to stop Nightwing.

“Wa-”

“Good night, Y/N.” His vision went dark and the only thing he registered was a pair of arms catching him before his body hit the floor.

++++

Y/N woke with a start, in a very familiar room, with raspberry painted bookshelves and dark sheets. His arms shot up to his face, and bandages rested on his cheeks. Looking at his arm and seeing the sleeves of his pajama pants, Y/N closed his eyes in misery and knew that if he were to lift the sleeves, there would be bandages.

Sitting up, Y/N grunted and rested his forehead in his hand.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

“Jay…” Y/N watched the other carefully, watching the taller and bigger man silently move across the room to sit next to him. His nose scrunched, “Your brothers and father have some explaining to do. Where are they?” Jason shrugged, “Out. Don’t worry about that, but Y/N, why did you hide this from us?” Y/N stared at Jason for a bit, processing the question and sighing irritably.

“Cause it's not a big deal. This was the only time and–”

“One time is still too many times!” Jason yelled, startling Y/N. Wide E/C eyes stared into Jason’s furious blue eyes, the slightest hint of green starting to slowly take over. Y/N gulped, “Jason, it’s fine. I am here now, right?” He reached out and grasped Jason’s larger hand, watching the other calm down with deep breaths. Those blue eyes of his seem to fall on every bandage across Y/N’s face, before looking back down at their clasped hands.

“Everyone was a mess, you know that right?” Y/N chuckled at him, chalking it up to Jason being overdramatic, “You guys are too funny. I know me going radio silent wasn’t appreciated, but you don’t need to guilt trip me further.”

“I’m not joking around, Y/N. Everyone was a mess.” There was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N pausing. His E/C eyes landed on Jason and watched how those eyes continued to glow green. The larger man took a deep breath and seemed to calm whatever raging thoughts he was having, “But it's fine now, because you are here.” Y/N furrowed his brow, but smiled nevertheless, “Yeah.”

Silence overtook the room and Y/N is still unsure how to proceed. It wasn’t rare for the Batfamily to be a bit… dramatic. For fucks sake Bruce dresses as a giant furry and terrorizes criminals. However, there was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N stilling. Contemplating his next words and wondering if they were the correct ones to say.

“You’re awake.” Y/N’s head snapped to the door and standing there was Damian. He gave a smile to the youngest Wayne, “Damian, you're not one to usually enter without knocking.” The youngest strolled over and eyes Jason’s and Y/N’s hands, “I heard you two talking and figured it would be okay if I entered.” Y/N pursed his lips, “Well, true but Dami you should still–”

“Father wants to talk to you, after dinner.” Green eyes met E/C and there it was again. A glint of something sinister lurking underneath the green. Y/N gulped and outstretched an arm. His palms up like he was approaching a dog, asking to pet it. Damian took the invitation and fell into Y/N’s embrace. Crawling onto Y/N’s bed and into the space underneath Y/N’s arm and against his chest, Damian nuzzled into the space with a content smile.

Y/N felt his heart rate spike, something alerting him that he is surrounding himself with something dangerous. Which is preposterous. Yeah, Damian was a little psychotic and so was Jason, but they wouldn’t harm Y/N. They wouldn’t hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it.

Yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong.

“When is dinner, Dami?” The younger boy hummed, “At 5:30.” Y/N glanced at the clock reading 5:25. Sighing, gently nudged the two away, “C’mon we have five minutes. Alfred will be upset with us for being late.” Damian grumbled while Jason outwardly expressed his discontent. When Y/N fully stood up, he noted that his clothes were different.

“Who… who changed me?” Jason shrugged and Damian continued walking. Y/N looked back down at the sweatpants he was now wearing and the oversized shirt. None of which are his.

“I-I should change first–”

“C’mon Y/N, no one cares.”

“Indeed, Drake has shown up before looking horrid. You look wonderful, like always.” Y/N said nothing to address those comments, but the time clicking on the clock had Y/N forgoing dressing and instead grabbing his house slippers. Damian was quick to grab his hand and Jason walked behind like he was protecting Y/N from something.

The walk was silent, and there were some bruises on Y/N’s body that had him wincing sometimes. Nevertheless, when the sound of chatter began to echo through the halls, Y/N controlled his expressions and braced for the question and answers he wanted.

“Well, look who finally woke up,” Dick joked and Y/N rolled his eyes, “I don’t want to hear that from the people who broke into my house.” He said it as a jest, but some part of Y/N wanted to mean every word he said. The three culprits didn’t even pretend to look guilty.

Y/N gave Bruce a pointed look, he busied himself by pouring himself, Y/N, Dick, and Jason wine. Damian released Y/N’s hand to go sit at his respective seat, between Tim and Bruce, while Y/N took his between Bruce’s and Dick’s. Dick smiled at him, “Happy to have you at dinner. They have been quiet for the past few days.”

“If that is your way of saying I talk too much Dick, may I remind you who is the reason we had to enact a five minute quiet period during meals before.” The man laughed, unbothered by that little fact being thrown into the air.

Dinner continued with the usual chatter, arguments, snide remarks, and dirty looks. Y/N’s absence was barely brought up, and instead he got filled in about what he missed while he was radio-silent. No one questioned the bruises on his face, or the now open secret that Y/N had tried to keep quiet about.

“Y/N, please see me in my studies.” Bruce gently squeezed Y/N’s shoulder and Y/N followed, thanking Alfred as he did so and waving to all the brothers. The walk was tense, and something kept stirring in Y/N’s stomach that he was walking into something dangerous. Not a trap, because a trap means Y/N didn’t see it or feel it coming. However, he can feel this one. He can feel this one coming, something that would have his life changing, and yet he still kept walking forward. It’s the Waynes. His family.

They wouldn’t do anything he didn’t like.

Bruce’s study was as dark and aesthetic as Y/N remembers. A dark oak wood desk, bookshelves, the laptop and monitors, and papers. Y/N rarely set foot in here, mainly because there was never a need to, but he remembers being young and playing hide-n-seek in here with Dick.

Bruce turned and gently cupped Y/N’s bruised face, turning it slightly to take in each discolored patch of skin and open wounds. Y/N smiled, “Bruce, it’s fine. I’m fine. You and everyone else are just being overdramatic.”

“Is that what all of this is? Us overreacting?” Y/N gave a nervous chuckle at Bruce’s tone, one he’s heard when the man was Batman.

“I mean, considering you broke into my house, that seems excessive.” Bruce released Y/N’s face and walked behind his desk, and motioned to a stack of papers.

“Y/N, if entering your home is considered excessive, then I don’t know how you are going to handle this.”

“Break in, Bruce. It was a break in, and what are you talking about?” Y/N picked up the paper, and quickly scanned the document. Bruce watched the color drain from Y/N’s face and horror take over those bright E/C eyes. They flickered from the top of the page back to the bottom, and then to Bruce and back to the paper.

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form words he was desperate to say.

Wayne Enterprise Acquires L/N Industries

Bought. Bruce bought L/N Industries. Bruce bought the company from Y/N’s father, because Y/N isn’t the owner, and there is no way in hell that Y/N would have ever signed off on that. His mother’s company, now just a part of the Wayne monopoly.

“Wha-what is- Why- Bruce! Bruce, what the hell is this?” Eyes filled with betrayal and anger as Y/N glared at Bruce. The man sighed, “It is as it says. L/N Industries in now under Wayne Enterprise-”

“But why?! You’ve never shown any interest in the company.” Bruce wasn’t interested in L/N Industries. Wayne Enterprise was not a monopoly, and they didn’t buy companies unless that company was already going bankrupt. Bruce was interested in Y/N’s health, and vengeance.

“Don’t take it personally, because it's not at you.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “It sure feels like it. Bruce, you know what this company means to me, you can’t just–”

“Well I did.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze head on, “The company is not in your name, you do not reap the profits, this acquisition was not a jab at you.” Y/N knows who it's a jab at, and he understands why Bruce is angry. However, it does not excuse the fact that this was a jab at the L/N family.

Y/N clenched his jaw, “There’s no way he just signed it over like that.” Bruce handed him another piece of paper and sure enough, there was his father’s signature. Y/N stared at the inked lines, wondering just how had Bruce gotten that signature so quickly.

“Blackmail really makes people move faster than the Flash.”

“Wha… what blackmail?” Bruce raised an eyebrow and Y/N closed his eyes in misery, “Bruce, I get it. I do. He’s not a good father, but you didn’t have to buy the company. He’s literally going to ret-”

“You and I both know he would never retire. You would be working to the bone for him while he reaps all the profit.” Y/N rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth to say something but Bruce cuts him off, “Do NOT roll your eyes at me! Y/N this is serious.”

Momentarily taken aback by the tone of voice, Y/N stared at a fuming Bruce. He processed the reaction and felt the heat in his stomach return, “Excuse you! You literally bought my family’s company, kind of if not really kidnapped me, and broke into my home! I have every right to be upset, let alone roll my eyes at you.”

“That place wasn’t your home and you know it.”

“Doesn’t change anything! That's like saying a break-in at a hotel room doesn’t count because the person doesn’t live in the hotel room.” Y/N could feel his heart rate pick up, and the reality of it all began setting in.

“Holy shit. Fucking hell Bruce.”

“Language.”

“Do not ‘language’ me! Bruce, what the actual hell! All of this is way out of proportion for what happened.” Bruce slammed his hands on his desk, making some papers fly and the cup holding his pens fell. Blue eyes filled with rage glared at Y/N, “You can’t even say what happened! He hit you, Y/N. He beat you like a dog, and animal abusers still go to jail. He’s getting off with only losing the company.

“And I know that those bruises are the only ones we do see!” Y/N glared at Bruce, fighting back tears and biting his lips. Bruce sighed, his shoulders deflating and a pained expression on his face. He walked around the desk and hugged Y/N, bringing his son close, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I am. You’ll still be running the company, and will have a final say in things. It's just… God, Y/N. Not hearing from you and then seeing you like that...” Bruce took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions, "It was terrifying, Y/N. How could I let you stay there when all of that was done to you?"

Y/N wrapped his arms around Bruce, ignoring the feeling of dread of doing so. He ignored how Bruce’s arms tightened around him, “Oh Y/N, please. Please stay here where you are safe.”

He didn’t want to admit that it sounded more of an order than a request. This was Bruce! His father in everything but blood and paper.

“Just… just please don’t do that again.”

“It won’t happen again. I promise.”

______________________________________________________________

Not a whole lot of Yandere, but thats why there will be two parts! Not just one.

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e-nonsense · 6 months

Note

Request for batfam x estranged daughter who looks like Batdad's mom Martha💔 she's more independent and has been raised by her mother's family who she is extremely close with, but when it comes to Bruce’s side of her fam she gets awkward and shy cuz she never really interacted with them and doesn't know how to approach them which leads to misunderstandings and angsty setbacks in bonding time. But for whatever reason, she gets along great with Damian and Stephanie as if they've been friends for years. Which causes everyone else to feel left out and a bit jealous when they see the trio hanging out having a good time.

𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗔 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗚𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗪𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡

pairing. Batfamily x batsis!reader, slight Dick Grayson x reader

summary. Reader looks startling alike to Bruce’s deceased mother, Martha Wayne.

warnings. swearing, platonic jealousy, mentions of death, horrible parenting (its Bruce), reader is like crazy rich, reader is also 22 and dick is 26. NOT PROOFREAD

authors notes. hope this is what you envisioned. no part 2 so don’t ask

wc. 1.4k

It was Alfred who made the mistake first. Accidently calling you Martha first. He couldn’t help it, you just look so much like her.

Of course he apologised right after and then nearly had a heart attack when you smiled reassuringly, “its fine Alfred.”

A kind heart to match the face of a woman long gone. The elderly man just nodded in response, deciding too keep his mouth shut from then on.

Then it was Bruce. He completely froze the day he met you, froze and stared like a creep. “Holy shit—“ He was immediately cut off by your mother’s glare at him swearing in front of you. “Sorry.”

That day went on with you being shy and awkward around him and Dick —his newly adopted son— who didn’t seem to have any interest in you at all.

“Bruce Wayne,” the man kneels in the get to eye level with a twelve year old you.

“Uh—“ you found yourself string at your mother nervously, only deciding to utter your name after she nods.

Bruce tries to smile —could you see the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes?— at you, “pretty name.”

That was the first time he had seen you, and the last — unless you count the little run ins you’ve had over the years— until ten years later. You were twenty-two, and looked even more like his deceased mother than before.

Bruce found himself watching as you gave Damian tips on the perfect brush stroke to get a texture that would look more like a cloud on canvas.

You nod and smile —one of those encouraging smiles his mother (Martha) used to give him when he got something right— “that’s it. Just try to get lighter towards the end, gives it that fluffy feeling.”

