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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 1 year

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Another Life

Father of Mine – Masterlist

disclaimer: i haven't written in like...a year. and i barely proof read this. so apologies if it's absolute shit. warning: a lot of dark themes, death, familial drama, overall depressing stuff

“What the hell is going on?” Y/N asked Dick as Alfred helped her take off her coat.

Jason was close behind her.

When Dick called Y/N in the middle of the night, he knew something terrible had happened. And he wasn’t about to let her go to the manor by herself.

“I’m sorry,” Dick immediately blurted out. “I didn’t have time to explain over the phone.”

Y/N swallowed. “What happened to him?”

‘Him’ being Bruce.

“He was hallucinating or something,” Dick explained quickly. “And he won’t snap out of it. But he kept saying your name over and over again.”

“So what the fuck can she do about it?” Jason snapped at him.

But Y/N gripped his arm, silently telling her boyfriend to calm down.

Dick also glared at him. “He kept saying he was sorry. I thought maybe if he saw you – saw that you were OK – then maybe he’d calm down.”

“Take me to him?” Y/N asked Dick carefully.

He nodded. “Follow me.”

Together, the three of them swiftly walked to Bruce’s bedroom. And Y/N suddenly realized she’d never been in there before. It always felt off limits. Bruce was such a private person, she figured she shouldn’t invade such a personal and intimate space.

It was cozier than Y/N expected. But that was probably Alfred’s doing. The man stressed about his master getting enough sleep that he had no choice but to design a bedroom that constantly tempted Bruce with comfort and rest.

Now Y/N stared at the sickly man that laid in bed and it felt like different person than the Bruce Wayne she had become so close with.

His face was pale and sweaty. His eyes were bloodshot. His hair was matted down from perspiration that wouldn’t stop gathering on his face.

Y/N took a small step toward her father and whispered, “Bruce?”

The sound of her calling his name seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he had just been in.

Bruce slowly sat up and looked at Y/N as if he didn’t fully believe he was seeing clearly.

“Y/N?” His voice shook.

“You said he couldn’t snap out of it,” Jason muttered quietly to Dick.

“He-He wasn’t. This is the most lucid he’s been.”

Y/N slowly stepped closer to the bed. “Bruce, can you tell me what happened to you?”

Jason’s instincts were going haywire. He blinked himself awake and quickly walked forward, holding out his arm to stop Y/N from going any further.

When Y/N glared up at him, Jason just said, “I don’t trust him when he doesn’t seem like himself. Better safe than sorry. Don’t get any closer.”

She knew Jason had a point, but that didn’t mean she liked it.

So, she turned her attention back to her father. “Bruce,” she called to him softly. “What happened? What can we do to help?”

But Bruce zoned out, trying to dig into his mind to properly answer the question.

“Was it a curse?” Dick asked.

Bruce snapped out of it when he heard the word ‘curse,’ and locked eyes with Dick.

“It was a sorcerer. Not a curse. Something else.”

“It looks like you had some sort of fever dream – but dialed up to a thousand,” Jason observed aloud.

“Not a fever dream,” Bruce corrected. “A vision.”

“Vision?” Dick and Y/N said in unison.

Bruce nodded as he stared into Y/N’s gaze. “If you and I had met sooner.”

Y/N’s brow wrinkled. “How much sooner?”

“As a child,” Bruce confirmed.

———

Bruce was pacing around the foyer.

Alfred watched from the doorway with his hands folded properly in front of him. “This is not the first time you have taken in a child, Master Wayne.”

Bruce stopped long enough to say, “This is…different.”

“Because she is your child?” Alfred challenged.

“Because she is my daughter,” Bruce snapped back. “A daughter that was kept a secret from me for 10 years.”

“Yes,” Alfred hummed. “But I think we both understand that it was probably best.”

“Not anymore,” Bruce argued. “Not when she’s being sent to live with a father she’s never known. And after her mother and grandparents were killed in a car crash that she miraculously survived.”

Before Alfred could respond, Bruce saw the cop car pull up.

“They’re here,” he muttered and then going to the main entrance before they could ring the doorbell.

Bruce walked onto the gravel of the front drive as the car pulled to a stop.

