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klemen-tine · 1 month

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No Prince Charming

(Batfam x Mom!Reader)

Anonymous asked:

Hello, I really like your work.

I saw that you have an open request, so I want to share an idea that has been sitting in my head for a long time.

Reader married Bruce for convenience. (In my head, the reader is a woman, but I'll leave it to your taste) The wedding takes place shortly before the appearance of the first Robin. Bruce and reader have a cold relationship. Reader comes from the wealthy population of Gotham. Therefore, reader is well educated and intelligent. So after a while, when Dick already appears, reader understands what her husband does at night. But reading doesn't say anything about it or hint at it. The reader doesn't want to get involved in any of this, it scares her. And although the reader is planning a divorce, she takes care of all the members of her new family. And although she is neglected in the family, the reader becomes a parental figure for children. But the children won't admit it. When Damian appears, the reader doesn't say a word to Bruce. But Damian treats reader very badly. And that becomes the trigger. The reader slips Bruce the divorce papers.(not to mention that they are getting divorced, since Bruce is likely to protest) and when Bruce signs them, he leaves the estate, leaving the divorce papers and the wedding ring on the bed when no one notices. And only then does the family realize what they have done with their neglect of reader. Their yandere trait is waking up in them and now they need to somehow find their reader.

Sorry if it's too much.

And I apologize for the English, I am writing with a translator

❤

Warning: Non-consensual drugging, not descriptive sex. It's just mentioned, no details. Hinted at Dick's trauma with his sidekick.

It was a marriage of convenience. That's all it was. Bruce Wayne knew Y/N L/N since childhood, and while they weren’t close, Y/N was the only one who never treated him any differently after his parents were murdered. Maybe it's because her own father was murdered, and she understood that sometimes the greatest support was to act like nothing changed.

Fast forward to young adults, Bruce Wayne was now Brucie in public, and Y/N was the unstoppable woman leading her own company by the reins. Bruce had come to her with an offer, one that had her brows raised and painted lips smirking. For Bruce Wayne, this will help solidify his position as someone who was not Batman, and for Y/N it would finally silence the hecklers that gnawed at her heels and bit into her shoulders.

A frigid marriage, filled with cold greetings, Brucie still entertaining women, Y/N still controlling her company with painted lips, and rumors surrounding them. Despite the coldness, Y/N knew a lie when she saw one. She knows a front when she comes face to face with one, and it is why when she saw Batman in the hallways of Wayne manor, staring at her in shock and apprehension, she rolled her eyes and continued to sip her wine as she made her way back to her office.

“Please don’t stain the carpet. Alfred just shampooed them.” They never brought it up again. Bruce was no Prince Charming, despite the front he put on for strangers. There were no whispered promises, no flowers, no gifts, nothing but ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes.’

Then, along came Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson. A child who had blinked up at her with large blue eyes, and Y/N could feel her heart crumble. She had welcomed him with open arms and smiles. She had welcomed all of the Robins in. Her manicured nails getting shorter each time, so she doesn’t have to fear hurting one of them, and her smiles became softer. Y/N had never tried to replace any of their mother’s, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel like one.

But it was Bruce they had a closer bond with. Which is why they started following his behavior towards her. Clipped words and rolling of eyes were common, as were the cold shoulders and tense silences.

“You’re not my mom! So stop asking how school was!” Y/N stared at Jason in shock and curiosity about where that outburst had come from. Alfred was the only one to say anything. A stern, “Master Jason,” and a look that had even Bruce cowering had the young boy apologizing. Y/N ignored the way her heart slowly broke, as the quirky child full of smiles, sass, and who loved classics, turned his back on her.

As if she wasn’t the one to introduce those books to him.

Y/N doesn’t blame them for their cold behavior towards her. She doesn’t blame Dick’s disregard, Jason’s hurtful words, Tim’s cynical looks, Steph’s taunts, and Damian’s heated actions.

Y/N had cried at Jason’s funeral, she helped Bruce fight for custody for Tim, she had consoled Dick after some of his own traumatic experiences, and she sat there and listened as Damian compared her and Talia. Talia, of all people. She had met the woman once, and Y/N had nodded at her. Y/N never judged Bruce for sleeping with the woman. Hell, Y/N would have too. Y/N can recall the day Damian came to their manor, and the short look Dick had given her when she and the child made eye contact.

Y/N doesn’t know if it was a look of concern or mockery, but she knows he did look.

She was there for Richard when his trauma with his sidekick happened. He may have never told her, but Y/N is a woman. A woman who has known people that have suffered the same way Dick has. That are still suffering like he is.

“I’m sorry Richard.”

“What do you even know?! You know nothing! Absolutely nothing so just butt out!” Dick glared at her with blue eyes that had put the arctic water to shame. Y/N stood there and took it all. She stood proudly with her shoulders back and chin up.

In public, she was a stoic mother keeping the children in check while Bruce goofed off. She was the woman who failed her children, because she chose to continue running her business. Her very, very, very successful business. A business that had taken her and her mother from the bottom of High Society, to the top 10%. A series of great investments, smart marketing, and pretty words have lined her pockets with money that she could easily retire on.

Yet, all that money couldn’t save her mother. The woman died of a heart attack, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing Y/N could do besides bury her mother.

“Bruce please.”

“I am busy.”

“I know but Bruce, this is my–”

“Ask Alfred.” He had turned his back and Y/N was stuck staring at the retreating man with a new feeling of heartbreak. The tabloids ate up that she was alone at her mother’s funeral. A private event that no one was allowed into besides close family and friends.

When she came back, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped, Damian had picked the time to make his disdain known again, “–and my mother would have never let herself go like that. You look horrid, unbefitting of a Wayne. A disgrace.”

Blank E/C eyes stared into raging green and she sighed, “Thanks, Damian.” She spared him no glance after that, and she walked towards her bedroom to take a hot shower. It was there, under the hot spray of water that she finally cried. She cried for the last part of family she had, and the years she lost from marrying a man who didn’t even like her enough to attend a godforsaken fucking funeral. She cried for the children she couldn’t even call her own.

She cried for the life she missed by marrying Bruce fucking Wayne.

“Honey, are you happy?”

“Of course Mama.”

“You never could lie to me sweetie.” Her mother kissed her forehead and looked into E/C eyes with nothing but love, “You’ve worked so hard, sweetie.” That acknowledgement alone had her almost in tears, “But please start working for yourself now.”

Taking a deep breath, Y/N hopped out of the shower and called her lawyer. Divorce papers were in her hands within 24 hours, and her bags packed in 3.

She stood next to Bruce, ignoring the scowl on his face as she ‘disrupted’ his work. Y/N kept her face neutral, because if she smiled it would give it all away, and handed him the page he needed to sign.

For a billionaire and for a vigilante, he sure didn’t read the damn paper. Which is fine. Great even, because now, after being here for over a decade, Y/N is free. She laughed in her room, laughing so hard that it almost tore her throat. Leaving a copy of it on Bruce’s bed once he was gone, she grabbed her suitcase and accidentally ran into Alfred on her way out the door.

The old man took a look at her clothes, her bags, and her expression before sighing, “Shall I drive you for the last time, Lady Y/N?” Y/N smiled, bitterly at the thought of leaving Alfred, her only solace in this cold mansion.

“To the airport, please.” The ride was silent, and Y/N didn’t look back as they left the gates of the mansion. It wasn’t until they were halfway there that Y/N spoke up, “My lawyer will call in a few days, just to hash out the details.”

“Is that so?”

“There’s nothing I want. No assets, no money, nothing will be taken, I just want a divorce.” She just wants the law to recognize that she is not a Wayne. That she will never be a Wayne.

“Lady Y/N, perhaps a check for compensation for the emotional strain would be nice?” Y/N laughed, bitterly and sad, “I don’t want his money. I want nothing to do with him anymore.”

“And the kids?”

“They don’t need me. They never did. I doubt they will even notice.” Gotham International Airport wasn’t crowded, and that may be because it was 1pm on a Tuesday. Alfred helped her with her bags, and the old man stared at the woman before him. He remembers meeting her for the first time, a confident young woman who had a way with words and was unfairly intelligent. Matching wits and able to speak confidently in a room of people who thought little of her.

It's good to see some of that coming back.

Y/N hugged Alfred, “Thank you, Alfred. For everything.” The older man sighed and watched as the woman took her bags and walked away. Not once did she look back and Alfred decided to stay until her form disappeared in the building. He sighed heavily and when got back in the car, he dialed a number he knew by heart. It only took three rings before the voice of the man he raised answered, “Alfred, is everything okay?”

“Master Bruce, I fear you may have lost something precious, and I do hope you, and the young masters, have a plan to make this up to them.” He hung up afterwards as he merged into traffic, and he hoped his message finally hit something within his son’s dense skull.

When he returned back to the manor, he began the preparation for making dinner. All was silent throughout the manor, until the door opened and the rush of the footsteps began marching towards him.

“Master Richard, I urge you to not run.”

“Bruce told me there was an emergency and to hurry to the manor?” Alfred sighed, “While it is an emergency, it is not one you can fix on your own.” No, this was something for Bruce to fix seeing tha all the problems stemmed from him.

Dick raised a brow, “What kind of emergency is it?” Alfred pursed her lips, “Miss Y/N Wayne is now Miss Y/N L/N once more.” He turned to look the man he has considered his grandson in the eyes, and he could see the revelation sink in.

“Y/N divorced Bruce?” Alfred nodded, “The papers have been signed.”

“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Alfred raised a brow, “They are signed and waiting for him to read.” Dick slowly walked out of the kitchen, “Is she still here?” Alfred turned back to the food and Dick began speed walking towards Y/N’s room. As a child it never occurred to him why they would they never slept together, but as he got older he understood.

He knocked on her doors, calling her name like he used to as a kid.

Dick had always understood that Bruce’s and Y/N’s relationship was not one of a couple in love. He also understood that Y/N’s treatment in the manor by the residents of the manor was unfair. Whenever he could, he would correct Damian’s harsh words, but even he himself couldn’t fully bring himself to be all that kind to her.

He tried. He desperately tried, because he saw all that she did for them behind the scenes. He saw the mistreatment and judging looks others would give her as her ‘husband’ was out fooling around.

Dick saw the blank look she had given Damian after her mother’s funeral. The one none of them had gone too.

“What do you mean you didn’t go?” His voice panicked as he talked to Tim, “I didn’t go. I was under the assumption someone else would go.”

Y/N could have been Gotham’s biggest bitch, but not even then would she have deserved that. What made it worse was that Y/N was not a bitch. She wasn’t cruel, or unkind. She was as much of a philanthropist as Bruce was. Always aiding those whose needed it and desperately trying to make Gotham a better place.

Dick opened her doors and was greeted with an empty room. Gone were the picture frames, and the closet was empty along with the bathroom. Her prized jewlery, the things she took care of almost obsessively, all of it was gone.

He could remember beng 9 and sitting next to her as she cleaned one of her sapphire earrings. Thin fingers with long nail held the earring next to him, a scrutinizing look on her face before she would break out into a grin, “As I thought, nothing could ever compare to our Dickie’s sapphire eyes.”

“Holy shit.”

“What’s going on- why is Y/N’s room empty?” Tim looked throughout the room, and Dick could see the wonder across his younger brother’s face. Right, between all of them, Tim and Y/N had the least amount of time spent together.

Dick stared at his brother as the image of Y/N smiling at a string of pearls entered his mind. She had explained to him when he asked that pearls, while feminine, also symbolized new beginnings. She had gotten it when Tim’s custody was signed over to the Waynes.

“She’s gone.” Tim met Dick’s eyes, “Like… taking a vacation gone?” Dick gave a humorless chuckle, “She divorced Bruce, Tim. Y/N is gone.” This must have been what Alfred saw when he broke the news to Dick. The confusion and then realization coming to light in those blue eyes.

“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Dick had said the same thing, and yet here she was. Gone. As if to emphasize his point, Dick made an exaggerated expression and motioned to the empty room.

Tim looked around and he could feel a headache forming, “Bruce is gonna be pissed.” Dick groaned, “Fuck Bruce for a second, the only stable-mentally healthy-adult figure that isn’t Alfred is gone, Tim.” The boy didn’t look all that bothered, “Well, if she’s happier then I don’t mind.”

Of course he doesn’t mind. Why? Because this little stalker most likely knows where she’s going. Tim did a good job hiding it, but Dick was raised by Bruce. He is trained to spot the mciroexpressions of people, and even if they are his own siblings.

Tim is panicking. The very thought of Y/N leaving had not once occurred to them, and for Tim who loves planning, this was not once ever in the plans.

Not once. Y/N had been a staple within the manor, and to imagine her not being here was rough. Evenw hen she left for business trips, it was fine because they all knew she was coming back. SHe would come back with souvenirs, handing each of them something that reminhded her of them, before running upstairs to get out of the family’s judgemental line of sight.