When you had decided to contact Bruce yourself ten years later it had caught him off guard but he agreed. He watched as Damian took to you immediately, the ten year old boy milking you for that motherly affection he never got from his own mother.

The validation when you pat his head and smile at him proudly at his minor achievements, something was child's play to him and yet you were so proud because of it.

The warmth you gave when you smiled in encouragement, or when you’d chuckle softly at his annoyance about one of his brothers. His brothers, not yours as well. You didn’t Bruce’s other wards as siblings, they hadn’t tried to reach out to you so you decided not to bother them with trying as well.

You were nice not stupid.

Stephanie walked into the art room you and Damian had filled with art pieces. You chuckled when the younger girl groaned and draped her arms around you, whining about some inconvenience she had been victim to earlier in the day.

You patted her head and chuckled when Damian scowled at the blonde girl, “get off her you mongrel.”

“Damian,” you say sternly and the young boy huffs before going back to painting clouds. You dragged both yourself and Stephanie towards the couch in the corner of the art filled room and listened as she whined about her day. How Bruce had scolded her about a mistake she made on the field, a minor mistake that even who would make from time to time.

You saw the tears of frustration brimming in the girls eyes and you sigh. “It’s alright Steph,” you hum softly as the girl presses her face into your shoulder.

If Damian hears the blondes sniffles he ignores it, leaving the comforting to you.

None of you speak of Stephanie’s breakdown after it happened. Opting to ignore it afterwards and move on.

Dinner later is chattier than usual, both Damian and Stephanie sitting on either side of you, giving the other member of the family zero chance to gain your attention.

Across from you sat Dick Grayson, who tried to gain your attention but continuously failed so decided to annoy his other brothers. You’re attention is finally somewhere else when Jason growls in annoyance at something Bruce had said.

“It’s for kids Bruce,” Jason seems to be seething. “Children who don’t have the luxury of getting a meal everyday.”

“I can’t trust that the money will actually go into that cause Jason,” Bruce simply sighs. You frown at that, for the first time you speak up.

“Sorry to intrude, but what are you arguing about?” Your voice isn’t timid or soft, it’s stern and had an authority quality that has Jason looking at you in shock before replying.

“Charity thing I’m tryna do,” he begins to explain. “Wanted some money to buy an empty warehouse and build a place that serves food on a daily basis to homeless people.”

You hum in response, “it’s a good idea.”

Jason beams at the praise, “thank you.” And you smile in response, “how much do you need?”

The question catches everyone off guard, “sorry?”

“How much, it’s a good idea and I’d like to help.” You ask and Jason nods.

“Well i wanted it in a good area in Gotham, might help relocate people and stuff.” You nod taking in his words. “$300,000. I need that much.”

Jason shrugs nervously as you think it through, “done.” You smile slightly, “call me if you need anymore though. I’d be happy to help.”

Jason stares at you like you’re some kind of saint, “where are you going to even get that kind of money?” He asks nervously, surely this was too good to be true. You barely knew him, why would you give up that much money so easily.

You chuckle in response, “my dad’s rich.” You pause before adding, “the man my Ma married I mean.”

“So is my Ma,” you shrug. “I inherited it all when they retired.” Jason blinks a few times, as if trying to determine if you’re actually real.

“So would you say you’re richer than Bruce?” Tim asks and you glance over at him before shrugging. “Maybe? I dunno.”

Bruce watches from the head of the table, “she is.”

You raise a brow at that, “stalking my bank account or something?”

Bruce chuckles and shakes his head, “no. But I know your father and he’s been years ahead of me for a long time.” You snort in response, “sounds like him alright.”

The rest of dinner passes and you go back to talking to Damian and Stephanie. Jason watches you three from his seat beside Dick. “Why does she only talk to them?”

Dick pauses to look at Jason and puts his fork back down onto the plate, before glancing over at you who seemed to be nodding along to whatever Damian was saying.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “To be fair we haven’t tried to exactly reach out to her as much either.”

Jason hummed in response, “demon brats a bit attached to her though.. don’t you think?”

“Guess so, pretty sure he looks up to her.” Dick says to Jason before moving his fork towards his mouth. “Like a motherly figure or something.”

Jason snorts and Tim looks over at them, “funny. He’s got two of his siblings substituting as parental figures.”

Tim chokes on his food before laughing, “now that you’ve said it.”

Dick rolls his eyes and chuckles, “leave the kid alone. He got a shitty deal of parents.” Jason snickers but he doesn’t deny it.

Dinner finishes quickly after that, and they watch as you let Damian drag you away, Stephanie following closely behind. “You must meet batcow.” Damian says before leaning in closer to you, to whisper in your ear, “Don’t tell father but there are ducks in my room.”

You wink at him and nod, “our secret then.”

The rest of the night passes and Damian is asleep by the end of it. You find yourself back at the front door, slipping your coat on deciding to go home. “Leaving?”

You turn around quickly to see Dick Grayson, an amused look on his face and a small smile playing on his lips. “I am too,” he shrugs approaching you and reaching for his jacket. “I’ll walk you,” he offers and when you nod he grins outstretching his hand.

Nervously you take his hand in yours and let him pull you along towards the front door, “I know a great view.. I could take you?”

You smile and shrug, leaving the decision to him, “guess we’re going then. I’ll warn you though it high up and its Gotham so don’t expect it to be too pretty.”

You chuckle and he keens at the sound, he finds himself wanting to hear it again, and again, and again.

“I won’t get my hopes up then,” you smile up at him.

He grins and leads you out of the manor and onto the streets of Gotham, that coincidently happened to quite peaceful that night. He silently thanked Bruce for fucking up again, he wouldn’t get this chance if he hadn’t.

#batsis x batfam #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #Platonic batfam #I’m writing again #yay #batsis reader #batsis

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auroreliis · 8 months

Note

pls we need more father-daughter moments with bruce because almost all of the yandere batfam fics i’ve read in tumblr always focuses on the bros 😭😭

Platonic Yandere!Bruce Wayne

Summary: Your father protects you from your brothers.

CW: mention of bugs

(not edited or proofread)

Rapid footsteps echoed through the manor. The quiet treading belonged to you and the more audible stomps were from your brother, Dick. Your panting was not missed by the individual chasing you. It was clear that you were getting worn out.

Currently, you were attempting to avoid getting hugged by Dick, who, being as touchy as he is, did not appreciate you steering clear of his squeeze. He had hugged all of his siblings and none of them were as resilient as you, so why did you have to avoid him like this?

You darted past all possible hiding places, since you were sure it would only be a matter of time until he found you, instead opting to run. Your knees bent slightly as you were rounding the corner, in order to be able to push yourself forward with a little more power.

What you couldn't have expected, was that you would run directly into your father's chest. The sudden blockage caused you to stop and look up at him, before remembering that you were on the run. Your head turned and you saw Dick getting closer to you. Out of panic, you hid behind Bruce, who raised a brow at your eldest brother.

Dick came to a halt directly in front of Bruce, who had crossed his arms by now.

"Richard, would you explain the situation to me? I don't quite understand why your sibling is running from you", he said, not mentioning the fact that your nails were digging into his back.

"They've been running from me every time I try to even touch them. I don't want them to distance themselves, they need to be involved more", said Richard, distressed by your sidestepping.

Bruce hummed in thought. "I'll talk to them", his tone signaling that Richard should leave.

Dick huffed before stomping away.

Your father finally turned to you and waited for your explanation.

A sigh escaped your lips and you dropped your head, "Sorry, I just...felt overwhelmed. I'm not really fond of physical contact, but I'll work on it, I promise." You did slightly cringe at your own words, but by now you had learned that complying with their wishes was much more rewarding than disobeying them.

You kept your head low, waiting for his acknowledgement, when a hand landed on your head. You looked up at him, eyebrow raised in confusion, but he just looked at you. He gave your head two light pats before smiling and walking away.

Looking around, you remembered that you had escaped Richard without giving in to his affection.