Detective Gordon stepped out of driver’s seat. Such an errand was below his payroll, but it appeared the man was good with kids – especially ones who’d gone through trauma.

“Mr. Wayne,” he greeted.

“Gordon,” Bruce nodded back. He suspected the man knew who he was in his other life, but it seemed neither of them would ever acknowledge it.

“Where is she?” Bruce asked when he saw no one else in Gordon’s car.

“Right,” Gordon nodded as if he was expecting the question. “I wanted to speak with you about that. She…uhh…isn’t speaking with anyone.”

Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She’s on her way with the social worker,” Gordon clarified. “But she hasn’t spoken a word to anyone – not doctors, paramedics, cops, nurses. No one.”

Bruce nodded, somehow understanding. “Right.”

“Docs say it’s selective mutism. Very common in children who have been through traumatic experiences.”

Bruce nodded again. But then his eyes narrowed. “Why are you here, Gordon?”

“Just making sure you’re up for this.”

“I’m her father.”

Gordon huffed. “That you are. But when a mother keeps her daughter a secret from her own father for 10 years, you can’t help but be concerned about why.”

Now Bruce was irritated. “And what about the two boys I’ve fostered and adopted? Does that count for nothing?”

“You and I both know this situation is different, Mr. Wayne.”

“Is it?” Bruce was so offended, that he saw himself contradicting the conversation he’d had with Alfred just moments ago. He was allowed to question himself as a father, but no one else was allowed to – apparently.

Suddenly another car pulled up.

“That’ll be Y/N with the social worker,” Gordon sighed.

He didn’t know what he expected to come from challenging Bruce Wayne. The man clearly had a soft spot for kids. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken in two boys. But much of Gotham found it a little strange for a billionaire playboy in his 20s to adopt not one, but two young boys.

Bruce’s heart raced when he saw Y/N step out of the car, gently guided by the social worker.

As soon as she saw Bruce, her entire body tensed. She stopped walking forward as soon as she reached Gordon and stepped into his side for protection.

Bruce slowly kneeled, hoping that getting on her level would make him less intimidating and more welcoming. “Hello, Y/N. I am so sorry for what happened to you. But we are happy and relieved to have you here.”

Y/N eyed him cautiously. She knew better than to trust a stranger.

But she then looked up at Gordon, waiting for his OK to do so.

Gordon kneeled too, and gently gripped her shoulders. “You are going to be OK here.” Then his hand went into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a card. “If anything happens or you just don’t feel safe here, you call me. OK, kiddo?”

Y/N nodded and hugged the card to her chest like a lifeline.

Then she continued forward, but walked right past Bruce without even so much as looking at him.

Bruce sighed.

And turned to find Alfred greeting her politely. “Hello, little miss. How about I show you to your room and you can get settled?”

Bruce should’ve expected this. After all, Dick wasn’t all that different when he first arrived to Wayne Manor. Not to mention Bruce could probably understand what Y/N was going through more than anyone else.

“All her things are in the trunk,” the social worker told Bruce.

“That’s it?” Bruce questioned when there were only a few boxes and two suitcases.

The social worker nodded and shrugged. “It was a small apartment.”

–––––––

“Is she here?! Is she here!?” Jason was jumping up and down when he burst into the manor after school.

Bruce sighed and shushed the boy with, “Calm down, Jaylad.”

Jason had been ecstatic at the prospect of another kid his age being at the manor – especially one that wasn’t raised rich like him.

“Where is she?” Jason asked as his eyes raced around the room, like he expected the girl to be glued to Bruce’s side.

Bruce kneeled down. “Jason, I think we’re going to have to give her some time. She’s not really…speaking with anyone.”

Jason frowned at the idea.

But then the boy’s eyes brightened at an idea. “Well…maybe she’s just scared! Maybe if I show her around and make sure she knows she’s safe here. Then-Then she’ll like it here.” He looked at Alfred for confirmation that it was a good idea, who gave him a patient but warm grin. “I was scared when I first got here, too. Remember?”

Bruce’s heart warmed and he nodded.

Jason was such a sweet boy.

Bruce took in a deep breath. “She went through something very traumatic, Jason. She wants her mom and she can’t have her. This is all very overwhelming for her, during a time that’s already scary. We just need to be patient and careful. OK?”