“Fucking hell.”

++++

Bruce entered the condo with ease. His steps light as he walked through the dark room, noting the all the furniture. There was no Y/N in the living room or kitchen, but when he looked out the balcony door, he could see her back. She was leaning against the edge of the infinity pool, without doubt a hot tub of some sorts because it was too cold to be swimming in a regular pool.

She didn’t even turn around to look at him, her attention focused on the view of the snowy mountains and raging seas in front of her. Bruce could see the wine bottle left on the side of the pool and the glass that looked like it was finished only a short while ago. When she did turn around, E/C reflected the stars and dimly lit light around the pool, making them shine and sparkle like they were the galaxy.

Bruce isn’t blind. He knows Y/N is an attractive woman who had many people lusting after her even when they were married. Talia even made a note of it, “You should see if she wants to join next time.” He should have known that his clipped response was a sign.

It was all there, and yet he did everything within his power to ensure that he would not fall in love with her. Falling in love has always been out of the question, and when Y/N came into his life, Bruce made it his mission to do just that. The woman before him had never complained, and she never seemed to fault him for it, but he could tell there was resentment. If he couldn’t have allowed himself to fall in love with her, he could have at least offered her friendship. One that made life more bearable for the both of them, and set a good example for the kids.

“What are you doing, Bruce?” She didn’t seem shocked that he was here, let alone in her vacation condo. Bruce took off his shirt and pants, stripping down to his boxers before joining her in the hot tub. He had grabbed two glasses of wine before doing so, handing her one and taking a sip from the other.

“Is it wrong of me to want to join my wife on her vacation?”

“Ex-wife. The documents are signed, and besides this is a girl trip.” Bruce re-read those documents and kicked his foot for not fucking reading them when he first signed them. He should have known she was up to something.

“Y/N, come back to the manor.” He stared into E/C eyes as she took another sip of the wine. Bruce had come with a speech prepared, ready to convince her to come back with him, but it was all lost as he stared and observed the woman in front of him drink delicately from the glass. Y/N L/N has always been a woman of class, even when she was near the bottom of high society. It wasn’t her good looks that landed her in the top 10, possibly even top 5%, and like every classy woman, she was only allowed to regret a few things. Their marriage is one, but leaving is not even an option on the list of things she wants to regret but can’t.

He knows this. She knows this.

And yet, Bruce could only focus on how beautiful she looks, and how beautiful she would look sprawled on the silk bed sheets. Y/N has aged like fine wine, looking even more beautifully and worth more and more with each passing year. Aging gracefully and beautifully as the years passed and still catching the attention of others.

It's a shame his younger self was more into whiskey than wine.

He wonders how different their relationship would be if he had gotten to know her before and during the early years of their marriage. Without a doubt it would be easier to talk to her. Easier to convince her to come back to a manor that now misses her.

“And why should I?” It’d be easier to answer her with a compelling reason, one that would have her actually debating on whether or not to come back. Bruce reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and he’s shocked that she even let him do that. She didn’t flinch, nor did she lean into his touch. Y/N stood still as he moved the H/C lock behind her ears.

“The manor misses you.” He’s never heard her laugh the way she did in that moment. Throwing her head back and exposing unblemished skin to the night air as she laughed, and continued to laugh. Her shoulders shaking from the force and slightly distilling the wine.

Once she was done, her cheeks were red from the laughter and she was gasping for breath, “Yeah, okay. So Alfred misses me, I’ll make sure to give him a call then.” She turned her back to Bruce and began walking towards the edge of the pool.

“The boys, girls, and I do too.” Chateau Petra was on his lips and the feeling of cold wine hitting his face and upper chest had him closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them, Y/N’s wine glass was empty and on her face was a hard expression. Cold E/C eyes glaring into his as she pulled herself out of the pool, and grabbed the rest of the wine bottle.

“Sleep on the couch. You’re going home tomorrow.” Her steps quiet as she stalked into her home and she headed for the bathroom. Bruce sighed, and stared at the night sky with a new look in his eyes, ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures.’ He would like to believe that he is above this. He wants to believe that this was the worst case scenario happening and therefore this needs to happen.

Has to. The very thought of Y/N being away caused an itch to form under his skin and a burning fire in his chest. A fire he never knew blazed in him until it went out. Now, more aware and protective of it, Bruce found himself craving the warmth in ways that had his mouth foaming and muscles tensing. He looked down at the water and saw the red wine diluting and sprawling throughout the pool water, looking like blood for only a second.

A smile curled on his lips and he pulled himself out of the pool water, drying himself off before making his way into the shower with his ‘ex-wife.’ They may have never been lovers, but they were two adults living under the same roof.

So, of course they have had sex.

Hate sex is the best and worst sex. It is the best because Bruce can go as hard as he wants to and Y/N will love it. It is the worse because hate sex is all Y/N will see this as. Y/N will only see it has hate sex and not for the love Bruce feels for her. She won’t feel it in the way he caresses her skin or in the way he leaves his bite marks on her thighs. All Y/N will see this as, is hate sex.

Which is fine. If hate sex is what Y/N needs to see this as to work then Bruce will take it. He has time. He has plenty of time to show her how much he cares and loves her. Those divorce papers will be long gone, every single one of those copies non-existent. He loves her. He loves her in the way a cactus loves the sun, or how the stars love the moon.

Bruce was so enamored by her, that he couldn’t help but to fall deeper. Her soft hands, that have never broken a bone but have broken many hearts, cradling scarred shoulders and sharp cheeks. She didn’t flinch when his own rough hands gripped her’s, bruising and secure, and she didn’t flinch when intense blue eyes met hers. In fact, she smiled, like this was all a joke he was the butt of it.

It pissed him off that even she could have secrets and inside jokes that he doesn’t know about. As she laid there, her eyes now closed and body relaxed, Bruce pulled out a syringe filled with something that will keep her asleep. Only for a few days. Barbara is already working on getting rid of the divorce papers and the kids were preparing for her return.

Bruce kissed her forehead, smiling down at his Sleeping Beauty. If need be, the manor will be her castle and the kids her vines covered in thorns. Bruce, in all his daunting and terrifying glory shall be the dragon, keeping her locked within her castle because nowhere was safer than the castle. Only she could keep him calm, and only she could make him feel human.

Batman was never Prince Charming.

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Not my best work in my opinion... but I still like tbh.

@problematicreblogger

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#yandere batfam #yandere dc #platonic yandere #batfam x reader #platonic batfam #batfam #platonic batman #bruce wayne #batman x reader #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #alfred pennyworth

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missglaskin · 1 month

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“You’re such a perv!”

Aka DC Superheroes as pervs; Dick, Jason, Tim, Roy, Wally

Please don't put a community label on this (it will only shadow ban it)

Surely your friend and confidant is not some peeping tom right?!

Warnings/tags; SMUT, female reader, vigilante!reader, Perv shenanigans, panty stealing, masturbation, dirty thoughts, corruption kink, invasion of privacy

Dick Grayson has always been your closest friend; he's the leader, the guy that everyone either wants to be like or wants him for themselves. But the boy wonder had his eyes on you, his oblivious friend. He has always been there, aiding you in missions; always saving the day, or praising you for a job well done. So how could you ever possibly know of his intense desire just for you. Dick knows his actions are downright disgusting, that small voice inside his head filling him with guilt, but his desire is just stronger.

Missions with you are the worst. Watching you be so confident and just kick ass has him feeling all sorts of ways. Trying to turn away from your line of sight so you won't see his hard-on, his cock rubbing uncomfortably against his suit. Dick will use any excuse to get away, jerking off on the side of a rooftop, a hand against a wall and another stroking his cock, while he imagines it was your hand instead, and that alone pushes him over the edge.

He'll find a way to make you want him too, Dick knows you're not immune to his charms. Will it be too obvious that when he goes for a hug, it's a little too tight. Is it when he places a hand on your waist pretending to keep you in place, daring his fingers to go further down. Will you push away the hands that place themselves on your thighs to pretend he's comforting you. You won't. Just as you refuse to shove away the fingers that inch closer and closer between your legs. Is it really so bad if you want him too.

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Jason Todd knows he's a sick fuck. What kind of friend is he to even think of such things. But they are just thoughts, right? As long as he doesn't do anything creepy that is. Surely anyone dreams of fucking their best friend-that is, imagining your lips wrapped around his dick while he fists your hair, forcing you to take all of him. The guilt returns when your voice reaches him, asking him if he heard you, interrupting his brief moment of fantasy. He's relieved that the mask doesn't allow you to see how intensely he's staring at you.

It becomes a line he knows he crossed. When Jason found himself staring at your apartment window - he didn't intend to, he was just patrolling and happened to come across your apartment. Knowing you were safe and well should have been his reason to leave, until you started undressing. Seeing your tits exposed made the blood rush to his cock and when you bent slightly to remove your panties, Jason was sure he could have come right on the spot.

You went to take a shower as Jason entered your apartment. Surely you must know to keep your window locked. Finding himself creeping toward the bathroom as if you were beckoning him in, instead, he stopped and stood over the disregarded clothes; reaching for the panties. Jason would have beaten anyone to a bloody pulp if they had done that, but it was his own reflection staring at him. He is a sick fuck, he thinks as his finger brushes over the damp spot and how he shoves it into his pockets. He's not sure if he should return your panties later, given that he eagerly rubbed his cock with it, leaving it cum stained.

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Tim Drake is a wolf in sheep's clothing; he is the one person you never suspect of thinking such perverted thoughts. Tim is aware he can never justify the things he's doing. He just tells himself that he merely lacks the courage to approach you, not that it's a good reason, but it's enough for him to maintain that tiny sliver of morality. There are moments when he wishes he could just concentrate on his patrolling to keep you off his mind, but you are always there, at the back of his mind.

Tim realizes he just can't get off without thinking about you. Tim tries watching some porn, but he keeps imagining your face instead of the actress, and he hates how it helped him reach his orgasm. Or in the mornings, when his boner is becoming too much of an issue and he's in the shower trying to rid of it. His thoughts wander to picturing you in front of him, bare and wet, with your back against the glass walls and you moaning his name.

If there was ever a time that Tim was made known that he was really sick was that day. Him laying in bed stroking his cock and seeing the phone ringing in the corner. It's you. He ought to have just let it ring or decline, but Tim didn't know what possessed him to answer the call. Your voice is heard as he bites his lip to not let his whimpers be heard, tasting copper on his tongue. Tim moves the phone further away when he reaches his high, cum covering his hands and stomach as he continues the conversation, hoping you don't hear his ragged breath.

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Roy Harper was the one person you could always confide in. He had a way of cheering you up, your tears dried as your laugh echoed throughout the room. How you consider him to be your closest friend and best partner in crime as you speak to him, while Roy thinks of how the low cut of your shirt gives him a good view of your tits from an angle. When you call his name to get his attention, Roy gives you that smile of his as he uses an excuse to use the restroom.

Roy loves taking pictures of you. You knew Roy had them, just never imagined he would have them in his sights while he jerked off. Pictures of you with a skirt had Roy fantasize about wearing em while he's railing you from behind. Your face pressed against the pillow while you bubble nonsense, too drunk on his cock. Pictures of you looking up, had him fantasizing of you staring at him with those eyes of yours as you use your mouth, bobbing up and down on his dick.

Unaware too Roy had 'private' photos, all thanks to a few hacking tricks. Roy was occasionally tempted to send you a nude photo of himself, see how you react, and cover it up by saying it was a 'mistake'. Would you perhaps return one or get jealous wondering who it was intended for. Roy gets up, cleaning himself as he’s planning to you meet you later that day. He eyes the slightly crooked tile above his ceiling, storing all the belongings he's taken from his visits to your place. Roy thinks when the two of you are official, he should hide it in a better place.

—-----------

Wally West had plenty of opportunities to hint at his feelings toward you. He liked making flirtatious comments, complaining when he wasn't paired with you during missions, and placing an arm over your shoulders. But you just assume it's Wally's typical self, not noticing his hurt look when you claimed to be "just friends". Then again you never noticed his hurried departure and quick return, where he avoided making eye contact at all costs.

Wally feels the guilt the most. He could have just confessed to you like a normal person. Guilt consumes him when he sees your gullible smile, unaware of the horrible things he did behind your back. It's not his fault really; he was invited to your place and was simply looking around until he found a certain drawer. Wally reassures himself it's not that bad if he only takes one. But it gets to a point where you're complaining to Wally about how your clothes disappear (not telling him which kind).

A point comes where Wally reaches his breaking point. The sneaky pictures, lying on your bed when you weren't around, face in the pillows to inhale your scent could do so little. As he stares at you speaking, Wally makes a move expecting to be rejected, but you kiss him back. He was in heaven, the dreams he had in every waking point coming true. He was where he wanted you to be, on top with you full of his cock, your eyes nearly blacked out as he slams his hips repeatedly into yours. Can you blame him for moving too fast when he has been holding back for so long.

#dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #wally west x reader #roy harper x reader #dc comics x reader #yandere dc comics #yandere dc #dc x reader #dc smut #dc comics smut #smut #yandere smut #yandere x reader

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l0vergirls · 8 months

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now that the yandere!batfam has surveillance on you pretty much 24/7, you're taken care of almost everyday. not that you know of, of course.

it took some time getting used to the flowers being delivered to you every couple weeks, but you did appreciate the food getting delivered when you didn't have enough in your fridge.

you're fully aware that the person (or people) sending these to you could be dangerous, but you tried to rationalise it. they apparently already have your address, so if they wanted you dead then they could've finished the job by now.

besides, what harm can a few flowers bring? aside from complete invasion of your privacy through the form of tiny surveillance microphones (which, again, you did not know of).

sometimes, you'd find affectionately written letters. well, letters is an overstatement, they're more similar to notes. the men knew not to leave too many clues that could give them away. they're nothing if not very thorough.

"eat your dinner, beloved. i know it is your favourite."

in elegant handwriting— sharp cursive. very slightly italicised.

"keep smiling, sunshine."

this one was still neatly written in print, but softer and rounder than the last note.

"good luck on your presentation today, y/n."

messier, almost rushed, but not what you'd call chicken scratch. familiar.

"hope you're taking care of yourself, beautiful."

this person had neater handwriting than the last two, though not as elegant as the first note. it seemed gentle, as if the person writing had much respect for the pen and paper.

if not flowers or food, they're small thoughtful gifts.

you'd once found a book on your nightstand; a book that you've been eyeing for the past week or so, but restrained yourself from getting as you've been saving up recently.

it had another small note attached to it, "here, you deserve it."

you should be scared— terrified, even. you should be reporting this to the cops, but what good are gotham's cops anyway?

at some point, you started finding these notes endearing. it's obvious they wouldn't do anything to you, at least not yet, so why stop them? not that you could, if you tried.

these strangers, you've come to realise, are simply looking out for you. taking care of you, when you forget to do it yourself.

the boys, whether through your window or through their cameras, would find you smiling to yourself when you receive one of their gifts.

it only motivates them to do more.

another yandere batfam installment woooop !!! can you guess which boy wrote which note? :⁠^⁠) p.s bruce hadn't left you a note this time ^^" sorry :⁠,⁠-⁠)

#yandere x reader #yandere batfam #yandere dc #tim drake x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x reader #batfam x reader #dc x reader #— yan writes.#— dc.#— the bats.#— queue got me.

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gotham-daydreams · 9 months

Text

Not Here

[Yandere! Platonic! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of neglect, Mild Yandere Behavior, Batfam being hella stupid.]

(Not really proofread. The birds and bats seeing that y'know- maybe not paying attention to people and neglecting them isn't a good thing. Chaos ensues. More of a development thing. Might be a little ooc?)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain

Chapter 2 of this post. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑—————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

Bruce liked to think he was a good father, for anything that was worth. Or at the very least, a decent one.

He wasn't perfect by any means, but he felt like he raised his children the best he could, and had made them into responsible and diligent adults. Dick was a great example of this, and even if Damian was still growing up, Bruce had hope that he'd turn out to be good as well. The hardships his current Robin had to face would pay off in the end, Bruce was almost too sure of that.

Those he decided to take under his wing had their flaws, yes, but even if he didn't say it out loud or point it out often. He did believe that they were good at what they do, or at least were on the right path to becoming good vigilantes. Bruce couldn't help but be proud and prideful of where his children and sidekicks were, and could only look forward to how they would continue to develop as time went on. Despite their feelings towards him, and his own faults, mistakes, paranoia, and so on. Along with how he felt about them, and their flaws — he couldn't help but respect the people those in his little mess of a family where becoming, and turning out to be.

Or maybe he was both overestimating and underestimating himself, and the true effects he had on those he decided to look after.

Since, for a few days now, he felt like something was... off.

The Manor seemed quieter these days, and even if he couldn't remember a time where it was particularly loud, the detail felt misplaced to him. Sure, he hasn't hosted a gala or party in a while, but that didn't feel like it was the reason why the silence suddenly bothered him.

Bruce tried to think of all possible reasons, a little surprised himself that this feeling of his was bothering him so much, but the more he thought about it the more confused he became. There didn't seem to be a particular reason for this... and yet, just as he was about to put this feeling aside, he heard it.

["I, um, I was just wondering..."]

["Oh, uhh, that's quite alright! Oh, one moment please... oh! Second chorus... T'was brilling, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wade..."]

It sounded like some sort of... play? Bruce wasn't too sure, but still decided to check it out regardless, wondering why something like that was playing in the first place.

So, allowing the sounds of the play to guide him, he continued on.

["Why- why you're a cat!"]

The voices grew louder as Bruce drew closer, interest peaked as he tried to recall and see of he knew this play. The lines sounding familiar, now that he was really listening to them.

["A Cheshire Cat. All mimsy were the borogoves..."]

Once Bruce rounded the corner he saw a... familiar face on the screen.

A student play was being filmed, and the play itself was Alice in Wonderland.

Whereas Bruce didn't recognize the actor for Alice, he did recognize the actor for the Cheshire Cat, but couldn't quite put his finger on it...

Was... was that...?

"Y/n?" He whispered your name, voice barely above a whisper.

No, it couldn't be. You didn't participate in any plays, and surely if you did he would've known about it. Even then, that didn't explain why he was seeing this now. The play itself had to have been a recording, since you looked so young...

How long ago did this take place?

["Oh, wait! Don't go, please!"]

["Very well. Third chorus..."]

["Oh no, no, no... thank you, but- but I just wanted to ask you which way I ought to go."]

["Well, that depends on where you want to get to."]

["Oh, it really doesn't matter... as long as I g-"]

["Then it really doesn't matter which way you go! Ah-hmm.... and the momeraths outgrabe..."]

Bruce was staring so intensely at the screen that he hardly noticed how the lines and voices faded into the background. His focus centered on you, disbelief gnawing at the back of his head.

He had never seen you smile like that before, not during all the times he's seen you anyway. Even if those moments themselves were small and short from what he could remember, the smile you wore during your performance felt... new in a way. Like something he hadn't seen before — not on your face anyway. Though that wasn't the only thing that made Bruce feel weird as he watched the play.

It wasn't anything to do with your acting skills. They were fine for the most part — and honestly considering the age you probably were during the time of the play, they might've been above average, or even a little higher than that. Not even the girl who played Alice, who also did relatively well, was the source of this odd feeling.

It wasn't the costumes or the set up, or even the lighting, and how he could faintly see the silhouette of other actors and such just behind the curtain, because of the camera angle. No, it hardly had anything to do with anything like that, but, how should he put this...

... How come he didn't know about this? How come he wasn't aware of this play before? Let alone that they had a recording of it, and that you were even a part of it... but Bruce still felt bothered by this whole realization because, well.

Why didn't you tell him about this?

"Master Bruce?"

The sudden voice snapped Bruce out of whatever trance he was stuck in, as he whipped his head around to face the source of it.

He huffed softly, "Oh, hey Alfred." Bruce greeted calmly, acting as if the butler hadn't caught him off guard.

Alred couldn't help but raise a brow at that.

Almost in a silent, embarrassed way, Bruce glanced off to the side only to notice that the recording was still playing, and so he decided to ask about it. Since, if someone knew anything about anyone in this Manor, it would be Alfred.

"Say... what's this playing on the TV?"

"It's a recording of one of Master Y/n's plays, Master Bruce." Alfred answered simply, almost as if it was common knowledge. "Apologies if it's too loud, I decided to play it while cleaning. I can change it or turn it down if you'd like."

"No, no it's fine... but since when has Y/n acted in plays? I don't remember hearing about this." Bruce stated, confusion growing as another emotion began to swell in his chest. One he was all too familiar with, but ignored for the moment.

"Since middle school, if I recall correctly, but it was only while they were younger. Having only been in three school plays in total, I believe." Alfred moved closer to Bruce as he looked at the screen, eyes softening for a moment as he watched you move along the stage. You had grown up so much since then, and the stage fright you used to have felt like nothing more but a faint memory now.

You wouldn't believe how incredibly proud of you he is.

"It's a shame they didn't do any more afterwards, since it would've been nice to have a few more recordings of their performances, but I suppose that's what happens when you find a new passion." He looked back at Bruce. That previous softness in his gaze nowhere to be found.

There was a certain way how his eyes looked at the billionaire, as if expecting something. As if expecting this.

Alfred had higher hopes, but you had left for a reason. Even if he knew what that reason was, it was only now did he see it more clearly. Especially as he witnessed Bruce's face shift into one of shock and surprise.

"They've always told you, Master Bruce, but you're schedule has just always been too full." Alfred handed Bruce a piece of paper, and Bruce took it wordlessly, looking it over.

It was a flyer promoting a play — the Alice in Wonderland play that was still going in the background — with the dates and times listed below, along with some of the cast members. Your name stuck out like a sour thumb compared to the rest.

Bruce did remember seeing this before, but one thing did still confuse him as he looked back at Alfred.

"I'm pretty sure you gave this to me at the time, not Y/n."

"That I did, sir, but that was only because Master Y/n was having some trouble with catching you attention, because they had wanted to give you the flyer themself. So I offered to give it to you for them." Alfred replied truthfully, cleaning up a little more while he was at it, and leaving Bruce to his thoughts for the moment.

He didn't remember you trying to catch his attention... but if what Alfred says is true then that makes sense, even if it made Bruce feel bad in a way. The feeling growing a little more when he realized something Alfred had said.

"And this happened all three times?"

"You sound surprised, Master Bruce."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, eyes pinned on the flyer as he pressed his pursed into a thin line. Countless thoughts floated around in his head, all of them jumbled up and messy as he just didn't know what to make of this. Missing one was probably fine, and maybe two at a push, but all three? How could he have missed every single one?

Sure he was busy, but he didn't think it was this bad. Did he just forget? How did he not notice such a thing had slipped right past him?

All Bruce could do was sigh. There was nothing he could do about it now, and even if there was a way to make it up to you, he didn't know where to start, or if that would change anything to begin with. Besides, he didn't even know how long it's been since these performances had happened.

...

Wait a minute-

"Alfred, how long ago was this?"

Alfred just looked at Bruce, brows just barely creased before he took a breath of his own.

"A few years ago, sir."

What?

At the look of disbelief on Bruce's face, Alfred could only stand and straighten himself out as he calmly asked, "How old do you think Master Y/n is, sir?"

"Oh, well, they're..."

... Bruce couldn't even think of an answer.

Obviously you had to be in highschool since it had been years since you've performed in a play, with the Alice in Wonderland play being one of them, but how old were you exactly? What year were you in? Were you a sophomore? Junior? Surely you weren't a freshman, but even then — what high school did you even go to? Bruce didn't think you were home schooled, or else he'd definitely notice that... or would he?

Oh no.

What if you already graduated? What if you already had gone and done something that not even Alfred knew about? Did you have a job? Where would you even work? Were you already in college? What college would you even go to? Did you manage to get a scholarship? What would be you major? Where would you be studying? Would you even stay in Gotham? Were you even old enough to be out on your own? Could you even drink yet? Could you drive? Did you own a car? Or even a motor bike? When was your birthday? Did it already pass? What's the month? The day? The year?

How old are you?

"I... I think I'm going to go and just check up on them." Bruce couldn't answer, and while he had a vauge idea. That's all it was, an idea. So he moved the subject along, and made his way up the stairs, leaving Alfred behind. Just watching as the world's greatest detective left the room, all because he couldn't figure out the age of one of his own kids. One he had chosen to take in and watch over like all the rest, and yet left behind all the same in the process.

Alfred could only sigh to himself as he paused the recording of the play. Ejecting the disc and putting it in its respective case, and placing it in its usual spot.

This was the only way, he decided. This was the only way.

--------------

Bruce didn't feel much better by the time he reached your room. It took him mistakenly stumbling into two guest rooms before he finally reached it, and honestly he felt more regret over that alone.

Most of this time he hardly remembered that the room before him now was even occupied, let alone that you had claimed it as yours. What didn't help was that it was only now that he remembered introducing this space as your own, and yet he had forgotten that small detail so quickly.

Regardless, Bruce just pushed that all to the side as he knocked on the door, taking in a breath.

"Y/n?" He called out, only to get no respose. So he tried knocking again, but he still got nothing.

Sure, he was getting a little confused, but just pushed that to the side with everything else, as he stared down at the door knob.

... Should he?

He had to talk with you eventually, especially considering what he just figured out and how little he actually knew about you. He needed to talk with you. He couldn't just let this slide, not with what he knew now. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

So, be tried the knob, and was kind of surprised that it was unlocked. Though besides that little strange detail, he gently pushed the door open, and took a peak inside.