A radiant smile lit up your face as you scurried off to your room.

~~~~~

"Oh come on! It won't hurt you, will it?", shouted your brother, Jason, as he chased you through the manor, cockroach in hand, ready to be shoved in your face.

He had found it in his helmet and you immediately expressed your repulsion and highlighted the fact that he must be very filthy.

Jason, offended by this comment, decided to make you filthy too, by rubbing a bug on your nose, or at least attempting to. You bolted out of his room at a speed that would put The Flash to shame, but he caught up with you and promised that he wouldn't leave you alone as long as you were clean.

You barely paid attention to your surroundings as you ran through the halls and turned every nearing corner, yet you somehow ended up in the kitchen, where your father was currently conversing with Alfred.

"DAD HELP!", was all you needed to say to have Bruce step between you and Jason, taking on a protective stance.

Jason saw this and stopped, not even having entered the kitchen yet.

Both of them stared at each other silently before Jason turned around and left, presumably deciding that he had better things to do than getting scolded by Bruce.

He muttered a few curse words under his breath and for a moment you feared that you would wake up to him at the foot of your bed, holding a handful of bugs.

"Why was he chasing you?", your father's question brought you back to the situation at hand. "Uh..", you weren't sure how to phrase this without making Jason seem nefarious, "He wanted to show me a bug, but I didn't want to see it, so I ran!"

Bruce inhaled, as if he was about to talk, but you beat him to it, "But! You saved me, thank you!" You hugged him and smiled innocently, praying he stops asking questions.

It seems that he noticed your reluctance to elaborate, so he left it at that and you disappeared within seconds.

This wasn't the first time your father had saved you from your brothers and it most certainly won't be the last.

It was kind of funny how you always seemed to run into him when you were in trouble.

Perhaps it was fate guiding you to your saviour.

It matters not.

All that mattered was that you were thankful for your father's help and understanding, even if his timing was suspiciously accurate.

#bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne #dick grayson #yandere dick grayson #jason todd #yandere jason todd #dc comics #platonic yandere #platonic batfam #yandere batfam #batfam #x reader

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sleepydeprived · 3 months

Text

A Chance for Redemption

—A mysterious high school student appears out of the blue, bearing the face of the late Martha Wayne and puzzling even Gotham’s greatest detectives.

[chapter 1]

| Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x Reader

| Inspired by the work of @e-nonsense “GHOST OF A LONG GONE WOMAN”

The Gotham City skyline stretched across the horizon, its towering structures standing as silent guardians in the night. Inside the dimly lit study of Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne sat alone amidst shadows that mirrored the complexities of his own mind.

A sudden beep from the Batcomputer broke the stillness. Bruce glanced at the screen, and his piercing gaze narrowed at the news report flashing across the monitor. The headline sent a ripple through him.

"Wayne Heiress Emerges: Striking Resemblance to Late Martha Wayne. Who is she?"

His heartbeat quickened as images of the young girl filled the screen. The uncanny resemblance to his late mother, Martha, struck him like a blow. The gentle curve of her smile, the warmth in her eyes — it was as if a much younger version of Martha had been reborn in a face he had never known.

For a moment, the air in the study thickened with silence. Bruce's jaw tightened, and a flood of memories surged, carrying him back to the night of his parents' tragedy. He saw Martha's face, radiant and full of life, before the darkness took her away. Now, that same face stared back at him from the screen.

"What is this?" Bruce muttered to himself, his fingers tapping impatiently on the polished surface of the mahogany desk.

With a decisive gesture, he rose from his seat and moved toward the Batcave. Alfred, his ever-watchful confidant, observed the turmoil in Bruce's eyes.

"Master Wayne, might I inquire about the cause of your distress?" Alfred's calm voice cut through the tension.

Bruce handed Alfred a tablet displaying the news report. As Alfred scanned the images, the lines on his forehead deepened in concern.

"An unexpected development, sir. Shall I investigate further?" Alfred offered, his loyalty unwavering.

"No, Alfred. I'll handle this myself,"

In the heart of the Batcave, surrounded by the symbols of his dual life, Bruce Wayne accessed the Batcomputer with purpose, initiating a search that would unravel the truth behind the possible Wayne heiress.

As information unfolded on the screen, Bruce's stoic demeanor flickered with a kaleidoscope of emotions. The mystery of his potential blood-related daughter, bearing the face of his beloved mother, demanded answers that eluded even the World's Greatest Detective.

In the shadows of Wayne Manor, a silent storm brewed. All veiled behind the haunting gaze of a daughter who bore the visage of a long-lost woman.

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yourcutelittlegayfriend · 1 month

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Yandere batfam : *pounding on your locked bathroom door* Y/N!! OPEN THE DOOR PLEASE!

Reader : I'M SHITTING!! FUCK OFF!!

#platonic batman #batfamily x reader #batman x reader #yandere batfam #platonic batfam

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midnightfoxglove · 6 months

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PLATONIC BATFAM X GOJO!READER

Gojo!reader with those inhumanly gorgeous blue eyes.

Though unfortunately, still extremely sensitive, often experiencing excruciatingly painful migraines after over exerting yourself yet again, it pains your family to see you in so much pain you can’t find the strength to even move, just resting in your bedroom, lights cut-off, absolutely zero noise, not even being able to sleep the time away, waiting for the pain to reach a point of when you can move with a stronger hold of consciousness, but having you rely on them so desperately to delicately lay specific made eye drops, curtesy of Bruce and Tim, in those tired yet still absolutely breathtaking eyes of yours is a definite ego boost.

You really remind them in times of frustration why they do this, the whole crime fighting, not by words just by actions alone, knowing someone as powerful as you depend on them, not even talking about how utterly precious you are to them.

Just being able to get to see even a peck at your eyes, knowing you hide them so determinedly, is an ego boost, enough to brag, enough to spark jealousy in the others eyes.

The batfamily often pit each other to go on patrol impatiently watching the clock tick waiting for you to ask.

They easily summed up that steadier hands were more desirable to you, less pain that way.

Less movement, less noise are more desirable.

On that note, obviously, Alfred is the most popular.

But that’s no matter, who doesn’t like Alfred, they tell themselves, or rather their bubbling jealousy.

Other fandoms this also works for :

HunterXHunter(Zoldyck Family), DC(SuperFam), Marvel,

#Dc #Platonic Batfam #Batfam X reader #platonic Batfam X reader #Platonic Zoldyck family #Platonic Zoldyck family X reader #Gojo reader #batfam x batsis #batfam x you #Yandere(?)#Yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere Batfam X reader

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blughxreader · 1 year

Text

Damian and Jon with platonic darling who can’t cook for shit

Bonus:

The promised “highly learned and traveled chef” is just Alfred (who IS highly learned and traveled, but not in cooking).

#batfam x reader #superfam x reader #platonic batfam #platonic superfam

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let-spretend · 3 months

Text

hey guys !! this is the start to a platonic batfamily & reader fanfic series !! for some background, this is a crossover with re7/8 and batman. i tweaked a lot of how the mold works and the whole timeline with re7/8. if you have any questions, send through the ask ! i'll be happy to answer.

2/18/2024 - edited !!!

cw body dysmorphia/dysphoria, self-harm (self-destructive behavior), vomiting, over-thinking

mold for thought pt. 1

hit me on the head !

Alfred’s carbonara had crispy bacon bits mixed in, with a fresh egg cracked on top. Damian sat ways away from you, across, five chairs down. It’s not like that was where he had to sit. He always just chose to. His pasta was different, a Lemon Basil vegan pasta.

Coming down to eat, it was always just the two of you. Damian ate with class, properly spinning the fork in the pasta. Honestly, you hated watching him eat. Something about it always screamed like he was trying to seem better than you. He was always judging your way of eating, or anything for that matter. Digging your fork into the egg yolk, you watch it spill over the pasta. Your mouth felt dry. Food has made you antsy because of what happened three years ago. Your fingers touch your mouth. You’re fine.

Copying Damian’s movements, you flick the fork and swirl it to collect the pasta. Nothing was wrong with it at all. If anything, it looked perfect. The sauce, creamy. Pepper decorating the pasta and the yolk running down it. You remember the rotting food and foul smell of the Baker’s dinner table. Fighting to not let them shove the rotten food down. Ethan screaming in pain from the prying Jack did to him.

Damian was staring at you intently, waiting for you to eat. You push past the memories and chow down on the pasta. It was good. Really good. “Glad to see you’re enjoying the carbonara, Mastress Y/N.” Alfred hands you a white handkerchief. The white was now stained with a yellowish sauce.

“Thanks, Alfred.” You say, slightly embarrassed. He collects your plate and you struggle to hold in your food. It was tasty, but it felt like it was fighting its way up. You hastily get up, running to the nearest bathroom. Damian was staring at your sudden outburst, but who cares. With no time to lift the seat up, you just splurged into the toilet. The burning sensation in your stomach disappears, instantly. The barf didn’t even have food in it. It was all black, mixed with some blood. The mold. Oddly, there’s always no smell or difference in color. You sigh in relief and waste no time flushing it all down.

When you were first getting used to the Wayne manor, you used to cut to see if your blood was also mold. You convinced yourself it was just to check. Partially, it was true. With Superman’s help, you’ve slowly just accepted that you have mold. It’s always tempting to go back, but you know it only spirals for the worst. Throwing up was also self-destructive and you knew. You don’t know why you keep doing it. You touch what scars you could see, some self inflicted, from that place in Dulvey, others from crime-fighting. It never gets easier.

You needed to go out today. The mold was practically screaming at you to release some of it out of your body. Washing your hands and scooping some of the water into your mouth, you feel somewhat refreshed. Going back to the dining area, Damian was nowhere to be found, except his dishes were left on the table. You collect them and help Alfred with the dishes. “I gotta go out tonight. I’ll shovel the snow before I sleep, deal?” He chuckles and places the two clean dishes on a drying rack.

“Be careful, Mastress Y/N.” Alfred lightly smiles. You smile back and wave before leaving. Gotham in December was beautiful. You could almost forget the horrors of the city when it was silent and the moon was out. The lights hit the snow and everything seemed brighter.

Your backpack was hidden within some trees, containing your costume and weapons. It wasn’t anything special. Just baggy clothes, some gloves and a mask that covered your entire head. All black but has white where your eyes would be on the mask. Changing into your costume, you feel safer somehow. Your identity being unknown, just felt, nice. Your abilities come from the mold. Besides the mold, it gave you superhuman strength, the ability to reattach limbs, and heightened senses. The mold comes in handy to grapple around the city. You don’t use it to apprehend people or touch anything living. It’s not that you’ve actually seen people get infected with your mold, but you’ve seen non-sentient living items crumble from it. You aren’t going to risk anything. You’re reluctant to let anyone touch you if not necessary.

Fighting petty crime was your thing. Not fighting global threats, not busting huge gang activity, but small robberies, stopping physical or sexual assaults and more. It made you sad that these crimes were considered petty and too small for major heroes to handle. The people named you, the Peril. Which was funny since, what exact peril were you bringing to Gotham? It didn’t really bother you since the name was cool, but you don’t go around calling yourself the Peril.

Being a vigilante, there were its perks and disadvantages. For you, a disadvantage is the Bats. You would encounter them every other time you would leave to be fighting for civilians.

While swinging around, you find a man being mugged. You swoop down and kick the robber’s face in. She falls to the floor and drops the man’s wallet. You grab her by the shirt and threaten her with anything you can think of. The robber looks you in the eye and scurries off, holding her cheek. You try not to engage in combat. It’s not like you were bad at it, but you were a dirty fighter. Unlike the Bats, you don’t know any martial arts. Just street fighting and your ability to use guns. You don’t want to kill anybody. So no guns. Plus, being in Batman’s “turf”, you had to respect his no gun policy. But you were working on making guns with safe bullets.

You could feel a presence watching over your encounter. Maybe Batman? Silently, you give the man his wallet. He thanks you profusely and runs off. You tend to not talk when it's not necessary.

You turned around and cock your head, gesturing he talk. Batman seemed surprised that you knew he was there. Robin stands next to him, disinterested in you. His arms crossed and his head looked the other way. You pay no attention.

“The Peril.” Batman says. You let out a stifled laugh, you always do. He never gave you the time of day out of costume. Without him even asking, you knew he was trying to recruit you.

“No.” You answer, curtly. Grappling away, you leave Batman and Robin in the alley alone. He asks you at least once a week. Which you feel is both a perk and downside. You wish for his approval and want to be of use to Batman. At the same time, you want to lash out toward the man, for being so ignorant.

You feel your phone buzz, deep in a pant pocket. Superman. You like his company. Compassionate and a symbol to the people, yet, an outsider. Being infected with the mold, you feel out of place and in the wrong body. Superman is an alien, trying to find his place within Earth. He’s taught you to be okay with the fact that you are different now. But you feel like he’s hiding something from you. He was sitting on a rooftop of an abandoned building. “Superman.” Your feet land on the ledge he was sitting on.

“P.” You both meet up when you can. He has been the one guiding you through the vigilante scene. Other than him, you have only worked with the Red Hood. He was a mystery to you. From what you’ve seen, he’s somehow related to the Bats. You don’t really care for his identity. He can be nice to you, but he often does his work in ways you disagree with. He’s erratic and does what he wants. One thing you both have in common, is your distaste for Batman.