Jason seemed deflated, but nodded at Bruce before hanging his head a bit.

Alfred cleared his throat, “Master Jason, I could use some help with dinner. Do you think you have the time in your very busy schedule?”

That man knew exactly how to get the boy out of a funk.

–––––

Jason did as he was told and left Y/N alone. The manor was big enough that he hadn’t even seen her yet. But Bruce made him promise he wouldn’t go hunting for the girl, which Jason begrudgingly agreed to.

But a few days after Y/N’s arrival, Jason was sneaking around in the pantry, getting a snack. And as he tried to make his escape before being detected, he saw that the doors to one of the ballrooms was open.

‘Huh. That’s funny. Alfred usually doesn’t need to clean in there,’ he thought.

When he tiptoed to the opening, he was surprised by what he found.

Instead of seeing Alfred or a short-term maid cleaning out the ballroom for an upcoming event, Jason saw a girl.

She was laying in the dead center of the room, not her back. She was wearing a hoodie, which made her look even more out of place with the extravagant wood and ostentatious of the room. She had headphones in and a discern on the ground below her.

Clearly, she was listening to music as she stared up at the tall ceiling. It was hand-painted, like the ballroom was the Sistine Chapel.

Jason just watched her for a few minutes.

She didn’t move, didn’t bounce her knee or foot, or hum to the music. She just listened to the music and stared at the ceiling.

“H-Hi,” Jason finally found the courage to say.

It was quiet and he hadn’t even expected for her to hear him.

But as soon as he broke the silence, she shot up to her feet and turned to face him, looking like a terrified and cornered animal.

Jason held up his hands out of reflex alone. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok!” He blurted out.

But her eyes just widened even more as she ripped the headphones off her hears so they were sitting on her shoulders.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Jason continued. “I just…wanted to say…ummm…hi, I guess.”

Y/N just stared at him.

She looked less scared now, but clearly uninterested in speaking with him.

“Still not talking, huh?” Jason sighed.

“Master Jason,” Alfred appeared around the corner. But he stopped whatever he was about to say when he saw the two children facing each other. Though Y/N was standing 15 yards away from them, in the middle of the ballroom.

“Why hello, little miss. Are you getting hungry?”

Y/N quickly shook her head.

“Are you sure?” Alfred asked, clearly worried about the child’s lack of appetite. “I just pulled some chocolate croissants out of the oven.”

Jason’s eyes lit up and looked back at her. “Oh, you have to try some. They’re amazing!”

But Y/N just looked at Jason weirdly before shaking her head at Alfred again.

Alfred sighed in disappointment. “Very well. You let me know when you are hungry, Ms. Y/N.” Then he turned his attention to Jason. “Come, Master Jason. Let us leave her alone.”

Once the both of them were out of sight, Y/N went back to her original position: laying in the middle of the ballroom, headphones on, and staring up at the ceiling.

“Why won’t she eat?” Jason asked quietly.

When he was on the streets, he was always hungry. Most of his energy was put into figuring out how to get his next meal. It was strange to see a kid deny food.

“I believe the manor is very overwhelming for her, Master Jason. And we are but strangers to her.” He patted Jason on the back. “But do not fret, I have been bringing trays up to her bedroom – and she’s been eating them thankfully. I do not think she feels comfortable eating with us quite yet.”

They arrived to find Bruce in the kitchen.

“I saw her!” Jason excitedly told him.

Bruce gave Alfred a worried look.

“She is in the ballroom, laying on the floor,” Alfred confirmed.

“Listening to music,” Jason added.

Bruce just nodded and looked at Alfred again. “I’ve been talking to Dr. Thompkins about making an appointment for her…”

“No!” Jason blurted out without meaning to.

“No?” Bruce questioned with a frown.

“I mean,” Jason looked at the two grownups nervously. “If you take her to a therapist, she’ll think we think there’s something wrong with her.”

Bruce sighed. “Well, there is something wrong. She’s grieving and she refuses to speak, Jason. We’re out of our depth here.”

“Just…wait a little bit. Please?” Jason looked up at Bruce with his big, innocent, blue eyes.