Oh. You weren't even here...

Bruce didn't know how to feel about that.

Regardless of that, however, he opened up the door a little wider, and stepped inside. What he saw only made him more confused, but also feel so much worse when he looked all over the room. How could this be...?

Various things were on your desk, shelves, and hung on the walls. Your room looked surprisingly clean, but honestly Bruce doesn't know what he was expecting. After all, he didn't even know your exact age or hardly anything about you, and even then — by the looks of things, he had missed out on so much more than he originally thought.

Trophies, awards, medals, and certificates were littered about your room. The very sight of them made the paper in Bruce's hands feel so much heavier, and yet he still held onto it as he further inspected the awards, and few pictures hung on your walls.

Every color was here, from bronze to silver to gold, and at some point it seemed you were able to get a consistent amount of silvers and gold. The awards themselves were from various events and activities that barely corresponded with each other. From fencing to swimming, and dance to pottery. From track and field to literacy, and gymnastics to cooking.

It was like you had tried to do so much of everything, and were trying to collect all of these awards from all of these different activities, rather than earn them because you deserved it for all your hard work and dedication to do that particular activity, but Bruce just couldn't understand why. Why go through all of the effort just to move on to the next thing? It... didn't make sense.

Right next to you black belt for martial arts, you had hung up the few medals you had gotten from track, and right below that were some awards you had for gymnastics. Beside your soccer trophies you had some kind of art award, and beside that was more awards and things you had received from playing and participating in other sports and activities. Bruce had no idea you were even into some of these things, but just from looking at your room, he could tell you weren't all that into or interested in some of the activities you did. Seeing as some activities and such had more awards when compared to others, but one thing in particular seemed to really catch your interest.

Music.

Not only did you have a whole wall and section of your room dedicated to it, but it felt more organized, and the placement of awards and such seemed more thought out in a way.

Countless awards littered the wall, and from the placement alone he knew you were proud of them. The pictures hung on the wall showed you shaking someone's hand as you either held up an award or album cover. You smiled, and Bruce could see how genuine it was as he felt like he could feel your happiness radiate off the photo itself. The people you were shaking hands with looked pretty happy themselves, and Bruce was a little surprised that he recognized them, but that made him feel more conflicted.

The people in those photos with you, were famous, and you had gotten those opportunities to meet them and shake their hand all by yourself.

All of these awards — they were only the finishing products of what you had spent all of your time doing. They were only small glimpses into the person you truly were, and as Bruce looked at the records you had hung on the wall, he could feel his own regret spilling out of his bleeding heart.

He wish he was there with you.

He wish that he had been there to see you even get half of these rewards that you undoubtedly deserved. He wish he got to hear the music you played, and what kind of songs you wrote. He wish he had been there to see you go on, and work your way up, with him being there as your support, and yet...

He had missed everything.

From the plays, to the matches you had, to the games you played in and competitions you participated in, and how could he forget your performances that even earned you such big, important awards. Awards that probably meant so much to you, because of how far it showed you had grown.

Bruce missed it all. Every little thing.

... He had to find you.

No if's or but's this time. No more excuses. He had to find you. Bruce needed to.

So he did a more thorough search of your room. Finally placing the flyer down on your desk as he looked around. He checked your closet, your bed, even under the picture frames, and moved some of the awards around, in order to better check and search for anything. Any hint that could point to where you had gone, and or where you might be. Any clue, any thing that could tell him about you.

He even made sure to take a mental note of the people in the photos, just in case he had to reach out to them and ask if they knew where you were by some off chance. Though that was only if Bruce was convinced that you weren't even in the Manor, and getting some extra information on you never hurt anyway. Seeing as he had a lot of catching up to do.

As he searched, he ran into various things. From equipment, art pieces — most of which were unfinished — and old notes, to other random items. Like an airsoft gun, some glass beakers, various ties, a pair of shades, a glasses frame, and a sewing kit next to a first-aid kit? Bruce didn't want to think about how the first-aid kit both looked used, and was empty.

Bruce even stumbled upon a fancy looking tuxedo he didn't remember buying you at all, but a small tag caught his eye and-

Oh, it was a gift from someone else, and with the note you left behind the tag — most likely with the intention of giving the tuxedo back — it was safe to assume that you and this person knew each other quite well...

Bruce just put the tux back. He would've gotten you a better one anyway if you had just asked, or if he even knew you needed one in the first place. Though regardless of that, he kept looking.

Eventually, he looked under your bed, and found a single box under there. Undisturbed... sitting innocently in the darkness.

Bruce didn't waste much time as he reached out and grabbed it, and placed it on your bed. There was a thin layer of dust on top of it, which Bruce found a little strange but kept in mind as he opened the box and looked inside. There, he saw a variety of notebooks and papers, and from the looks of things, the items in here had been collecting a bit of dust too...

When was the last time you touched these?

It seemed a little strange that these were tucked away from everything else, and clearly you didn't want other people going through it or even seeing them since you kept it so out of view. Were they diaries? Bruce would rather learn anything personal about you from yourself, he didn't want to go through your things like this, but considering the situation...

He sighed, and just picked up a random notebook. If this could help him find you, then so be it. He didn't want to do this but he couldn't leave you alone either. Not again.

Yet, he was so focused on looking through your things that he didn't even realize that someone had passed by, and noticed the odd room Bruce was in. A room that they themselves haven't seen before.

"Woah, what's this place? An old childhood room or something?" Dick asked as he invited himself into the room, mindlessly looking around, not really paying attention to anything in particular as he waltzed around.

"It's Y/n's room." Bruce stated bluntly, still looking over the dusty notebooks in the box. Some simply labeled 'Notes' or 'Practice', while one in particular was called 'Ideas/List & Progress' with little drawn sparkles around it. Another two weren't labeled with titles or words, and instead with small music notes doodled onto the cover in your favorite color. Though Bruce didn't know the color was your favorite.

Nevertheless, Bruce decided to look through one of the notebooks with music notes on it, completely missing how Dick had froze, and turned to look at him as if he was crazy.

"What? You've got to be kidding, right?" Bruce just gestured to one of the records on the wall, flipping through the notebook in his hand as he read through it quickly but carefully.

Dick, still not entirely convinced and honestly just really confused, looked at one of the records Bruce had gestured towards, and felt like he had just gotten ran over by a truck with how hard reality hit him. There your name was, signed and everything, with a well-known producer listened as well.

His eyes even darted to the other records, only to find the same thing, and for just one final check, he looked at one of the awards on the wall.

Your name was engraved on it.

"Holy-" He covered his mouth, more than shocked as he looked around the room again, hand falling from his face, "but that means-" Now Dick was paying more attention to the room, moving from one thing to another as he looked over everything now.

"How did they- there's no way they did all of this? And- what. They even did gymnastics?!" To say that Dick was in absolute disbelief and shock was an understatement. Yet he hardly had any time to recover or process anything as another person popped into the room, albeit only temporarily.

"I'm afraid it is quite possible, Master Dick." Alfred spoke up, catching the attention of the oldest sibling as he moved into the room, and set a stack of papers on your desk, right next to the flyer Bruce had set down.

Confused and curious, Dick looked at the stack once Alfred had pulled away from it, and picked up the first paper.

It was another flyer, but this time for some kind of solo event or concert you'd be doing. The date written down was a few days ago... a week or so having already passed since then, but how could this be?

Dick hesitated, but took another one as he looked it over. Again, it was for some kind of concert or performance, but the date and time was further away. Three weeks to a month having passed since, but how did they not notice? Didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell them?

"This doesn't make any sense... why didn't Y/n tell us about any of these things?" He asked, mostly to himself as he continued to look through the various flyers.

"Why don't you tell me, Master Dick?" Alfred quipped, looking at Dick in a knowing way before stepping out of the room, "Now, I'll be heading off, but I do trust that both of you make the right choice this time around." With that, he simply left. Leaving Dick confused but feeling worse at the same time as he looked back at the flyers, mind racing until he spotted something.

Carfully, Dick pulled out another flyer out of the pile as he placed the others to the side. He recognized this one, but where had he seen it before? Was it...

... Oh god.

Dick whipped out his phone and checked his messages. He had to scroll down a bit, but he quickly found your contact and tapped on it. He flipped through your messages, hundreds upon thousands of which he never responded to, and even if that alone made he feel bad. When he found what he was looking for, he felt even worse.

He found a message of you sending him a photo of the flyer, and said how you hoped you'd see him there. The message itself had been sent almost a year ago, and as he looked back at the flyer, he didn't know how to feel. Yet he kept looking, especially as he spotted another familiar poster.

Some of them he was able to connect back to another message you had sent, and the further back he went the more he responded... but it wasn't much, and he seemed to leave you on read more times than not. He had made an effort, but clearly it wasn't enough.

Dick couldn't imagine how that must've felt for you, and he almost didn't want to. Yet he still continued to search through the flyers, and came across one he had an odd memory of. He did remember seeing a text for it, but also remembered hearing about it somehow? He wasn't too sure, but just incase he did decide to look through his voicemail. He didn't know what he'd find, but he decided to just have a little look, even if he wasn't sure he'd even find anything.

So, he matched the date of the message and scrolled until he found it.

The voicemail innocently stared at him, and Dick couldn't help but hesitate before he tapped on it, and let it play. Heart already heavy as he stared down at the flyer. The kind of look someone gave when they already knew it was too late, and Dick didn't know what was worse. The fact that he basically missed out on your entire life at this point, or that he had nothing to say for it besides that he was sorry, and had just forgotten about these things one too many times.

["Hey, Dick! I, um, I hope everything is going well and that patrol hasn't been too bad." Your voice wavered as you spoke. You were clearly nervous but you tried to push on anyway, and cleared your throat before you tried again.]

["How are you, though? I heard that you had a rough night the other day- and I know I'm not really into all this crime-fighting stuff like everyone else but... I just hope you're okay, y'know?" You chuckled nervously before you cleared your throat again, "An-anyway, um, yeah. I just- hope you're okay." The sound of a paper being fiddled with could be heard, and you took in a small breath.]

["So... I have this performance I'll be doing next Saturday- it's more of a competition really, since other musicians and stuff will be there too. It's at 7 o'clock, and I know you guys mostly work at night and everything- but if you could drop by or even just quickly come around at 8:15 that would be great! Since, um, that's when I'll be performing..."]

Dick looked at awards you hung on the wall as the voicemall continued to play. Based on the date of the performance he was able to find the award. You had gotten second place.

["It's um, it's a piece I wrote that's a tribute to your family- the Flying Graysons, that is, since we're allowed to play songs we wrote if they were approved beforehand, and it was! So, um, I really hope you don't mind. Your family is cool! Not that Bruce and everyone else isn't or anything- um, I'm going to stop talking about that before I say something stupid. But! I couldn't help but feel inspired so I, y'know-" you cleared your throat again. Clearly nervous.]

["Sorry for my rambling- but, yeah. You can pass by if you want or have the time, and it's right by that one place Bruce had that whole charity announcement on Monday. You can't miss it, there will be lights and all this other stuff- not to mention that it'll probably be loud considering things, but uh, yeah."]

["So if you think you can make it or pass by, it's at 7! Next Saturday! And if you can't make it by then, I play at 8:15! So, yeah. Remember that! If- if you want to. Hope to see you there! And if I don't, that's okay. I just hope you enjoy the piece if you hear it. Have a good night! Or-! Or day! Whenever you listen this- um, bye!"]

What? You had wrote a song for him? For his parents? For them?

Dick's heart swelled. He didn't even get to hear it either, he wasn't able to. He didn't have time, and he forgot, but that didn't make things better, did it?

You had gone through all of that effort, and not only made a song for him but even played it during a competition and got second place. Yet he couldn't even put a few minutes to the side to listen to it. He didn't.

Now Dick definitely felt awful.

However, he did notice that there was another voicemail left by you just a few minutes after the last one. So, he decided to play that too before his guilt and regret could fully settle in, as if it'd make him feel better somehow.

["8:45! IT'S 8:45! THAT'S WHEN I PLAY! NOT- Not 8:15, sorry! I mixed up the times- that's when a friend of mine plays, not me! Sorry! Uh, but yeah. I play at 8:45- stop by if you can! I hope to see you then! Buh-bye!"]

Okay, well, Dick officially felt worse now. So much worse.

You had all this character and personality, and yet he was never able to fully see it — to hear it like he has now. Not like this, not while he was paying attention.

Your voice was so much different than what he remembered, and despite your nerves you really tried to tell him because you hoped he'd be there. You tried to tell him in hopes he'd actually show up, and he never did. Even as he listened to your other voice messages, he could hear how his own actions, or lack thereof, were affecting you.

The messages grew shorter, more to the point, and while you did still sound enthusiastic — it's like he could hear the hope dying in your voice. The hope that'd he show up. That any effort would be made, but that didn't happen, and it didn't help that Dick was listening to some of the voicemails he was going through right now, for the first time.