You knew Clark’s name because he told you. You never really knew why. He doesn’t know your name. Or at least, he hasn’t called you by it. He could easily look through your mask and see your true identity. You’re grateful he’s respecting your privacy. You decide not to call him by his name when on duty.

Superman takes off at a slower speed than normal and you swing after him. “Batman tried to team up with me again.” You say, defeated. Laughing a bit and sighing at the same time after you confess. It feels so stupid to be sad about it every time. You stop on top of a building. “I declined. Again.” He also stops. Superman lightly lands and leans close. He decides not to say anything.

Clark gives you a piggyback gesture and you get on. He heads for Metropolis, fast enough to be there in mere minutes but slow enough to keep your skin on. At least once a week, you and Superman band together and work on whatever it was at that moment. Today it was Lex Luthor shenanigans. Although smaller threats were your preferred thing, fighting big threats wasn’t bad.

After the fight, you go out and eat ice cream; Being with Superman helps you forget things. He puts a hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want me to explain things, kiddo?”

“Definitely not. I’m honored that he’s interested in my skills. But, he doesn’t know it’s me. I know when he finds out he’ll lose interest and stop me from doing this. Or, maybe he won’t. I don’t know. I’m not going to risk it.” You latch onto Clark’s back again and he starts flying toward Gotham. You peer down to the bottom and admire the small people and buildings. You slightly tug at Superman’s shoulder to get his attention. “I’m going to be gone for a week. I don’t know when, but I’ll text you then.”

He keeps facing forward but acknowledges your message with a slight nod. “I’ll miss you a lot. I like our talks.” He breathes deeply out of the nose. “I’ll try to do what I can with Bruce. Without being obvious.” You’re very grateful he’s doing all this for you. He lands at the same spot you met up at.

“Thank you. Oh, and here. For Jon.” You hand Superman a cat keychain from your backpack. “He told me about his cat. My stitching isn’t very good but maybe it’ll cheer him up a bit.” Superman pocketed it safely, god knows where. You check the time and sigh. “I gotta go. Told Alfred I’ll shovel up the snow at the manor.” You swing away while waving goodbye. Still, that looming feeling hasn’t left you and it’s definitely not Batman this time.

Stashing your backpack in the same place as before, you tread quietly into Wayne's property. It was two in the morning. Rubbing your eyes, you take the shovel. You sigh at the amount of land Bruce owned. Deciding to just shovel the snow on the pavement, you treat it as training. Scooping as much snow as possible and carrying it around, tossing it or regular shoveling. You wish you could train where and how your siblings did.

Staring at the gigantic pile of snow, you put your hands on your hips and lean backwards. Back problems at 17? You laugh at the thought. Entering through the front door, Alfred greeted you with some hot chocolate. His infamous hot cocoa, filled with mini marshmallows. “I could never pass up your hot chocolate.” Alfred makes eating much more enjoyable and feel safer. The hot chocolate was right in the middle of a tray. The liquid burns your tongue but it warms up your insides.

“How was patrol, Mastress Y/N?” Alfred asks.

“Oh, nothing special.” You quickly turn it down. You don’t really let Alfred entertain any thought about your work. He knows of your secret “vigilante-ing” and decides to keep your promise of keeping it a secret from Bruce. You don’t really understand why, but you guess Alfred understands your situation and tries to get Bruce to be a parent to you. He tries to remind Bruce every now and then. Wants Bruce to notice himself, but his work consumes him. Bruce also thinks you’re okay because you can't physically and mentally be hurt anymore like his other children, who fight crime. While that could be true if you didn’t, that doesn’t mean you should be put aside.

“Thanks for waiting for me, Alfred.” You add. He nods.

“You must go to sleep. It is a school night after all.” You set the mug back onto the tray and apologize for the extra dishes to wash. Quietly slipping into your shared room with Damian, you celebrate when he’s not in the room. He was a light sleeper and he always questions why you’re out so late. You made him believe you’re some party animal. Which, you admit, would be cooler than being a vigilante.

You’ve always wondered why you and Damian shared a room. The manor was spacious and had ample room for both of you to have your own. You sometimes think they somehow knew you were being self-destructive and made him monitor you. Or, maybe to punish him by being with you. You try not to question everything Bruce decides, but it’s hard not to.

You sink into the silky bed sheets and just stay that way. Not bothering to get into them. Your room was a place of comfort, but being in the manor always tired you. It reminded you of the absence of Bruce and your siblings. Being away from Ethan, you feel you miss out on so much. Bruce and your siblings have a bond over being Bats, Ethan has Rose now, and Alfred doesn’t just take care of you. You’re happy that he gives you any attention.

Alfred the Cat climbs up onto your bed and snuggles into you. One reason you’re happy you’re rooming with Damian and not somebody else. You’re reluctant to pet him because of the mold. But you convince yourself you can do it. You pet him softly and sigh. He meows quietly from the petting and begins to purr.

A quiet click comes from behind you, quiet footsteps ensue after an hour of your sulking. “Are you still up?” Despite knowing he knows you’re awake, you decide to fake it. Your hand is still on top of Alfred the cat’s head. “I know that you are awake.” You sigh and decide to face upwards.

You couldn’t make out exactly where he was standing but look in the general direction of where his voice was. “Okay, maybe I am. Why?” He also sits on his bed, slightly creaking.

“Was just wondering why you were throwing up your brains out after Alfred’s dinner. Rude, much?” Shit. He heard that? That’s why he was gone when you were back. You think back to when he was Robin a couple hours ago, giving attitude. Rude, much?

“Just nervous ‘bout the trip.” Which was true. “I’m going to visit Mr. Winters for a week, to see the baby. I want her to like me.” He lets out a sound that seems like he half believes you, but he doesn’t care enough to pry. “Anyways, I’m going to pick you up sometime next week. For publicity, as Mr. Wayne says.”

He sighs. “I know.” You wait for more, but all he does is settle in bed. What a cute little brother. No thanks or comment. Guess that’s just how they all act.

Also trying to settle in bed, you feel bad again. Not trying to alarm Damian, all you do is put a hand on your closed eyes and try to soothe yourself. Ethan will understand this feeling, right? Your body doesn’t feel like your own anymore and you hate that you can’t even control your mold well. You still have to listen to it, have to release it. What if you suddenly couldn’t control it and it infects Damian right now? Turn out like the Bakers? Shutting your eyes tight, you flop your body so that you are lying on your stomach. Breathing deeply into your pillows, it slows. You turn your head sideways for fresh air. The cat was sleeping peacefully next to you.

Right. Tomorrow’s school. You had to be okay. You flip onto your back and close your eyes, letting your brain take over. Mold, mold and more mold. Accepting that your dream was going to be about mold, you sigh, letting sleep take over you. Damian watches, recognizing that you had some sort of stress-induced breakdown before bed. He jots something down and puts it away in this nightstand.

You wake due to a feeling of being watched, your eyes open to Damian looming over you. “What’s wrong, Damian? Are you okay, need something?” More worried than anything, you quickly get up. He never was this attentive towards you. Though, Damian was the one you talked to the most.

“Nothing. Just confirming things, L/N” You were too tired to comprehend what he was trying to say. Rubbing your face, you force yourself to the bathroom, which was also shared with Damian. He follows you in, watching you brush your teeth. You roll your eyes.

“I’m doing my regular morning routine like always, Damian. You’ve got to get ready too.” Pointing to his body with your toothbrush, which was still in pajamas. He clicks his tongue in annoyance but follows your orders.

Stepping out of the car, you thank Alfred for the daily rides to school. Tim was off before you could catch up or talk. You sigh.

Gotham City High school. Something happens here at least once a week. You don’t really talk to anyone like Tim does. Your mind was busy a lot and people couldn’t understand or want to wait. When you first were settling into the Wayne household, you remember Damian being upset with you because you were zoning out. It's happened more than you can count with regular people. It also seemed like people knew something was different about you.

During math, your body starts to feel weak. You could sense Tim staring like how Damian was yesterday, like he was assessing you. You stare down at the worksheet, trying to focus. Touching your face, you try to calm down. That burning feeling creeps up in your stomach again. Having no choice, you decide to go to the bathroom. One rule you had was to never throw up the mold at school. Anyone could come in at any moment and hear you. You slip toward the back doors of the school and open them slightly, just enough to see the grassy plains of the field. From your hands, you release your mold onto the grass. It turns black and crumbles into the air. It horrifies you everytime. If you could've, you would have preferred throwing it up for this reason.

You were running back to class, realizing you were taking longer than what a normal bathroom break would be. “L/N.” Before you could open your mouth, you were redirected by the teacher. You slide the bathroom pass back with irritation and grab your things. It was not the first time you had to attend detention for your tardiness. Sometimes you were glad Bruce didn’t notice your slip-ups, he would be up your ass.

You took as long as you could to the classroom. Touching the cold lockers as you went by, looking at posters and ignoring people passing.

“Again, L/N?” The supervisor hands you a reflection form for you to fill out. You were running out of excuses to write on them. Sighing, you decide to just sleep and not fill it out.

“L/N?” You raise your head up slowly, waiting for you to be scolded. “L/N!” You whip your head toward the voice of the supervisor. She looked frightened. What had her yelling? Feeling a hand grab your neck, you immediately push the person off of you with your elbows. They fall to the floor with a grunt.

“Fuck!” You yell out. The Scarecrow. He looked worse in person. “Sorry.” You stop in your tracks. Why were you apologizing to this man? He grabs your leg and brings you down with him. The supervisor runs out while the Scarecrow is distracted with you. Screaming from the halls leaks into the room. “What did you do?” He laughs and ties your arms behind your back.

He leads you to a getaway car which has one student already inside. Students and teachers were all yelling and screaming at the air. Scarecrow must’ve released fear toxin into the school. Did Tim also inhale the fumes? Was he okay? Did Scarecrow know you were of relation to Bruce Wayne? He shoves you aggressively in and gets in himself. The girl next to you was crying her eyes out, snot drooping down into her mouth. “Do I frighten you?” He asks. He laughs quietly from your silence and the girl’s loud sobbing. “I’m conducting an experiment, if you will. You two are my constants.” You eyebrow furrow. Constants? Is he going to create a new strain of the fear toxin? You decide to stay quiet but try to comfort the blonde girl next to you as much as you could.

#batfamily #batfam #platonic batfam #platonic batfamily #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #platonic batfamily x reader #platonic batfam x reader #gender neutral reader #re7 #mold for thought #superman #platonic superman x reader

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ti-girl1226 · 8 days

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Chapter 2 - new beginnings

Prev - Next

x Your pov x

You stand in a smoky graveyard the smell of the mud and wet earth fills your nostrils, it seems that it just rained. The moonlight shines on three tombstones. They sit in the dark grass in front of you.

The first is a dark stone, withered flowers sit in front of them. Engraved on it is “Damian Wayne XXXX-XXXX age 34 beloved brother, son, father, and husband” it matches him. The darkness of his stone contrasts the second is a lighter almost white stone, it too has withered flowers. Engraved on this in a nice almost cursive font reads “—— Wayne XXXX-XXXX age 48 beloved daughter, mother, and wife.” It matches the relationship that the two have. Damian was darker than the moon, and your mother’s was the sun.

The third sits off to the side almost detached. You approach it and see the stone is different. It has an more eerie almost distorted look. You have to crouch in front of it to move the ivy that has grown on it out of the way. Engraved on it is, your name. Your breath hitches and then, the ground opens under you. You see nothing but darkness and you see two figures. As they approached, they walk crooked and twisted. Then they speak “why did you leave us?” There two voices mix and you hear the voice of your father, and your mother. You try to move but can’t, they continue to approach as they do it they become more clear that they aren’t alive. They look like corpses and you feel sick. Then you wake up and you sit in your bed sweat dripping down your face. You quickly lean over the side of your bed, a trash can sits near it, you grab it and throw up emptying your stomach. You feel tears rock through your body as you shake. Eventually after who knows how long, you look at the clock wiping the tears. The light of it reads out 3:45 great only one ish hour of sleep. You definitely weren’t going to sleep for the rest of the night. You get up and change your shirt, the stickiness of the sweat makes you feel uncomfortable. You rub your eyes and walk more shuffles into your kitchen. You had bought a new apartment, after spending a bit of time with no place. When you originally got brought back in time, you were lucky enough to not have anyone in your apartment. You didn’t own it because sadly no matter how easy it would be money and property doesn’t move back in time, not unless it’s on you. So a black mold infested apartment was your new home. You poor yourself some hot cocoa, you gladly remembered Alfred’s version of hot cocoa. You drink it and sit trying to calm your shaky hands. Then you hear it, in a time where it would usually be a quiet time you hear cars driving. You hear it louder than normal, you put down your cup, and then move to the living room. Did you leave the window open? While you enter you and move towards the open window, you hear something behind you. You move quickly dodging the attacker. your head turns fast and arms ready to fight. There stands nightwing in all his glory, ‘shit how the fuck did he get here’ you thought. ‘How did they dodge that’ Dick thought, he then was able to see you fully, Jason was right you were just a kid. You looked at him in a panic and quickly move back before turning around and making a break for your door, ‘shit’ you think as you feel a item making contact with your head. You turn slightly and see orphan, ‘I forgot to check the corner.’ Is the last thought that goes across your mind before you lose consciousness.

“Cass got them there out” Dick said over his com looking at the kid as they lay on the floor. They definitely looked like they weren’t eating enough, he thought.