Bruce shared another look with Alfred.

“Alright, Jaylad. We’ll wait a bit longer,” Bruce sighed as he ruffled Jason’s hair.

————

Jason’s senses were good even before he became Robin. Living on the streets meant that he always had to be on high alert.

So when he was reading in the library at the manor, he felt someone watching him.

“You can come out, you know You don’t have to hide,” Jason quietly called out without taking his eyes off of his book.

A few seconds later, his gaze raised to see Y/N sneaking out from behind a shelf, hugging a book as if it was a lifeline.

Jason squinted as he tried to read the title. It was one of the Harry Potter books.

“Wanna read with me?” He asked gently.

Then he quickly added, “We don’t have to talk or anything! Just sit together and read our own books.”

Y/N watched him for a few minutes.

Jason went back to his reading, but all his senses were on her. He didn’t want to feel like he was pressuring her. So he went back to what he was doing and hoped he made it clear that he wasn’t forcing her to do anything.

Eventually, he heard the shy steps against the carpet as Y/N walked over and then grabbed the love seat that was across from him.

Just as promised, they didn’t speak. The two of them just read their books.

After a couple hours, Jason thought it was safe to talk.

“Just so you know…Bruce is a good guy. I know he can be kinda scary. But he would never do anything bad to you.”

Y/N’s body tensed as soon as Jason broke the silence.

“He doesn’t hurt kids.”

Her eyes finally snapped to Jason’s.

She couldn’t help but notice his unintentional emphasis on the word ‘kids’.

Jason sighed. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But we can still play together, right?”

Y/N looked at him for a few seconds before she finally nodded.

Starting then, Bruce or Alfred would frequently find the two kids sitting in the library, silently reading their own books, but sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch. Then it moved onto playing hide and seek on the great lawn. Or the two of them racing bikes just outside the gates of the manor.

Bruce and Alfred were happy to see Y/N having fun and being more comfortable with them. But Y/N still didn’t talk.

And she didn’t seem to like being alone in a room with Bruce. She ignored him most of the time. But she would avoid a room if only he was in it.

Bruce’s guess was that she didn’t trust a man that her mother tried so hard to keep a secret. Surely there was a reason, and Bruce could only assume that Y/N believed it to be bad.

————

Y/N still stayed silent. But it seemed she formed an unspoken language with Jason.

And therefore Jason sometimes felt the need to act as her translator.

“Alfred, Y/N’s not feeling well today. I don’t think she should go to school.”

“Y/N doesn’t like peas, Bruce. Don’t give her so many.”

“Y/N isn’t a fan of scary movies. We shouldn’t watch them for family movie night.”

Bruce was glad Jason had formed a bond with his daughter. Most days, Bruce was convinced that he would never have any sort of breakthrough with Y/N.

However, things seemed to have changed on one fateful day.

Y/N and Jason were sword fighting with sticks in the forest on the manor grounds when Jason tripped backwards. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if that was it. But the boy just so happened to fall on top of something that broke with his weight.

Y/N rushed forward to see that Jason had fallen into some sort of sink hole. It couldn’t have been less than six feet deep – far too much height for Jason to get out of on his own.

Not that he could, though.

When Y/N looked down, Jason was either unconscious or dead.

“JASON!” Y/N shrieked, but the boy didn’t move.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was sprinting as fast as she could back to the manor.

“Bruce! Bruce! Alfred!” Her screaming echoed.

Bruce came running from his office. His eyes were wide with distress at both hearing his daughter’s voice for the first time, and hearing the obvious fear and panic in it.

He found Y/N sobbing in the entryway.

“Y/N? What is it? What’s going on?”

“J-Jason f-fell,” she struggled to say through her crying. “But-But he won’t wake up!”

Bruce kneeled and gently gripped Y/N’s shoulders. “Y/N, I need you to show me exactly where he is. Alright?”

Y/N nodded.

Alfred suddenly joined them.

Bruce turned to him. “Alfred, call an ambulance.”

Y/N grabbed Bruce’s hand and dragged him out the door. “Hurry. We can’t leave him!”

Bruce let his daughter drag him through the woods on the property.