He could only imagine the pain he caused you, and Bruce was thinking the same thing.

Bruce was still looking through your notebooks as Dick was regretting everything he had done to you in the past.

The notebook Bruce was reading now was one where you had written down majority of your more recent song ideas, along with things you wanted to try and melodies you were trying to mix together. It was mostly full of lyrics and small notes to yourself about certain things you wanted to keep in mind, and though there was a lot of things crossed out, Bruce couldn't help but be... charmed in a strange way.

How you talked to yourself was adorable, and seeing your excitement for your own performances and such through each word you wrote, just made Bruce feel so happy for you. He could almost picture your smile and how giddy you felt when you were writing some of these things down, or how focused you were when trying to figure out how to continue the chorus of a song you were making — or if there should even be lyrics to begin with. Along with how you wanted the song itself to sound, and what emotions you wanted to capture in it.

With each page turned it's like he could see the entire process you went through when it came to your song composition. Like he was almost there with you in the moment, watching you do your thing, and honestly? Just by that alone he couldn't help but grow... softer.

Bruce loved seeing how your mind worked when it came to music, and your thought process behind each and every little thing. He just... he felt like through each line and little note he read and looked over, he was falling in love. The kind of love that he couldn't quite describe, besides just the love only a father could feel when they really see their child for who they are for the first time. The kind of love Bruce hadn't felt in a long while, nor this intensely.

You were so creative and passionate, so driven to achieve your dream and do what you loved. You were just so... you, and there was just something about the way you expressed that in the notebook that felt charming. The deeper Bruce got into the notebook, the harder it was to not love you, and each time he saw one of your little notes, he could feel himself smiling. You were so precious, how could he not see that before?

Though, besides all of that, he did notice a small pattern.

Every performance you had, you mentioned in the notebook and would express your feelings about it, and every time you did — you'd write something beneath it. Just a small paragraph about certain hopes you had. Hopes that made Bruce's heart squeeze tighter.

It was you hoping that they'd get to see you perform, that they'd show up, and suddenly Bruce was reminded of why he was doing this in the first place. So, he started to flip through your book, shaking out of whatever trance he was in.

With each performance that passed, the little paragraph got shorter, smaller, simpler. Like a quiet prayer that was dying down, as the believer slowly lost their hope and faith. It even came to a point where only one sentence was written for a while.

"I hope I see one of them."

Bruce's heart broke a little more each and every time he saw it, but the page that really got to him was when the sentence was smudged, small wrinkles and creases were on the page, and you couldn’t even finish writing the sentence as the end of the 'e' in 'them' dragged out.

What didn't help was when he flipped a few more pages, and found the last performance you had written about. It was a few months ago, but the date didn't immediately catch Bruce's eye. No, no, no, what caught his attention at first was the change of that single sentence.

"I hope the audience enjoys it."

His heart shattered at that, smile fading as he took in a breath. A moment passed, with Bruce just stating at the writing. Wishing for the impossible, and to change things that had already been done. It was too late, but he somehow refused to believe that now.

Finally, he noticed the date and paused.

That... couldn't be right. You used to write in this notebook all the time from what he could tell, why did you stop? Did something happen that day?

If months really have passed... then that would explain all the dust on the box and contents within it, but still, it didn't make sense. Weren't you still here in the Manor? Bruce honestly couldn't think of why'd you would stop writing unless you somehow couldn't reach the notebook, but you couldn’t have left, right? Surely, above everything else, he would've notice that, right?

...

Bruce finally looked at Dick, seeing the oldest just staring at old flyers from various events and such you had participated in throughout your life. A life they never got to see.

"When was Y/n's last performance?" He asked bluntly, getting straight to the point.

Dick glanced at Bruce for a moment before looking back down at your desk. He moved some of the papers around before he found the most recent one and looked over to his father with a raised brow.

"About a week ago, why?"

Bruce looked back down at the notebook in his hand, eyes scanning over the date again before he closed it. Looking back at Dick, he asked another question.

"Have you seen Y/n around?"

Dick grew quiet at that, and after a moment he just sighed and shook his head.

"No, I can't say I have." It was only then did he catch what Bruce may have been thinking, "You don't think they-"

"It's a possibility. We can't be too sure just yet," Bruce just wanted to hold onto his hope that you were still here, and even if the chance was small he was willing to take it. He didn't want to believe that they had pushed you so far away that you would not only consider leaving, but actually went ahead and did it. He wanted to be doubtful, but he couldn't rule out anything. Not yet.

"Just keep looking, I'll go ask the others." Bruce stated as he placed the notebook back in the box and headed out the room.

"Keep looking? For what?! Other events we missed? More ways we ignored them? Things they did without us?!"

To say Dick's guilt was eating away at him would be an understatement. It was practically devouring him at this point, and he could just barely take it.

Bruce paused at the doorframe, sighing as he looked back at Dick, "Any hints or clues to where they could be. Favorite spots they might frequent, places where their lessons were held, people they know, anything." He left him with that, causing Dick to just run a stressed hand through his hair as he took a breath.

Worry and regret heavily weighed down on him, but all he could do was carry it for now. He'd make it up to you somehow. He would, and he'd finally get to hear that song one way or another.

As Dick started his search, so did Bruce.

Bruce did a general search around the house, looking for anyone he came across while also trying to look for you. He thought that if he was lucky, he'd run into you. Even if the possibility was small, it could still happen — or he hoped so anyway.

Just this once, Bruce really hoped for the best.

Though, he did end up running into someone, even if it wasn't who he was looking for.

"Woah, someone looks serious. What's got your bat panties in a twist?" Jason asked, amused, "Actually, wait, don't tell me. I don't c-"

"Have you seen Y/n?" Bruce cut Jason off, getting straight to the point.

The sudden question confused Jason as he gave Bruce a weird look, some of his amusment still remaining but it began to die down a bit.

"No... why?"

Bruce took a breath, fingers twitching, "Do you know where they could be?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jason's own confusion began to take over, his amusement continuing to die down, "Seriously, did something happen? Why are you suddenly looking for them?"

Bruce took a moment, just looking at Jason before he sighed.

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"... A few days ago..." Jason glanced off to the side.

"Jason."

"Okay, okay! Fine. I don't fucking know! A few weeks ago? Maybe?!" He answered, getting agitated already. "I'm barely here enough as it is, how am I supposed to know where they are!"

Again, Bruce took in another breath, but there was something about it that Jason didn't like. Maybe he inhaled too sharply or deeply — Jason wasn't sure, but all he knew was that he wasn't going to like what Bruce was about to say.

"Dick hasn't seen them either."

"And that's supposed to be a surprise, how? He lives all the way in Bludhaven, of course he isn't going to see Y/n. 'Cause they live here-"

"I haven't seen them."

"..." That was a little more surprising, but just a little more. It still couldn’t mean anything... right?

"With all the shit you do, I would be surprised if you even saw them on a semi-regular basis." Jason crossed his arms, still not convinced — not entirely anyway. Yet Bruce could only exhale softly, the action bothering Jason even more.

"It's just a possibility. I'm trying to find them. Think you can help out?" Bruce clarified before asking. Additional help would definitely be great, especially because it meant that they could find you faster. He could find you faster.

"What makes you think I'm gonna do that?"

"Did know that Y/n wrote a song that's a tributed to you?"

"... What."

Bruce sighed, "You don't have to do it because I asked you to, or even because I want to find them. You can do it for yourself, Jason. But I'll leave that decision to you." Then, he just walked off to continue his search for you, and the other occupants of the Manor. Leaving Jason by himself, alone...

"That bitch-" Jason cursed under his breath as he walked off, deciding that he'll help look. Though only so he could ask you if Bruce was bullshiting him or not, and not for any other reason...

... Wait, you wrote songs? Like, actually?

Jason just shook his head, already upset enough as he shoved the thought to the side. When he found you he could ask, and how hard could that be? The Manor was only so big, and besides, you were just one person. He could probably find you before Bruce if he just looked in the right places, but the only thing now was finding those places...

Okay, so maybe he saw the problem, but still. This couldn't be too hard. You were the only one in the whole family who wasn't a vigilante, and so it was only about a matter of time.

Nevertheless, Jason began looking around as well, trying to figure out where he should look as he mindlessly checked every other room he came across. Where would you even go anyway? He'd probably check your room first but he figured that Bruce had already checked there, and it wasn't like Jason knew where your room even was. Though he just chalked that up to how infrequent his incredibly short visits were.

Still, he didn't even know where to start, and would rather avoid searching the entire Manor if he could. He tried to scratch his brain for anything but he just... had no idea.

Well, okay, he had one idea, but that was only because of one night. Even then he's still not sure it was you who he saw on the-

["Master Y/n? Are you alright?"]

Jason's thought process was cut off by a sudden voice. He immediately recognized it as Alfred's, and a realization hit him. Right! He should look for Alfred first, he'd know where you are. Alfred practically knew everything about everyone in the Manor, so he'd lnow something for sure.

So, he followed the sound until he stood in the doorway of one of the lounges. The television was on and playing some kind of recording, but Jason paid no mind to it.

Confused, Jason called out, "Alfred?"

When he didn't receive a response, he huffed as his eyes drifted to the television. What was playing, anyway?

You — a smaller, younger version of you — stood in a door way, looking out in the hall before turning back to the camera. Big, innocent eyes looking up. Looking at Jason.

You couldn't have been no older than eight or nine.

[You gave a little nod with a small hum, "I'm okay, Alfred. Just... waiting, like you said."]

A small, soft huff could be heard from the other end of the camera, and the camera moved to be placed down a counter of some kind. Which revealed Alfred to be the one having been recording everything so far.

["Yes, well. How about we do a little something while we wait, hm?" Alfred asked, moving a stool closer to the counter — moving the camera again to be placed on the kitchen isle this time.]

Ingredients and tools used for baking could be seem on the counter. The stool Alfred had place was next to where he was standing, and a good distance away from the stove.

[You looked at Alfred curiously, "What are we going to do?"]

["Oh, nothing too much, Master Y/n. But... I do require a bit of assistance baking this cake, that is if you'd like to help, of course." Alfred patted the top of the stool as he spoke, "Though you can always just watch, if you'd like."]

[You perked up at what Alfred said, climbing up onto the stool enthusiastically with a smile. "I wanna help!" You exclaimed, looking over the ingredients before looking back at Alfred, "But... what cake are we making?"]

[Alfred hummed, pretending to think before be looked back down at you, "Well, what kind of cake would you like, Master Y/n? It is your birthday after all."]

["Really?" When Alfred nodded, you gasped excitedly before suggesting your favorite flavor at the time.]

["Well then, let's get started, shall we?"]

From there, the rest of the recording was of you and Alfred baking. With Alfred helping you when he had to, and laughing lightly when you would inevitably make a mess.

Laughs and jokes were exchanged, and it was probably the happiest Jason has ever seen you... which made him feel weird in a way. He didn't like it, not one bit, and yet he continued to watch the old, wholesome memory play out before him.

Jason watched as you got a bit of flour on your nose and how Alfred wiped it off. He watched as while Alfred was deciding on the shape of the cake, you gathered all the different colors and types of sprinkles you could find, and was looking at a particular color of food coloring. How you nearly fell trying to grab the food coloring, and how Alfred just narrowly managed to catch you. How after that, Alfred visibly recovered from the near heart attack he had gotten from watching you fall, and just watched you add the food coloring to the frosting after you had thanked him for catching you, and apologized for falling.

... It got Jason thinking, if only a little bit.

He didn't know much about you, not really anyway. Even if his visits were few and far inbetween, not to mention incredibly short, someone would think that he'd catch onto a few things about you, or just generally have more interactions with you, but he didn't. All he really knew was that you knew how to play the violin really well, but that was assuming that who he saw that night really was you. Even if he doesn't know who else it'd be.

Jason still remembered that one occurrence despite how long it's been since then... but that was for a different time. He had to focus now, but he still couldn't help but watch the little version of you trying to frost the cake without being too messy, but failing miserably.

It did get him thinking about how many small moments he had missed with you, and just... how little time he had actually spent around you.

Obviously, you weren't a little kid anymore. After all, the last time he remembered seeing you — you were already a teenager. Though was that really a good thing? Jason did remember having some kind of interaction with you in the past... but it wasn't much of anything, and even then he probably forgot half of those moments. What definitely didn't help is that you both didn't have each other's phone numbers, and the only form of communication you had was seeing each other in person.

.... Okay, maybe this whole 'finding you' thing was definitely a lot harder than Jason had originally thought.

["... Are they going to come, Alfred?" You asked, sitting in front of the cake you and Alfred had just made together, looking up at the camera that Alfred was holding once again.]

[Alfred didn't respond right away, but did eventually say, "I'm afraid not, Master Y/n, but if you'd like we could wait a little longer."]