“Roger jays coming to pick them up you look for hints.” Says Babs over coms. Dick moves around the apartment searching for anything, he notices and takes notes of a few things while doing so. Three things of note in the kitchen. One, there was little to no food, he had more food than this when he first moved to Bludhaven, and that wasn’t much. Two there was a day marked on the physical calendar in the kitchen, one marked a few days ago, ‘moms d-day.’ The handwriting was clean and seemed to have been erased more than once as if the kid wasn’t sure they should put it down. Dick felt sorry for the kid, he and well everyone in the family had lost a parent but it never did make it any more normal. The third thing he noticed was the hot cocoa on the counter. More specifically the smell, he recognized it, at first he thought the worst, a poison or something. But then it hit him with a sense of nostalgia, it was Alfred’s hot cocoa or something very similar. ‘How did the kid know about Alfred’s hot cocoa recipe?’ He thinks. He makes sure to note that as he moves into the kid’s bedroom, first his nose is filled with a terrible smell. He knows it’s vomit immediately, his experience with both being a vigilante and also parting a bit makes him know it. He moves past the smell and notices a notebook, probably a diary, he grabbed it and move on looking through the room. He noticed how there was basically nothing in there closet. He realized that the kid’s apartment is basically empty, there was nothing really big.

“Golden boy come on let’s get going!” He hears Jason call out, Dick snaps out of the Dase he was he leaves with Jason and Cass. Dick couldn’t stop thinking about the kid as they took them back to the cave.

“I’ll watch them,” Dick speaks up as they all sit there watching the kid in the cell they have them in. The others give him a question glance but don’t say anything. So dick waits, watching the kid as they sleep, many questions run though his mind. Then one thing pops up. “Tim maybe do a blood test? To you know see the similarities to anyone?”

“No I didn’t. Give me some time, let me see.” Said Tim before he came over and grabbed a prick of blood and went back to his computer and started running the test. Dick turns his attention back to the kid on the metal bed, it’s probably not comfortable.

You on the other hand are back in your dream again. You stand in the foggy graveyard once more, your heart raises and you know what is going to happen again. You turn around away from the 3 stones and start running. You don’t know why but you do, you keep running and then trip forward. You look up and see by your gravestone, then this time it changes. The ground doesn't open up and swallow you whole, a hand digs up from the ground and grabs your wrist, you try to move your wrist and get out. Panic fills you and bubbles over, you breath in and out at a rapid pace. You can’t get out you feel so trapped, and then, it pulls you under. Darkness fills your eyes again. And yet again you hear the words of raspy from the corpse of your parents. “Why did you leave us?” Over and over and over. It gets so loud then… it stops, you wake up yet again. Sweat falling down your brow as you sit up from laying down.

“Wo wo wo, kid you okay?” Says a voice that you don’t recognize. Your head wipes to the person. It’s dick, aka nightwing. Shit shit shit shit, they know they know. You try to suck in a breath and you feel the vomit fill your throat. You cover your mouth and try taking deep breaths to calm yourself down, trying to get the vomit to disappear. Dick sees this and quickly opens your cell rushing over to you and bringing you to the toilet. He moves your hair out of the way and rubs your back. You can’t hold it back and throw up, “hey hey, it’s okay.” Dick says as he rubs your back. His voice is so soft and warm, you feel tears run down your face, as you wipe your face. Dick wraps you in one of the hugs you had read about in the many diaries and letters written about. You never thought you’d get one ever, you remember how they were described and it couldn’t ever imagine it would be it’s… warm? Comforting? Motherly? You didn’t know how to describe it to you, but it lets out a river of tears, it reminds you of your mother. It’s strange you haven’t had a hug in forever, you don’t remember the last time you got hugged.

Dick holds you and wonders how this happened. He looks away from you holding you and sees Jason leaning on the hallway door. Jason gives him an inquisitive look, Dick gives an shrug and rubs your back as you continue to cry. One question goes through both of the men’s head ‘what happened to this kid?”

- Notes -

chapter 2 baby I’m sorry felt like this took forever but here it is also gong. To be a bit before the next, trying to write it but I got school coming fast and the next two weeks are going to be a lot of me. So sorry if it takes a bit. Also if y’all want to be added to the tag list just ask in the comments

tag list

@rosecentury

#jason todd #dc batman #dc comics #batfam #dick grayson #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #fluff #batfamily x reader #batfamily #red hood #damian wayne #red robin #robin #platonic relationships only #platonic relationships #platonic batfam

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imaginingmarvelandeverything · 1 year

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Late Night Check In

Pairing: Platonic Dick Grayson and Jason Todd with an appearance from Bruce

Warnings: mentions of death, weapons

Word Count: 2096

A/N: Here’s my first platonic batfam fic! I’m using Dick and Jason because they’re the characters I know best, but I’ll hopefully be able to start adding more characters the more of these I write. This doesn’t have anything to do with Titans, I just couldn’t find a better gif! Anyway, I hope you like it!

Ko-Fi

Masterlist

If there was one thing Dick Grayson hated more than anything, it was fear toxin. Nothing could prepare you for seeing your nightmares so clearly and the way it lingered afterwards was one of the worst feelings. This time Dick had managed to weather two nightmare before he felt the need to check on his family members.

Bruce, Alfred, Damian, Tim and Cass were all fast asleep in their bedrooms, none of them even stirring as he poked his head in to check. A quick call to Babs confirmed that she was okay and Steph was sleeping soundly at the clocktower, even if Babs did threaten to dye his suit bright pink if he called her that early again.

But it was worth it to know all his family members were safe. All of them apart from Jason.

Dick was mildly ashamed to admit that he knew Jason’s favoured safehouse because he’d followed his no-longer-so-little brother home at the end of patrol on more than one occasion. But it wasn’t like Jason had given him any other choice and he knew he wasn’t the only Bat to do so. He knew Jason was likely to have a better reaction to Dick knowing where he lived rather than Bruce.

So, Dick dressed in dark clothes and took one of the older bikes from the garage to make his way across the city to the end of crime alley. He stopped two blocks away from Jason’s building to reduce the chance of being spotted by any cameras that would alert Babs or Jason to what he was doing. He wasn’t planning on staying too long, he only needed to set eyes on Jason to make sure he was okay, but he still stashed his bike behind a dumpster and made sure it was hidden behind a pile of trash bags. Crime alley might have improved slightly since Bruce caught Jason trying to jack the tires off the Batmobile, but Dick wasn’t in a hurry to end up in a similar position.

He made sure no one was watching before he jumped up onto the dumpster and pulled himself up onto the fire escape. He tried to be as quiet as possible on the rusted metal as he climbed up onto the roof. From there it was no issue at all to jump across the roofs to Jason’s building.

It occurred to him halfway there that he had no idea what he was going to do if Jason had decided to crash in one of his other safe houses for the night. He supposed he could just check them all, but he really didn’t want it to come to that.

He was as quiet as possible again as he descended on the fire escape to Jason’s floor. But he didn’t need to be because as soon as he hit the bottom step of Jason’s floor, the window slid up and the man in question slid out onto the landing.

Blue-green eyes immediately locked onto Dick and Jason’s hand jerked down to what Dick assumed was a hidden weapon, only aborting as Jason recognised him.

“What the fuck, Dick?”

Dick honestly didn’t know how to respond.

Jason huffed and lit a cigarette before leaning against the railing directly across from the stairs. He looked annoyed and Dick would have believed it if he didn’t see the slightest shake in Jason’s hand as he raised the cigarette to his lips.

“You got hit.” Dick stated, finally stepping down onto the landing outside the window and checking Jason over in the light streaming through. “You didn’t tell anyone.”

Jason shrugged and took another drag. “I’m fine.”

“We have a protocol, Jaybird.” Dick said, flittering nervously; his body needing to move, to make sure his brother was okay, but being unable to touch Jason in case he bolted.

“There was a crack in my helmet. I barely breathed any in, definitely not enough for an antidote. I just feel jittery.” Jason narrowed his eyes at Dick’s movement. “Apparently exactly like you. Please tell me you don’t still feel the need to compulsively check each family member after getting dosed?”

Dick shrugged and buried his hands in his hoodie pocket. If anything his anxiety surrounding family had only got worse after Jason’s death because not only was he not there when his little brother needed him, coming back to a voicemail where Jason practically begged for his help, but no one told him his brother was dead for a month.

Jason sighed and stubbed out his cigarette on the wall before dropping the butt into a glass he kept for that purpose on his window ledge. “You hungry? I made cookies.”

“The peanut butter ones?” Dick asked hopefully. It had been one of the only recipes Jason could remember making with his mom because it had like four ingredients and took minimal effort. They’d made them together the first time Jason showed up at his front door after a fight with Bruce.

“Of course.” Jason scoffed and climbed back through his window.

Dick hesitated before following him and closing the window once he was through. One glance around the room confirmed that this was Jason’s favoured safehouse; the bookshelf in the corner was almost overflowing, there was a large, fluffy blanket draped over the back of the sofa, and there were a few framed photos dotted around. The photo on the side table drew his eye and he picked it up, finding the faces of the original titans staring back at him. Him and Jason were in the middle, his arm around the younger boy as he beamed at the camera and Jason gave a nervous smile. He’d spent the whole weekend practically glued to Dick’s side, still feeling out of place outside of Gotham.

(Dick told himself the tears in his eyes were an after effect of the fear toxin.)

He took a deep breath to centre himself and put the photo back before walking into the kitchen to find Jason using a spatula to transfer the cookies to a plate. Dick went to grab one and Jason smacked his hand away, muttering about letting them cool and Dick relented, watching Jason tidy the kitchen with a small smile on his face.

“So, everyone else get out unscathed?” Jason asked, shooting Dick a look out of the corner of his eye.

Dick nodded. “Everyone’s fine, sleeping soundly.”

“That’s good.” Jason said, finishing up before grabbing the plate of cookies and walking back into his living room.

Dick followed him and took the unspoken invitation to drop down next to Jason on the sofa. Jason put the cookies on the coffee table and started chewing on one as he started flicking through TV channels. Dick curled his legs up beneath him as he reached out and grabbed a cookie. They were just as good as he remembered and he wondered if he’d be able to convince Jason to start hanging out more if he reminded him what a terrible cook he was and asked for lessons.

Jason settled on a random cooking show, clearly avoiding anything with a laugh track. Dick buried further back into the sofa, content now he knew everyone was okay and he wasn’t alone. Jason pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa and wordlessly offered Dick half. Dick gladly swaddled himself as much as he could without ripping it away from Jason, and they both settled down to watch a woman show them how to joint a whole chicken.

***

“You know, at least Dickhead waited to be invited in.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted-”

“To ruin my morning and make me burn another safehouse.”

“No, Jason-”

“I mean, you couldn’t have at least knocked before picking my lock?”

Dick groaned as the argument pulled him out of the best sleep he’d had in weeks. “’m trying to sleep.”

“This is your fault.” Jason said viciously to who Dick was assuming was Bruce.

Bruce sighed deeply, something he seemed to do every time he was around Jason these days. Dick finally forced his eyes open to see his adopted dad standing in front of Jason’s TV, which was still playing cooking shows, wearing non-descript dark clothes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Dick it turned out had managed to fall asleep on a cushion in Jason’s lap, and he tried to push down the emotion threatening to swell in his chest. Instead, he turned onto his back and looked up at his brother. Jason looked more well rested than he had the night before as well, so Dick took that as a win. But he also looked extremely pissed about the fact that Bruce had apparently barged in without an invite.

“What’re you doing here?” He turned his attention back to Bruce. Jason snorted and shot Bruce a pointed look that clearly said, see he agrees with me.

“I- Well-” Bruce sighed again. “Every time you’ve been hit with fear toxin, you’ve always checked on each member of the family at least three times throughout the night. You only checked in once last night and then you were missing when we all got up.”

“So you decided to break into Jason’s apartment?” Dick asked, sitting up and cracking both of his shoulders before looking back at Bruce.

“I tried calling, you didn’t answer. So I called Babs and she said you’d checked in just after three AM but she hadn’t heard from you since. She tracked you here.” Bruce explained.

“Still doesn’t explain why you completely bypassed knocking on my door to breaking and entering.” Jason said, and for the first time Dick noticed the gun resting on the sofa on the other side of Jason.

Bruce ran a hand over his face. “I don’t have a good answer for you.”

Jason rolled his eyes and stood up from the sofa. “Right. Well, now we’ve established everyone is still alive,” Jason definitely missed the way both Dick and Bruce winced. “you can both leave me be so I can find somewhere else to live.”

Dick wasn’t ashamed of the look he sent Bruce because Jason had been opening up to him, he’d let him spend the night and hadn’t shoved him off when Dick had apparently decided to use him as a pillow. But now he was going to run again, and he was going to be even more guarded with his safe houses, and Dick didn’t want to lose the ground he’d managed to gain.

Bruce frowned and glanced between the two of them. “Jason, you don’t have to move. I won’t put this in the system, it will stay between me, Dick and Babs, the others won’t know. And I promise they’ll be no more unannounced visits.”

Jason froze halfway between the sofa and the kitchen and turned to look at Bruce like he was expecting the man to have grown two heads.

“I promise. This-this is clearly not just a safe house and you shouldn’t have to sacrifice that because of me.” Bruce said, more sincere than Dick had heard him sound in a long time.