She stopped and held up a shaky finger as she pointed down at the hole that Bruce couldn’t see into yet.

He carefully stepped forward to see Jason lay at the bottom with his eyes closed.

“Please help him, Bruce.”

He nodded and rolled up his sleeves before climbed down. “Y/N, please go stand by that tree. Wait there.”

Y/N rushed to do what he said, thinking that it would get Bruce to Jason faster.

The hole was wide and deep enough to make it impossible for Jason to get out on his own, but not for a grown man – and definitely not for Batman.

It only took a few minutes for Bruce to emerge from the hole with Jason in his arms.

Y/N took half a step towards them, but then stopped.

“Is he…Is he…?” Her voice was trembling as she failed to ask her question.

“He just unconscious,” Bruce assured her. “I think he may have broken his collarbone. But he’ll be alright, Y/N.”

Y/N looked at Bruce as if she didn’t believe him.

Bruce stepped closer to his daughter. “Y/N, I promise he’s OK.”

She finally nodded.

After Jason got back from the hospital in a cast, Bruce found that Y/N had snuck into Jason’s bed with him that night.

———

Bruce was hopeful that the incident would completely break Y/N of her mutism. But it seemed she still had no desire to speak to most people. She would sometimes say a couple of words to them at a time. But it was far from an actual conversation.

However, Bruce still saw that as somewhat of a success.

For the first time since Y/N had arrived, there finally seemed to be some sort of an improvement.

He saw Y/N smile and laugh.

Jason was clearly her favorite, but she didn’t seem to mind Dick when he graced them with his presence.

Y/N had been living with them for over two years when Alfred finally broached the subject that Bruce knew was inevitable.

Alfred was patching him up after a rough night. They were in the pain, surrounded by bloody gauze. Meanwhile, Y/N was peacefully asleep a few floors above them. And Jason was in the kitchen, getting a snack after joining Bruce on patrol.

“When do you plan on telling her, Master Wayne?”

Bruce played dumb. “Tell who what?”

Alfred tugged a stitch too roughly – clearly doing it on purpose. But he didn’t clarify, knowing Bruce was fully aware of what he was asking about.

“I can’t,” Bruce finally sighed.

“And why is that? Master Jason and Richard are well aware.”

“You know it’s different with her.”

“I’m not sure it is, Master Bruce.”

He frowned. “She’s already scared of me. And I hate it. How do you think she’ll see her father if she finds out he’s Batman?”

“She will just simply need more time to adjust,” Alfred suggested as he snipped the thread, finishing his final round of stitches. “And perhaps it’s the wall you’ve put between you two that makes her so weary.”

Bruce hadn’t thought of it that way.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally answered.

And Alfred knew that was as good as he was going to get for tonight.

———

But any plans of Bruce considering telling Y/N the family secret were lost.

Because they were too busy handling the death of Jason.

And Bruce had to lie to Y/N about how it all happened.

“Why couldn’t I go on the vacation with you two?” Y/N had nearly snarled.

Bruce figured she was convinced that if she had been there, she could’ve saved Jason.

When Jason had gone racing after his mother, Bruce had to race after him, too. He and Alfred thought it was best to come up with a lie. They’d never had to deal with Jason going rouge like that before.

“I promised him it would just be the two of us,” Bruce lied.

“I hate you,” Y/N finally hissed. “I’ve always hated you.”

Bruce leaned back, not expecting such an outburst.

This was the most Y/N had ever said to him since knowing each other.

“Y/N,” he sighed, not knowing what else to say to comfort her in this moment.

“I HATE YOU!” Y/N screamed it now.

And she had never raised her voice. It was all the opposite now.

Y/N looked at the fine china Alfred at placed near them before the conversation started. A tea pot, milk, sugar, and two tea cups. None of it had been touched by either of them.

“I hate this house!” She picked up one of the tea cups and chucked it at the wall behind Bruce, watching the china shatter.

Next she took the rest of the tray and tipped it so the rest of it shattered to the hardwood floor. The teapot shattered, washing dark tea cross the ground.

“Did you hear me!?” She yelled at him. “I. Hate. You.”

Bruce just stood and watched the tantrum. He refused to reprimand her. How could he?