[You shook your head, looking at the cake before looking back at the camera, "It's okay. We can blow out the candles now, but..." you hesitated, looking down at the table, "could you... stay with me? Please?" You looked away, embrassed for asking but didn't take back what you said.]

[Again, a soft huff came from the other end of the camera. "Of course, Master Y/n."]

After a short happy birthday song, the camera was placed down on the table as Alfred cut the cake. It was only after Alfred had given both you and himself a slice did the footage cut out.

Nothing could describe the face you made when Alfred said that no one was coming. Just like how Jason couldn't even begin to describe what it made him feel.

Even when a new recording started, he could hardly pay attention to it as all he saw was your face staring up at the camera. Expression not necessarily sad or upset, but it was easily the most heartbreaking thing Jason had ever seen. A kid shouldn't have a face like that. You shouldn't have a face like that.

Jason was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Cassandra trying to get his attention, nor did he feel her even pull on his sleeve. All he could think of was you, sitting at that table all by yourself. Alone.

He just turned the other way, practically stomping down the hall as he looked straight ahead, glaring.

He had to find you. Now.

Cass, on the other hand, was just confused. Watching as Jason stormed off before looking back at the recording that was playing on the television. What about it had made Jason sp upset? She didn't know, but she was a bit curious.

Bruce had already confronted her and asked her where you were, and of course she didn't know either. He did mention something about how Damian was trying to help a little, which was a surprise in itself, and how Jason might be trying to search for you too, and had asked her if she could do the same. She agreed, of course, just wanting to help out, but having run into Jason just now? That was... odd. Especially when he suddenly stormed off like that, but that wasn't her main focus right now. She still had to-

["Are you still trying to record this, Alfred?"]

Wait... was that your voice?

Cassandra turned back to the television, only to see the camera pointed towards the floor.

["Of course, Master Y/n. Just give me one moment, I almost have the camera set up."]

Oh, Alfred was there too? What was going on?

[Light laughter was heard before you spoke again, "Here, let me help you."]

The camera began to move, and as it paned up, there you were. A soft smile on your face, shining colored hues looking at the camera as you made a few more adjustments before stepping away.

Now, you definitely looked like a teenager or young adult. Voice more matured and settled, almost calm in a way.

["There. That should be good, what do you think?" You asked Alfred, tilting your head to the side a bit, most likely looking at the butler.]

["I have to agree, Master Y/n. Everything should be working properly." Alfred then came into frame, moving towards the counter as you moved around the kitchen isle to follow him. "Now, what is it that you wanted to make this year?"]

["Oh! Right, well..." and you told him, already grabbing a few necessarily ingredients from around the kitchen.]

It wasn't long before the two of you started baking again, but this time around you were clearly more experienced than your younger self — not that Cass was aware of that anyway. You both did your own parts, working exceedingly well together as the conversation between the two of you was nothing but natural.

Cass never saw you talk so naturally, or even knew you could bake, but there were a lot of things she didn't know about you.

She could see that in the footage, you were really relaxed and happy. Almost at ease as you skillfully moved about, as if knowing the necessary steps to make what you were hoping to bake by heart, and how you navigated the kitchen made it look as if you almost knew it as well as Alfred did. It was almost refreshing to see you just be so... in tune with your surroundings, and Cass almost wished she had been there to see you bake for herself. Though she could settle watching footage of you bake for now.

Even if she didn't know why you were even baking in the first place until Alfred mentioned something about a gift for your Birthday, and how that led you to talking about some of the things your friends had given you.

This was... your birthday? Just you and Alfred?

That didn't feel right... but then again, she didn't even know when your birthday was to begin with — and now that she thinks about, had you ever celebrated Christmas with everyone? As a whole family?

... She wasn't sure.

["Are you certain that you don't want to wait, Master Y/n? You never know, someone could show up this time." Alfred asked, looking at you with slight concern.]

[You only smiled, "I'm sure. Besides, even if any of them did come, we both know that it'd be on accident." You laughed lightly to yourself, looking down at the pastry both you and Alfred had made together. "I doubt they even know when my birthday is, but that's okay." You looked back at Alfred, your smile still happy but... there was something off with it.]

["I've told you before, haven't I? You're all the company I need in this house. I'm happy just spending my birthdays like this with you." You took a piece of the pastry and ripped it off before holding it in the air, as if doing a toast, and held it toward Alfred. "So, happy birthday to me?"]

[Alfred sighed softly, but could only smile as he took his own piece of the pastry, copying your actions as he held the piece toward you, "Happy birthday, Master Y/n."]

The footage cut right after, and suddenly Cass found herself in a similar position that Jason had been in just a few moments ago. Just staring at the screen, unsure what to do with this new information, the weight on her chest growing.

Had you really spent every birthday like that? If so... then why didn't you tell anyone? Or had you tried, only for nothing to come of it?

The thought alone hurt, strangely enough, and all Cass wanted to do was... well. She wasn't sure.

She wanted to do so many things, and yet she didn't know if anything would work. Or if anything she could do would fix... well, anything at all.

She wanted to try your baking and... and celebrate a birthday with you. Or maybe she just felt obligated to do so after having seen the recording, but a big part of her did mean it. Especially because she didn't want you to feel alone or anything ever again, not after seeing the extent it went to. Though perhaps there was some irony in that thought that Cass failed to realize.

Regardless, Cass found herself walking off too. Completely missing the figure who turned off the television, and unplugged the camera from it that held all of the footage both her and Jason were shown.

Cass was practically speed walking as she checked the library — remembering have seen glimpses of you in there before — while Jason checked the music room, only for both to turn up equally empty. Yet they kept looking. Everyone did.

Dick tried calling and texting you while trying to see if there was anywhere you could be outside of the Manor. Tim ended up helping as he ran into Dick, and was basically locating and tracking down all the places you've been to with the help of your notebooks and awards in your room. All the while listening to some very earlier pieces you've wrote and played on the mp3 player he found in your box.

Bruce was still looking all over the Manor for you, each minute that passed making him more paranoid and worried. What started as a small possibility was growing into a certainty and he did not enjoy that at all. Damian had decided to search for Alfred, since it seemed like the smartest choice if they wanted to end this quickly. Yet when he did find Alfred and asked him where you were, it turned out that Alfred didn't know where you were either.

While yes, he did know some of the teachers and coaches you've had in the past, he didn't know where you were at this exact moment. How could that be? It was simple, really.

Alfred hadn't seen you in a while either, and once that little piece of information spread around the family... what followed after could only be described as chaos.

The Manor was practically flipped upside down as Bruce, Damian, Jason, and Cass searched for you. Not a single room went unchecked, and when they still came out empty handed, their own worries began to fuel each others.

Dick was the first one to suit up and head out, already calling Barbara as night fell on Gotham, with Tim beginning to suit up — yet Jason had beat him to the punch and was out the second the Manor was cleared. Cass was next to follow, with Bruce and Damian not following too far behind. Tim only left after informing Stephanie — and after downloading some of your songs — and telling Alfred to keep a look out just in case you came back home.

In just a few hours, what started as an unusually uneventful and calm, quiet day for the family, quickly turned into one of the most panicked induced searches and painful night of their lives.

All because of you.

---------

You were tuning your guitar calmly, tapping your foot to the melody playing in your head as you hummed. The silence surrounding you was peaceful for a chance, and didn't feel suffocating or as unnerving as the silence in the Manor did.

Honestly, it took a bit of getting used to but after a few weeks you had grown to love it. Waking up everyday and having someone there to not only greet you, but actually acknowledge you also took a bit of getting used to, but you managed much more easily with that.

Sure, there were other things as well, but you eased into it and had come to accept these small things as just parts of your new life. Yet, you still found yourself appreciating and noticing the smallest things, and almost crying over them too.

It had been a few months since you had left the Manor, and honestly you couldn't be happier.

You now shared an apartment with one of your closets friends, and your career helped you cover your half of the rent, as well as other expenses. You had truly found comfort with this new lifestyle, and even if you'd like to move out of Gotham one day — you could settle for this for now.

This, you believed, was what peace truly felt like.

Even when your phone started to go off like crazy — you just took one look at who it was and rolled your eyes, putting your phone on silent as you placed it face down on the table in front of you. You didn't know what Dick and Tim needed so badly, but you were sure they'd be able to figure it out themselves. After all, they were the sons of the world's greatest detective, right? They could handle themselves.

So you just leaned back into your couch, sighing softly as you mindlessly strummed away at your guitar, smiling a little to yourself when the tune was just right. Creating a melody came all too naturally to you, and all you did was carry it on — humming softly as countless ideas filled your head. A small song beginning to form, even if unintentionally.

A song that went on — with the suffering of Gotham going on in the background. The city being cleared out and searched by the vigilantes that dared to protect it, all of it being done just to look for one person. You.

The shouts and screams served as the base, with the shattering of glass and bones being the lower kick, perhaps. The heart beat serving as the tempo, and so on.

So, just as you had years ago, you played on. Calm and happy in your own little world, unaware of the horrors to come — and destruction being made in your name.

–––––

Well, that's long, isn't it?

Might be making a another post that kind of details what some of the others did before everything went to hell? We'll see. Maybe.

Sorry again for any mistakes, especially towards the halfway point/end there.

#platonic yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #platonic yandere #honestly this is probably the longest post i've ever made #not series

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hana-no-seiiki · 2 months

Text

THE BETTER DAMIAN

“Beloved…”

Damian stared at you and then your new pet.

“Hm?”

You looked at him innocently. Eyes wide in anticipation of his following words.

“I enjoy your competitive spirit. I truly do.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

How did you even get this thing? He had been keeping track of all your heists recently but never heard of you going to the zoo or anything.

Sometimes he wishes he agreed on Tim’s offer of 24/7 surveillance. Damn it. If only that didn’t mean his older brother got to see you in your bed/bathroom too.

“Get to the point, Wayne.”

“Maybe a panther is a bit too much?”

“You’re just jealous cause I’m spending more time with the better Damian.”

“That’s besides the point.”

“So you are jelly!”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

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tomriddleslovergirl · 2 months

Text

Readers life while kidnapped by the batfamily

Warnings/Includes: Forced physical affection, kidnapping, yandere behavior, manipulation, batfam being delulu

You have an illusion of privacy. Sure, you have your own room, but there a cameras in it for any of the batfamily members to watch you (usually Tim). And you might have a door, but there's no lock, so anyone can burst in at any time. If you've been good, you can have some screen time, but that too is being heavily monitored.

You very quickly find out about the cameras. Either it can be when you're in your room, trying to escape through your window and one of the batfamily members show up to stop you or one of them slips up and says something they shouldn't know.

Usually, Damian is dragging you around the manor with him. When he eats, you eat, when he studies, you can read (though he might get jealous of the book lol).

If you ever talk about how much you miss being free, Damian would pull up a news article about some accident that happened in Gotham that took the lives of several people, and would tell you to be grateful that you're at the manor, where him and the rest of your "family" can keep you safe.

Dick will come into your room whenever. He may have been your favorite sibling if it weren't for the fact that he forced you to have physical affection with him. You'd struggle against him as he attempted to cuddle with you and press kisses against your cheek, blabbing about how his day went.

Now, Jason is your favorite (if you could choose a favorite from all the people that kidnapped you). He visits the manor more now that you're staying there. He's the most laid back, and you catch yourself saying things to him that you really shouldn't be saying to one of your kidnappers. Jason likes the fact that you trust him, and like him more than the other batfamily members and may or may not rub it in their faces.

Bruce (just like the rest of the batfamily) hates when your bring up your past family, especially your dad. Gets so upset when you tell him he's not your real dad.

He might say some shit like, "Be good and we can get ice cream like we used to" even though you've only known this man for a few months?!?

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toast-on-dandelioms · 4 months

Note

What if reader accidentally called superman "dad" while they were on a mission? Like Batman needed some help tracking down some new murder cult and thought Spider could help? But they wouldn't come unless superman wasnt there since Spider does NOT trust the batfam?

Ok so, I'mma make a scene with your idea and then say what it would happen. Just to then explain how the Batfam would react.

You were called with Clark to a mission, knowing the Batfam was there but you didn't care since you knew Clark would protect you from them.

Plus you made sure to grab two tasers this time and incorporated a new type of web fluid that could emit electricity when it hits someone.

You did create it so you didn't have to use a taser but also so you could tase anyone of the Batfam that would dare to get too close to you or even touch you during the mission.

Clark finally landed while you adjusted your mask since you took it off while you were flying to feel the air in your (long/short) hair.

You looked at the batfam, already annoyed when they didn't even do anything but just their presence was a source of anger and annoyance for you.

While the Batfam was also annoyed that Clark was there but he had to come or you wouldn't even consider going with them to a mission.

You didn't say anything to them, just giving them the blank stare your mask provided and just stayed next to Clark, listening to them talk about what everyone was supposed to do in the mission.