Jason seemed to weigh the options. “Fine, still doesn’t mean I want you in my living room.”

Bruce nodded with a small smile before turning to Dick. “You coming home?”

“I’ll follow you in a bit, my bikes not far from here.” Dick stood and stretched out his sore muscles. Bruce nodded and looked at Jason again, who pointedly avoided his eyes, before turning and leaving out the front door. He turned back to Jason. “You okay?”

“You mean other than the fact that I nearly shot him when he came in through the door?” Jason snorted and continued into the kitchen.

Dick followed him, well aware that he needed to be careful with what he said next so Jason wouldn’t redirect his anger. “You know, Alfred still makes a full English after we have a run in with Scarecrow.”

Jason hummed as he pulled two mugs and tea bags out of his cupboards.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind fixing an extra plate. And if you didn’t want to see Bruce, I’m pretty sure Alfred would make him eat in his study if it meant being able to see you.” Dick tried.

Jason sighed. “If I come with you, will you leave me alone after?”

Dick couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “I’ll leave you alone for a week, but no promises after that.”

“Fine.”

Dick took the win and couldn’t help but hope things were starting to get better between them all.

#dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #platonic batfam #fic #imagine #i have no idea how to tag this #dick grayson & jason todd

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radiance1 · 2 months

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This post except that Danny and Jason don't stop fake dating. It is very convenient for the both of them actually.

Danny gets to respond to his parents whenever they ask about his boyfriend or whenever they make surprise visits to Gotham for one reason or another.

Jason gets to play the 'sorry I'm taken' card as both Red Hood and Jason Todd. He also gets to use the couple's discount whenever it's available, and if he gets gifts from his girls in Crime Alley for his mysterious boyfriend, its not like Danny would complain.

Again, they hold no romantic interest in the other at all, entirely platonic those two are.

The batfam doesn't know that, though. Nor does anyone else but put an emphasis on them, after the whole 'Jason Todd is Red Hood' reveal goes down the batfam is interested in Jason's supposed boyfriend.

Danny just cannot believe his parents were right about Jason being a crime lord and Jason? Yea he's definity going to have to buy more ice cream to make up for it.

On the other hand, Jason just can't believe Danny took it that well. Considering he got the bomb dropped on him by Nightwing after he (and others) broke into their apartment. On second thought, he's met the guy's parents and they immediately saw through his secret identity so...

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #Danny and Jason keep fake dating for benefits #completely platonic between them though #the batfam doesn't know that though #and basically everyone in Gotha but SHHHHHH

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klemen-tine · 1 month

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Glass Bones and Paper Skin Part 3

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect, stalking, Partner Abuse

Part 1

Part 2

@problematicreblogger and @wpdarlingpan Since you guys wanted to be tagged lol

+++++++++++++

Y/N sat in the bathtub in the guest room. It’s been three days since they arrived, saw the photos, and the creepy trophy room. Three days since their conversation with Dick, finding out that they had all been on their terrace and taking photos of them. Stalking them.

They wrapped their arms tighter around their legs, resting their chin on sharp knees and staring at the porcelain tiles and gold facet. Three days of walking on egg shells, somehow managing to evade most attempts in hanging out with the siblings and Bruce, and only really seeing them at meals. Y/N hasn’t built up the nerve to ask about the trophy room, but Y/N knows that everyone in the house knows that Y/N knows of the two rooms. They know of the photos, the ones taken without their permission or knowledge, and the clothes that have redefined their modeling career.

Sighing, Y/N stared at their pruning hands and the now cool water. The bubbles dissolved a long time ago and the essential oils had become diluted enough that the scents no longer permeated the air.

Finally dressed in a robe, lotion and oil on their skin and face and teeth washed, Y/N exited the bathroom and screamed at the sight of Jason on their bed. In the midst of their panic they threw the brush at the larger man, who caught it skillfully.

“Wha-what is wrong with you? No-wait, why are you in my room?” Y/N walked around the large bed to where all their clothes are kept. Their eyes not leaving Jason’s imposing figure that was currently resting on their bed.

“I knocked.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “I didn’t ask if you knocked, why are you in my room?” Jason shrugged, “Just felt like I haven’t talked to you in a bit.” Jason and Y/N’s relationship was like that of dragons in the old ages. Full of history and non-existent.

Jason was already dead by the time Y/N had entered the Manor. A small body buried in the Wayne gravesite. In hindsight, Y/N’s timing had been awful. Moving in when Tim basically forced Batman to take him in as a Robin, Dick’s and Bruce’s relationship had worsened, Jason was dead for about a year, and Alfred had still been grieving. Truly a terrible time to join a family. Y/N could taste the tension when they had first moved in, and they understood immediately that they were just another unneeded burden.

A 13-year-old Y/N cried in their bathroom, mourning their mother who had loved the fame more than them, the friends that loved Y/N for Y/N, and the life on the West Coast that they were now expected to continue on the East Coast.

The unfairness of it all.

“What do you want to talk about?” Y/N asked, rummaging through the drawers and finding a nice shirt and some nice jeans.

“Hmm, oh you know, the casual how are you doing? How’s the model-life? Any fun stories you have? What have you been doing lately?” Y/N started changing in the bathroom, keeping the door cracked so they could hear the questions.

When Y/N reemerged, now fully dressed and the robe hanging on the back of the door, they smiled at Jason, “I’m doing good, kind of tired but that's to be expected because of the ‘model-life.’ The fun stories I have are more of traveling around the world and seeing different cultures and eating good food.

“As of late, I’ve been thinking about getting a cat.” Jason’s brow raised, “You travel though.” Y/N nodded, “Yeah, some models travel with their pets and I think that's what I plan to do. They’re easier to travel with than a dog, and I don’t think a dog would like my condo.” Jason nodded, “You could always leave it here. The little spawn would take care of it.”

“I can’t do that to the family. It’s my pet and should be my responsibility.” Jason hummed, “Is it because you don’t want to visit?” The air stilled and blue eyes met E/C. Jason didn’t look bothered, if anything he seemed relaxed about the whole thing, “It’s fine if that's the reason. I hate being here too.”

Jason came back as a dead person Y/N knew not to talk about. From the stairways, they would watch Jason storm out after a bad argument with Bruce. Unable to completely understand what exactly was going on, but from the hushed conversations they knew it was something they didn’t want to know about.

“I don’t hate being here, I just don’t have reason to visit other than Alfred.” Jason continued to stare at them, “Not even for ‘family.’”

“Jason, when have you ever looked at me and saw a sibling?” Jason didn’t banter with Y/N, never showed interest or any inclination that Y/N even existed. Y/N is pretty sure that to Jason, Y/N is just a stranger living in the manor.

Y/N wonders if they will see Jason’s temper. Will it appear like the monster hidden in the closet, waiting for the right time to lash out at anything? Y/N has heard the screaming matches, the threats, the holes in the walls from Jason. For someone who has killed people, Y/N wonders if they should really be mucking around with Jason.

When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that had other priorities. Once upon a time, Jason was the youngest and loved by Bruce, but then younger Robins came. Jason died, and while never replaced, Robin was.

When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that Y/N is not a part of.

They are not siblings. Not cousins, relatives, they are not even friends. Barely acquaintances if Y/N is honest. Which is fine. Y/N has gotten over the hurt and feelings of loneliness.

It is just Y/N against the world, with Alfred partially in their corner. Not fully. Never fully because Alfred will always be in the Wayne family’s corner, and Y/N is not a Wayne.

Jason sighed, “Mmm, I guess that night when you took a beating from that one dude for not getting in the car.” Y/N paused in brushing their hair, mind reeling and slowly turning their head to look at Jason who was instead picking at his nails. Y/N opened their mouth, but Jason beat them to it, “You went out partying, like almost every high schooler does, and your boyfriend was drunk.”

“Just get in the car, Y/N!”

“No! You’re drunk and you said you’d stay sober!”

“I am sober, now get in the fucking car!”

“Fuck off!” A 15-year-old Y/N stormed off, turning their back to Marcus Dueller, the then jock of the school. A rough hand grabbed their shoulder and a fist met their face, “You don’t talk to me like that.”

“...Marcus wasn’t my boyfriend.” Jason didn’t show any signs of hearing Y/N, “You took a pretty bad beating, I’ll admit it. I was going to step in once he started choking you, but you took that brick to his head pretty hard.”

Blood splattered across Y/N’s face as Marcus collapsed. The hands around their neck loosening and Y/N took deeply needed gasps of air. Their throat aching and lungs burning as they rolled over onto their hands and knees. Tears pricked their eyes as the pain and realization settled in.

“I called his friends. He was fine, just a concussion.” Marcus and Y/N never talked again, and Marcus’s friends took one look at the bruises on Y/N’s face and neck to understand what had happened.

They all stayed Marcus’s friends, because unlike Y/N, Marcus was loved by his family.

“Then, you walked your beaten ass towards the liquor store.”

“Oh my God! Y/N!” Stacey cried out in shock, and she gently cupped bruised cheeks and watched split lips grow into a smile.

“Can I have that bottom shelf vodka please?”

“Bitch, you need a second shelf from the bottom vodka.” They sat outside of the store, Stacey’s partner taking over the counter as she watched Y/N take swig after swig from the bottle. Her concerned eyes tracing over each and every bruise and cut, down to the clothes they were wearing and scrapes in their knees and hands.

“How many does this make?”

“Seven. Whoever said seven was a lucky number is a liar.”

“Oh Y/N, why do you keep doing this?” Y/N gave Stacey the most beautiful they could muster. Not minding the ache in their cheeks or the burning of alcohol on split lips.

Looking back at it, perhaps Y/N was on a downward spiral. Trying to find love in other people that weren’t the people at home. From ages 13 to 15, Y/N had dated over 9 people. Not one of them made it past two months, and none of them were healthy.

Once Y/N got into modeling, all their attention went into it. Dating and friends were on a standstill as their career and education became a priority. Maybe that was another thing Y/N inherited from Bruce, a known serial dater. Although, Y/N knows for sure that their taste in partners was definitely inherited from their mother.

Some of Y/N’s earliest memories are of M/N getting berated and smacked around by men bigger than her. When they would leave, Y/N would emerge with bandaids and tears on their face. M/N would smile at them, blood from her nose painting her lips red and she would cup soft cheeks and whisper in their ears-

“Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Y/N glared at Jason, who was meeting that glare head on. Now that they are older, Y/N has learned to hate that phrase. They have watched numerous models be in kind and gentle hands and still be beautiful. Still have a loving and healthy relationship with themselves and the other.

Now that they are older, Y/N knows how untrue those words are. Yet, who said those words had to only be applied to romantic partners?

“Now here you are, in your glass castle imitating diamonds.” Y/N’s nose scrunched, “Always the poet, reading the classics.” Jason shrugged, "Someone has to be literate in this messed up family. Sure as hell ain’t Bruce.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “So what? That still does not explain anything. More importantly, why now then?” Why was it now that they decided to make a move if they had supposedly been caring for a while now.

Jason smirked, "Because finally, Bruce sees it too.” Y/N narrowed their eyes and watched with pursed lips as the bigger and stronger man got up from the bed, and walked over to them, “I’d wear comfortable shoes, Y/N. You’re going out with Bruce and the little spawn today.”

“Wait, what do you mean Bruce finally sees it too? What is there to see?” Jason smiled at him, and it looked more of a monster preening at it’s prey. Callused hands reached up and traced the small, almost invisible scar on Y/N’s upper lip.

“Make sure you smile, the vultures will be there too.”

++++

“I do think green will look best on you.” Y/N smiled at Damian, “Green looks good everybody, Damian. You just need the right shade.” Between them was an emerald green silk shirt, the price displayed like a bounty and Y/N wanted to walk out of the store once they saw it. Yes, they made a lot of money, but Y/N also knows what it means to be frugal.

Damian raised an eyebrow and continued to judge the piece as if it had insulted the family. Y/N set the shirt down and continued to peruse the aisles. Their eyes looking at all the clothing and trying to predict what will be in style. What could they use to match or create their own trend? It is still winter, meaning layers will still be necessary but how to make a stylish outfit when there needs to be layers.

“Do you see anything you want, Y/N?” They jumped a bit, and whirled around to see Bruce smiling at them. Those blue eyes, intense like winter rivers, roamed over what Y/N was looking at and he raised a well groomed eyebrow, “Do you want that one?”

“N-no, no thank you. I’m just looking.” Bruce hummed, and wrapped a large arm around Y/N’s bony shoulders and brought them close. He pressed his lips against his temple, an unusual act of affection towards his kids but everyone will chalk it up to Y/N being a model and still young. Bruce whispered against Y/N’s skin, “Just let me know what you want, and I will get it for you.”

‘If I want to be left alone?’ Y/N didn’t voice it, but they didn’t have too. Bruce’s grin was sharp, “Within reason, Y/N.” A chill ran down Y/N’s spine and they swallowed down the bile threatening to come up.

“I have money, Bruce. I can buy my own stuff.” Bruce picked up a shirt, “Let me spoil you. It is what parents do.”

“You already paid off my condo, that is good enough.” Bruce continued to smile, “That was for the birthdays and holidays I missed while you were with us. I still have to make up for the time when you were with your mother.” Y/N wanted to scream, “How about you donate that then?”

Bruce smiled, “I already do. Let me spoil you.” He kissed Y/N’s temple once more before walking away, eyeing everything the way designers did when critiquing their pieces. Y/N had a feeling that if they didn’t get something from here, the store would be paying the price. Grabbing a sheer halter top and pair of black high waisted pants, Y/N let Damian throw the green top on the small pile and made their way to the check out. The cashier smiled nervously as the Wayne family stood in front of her.