Bruce did try to make you go with him or any of his kids, making you nervous since you couldn't really refuse without any excuse. You did have one but you can't really say "I refuse to go with any of your kids (directed to Batman) because I hate all of you".

But Clark surprised you by refusing any option of you going with any on the Bats and stated that you would go with him, making you smile a little and lean a little on the kryptonian.

Which made all of the Bats jealous and angry at the kryptonian.

At the end you were supposed to go with Superman in the hideout of the cult, which you were happy about it and quickly followed the kryptonian while ignoring the glares of the Batfam that were directed towards Clark.

Well, during the mission you got separated from Superman in the fight against the cultist when they suddenly ambushed both of you, making you panic since you never fought so many people at once.

Yes you did fight small gangs but usually they were just kids and you just had to punch one and all of them backed down immediately. So fighting a large group of people that knew how to fight was a bit difficult and extremely different from what you're used to.

Plus your panic doubled when you saw Damian and Dick approaching, probably to help you but in the fight and the panic in your mind made them seem even more dangerous than the cultists trying to stab you.

So you did the only reasonable thing that your scared mind wanted. You called for Clark while fighting three cultists at the same time, tasing a few of them while fighting.

The problem? You accidentally called him dad.

Bruce Wayne: oh god how angry was he when he heard that from Dick and Damian's coms.

(He still doesn't know who you are behind the mask but already sees you as one of your kids even though you're already are)

He quickly finished fighting the leader and ran to where you were supposed to be, quickly knocking out anyone who was in his way.

He did kill a few of those in his way, but he made sure to hide the bodies and will deal with it later by burning down the hideout.

He finally arrived at the spot where you and the others were supposed to be and he saw something that made him want to grab his kryptonite batarang to hit Clark.

Why? He saw you in Clark's arms, hugging him with all your might while he flew so neither Dick and Damian could reach you.

Plus the worst thing was the sick smile Clark had in his smile, like he planned it. Like he knew you weren't ready to go in such a big mission and would probably call him in a panic.

Bruce just glared at the kryptonian and signaled him to get out with you so they could get rid of the rest of the cultists.

Basically Bruce would be a jealous bitch even though he doesn't care about you when you don't have the mask on, and would use his anger against all the cultists there since he blamed them instead of blaming himself.

Clark Kent: oh he would be so smug whenever he sees Bruce and you're not with him.

Especially since he planned it. He might not be as smart as the Batfam but he knows people and especially you.

He knew you weren't ready for such a big mission since you mostly trained with him and fought small gangs in Gotham.

He knew you would panic while fighting and knew you would call for him when you couldn't do it anymore.

The dad part was a surprise but a happy one for Clark, he became so smug when you jumped in his arms when he quickly flew to you.

He did see the glares he received from almost all the batkids and especially Batman, to which he responded with a smug smile while rubbing your back.

He left with you since you didn't want to stay and he also knew Bruce caught the leader so he didn't have any reasons to stay.

Not sure if you also wanted the Batkids but I didn't add them, just comment if you also want to have the batkids reaction and I will add it!

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i-cant-sing · 16 days

Text

Mmmhhh thinking about Yandere Batfam reacting to a reader who runs a very popular blog where she absolutely bashes Batman and Robins- and the batfam takes your criticism very seriously. Maybe not at first, but then Damian (the easiest to tick) got pissed off when you wrote how "he's just a kid in a cheap Halloween costume" and when Damian gets pissed off, he whines. He whines and whines and whines until Dick and Bruce finally listen to him and do something about it. That's when they find out about the extensive threads about them, criticising meticulously each and every action of theirs, how they're causing more financial harm to Gotham and allowing themselves to be idolised and causing more people to comit crimes just so that they could have their 5 seconds of fame with Batman. And ofc theirs a whole page about the Batsignal.

I mean, Damian and Tim have already found out who runs the page (though they had a little bit of a hard time sniffing u out. You were good at covering your tracks). While Damian and Tim are busy going to "have a talk with you", Bruce is at home reading your entire blog about Batfam and realising how some of your points.... kinda makes sense. So, he buys the app where you write your blogs, then has Damian bring you over to the Wayne offices, where he explains he just wanted to meet the person running the blog that generates the most readers on the app. You, just a 23 year old student who's blogging as a side hustle.

You're obviously stunned because why are you meeting Bruce Wayne and also confused because again, why are you here exactly??? Bruce just says that he likes your insights and would like to know more, and he's happy to pay you by the hour you spend talking to him and also on the blog.

He's very much determined to make Batman and Robins be good in your mind, and not that he cares much about what people think about him, it doesn't hurt to have good PR for heroes, lest people should try revolting against Justice league and only end up hurting themselves. There's only so much he could do to calm his metahuman friends.

You're again- CONFUSED, but you like money. The only thing you tell him is that you get to write whatever you want, complete creative control and that you can write about anyone you wish. Ofc, it doesn't register to Bruce that you could possibly write against his family- against his name.

So in the beginning, things are going great. Reader continues making calculated judgements and comments about Batfam and how they could possibly improve themselves, the batfam takes note and tries to do most of the things. Then you'd write something that could almost be seen as praise for "changing their old ways" and they all feel a little bit proud. They don't realise it but some members of the batfam (like damian and Dick) start craving your approval of their actions.

Perhaps something happens, maybe you don't find it fun to write about the bats anymore, so you shift your mind towards a new topic-

The Wayne's.

You research a bit, finding it a little odd at Bruve Wayne's generosity to be adopting random ass kids, a super duper clean record, no scandals or anything- it just- it doesn't feel right. No one's that clean. They have to be hiding something.

So when u can't find anything against them, you let your imagination go wild and start making conspiracy theories, kinda feel like reader goes in her gossip girl era to stir things up so that someone would come forward with something- anything.

Bruce's eyes almost bulge out as he reads the blog's headline-

"The secrets of Gotham's favourite billionaire playboy!"

Shit- did you figure out he's batman?

Nope. In fact, you covered everything but that. From theories about him adopting troubled kids for PR, to the Wayne family actually being a chauvinist cult, to conspiracies about his ties with the Rothschild, his philanthropic donations being a front for illegal activity, the Wayne Manor holding lavish nsfw parties, and even a classic "they drink virgin maiden blood!"

Bruce stood in your apartment, eyes narrowing at your sleeping form on the couch.

"Bruce? What- how did you get in?" You don't remember unlocking your door.

"What is the meaning of this?" He pulled up your article on his phone.

"Huh?" You took a closer look, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I wrote that."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "I was bored."

"What?" Bruce could feel himself getting angry. How could you be so nonchalant about the lies you wrote?

"You know this isn't true." "I do." "Then why did you write it?" "I told you, I was bored. Besides, you told me I could write about anyone." You get up with a sigh. "I don't get why you're so worried about this. Barely anyone reads this stuff."

Bruce's brows went up. "There's a 1000 plus views on this already!"

"What?" your eyes twinkled. "A thousand already? Its not even been 24 hours since I posted. Wow, people really do enjoy conspiracy-" you shut up when you saw his glare. "Right, sorry."

"Take it down, now." Bruce orders, brow twitching when you just walk past him and into the kitchen, pouring yourself some coffee. "Why?" you asks after taking a sip.

He glares at you. "Because it isnt true-"

"Then give me something that is."

Bruce stared at you. Is this... is this your way of wanting an interview?

You sighed. "Look, just let me interview you family, I promise to only write the truth and only the truth. No conspiracies, I swear."

"Or I could just fire you. Better yet, have you sued for defamation."

You nodded. "You could, but honestly that would only bring more attention to the articles and more conspiracies would arise. Besides, you and I both know you cant stop me from writing even if I'm in jail."

Bruce watched you walk upto him, holding your phone in your hand. "Come on, just one week- one week at your place, I'll even let you read the article before I post it. If you dont like it, I'll delete it."

I mean... it did sound like a pretty good bargain. Besides, at his home, youd be in a more supervised space.

So here you are, standing in the lobby of the Wayne manor as a posh butler leads you to Bruce's office. Of course Alfred will be a part of your articles. He's too fancy to not be.

And so over the course of a week, you dont really find anything particularly intriguing about the family, even after you interviewed each member. You're mentally groaning at the thought of writing yet another boring article... that is until you accidentally discover the batcave (ok not accidentally, u hid a recorder in Bruce's office and u heard the man discussing about it with Dick)

Anyways, it didnt take long for you to discover the cave, and it took you even less for you to write a scandalous article.

"RICH MAN COSPLAYS AND PRACTICES HIS JUJUTSU SKILLS ON THE MENTALLY ILL! SEE PICTURES OF WHERE HE ROLEPLAYS IN MASKS!"

Unfortunately, before you hit "post", your phone is snatched and you're knocked out.

When you come to, Bruce is sitting in front of you looking beyond pissed while you're tied up in your seat.

"We had a deal, Y/n." Bruce gritted out.

"So? Deal was off the moment I found out you were Batman." You shrugged.

"We had a deal-"

"You really expect me to just pretend like I'm blind after I found out who you really are? Do you think anyone would just give up on a scoop this big?" You tilt your head at him.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at you. "Scoop? Thats what this is to you?"

You nodded. "Sure, you're a hero who fights crime and brings "peace" to Gotham, but who knows for sure? After all, thats how you want the world to see you." You lean as far as your restraints allow you. "I dont trust you, Bruce. Not one bit. There's just- this gut feeling about you. Nothing personal, but I dont get good vibes from you."

"Is that so?" Bruce raised his brow before sighing. "I guess there's no reason to let you go then."

"What?"

He nodded to himself. "Yes, if I let you go now, you'll only cause more trouble for me, but also for yourself. If you post content like that, people will target you- yes, I definitely cant let you go. You're an impulsive idiot who'd endanger herself just to not be bored."

Your eyes widen. "You cant kill me."

Bruce scoffed. "Dont be ridiculous, I can, but I wont. I just want to take care of you, protect you from yourself." He stood up. "I did a little bit of research on you too, yknow? You keep your personal life super private, I have to give credit to you, it wasnt easy to find out about your family. But... money makes the mare go."

Your throat dried as you saw a glint in his eyes. He knew... he couldnt-

Bruce's footsteps echoed as he neared you and ruffled your hair. "Poor you... having to deal with a schizoprenic mom." He leaned down to smile gently at you, but you could sense the sinister intent.

"Dont worry, she'll be taken care of at Gotham Asylum while you stay with us."

girl idk where i was going with this, i just needed to get it out of my drafts (i have another long incomplete draft about platonic yandere dick x gymnast reader where he basically is intrigued by this mini tonya harding who lives for her dead beat father's approval who doesnt give a shit about her unless she comes first. so its upto dick to adopt u and make u a part of batfam)

#rich man has weird ways of adopting kids that dont consent to adoption #yandere bruce wayne #yandere batman #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere dc #batfam x reader

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anxiousnerdwritings · 5 months

Note

Can I request something spicy for YanBatman with his Ex-WifeReader? 🫨

TW: Semi-NSFW, implied breeding kink, mention/implied cockwarming

(I sincerely hope you like it! It feels like forever since I’ve written something like this, let alone something spicy.)

Entrapment

A talk. That’s all this meeting was suppose to be. Just a simple and civil discussion about the upcoming court proceedings regarding the divorce and what would be happening afterwards regarding your relationship with the family (especially Damian), nothing more. So, how did it end up like this? How could it have possibly strayed so far off track?

~~~~

You weren’t too surprised when you got a call from Bruce. He often went between nonstop blowing up your phone to not reaching out to you for days at a time, you were getting more and more used to it by now. You of course didn’t answer it, your lawyer had advised you not to after your telling them of how Bruce was throughout your entire relationship with him. His tendencies and the way he behaved when it came to you. Your lawyer wasn’t exactly completely believing of it, and that was pretty understandable given some of the things you had divulged to them (if you hadn’t lived and dealt with it yourself you would have had a hard time believing it too) but they decided it was better to be safe than sorry and advised you to not interact with Bruce outside of them. And so you hadn’t and you didn’t plan to either. That was until you listened to the voicemail that he had left behind.

He had an offer. He wanted to meet in person and discuss this whole situation, one on one. He wanted to come to an equal agreement outside of having to go to court. And as much as you hated it it sounded like it might be the better option. There was no pretending that this divorce would go in your favor, there were just too many things going against you. Bruce had the money, he had the means to get the best damn lawyer in Gotham and fight this to the very end. Not to mention that this divorce would be very public in general given just who it involved. And he could very easily get the media on his side, tarnishing your image as a whole. Not that you cared too much for that, you had planned to leave Gotham behind anyway after the divorce was final but the thing that got you the most was the rest of the family.

You adored Alfred. Not only was he simply one hell of a butler but he had been so good to you throughout your marriage to Bruce. Even though you two hadn’t been married that long, Alfred was still very much a support to you and what you went through. He didn’t completely agree with what Bruce did or how he went about things, you were your own person and he tried to remind Bruce of that on many occasions, but there was only so much he could do. And it wasn’t just Alfred you cared about, you also loved all of Bruce’s kids. Once you married Bruce they didn’t just become your family, they were your babies too. And you still wanted to have them in your life and you knew Bruce would hold them over your head no matter which way this divorce went.

Sure, the rest of the family had been involved to some extent with what Bruce was doing in your relationship, especially when it came to keeping you isolated and cooped up in the manor. But as far as you saw it that was all due to Bruce’s influence, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually believe that they would willingly go along with it of their own accord. Or that they even gave Bruce ideas to begin with to keep you by his side and with them as a result. You just couldn’t possibly think of them like that, you just couldn’t. So, it of course scared you at the thought of being completely cut off from the people you had opened your heart to. You still wanted to be there for them, still be a part of their life but just at a safe arm’s length away instead of how it was before.

The more you thought about it, mulling it over and over again in your head, this offer was sounding like the more beneficial thing to do. You did still have love for Bruce of course, you just didn’t want to be in that kind of situation again and you knew the only way to prevent that and keep yourself safe was to step away from him and any form of romantic relationship with him.

~~~~

The day was finally here for the two of you to meet and you couldn’t help the anxiety that washed over you. You never truly knew what Bruce would do, what he was really thinking in the moment. He was unpredictable like that. He could come off oh so charming and inviting, it was scary how easy he could lure you into his trap. And you knew better than anyone what it was like to be caught in that snare. That was what your whole marriage had been with him after all, just one big entrapment.

Even when you were briefly on the phone with him to set up this meeting you couldn’t contain the tremor of nerves you had just hearing his voice again. You really did miss it, you missed him. But this needed to be done. For the both of you. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Seeing him face to face again was something else. He looked good, he looked like he was taking care of himself again. That was a far cry from how he was the first few months after you left. He was a mess and it showed. That alone almost had you going back to him just so he’d be alright but you knew what came with him being back to himself and you couldn’t put yourself in that position again. You just had to remind yourself that this was it and it would soon be over for good.

Bruce greets you with open arms, you’re not quick enough to back out of his reach before he’s already enveloped you in his hold. He’s warm, he’s always been so warm. And his hold is tight, longing but not as suffocating as it used to be. And just as you’re beginning to feel yourself unconsciously fall into his warmth just like you used to so many times before, welcoming his touch again, he pulls away. For a split second you want to reach out to him and feel his touch all over again but you remind yourself that this isn’t what this is anymore. It can’t be.

Once the two of you are settled you start off talking small talk and everything seems good, everything seems okay. Bruce asks how you’ve been, if you’re doing alright with everything that’s been going on. He seems caring. He seems like he genuinely wants to know how this has affected you but you remind yourself yet again that this isn’t what you think it is. He then moves on to talking about the family and how they have been holding up through out this process, everyone’s taking it hard. Dealing with it in their own way but it seems Damian is the one who is taking it the hardest. That’s what you had feared. You worried about how Damian was taking all of this, how he was being effected by it. He was such a guarded kid, so closed off. You felt terrible having to put him through this, as well as the others but it’s what needed to be done. Right?

It isn’t until you try to bring up the original topic of discussion, the entire reason for this meeting in the first place, that you see how this wasn’t remotely the meaning of this meeting. You barely caught sight of Bruce’s jaw clenching when the words left your mouth, that was enough insight for you to know that this wasn’t at all what it was meant to be.

It’s obvious that it’s the last thing he wants to do, you can tell. He’d rather talk about anything else other than that. It’s one thing to ask how you’ve been regarding it or talking about how the rest of the family’s been taking it in but he doesn’t want to actually get into it. He’s avoiding it, of course he is. You can’t blame him but this needs to be over with.

“Bruce.” He tenses. It feels like it’s been forever since you said his name, he’s missed hearing it from you. He wants to hear it over and over again, like a mantra. God, the way it hit him when that’s all you could say as he thrusted so deep into you, just his name rolling off your tongue repeatedly. Fuck he missed it. He missed you.

“Remember, we’re meeting here for a reason. I don’t want to take up much more time than we need to. So, could we get to it?” Business. That’s all this was. Bruce hated it. Of all things, this is what brought you out of hiding? This is what opened you up to seeing him once more?

No.

He wouldn’t take that as an excuse.

He just wouldn’t.

“You’re right, (Name). Let’s get to business.”

~~~~

Without a doubt in your mind this was his intention all along. Of course it was. How could you see it any other way?

Bruce was calculating. He proved that more than once since you have known him.

It showed I n how he talked, the words he said dripping off his lips one after another, the sweet nothings he filled your head with.

In how he touched you; the placement of his hands, the way his fingers brushed you, the methodic way they curled deep inside your warmth.

But more importantly he was the most calculated when it came to fucking you. He knew you better than yourself, he spent your whole entire relationship learning and memorizing your body. What you wanted, what you needed. What exactly drove you to the deepest depths of pleasure. He knew it all. And he certainly knew how to use it to his advantage.

Each thrust, deeper than the last, was all so cunningly planned out. The way he grounded his hips into yours, the way he clutched you so close, melding himself into you, opening you up even more to take him completely. Every single move was so irrevocably mapped out.

~~~~

Your warmth. Oh, how much he’s missed it. How much he’s fucking craved feeling it wrapped around, enveloping him whole again, only for him to feel. You have no idea how many times he’s touched his throbbing cock to the thought of it, to the thought of having you sprawled out under him again. You have no fucking idea.

Once he has you right where he wants you, completely lost in the ecstasy of it all, he allows himself to finally give in to his own blinding pleasure.

No more calculating.

No more cunning.

No more being methodic.

No more.

Now it was all solely his mindless self indulgence. His once slow, deep thrusts turned into rapid, savage pounding. His kisses were more aggressive, sloppy. His touch was burning hotter than ever as he gripped and grabbed every piece of you he could.

At this point, Bruce let himself get lost in it. He let himself fall into the deepest, darkest pits of his desires. All he wanted now was to chase that feeling he’s been left without for so long, over and over again.

One after another, he released everything he had deep inside you. Again, and again, and again. All of this; all of his pent up anger, hurt, passion, everything he had bottled up inside throughout this whole shitshow of a situation, he was free to let it all go.

After the haze finally let up, Bruce was left basking in the aftermath. He couldn’t have felt better than ever before. He had you again, he had you here in his arms and it wasn’t a dream this time. You were the real deal and he couldn’t have been happier.

He couldn’t help but look at you,, watching you, taking all of you in again just like the many times he used to before. You were a fucking mess after everything and he absolutely loved it. He did that to you, he made you that way. And he took great pride and pleasure in it. He left you so full, both with himself still inside you (he just couldn’t bring himself to part with your warmth again) and all his cum. This was how he wanted to stay. This was how he wanted to be.

Placing his large hand on your stomach, he caressed it tenderly. There was no way you wouldn’t fall pregnant after this, he had made sure of it with all the times he filled you with his seed. He wanted you pregnant, he wanted you filled to the brim with his baby. He needed to have you tied for life and what better way to ensure that than by bringing a new life into the world together.

You wouldn’t be able to get away from him now. This had been yet another way to entrap you, to keep you in his grasp and Bruce wasn’t going to leave any room for you to wriggle out of his reach again.

“Let’s start anew, (Name). After all, we’re going to have even more of a reason to work things out now.”

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yandereunsolved · 25 days

Text

— Yandere Damian Wayne —

"D-Did you kidnap me again?"

"I hope that question was rhetorical. Then again, I didn't fall in love with you for your intelligence."

"Damian—"

"Yes, I'm in love with you. I said it out loud. I practically had to force the words out of my lips. You're welcome. You are extremely lucky to have captured my affections."

"I'm more worried about the kidnapping thing, I'll be honest."

"I did it for your protection."

"..."

"Don't give me that look! I'm an adult man. I can kidnap whomever I like."

"This isn't how people show that they love each other."

"I have been killing whoever I like for you. I will continue to do so. You don't get an opinion on this. You will stay in this manor as my new spouse, forever."

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klemen-tine · 3 months

Text

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.

Part 2

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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lycheeloving · 5 months

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late night snack adventure with the yandere batfam <3

#batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere!batfamily #yandere!batfam #x reader #reader insert #yandere #yandere dc #lycheewritings #platonic yandere #yandere texting

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l0vergirls · 9 months

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just a little something that's been on my mind for a while now, like it's actually rotting my brain.

cw: stalking, a bit nsfw near the end, just general yandere stuff, not proof-read!!!!! so sorry if its a bit messy !!!!

★ (romantic) yandere!batfam x reader

imagine being the shared darling of the batfam.

it only takes one of them for the rest to fall in love with you, too.

let's say you meet tim during one of the days he actually decides to go to class, and he's thanking the heavens he did.

slowly, he starts to integrate himself into your daily life, and into your friend group. they all love him, of course. who wouldn't love the kind, funny, and handsome tim drake?

during all of this, he'd already told his brothers about you, and because they can't hide anything from bruce, he finds out about you too. unsurprisingly, they come to appreciate you as much as tim has.

and suddenly, you get a particularly handsome new neighbour in the apartment across from you (which you didn't know was even up for rent) and somehow always seems to be in the middle of stripping when you're home. almost as if he can feel your eyes on him. of course, you make sure not to get caught, and avert your eyes as soon as the cloth leaves his waist.

later, you find out his name is jason, and make a good friend out of him. he smokes on his balcony, while you drink coffee on yours.

barely a week after that, you get a new regular at the café you work at. his name's dick grayson. he says it's probably best for you to yell out his last name for his orders too. he's a detective, which explains the late nights he comes into the café. he's always got a stupidly handsome smile on his face, which only adds onto his neverending charm.

and during the occasion that you're walking home alone, you always seem to run into one of the many vigilantes that guard gotham.

you meet both batman and robin during one of your walks home. you're not scared of them, as most people are; you're merely fascinated at the tall figure that towers over you, and his more colourful counterpart that is also taller than you. robin seems to be just a couple years younger than you. and batman... you can't seem to get a read on the man.

you greet them both as calmly as you can, a small smile on your lips. you get nods of acknowledgment from both of them, which you suppose is the most you're getting.

batman doesn't seem to like that you're walking alone, so he sends robin to walk you home. you don't understand why, and you tell them you've walked this route many times already, that they probably have worse things to take care of.

he tells you that you can never be too sure in gotham. with the way he says it, in that gravelly tone, you can't find yourself to disagree.

on your walk, now with robin's company, you feel safer. you also find out this robin is a man of few words, very unlike the last few robins yet much like batman.

the next night, you run into red robin, who has an air of familiarity around him. he's real friendly— in fact, it's almost like talking to a friend. you think you've seen his smile before.

the night after that, you meet nightwing in all of his spandex-clad glory. he's charming, almost flirty.

and for a week, you don't bump into any of the vigilantes, but you do feel watched. you should be frightened, by all means, but you have a feeling deep in your stomach that tells you they won't hurt you. whoever they are.

you see red hood after that week. he's the more intimidating one of the bunch, you reckon. you've nothing to be scared of, knowing he (along with all the others) only goes after the real awful people. you're not guilty of anything, as far as you know.

his voice is almost robotic, as if being run through a voice changer. it doesn't do much to help his image, though you suppose that's the point. he asks what a little thing like you is doing walking around these parts. you say you're just heading home, like all the times you've met one of them.

he lets you on his motorcycle. if you were paying enough attention, maybe you would've felt his heart beating a mile a minute.

your days go on like this for a while. class, work, walk home with one of gotham's protectors. rinse and repeat.

unbeknownst to you, cameras have been planted all around your apartment. in many angles of your bedroom too, save for your bathroom. they've decided to give you privacy in there. no matter how much dick begged.

though they do have clips saved of you walking around in just a towel, or your underwear. god knows what they're doing with those.

but truly, can you blame them? you've invaded the deepest crevices of their minds, your smell lingering on their noses, and the shape of your lips following them in their dreams.

oh, they can vividly see— almost feel your lips on theirs, and they wonder what you look like when your face is scrunched up from pleasure, as their fingers enter you.

but they'll have to wait a little longer. and they'll be damned if they lose you, when you're playing right into their hands.

this got so long !!!! i had to let this all out somewhere <//3 definitely gonna add more but i needed to cut it off at this 😭😭😭😭

#might focus on tim's part in all this next time!!!#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #damian wayne x reader #dc x reader #batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere x reader #— dc.#— the bats.#— yan writes.

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gotham-daydreams · 9 months

Text

Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd chapter here. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

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How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

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Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

#this was all written in one go #so that's fun #more angst than anything honestly #not really any yan but it is supposed to be for yan stuff #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #platonic yandere #neglected reader #sibling reader #reader tries too hard and does their best but finds out it isn't enough #some things just aren't meant to be #but that doesn't mean they get to run around scott free either #not series

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