True to Bruce’s promise, he paid for the three articles of clothes, the pair of shoes, the jewelry, the accessories, the–

“I think that is enough.There are a lot of bags, and while I appreciate it, I really don’t need anymore stuff.” Y/N placated Bruce and Damian, already picturing the amount of trips it will be to take everything back home. The man seemed satisfied though, smiling and shrugging his shoulders, “If you insist. How about some lunch now?”

Y/N wanted to decline. They wanted to go back to the manor and get away from everybody. The feeling of walking on eggshells and constantly being watched had their skin crawling and the need to take another bath. Bruce wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and brought them close, and Damian took up their other side.

“You’re acting more as a bodyguard than a father it seems.” Bruce smiled, “We’re having a nice family outing. I’d hate it if one of your ‘followers’ interrupted." Y/N furrowed their brow, but they could not stop their body from tensing, “Someone is following us?”

“Unfortunately.” The photos they saw in their old room re-emerged and a feeling of dread seized their muscles, making them lean further into Bruce. Yes, they were once all Robins, but not once in those photos taken from their terrace was there ever a reflection of the Bat.

“It’s okay Y/N, I’ll make sure they won’t take any of you.”

“How… how do you know its not you they want a photo of?” Bruce smiled, guiding them into a fancy restaurant, Damian requesting a table away from the windows, "Because they all know not to follow me.” There was something akin to a warning in Bruce’s voice that had Y/N biting their lips and following the wait staff quietly.

Y/N watched as Damian and Bruce conversed casually, well, as casually as Damian can be. The topics went from school, a family named the Kents, and future prospects. Damian was still unsure about what exactly it is he wanted to do, and it most likely didn’t help that Tim was the one who was going to take over Wayne Enterprises.

Y/N continued to eat and sip their tea, not wanting to add to anything as their mind wandered. After talking to Jason, it proved to Y/N that they were somewhat always being watched. Jason bringing up that one specific memory may have made Y/N’s heart rate spike, but it did prove that Jason was there. The photos, all of them that were taken without Y/N’s consent, show that everyone had at some point gained interest.

However, why did they never act on it? Why wait until now to do something?

‘Bruce finally sees it too.’ Y/N’s jaw clenched, what does Bruce have to do with any of this? Could they not interact without Bruce’s permission? Alfred would never allow that.

Would he?

“What do you think, Y/N?” The question jolted Y/N out of their thoughts and back into reality. Looking around the table to two expectant gazes, they gave an apologetic smile, “Sorry. I was thinking about something, what was the question?”

Damian scrunched his nose, “What is there to think about when you have blood-related family members in front of you?” Y/N blinked in shock, and then remembered how much blood meant to Damian. They shrugged, “I have a busy schedule coming up.”

Bruce stabbed the piece of steak with the silver fork, “You do, don’t you.” He stared at his child, one who he has left to their own devices and now is estranged from the family. Always keeping them at arms length, and never looking back to see if they are behind them. Not because Y/N trusts them to be, but because Y/N was used to them not being there.

Y/N, for how proud Bruce is of them for standing on their own, is still naive. Still innocent. They didn’t notice the paparazzi lurking around, or maybe they got so used to them they learned to block them out. None of it sat right with Bruce. Those should have been things he taught Y/N. Things to prepare Y/N for a world that was bathed in camera flashes and gossip. How to look out for themselves. How to defend themselves, and what to do in case there is a stalker. Those should have been at least a fraction of what Bruce taught them.

Yet, he never did any of that. Looking at Y/N sitting across from him, sitting tall and with a closed-off expression, had Bruce frowning. Y/N was still polite, smiled when they needed to and engaged in conversation, but there was still a wall between them. Almost like glass. Bruce is able to see everything and hear almost everything, but his ability to interact with his child is limited. All interactions stopped by the wall of glass put up by Y/N themselves.

It's a good thing that Batman breaks glass windows on a daily basis.

“You have some shoots in New York, will you be visiting afterwards?” Bruce watched Y/N’s eyes widen and lips pursed. He could see the breaking point, cracks spreading throughout the glass as Y/N’s mind tried to wrap around the question.

“How–”

“Is it odd for a parent to know their child’s schedule?” Y/N blinked, and processed the information. A tight smile formed on their lips, “How long have you known my schedule?” Bruce took a bite of the steak and Damian continued to eat his plate of some fancy pasta.

“Now Y/N-”

“How long have you known my schedule?” Damian glanced up, irritated at their father being cut off, but the look on Bruce’s face had him settling down. The man was smiling, non-threateningly but all Y/N could see was the Bruce that had stood before them in the changing room after Gabanna’s runway show. The same eyes, full of intentions that had Y/N shivering and the money, power, and background to act on those intentions.

“Like I have said, Y/N. I am making up for the lost time and neglect you have faced within our home.”

“And I have said, Bruce, there is nothing to make up. That still does not answer my question about you knowing my schedule.” The cracks were spreading, chipping away and becoming weaker.

“What parent doesn’t know-”

“Don’t repeat that sentence. Bruce, you know what I am asking and you keep avoiding it. Who told you my schedule?” An emotion other than faux politeness finally filtered into Y/N’s voice, making the question sound firm and unlikely to bend or be swept away with Bruce’s elusivity. He smiled, “Oh Y/N, did Maya not tell you? GLM Agency has been under new agency since last year. Wayne Industries is now the parent of GLM Agency.”

Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, their pretty face twisting as the words registered with them. Everything crashed on Y/N, like glass shattering and bathing them in their shards. The guest room that is identical to their bedroom at home, the clothes that are from their closet, the two rooms full of their photos and mannequins wearing their iconic looks, that fucking Batman-inspired piece of clothing.

“Y/N.” They’re walking away from the table, head lost in thought and body moving on autopilot. The need to get away from everyone was overpowering the logical part of their mind, and Y/N is walking towards the front door of the restaurant. Pushing the glass doors open, and being bombarded by flashes from cameras.

“Y/N, what do you have to say about your mother?” A 13-year-old Y/N was guided out of the condo by police officers. Eyes rimmed red from crying and their only source of comfort was the blanket they managed to snag before being escorted out.

“Were you aware of your mother’s drug-use?”

“Are you on drugs?” A 17-year-old Y/N walked past the paparazzi, keeping their eyes forward even though they wanted to snarl at that person.

“Y/N! Look over here!”

“Look!”

“Over here!”

A large hand gripped their arm guided Y/N through the crowd and towards the parking lot where the car was. The large body blocking the photos and shielding them from the flashing of cameras that had thrown Y/N back in time. Once inside the safety of the metal box on wheels, Y/N became aware of their rapid breathing and the feeling of their heart pounding. Irregular beats and sweat began to form on their skin as they struggled to take a breath. Just one breath.

The hand that had guided them to the car grabbed their wrist and placed it on a large and firm chest, emphasizing the deep breaths that Y/N needed and wanted to take. Rough fingers gently traced their cheek, up to their ear, and then to their hair. Gently bringing Y/N back to the present.

“Shh shh, it’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. You’re safe.” E/C eyes drifted around the car, and closed once they saw the person’s reflection.

“Father, those vermin have been cleared. All of them will be getting in trouble.”

“Thank you, Damian.” Y/N rested their head against the glass and fought down the need to jump out of the car. Bruce eyed Y/N, and what made it worse was there was an apologetic look on his face.

“Y/N, I… I am sorry. I thought Maya had told you.”

“Seems like your manager isn’t doing their job if you didn’t know. You should get a new one.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Y/N mumbled, feeling a headache forming and they wanted nothing more than to curl under the covers and die. They could feel Damian’s pointed look through the seat, “Maya is a great manager. She will not be replaced.” Damian sneered, “She didn’t even inform you of the change in ownership.”

“Because it does not concern me. As long as I am able to get booked and get to my destinations, it does not matter who is in charge.” Y/N paused, “Although, now it looks like nepotism.”

Bruce huffed at his child’s overdramaticness, "It's not nepotism. I had no say in what shows you did or who booked them.”

“But you had a say in what clothes I wore.” Ice filled the car and Bruce gave Y/N a long look.

“Just that one piece, and I asked her to do it. She didn’t have to do it.” Y/N laughed, long and hollow as they turned their head to Bruce, “Of course she had to do it. Bruce Wayne is asking for a commission piece, who would turn it down without risking their reputation?” The man sighed, “Y/N, I submitted a commission piece. That is the only thing I had a hand in throughout your modeling career.”

“Others won’t believe that.”

“Who cares what others think.” Y/N whipped their head around to Damian, “I do. I do a lot actually. I care a lot about what my fellow models say and think about me.” The boy rolled his eyes, “Why? Their opinions don’t matter.”

“And your’s do?”

“We are family!”

“By blood, yeah! That’s as far as it goes.” Damian looked ready to snarl out more remarks, but the abrupt parking of the car had both of them pausing. They were already at the manor, and Y/N wondered just how fast was Bruce driving to get them here so quickly.

Y/N was quick to jump out of the car, “I will grab those bags later. Please don’t make Alfred take them.” Bruce followed, “Y/N.”

“No! No, ‘Y/N’ or anything. I want to be left alone.” Y/N pushed open the manor’s front door, and they wonder how many times they have snuck in and out of these doors before. Was it really even sneaking out if someone knew?

“Y/N, we need to talk about this.” There was something in Bruce’s voice that stoked the right ember within Y/N’s chest. Whipping around, they glared at the two Waynes, “For fuck’s sake, I just want to be left alone! I was fine with how things were. None of this-this- whatever the hell this is!

I was fine on my own. I was fine without you guys. I would have been fine if you stayed away!” Bruce didn’t even look bothered that Y/N was yelling, in fact the asshole looked relieved. He gave a patient smile with fake concern in those blue eyes, “The thing is though Y/N, you never should have done it on your own.”

Y/N rolled their eyes, “Where the hell did all of this even come from?! This… this sudden need to be part of my life? You’re not even being subtle about it!” They were drawing a crowd, but Y/N couldn’t even bring themselves to care.

“I keep telling you, it does. Not. Bother. Me that you all were inattentive. It doesn’t make me mad, it doesn’t make me upset, it doesn’t stir anything within me knowing you were not there. Yet here you are trying to make it up and all that nonsense, but when I tell you that it's fine you don’t listen!

“It genuinely seems that you are not doing this for me, but to ease your guilt.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze, and it appeared they were in their own little showdown. Bruce’s gaze, not showing a hint of anger or irritation at his child while Y/N seethed. For once, Y/N looked liked the wild one in the family. Their teeth bared and eyes full of unadulterated rage, they glared at Bruce with the face of a raging angel.

They hated how Bruce’s lips pulled into a smile, and the feeling of gloating eyes falling on their body from all their siblings. Like they all knew something Y/N didn’t.

“Bruce finally sees it too.”

Y/N pocketed that thought, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. Nothing intelligent was ever said when angry–

“So tell your big brother Y/N, how do you expect us to trust you on your own when you can’t even notice someone on your terrace?”

– Fuck it. Intense E/C eyes landed back on Bruce, “If you bought GLM Agency a year ago, why now?” Bruce continued to stare into Y/N’s eyes, “Because it seemed like you needed a break from Gotham. So, I figured a year away would be good.”

Y/N narrowed their gaze, “Then why didn’t you call?”

“Because it looked like you needed a break.” Y/N chuckled, “I needed a break, or you needed time to get those rooms set up?” Bruce raised a brow, but Y/N continued on, “It's one thing to have photos from some photoshoots but not photos taken without my consent. Or the clothes I’ve worn on mannequins with almost the exact same physique as me.”

“They are exact.” Y/N tore their gaze away from Bruce to stare at Tim, the thin and exhausted looking teen standing above them on the stairway. Chapped lips opened, “We used the measurements within the modeling database and created mannequins that have your exact measurements.”

Y/N gaped at him for a quick second before rolling their eyes, “Wow. That’s not helping your guys’ case at all.” Dick approached them, going for a placating gesture and an easy smile, “Now Y/N, I think you might be overreacting–”

“I think I am underreacting to all of this. I find out that you all have been taking secret photos of me, which someone them are from my ‘stalker’ and I don’t really believe that but whatever, you have access to my bank account, you bought the modeling agency I work for, commissioned a Batman-inspired piece, and that you have been keeping some of runway pieces on models that are exactly my measurements!

How else am I supposed to be reacting?! And I still don’t have my phone back!” Y/N snapped at Dick, and then began to rub their temples when the headache got worse. An Aspirin, they need an Aspirin. Now, preferably but Y/N has the strangest sense that even if they did take it, the headache would not go away.

“Whatever, just… I’m going home tomorrow and whatever was bought today just… just ship it. Since you know my address and all that apparently.” Y/N began walking up the stairs, ignoring the panicked looks some of their ‘siblings’ were giving them and the dark look on Bruce’s face.

Dick, ever the peacemaker, reached out, “Wait, you can’t go back yet! You still have a few more weeks before your next shoot. Just stay for a few more days.”

“Add kidnapping and being held against my will to that list too.” Y/N continued walking, feeling exhausted and wanting to sleep. They missed the nod Bruce gave Tim and Damian, and they missed the dark and knowing looks on Jason’s and Dick’s face. The walk back to the room was long, and more exhausting than usual. The events of today caught up to them and Y/N wanted nothing more than to cry, scream, and then go to sleep.

Because why not.

“Y/N, you are making a mistake.” Dick followed after their younger sibling, who only sped up to get away from them. The man grabbed Y/N’s forearm, “Y/N, listen! You don’t want to do this.”

“What is ‘this’ you are talking about Dick? I am literally just going home. It is not a big deal.” Y/N tried to pull their arm away from Dick, but to no avail.

“It's how you are doing it Y/N. All we want is to spend time with you and make up for the lost time!” Y/N wanted to scream at Dick, but held it in and instead gritted out, “Why didn’t you do it normally then? Like… texting or calling.” Dick pouted, those blue eyes looking sad and his lower lip jutting out like a toddler, “We missed you, and we just wanted to see you.”

Y/N’s face was scrunched, their mouth open in disgust, “How can you say that with that look on your face as if you all weren’t the ones who ignored me?” Dick looked heartbroken and some part of Y/N felt bad about that. They remembered the room with the photos and the other side of Dick that they saw only a few days ago. Their body seized in terror, but Y/N tried to keep their expression neutral.

“Look, Dick, once again I am not mad about how my time here was spent. I’m genuinely not. But you guys keep throwing it back in my face and saying such contradicting things, of course I’m going to get upset about it.” They are trying to be civil. Trying so desperately to be civil and it feels like it is not working. Old wounds and painful memories continued to be dragged out of the crevices of their minds like it was some type of zoo attraction.

A 16-year-old Y/N stared at the shattered mirror, tears racing down their face as they stared at their broken reflection. All they could see were the imperfections everyone continued to call out. Comparing them to their mother, to other models, to society’s twisted views of beauty that Y/N is trying to be.

If their mother was alive, would she know what to say? Would she gaze at them with those soft eyes and long lashes, smiling beautifully and whispering, “Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Continuing to remind Y/N that modeling was not a gentle job. It wasn’t a job for those with paper skin or glass bones. Those easily hurt by the meanest of comments, nastiest looks, and the horrendous words never made it in this industry.

Would this have been easier if they had the support of Bruce and his kids?

Labored breaths and broken sobs filled room-turned-practice room as the mirrors caught the sight of a teenager breaking down. Crumbling and shattering under the pressure, pricking their fingers as they cleaned up the broken mirror and picking up their shattered image.

It will be those same mirrors that watched those broken shards form their glass castle, posing as diamonds to deter others from trying to break in.

Y/N continued to walk down the long hallway, ignoring Dick’s calls and locking the door behind them. It was only 2pm, and Y/N had plans to sleep the rest of the day. They had no bags to pack, and nothing here they felt like taking. All they needed to do is sleep the day away, which will be easy, wake up tomorrow, call a cab and skedaddle out of here.

“Thats all we have to do, Y/N.” They closed their eyes for what only felt like a few minutes, until jostling and whispers of their name had them groggily opening their eyes. A yawn escaping them and their eyes struggled to open.

“Why are you in my room?” Tim gave a small huff, “Its dinner time.” Y/N buried their face in their pillow, groaning out a ‘not hungry.’ The young man hummed, “I think you should come down for this one, Y/N. You might get the answers you want.”

“Not interested.” Tim leaned down, his breath tickling Y/N’s ear, “You’re glass castle is shattering, Y/N. Don’t you want help fixing it?” Y/N wanted to swing. They wanted to do something to get their point across that they wanted almost nothing to do with this crazy family anymore.

They opted to glare, and Tim gave a soft smile, “C’mon, lets go eat. Besides, Alfred said that the cab won’t be coming for you if you don’t eat dinner.”

“Alfie!” Y/N groaned into the pillow, and they had stopo themselves from throwing up their arms and legs in a fit. Leave it to Alfred to do something so diabolical. Groaning one more time, Y/N sat up and mentally braced themselves for this shitshow of a dinner.

E/C eyes looked at the door they know they locked, and chose that whatever little bickerment that will start was not worth it at this point in time. Throwing their legs over the bed, they followed Tim out of the room and towards the dining room.

Everyone was there, and waiting for Y/N to appear. Once again, they were made to sit between Bruce and Damian, which they did so with little complaint.

“Now, Y/N, it looks like everyone has some explaining to do.” Y/N gave Bruce the driest most unimpressed face they could muster, to which the man took with a smile, “So, what questions do you want answered?”

‘They’re really doing this.’ Y/N could feel another headache forming, but decided to take the brightly colored bait. Looking at Jason, who was meeting their gaze with his green eyes waiting for this question, Y/N asked, “What did you mean when you said ‘Bruce sees it too.’” The man smirked, meeting Bruce’s eyes and back to Y/N, “Exactly that. The old man finally sees what you are to this messed up family.”

Y/N narrowed their gaze, taking a bite of the pasta, and chewing slowly. Dick decided to chime in, “Y/N, you have been loved by us for a while. Something you probably pieced together, but Bruce took a while to see it because… well because you’re not us.”

“Not like, you’re not Robin, but more like you’re not…”

“You’re fragile.” Everyone’s head turned to Damian, and Y/N had half the idea to be upset about that. They raised an eyebrow, but before they could say anything Damian continued, “You are not meant for this life we lead. Vigilantism never suited you, and that is something I picked up on when I first came here.”

When Damian had first met Y/N, it was like seeing a rare flower that had to be protected at all costs. Y/N was something that at the slightest gesture, could be hurt. When people come across something ethereal like that, the need to protect it can be divided into two different directions.

Hovering or distancing.

Bruce chose to distance himself, whether he knew it or not, and Damian had followed suit. He watched as his older sibling hovered from a distance, watching the rare flower bloom before it was finally the right time to engage with it.

“Y/N, it isn’t so much that I didn’t want to interact with you, it is that I didn’t know how.” Bruce looked into his child’s eyes, “How could I interact with someone who needed gentle hands, when there is not a gentle bone in my body.” Bruce’s hands have broken more bones than the human body has. He has scars on his skin and calluses on the palm of his hands.

“It took me a while to figure out why, but once I did, your absence became suffocating.” Everyone had been gasping for air, doing everything in their power for the slightest piece of oxygen. It was the fear of Y/N being harmed that kept them collared and chained to the photos, every interview, every runway show.

However, Bruce knows that every now and then, children should be able to spread their wings and fall. Y/N ended up flying, soaring above them and never looking back down. Bruce, and the family, decided to give Y/N a year. Just one on their own. This gave them all plenty of time to improve the glass terrarium that they wanted Y/N to be placed back in. This time they will be protected and paid attention too.

“When everyone stated that I can finally see the impact you have on this family, it means I have to come to terms with the fact that I no longer want to be hands off with your life and career.” Y/N’s brow furrowed, not liking the term ‘hands off.’

“You have done great on your own. A fabulous job. Clawing your way up and making a name for yourself, I am so proud of you. Everyone is extremely proud of you.

However, there is no need for you to struggle anymore. You’ve proven yourself, now let us take care of the rest.” Y/N felt shivers go down their spine as they stared at their family in fear. They took in each expression, and when they made eye contact with Jason, the other had a daring look in his eyes. Begging for Y/N to do something, similar to how predators hope for their prey to fight back to make the kill all the more interesting.

“But… But I don’t need your help, Bruce. I can do this on my own.” Bruce’s smile was that of honey, luring in unsuspecting insects and trapping them in its viscous fluid. If Y/N were younger, they may have fallen for it. They may have allowed themselves to coat their fingers in sugary words and sweet gestures, just so they could feel the love from a father.

“I know. We know, but you don’t need to anymore.”

“Now wait a minute-no. No no no no. You can’t just do that, explain yourself, and expect me to just roll with it.” Y/N set their napkin down, and tried to stand from the table, “I don’t need your help, although thank you for wanting to I guess. I am fine with it just being me and Maya.”

“About that…” Dick grimaced, handing Y/N his phone and pulled up was an article.

Y/N’s eyes widened and the world around them went cold. THey looked back up, “You’re lying.” Dick shook his head, fake empathy across his face as Y/N continued to read the article.

“No. NO this is a joke and a terrible one. Maya would never–”

“They were found in her apartment, Y/N.” The headlines, eerily similar to ones from five year ago, flashed across the small phone screen.

Manager of Model Y/N L/N Suspected of Drug Usage

Y/N wanted to cry. Horrible flashbacks resurfacing and tears pricking their eyes. They turned to Bruce who was still sitting and eating his pasta.

“Bruce, please. I know Maya, she would never do this.” The man said nothing. Y/N bit their lip, “Bruce… Bruce please. If its because of what I said then take that out on me. Please leave Maya out of it.

“Please Bruce! I know Maya. She’d never do that, and–and Bruce please.” Y/N was whimpering now, tears streaming down their face as the thought of losing their manager, the last person they had, nearly had them collapsing to their knees.

“Lets make a deal, Y/N.” Bruce wiped the corner of his lips, and grabbed Y/N’s thin wrist.

“You come home more often, during breaks and whatnot. I won’t have a lot of control over your modeling schedule, but make sure you include time each week for family. The only exception is when you are out of the country.” Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, but nodded along.

“In return, Maya gets out of trouble. Nothing will change other than the weekly meeting with family.” Y/N can’t breathe. They cannot breathe and there were eyes all on them. Gulping down on whatever air they can get a hold of, Y/N sobbed out, “Why are you going to such lengths?”

Bruce stood, and even though Y/N is tall, no one compares to Bruce’s towering figure. He smiled down at the model, and cupped a wet cheek with a calloused hand. Ice blue eyes stared into watery E/C eyes, and that smile turned too sharp to not be hidden blade, “I told you. It is too make up for lost time. Plus, as those photos suggest, you need protection. What better protection could you have that is not only part of the family, but also vigilantes?

“While it is true that diamonds are never made without pressure, diamond-encrusted jewlery require gentle hands and patience.” Bruce kissed Y/N’s temple, and the model flinched away. Ice blue met their eyes once more, “Now pick, Y/N. Either way, you will still be meeting us once a week, but you can have someone you know at your side or someone under my command.”

+++++

“And cut! Good job everyone!” The flashes from the camera stopped and the stage lighting turned off, no longer blinding everyone within the room. Y/N stood up from the red couch, a smile still on their lips as they thanked the photographers.

“Y/N, as always, perfect shots!”

“Good job Y/N!”

“Thank you for doing this, Y/N!” They continued to smile and acknowledge everyone that passed by, Maya right behind as they walked back to the changing room. Sitting on the couch was Jason’s large form and Tim’s lithe one. Both of them looking up as Y/N entered, ignoring Maya’s flinch.

“You have a birthday gala you need to catch. Come on, change out of that and lets go.” Leave it to Jason to get the message across. Y/N nodded, taking to the changing room where they know their clothes are already waiting for them. They could hear Tim interrogating Maya in the politist way. Clipped words and empty praises.

“Y/N they came out of nowhere! They stormed in and went straight to a vent where these-these drugs were! I’ve never even seen those there before! Let alone know that there was a vent!” Maya cried into Y/N’s shoulder as Dick and Damian watched on.

Emerging from the changing room in jeans and a crew neck, Y/N sighed, “Alright, shall we get going?” Jason stood up and Tim shook Maya’s sweaty hand. Y/N gave his manager a nod, signalling for her to take the rest of the day off. Jason’s large hand rested on the small of Y/N’s back, and Tim led the way to the new car that Bruce bought.

The ride was only two hours, filled with light conversation and catching up. Once at the mansion, Y/N greeted Alfred with a hug. Not as tight as they normally are, but it felt wrong entering the mansion without hugging Alfred. Bruce entered the foyer and grinned, hugging Y/N and kissing their temple.

“Your clothes are in your room, and there is another present on behalf of Damian and Jason.” Y/N nodded, “Thanks, Bruce.” The man smiled, “Come and eat dinner when you are done. We’ll have enough time before the Gala to at least eat something.” Y/N began walking away, each step up the stairs feeling like there was lead on their feet stopping them from going any further.

Once in the room, the locked the door and on the bed was a box and black and gold clothing. The black looking like it was made out of silk, and the gold was sequin. Y/N carefully walked towards the box, and when they lifted the lid, a white kitten mewed at them. Their fur still looking young and their eyes bluer than Bruce’s. They mewed and mewed, and Y/N could feel tears streaming down their face.

In neat cursive and tied around the bow of the box, was a small note, ‘We’ll watch her when you decide to leave the country.’

Y/N bit their lip, and felt as if their world was falling a part once more. Broken glass surrounding them and no matter where they stepped, their feet will end up bleeding. Now forced to rely on their family to carry them out of the mess they made, and now… now there was a lifeform that this family can and most likely will use against them.

Thin fingers gently picked up the cat and gave it a wobbly smile, as she mewed at Y/N. A red collar already around her neck, tied in a perfect bow.

“Y/N, the makeup artists are here. Are you ready?” Wiping their tears, Y/N set the kitten down and took in the black and gold piece once more.

“Not yet, but they can come in. I’ll get dressed afterwards.”

“Alright.” The door opened, despite Y/N locking it, and it was Dick smiling as he let in the two artists who were now scrambling to get set up. Blue eyes traveled from the cat, to the clothes, and back to Y/N. He grinned and stalked closer to his younger sibling that was now being corralled into sitting in front of the makeup artist.

He picked up the kitten and passed her for Y/N to hold, whispering in their ears, “Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

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Honestly... I really like this series. I think I'm going to do other stories but in the other characters POV now.

#batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam #platonic yandere #batfam #batman x reader #bruce wayne #platonic batman #platonic batfam #yandere imagines #gender neautral reader #batman x gn reader #Yandere batman #batfam x male reader #Batfamily x female reader #Batfamily x gender neutral reader

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