“I hate you!” Y/N yelled again, clearly waiting for him to show some sort of response.

The she tried to shove him, but her tiny body was nothing against Bruce’s tall and muscular frame.

But she tried again.

When he still didn’t budge, she started pounding her fists against his torso. Tears started falling down her face in rivers.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

Bruce finally snapped out of it, suddenly scared she was going to hurt herself. So he held her wrists firmly, keeping them in place. Which just made Y/N start to struggle to get out of his grip.

“Don’t touch me!”

“I know,” Bruce finally whimpered. “I know you hate me. I know you’ve always hated me.”

Y/N finally stepped away and he let her go, seeing that she was done trying to beat him.

“I wish it was you,” she whispered. “I wish you had died in that car instead of mom. Then we never would’ve met. And I wish it was you that died. Not Jason.”

Bruce just blinked.

With that, Y/N turned and sprinted to her bedroom, slamming in the door loud enough that Bruce could hear it from the den.

————

After Jason’s tragic death, a part of Bruce’s heart died and he would never get it back. But with his shattered heart, grew a new panic that he couldn’t protect anyone.

And instead of telling Y/N the truth about his double life – the double life that got Jason killed – he promised himself that he would never let Y/N know.

But the only way to ensure that, was to send her far away.

“Boarding school?” Y/N growled. “In Switzerland?”

“It’s one of the top schools in the world.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Y/N said.

She was only 13, but it didn’t stop her from using profanities at Bruce any time she had the chance.

Her gaze snapped to Alfred for a millisecond, seeing if he’d be the one to scold her for using such foul language. But the butler simply looked at her, knowing she was looking for a fight with anyone and everyone these days.

“Guess it’s a good thing,” Y/N mumbled, shocking both the men. “You couldn’t keep Jason alive. Might as well send me away to make sure I’m not next.”

“Ms. Y/N, that is enough,” Alfred finally spoke.

He didn’t snap, but the finality of the discussion was still there.

“Should probably go pack anyway,” she hissed in response.

The next morning, Y/N didn’t even look at Bruce as she walked out the door carrying a couple bags. She refused to let anyone other than Alfred drive her to the airport.

Y/N offered Bruce no goodbye or even one last parting look.

He didn’t exist to her.

———

For the next years, Y/N never called. Bruce wouldn’t even know if she was alive if he didn’t call the school once a week to get a report.

Y/N didn’t even return to Gotham for holidays. Instead, she went home with any friend from school, preferring to hang out with someone else’s family than her own. Alfred had to basically beg Y/N to come back for the annual three-month summer break. And when she did, she was out god knows where all night and slept all day.

Bruce had followed her a few times. Well, Batman followed her. She was out with friends drinking or at a BatBurger or at a house party or sneaking into clubs that she was far too young to be at. But Y/N was Gotham’s princess, the long-lost daughter of Bruce Wayne. She just had to smile and show her ID and clubs would get her a table.

But then there was one night that Bruce hadn’t been following his daughter…and he saw something he wasn’t meant to.

Bruce had been patrolling, following a lead.

He didn’t expect to see Y/N getting handed a small backpack in exchange for a bag of what he could assume was money.

Bruce recognized the man immediately. He worked for the Penitente Cartel. One of the lower-level thugs who mostly managed the dealers on the street.

Y/N could hate him all she wanted. She could ice him out, ignore him, pretend she wasn’t a Wayne. But Bruce drew the line at her dealing and getting herself into the shit that he was trying to end in Gotham.

It was 9 in the morning when Bruce burst into Y/N’s bedroom.

She was passed out in an oversized t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

Y/N was 17 now and looked more like a young woman than a teenager or child. And that made Bruce even more nervous about her activities.

She jumped in fear at the disruption, sitting up straight in her giant bed.

Bruce had never invaded her space before and she was clearly shocked by it.

“Get out,” Y/N hissed.

But Bruce ignored her and started searching through her bedroom to find the bag he saw her get handed last night.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” Y/N snapped as she jumped out of bed.

But as soon as she was off the bed, Bruce lifted the mattress as if it weighed nothing and spotted the black backpack.

Bruce turned to her, shoving the backpack in her face. “What is this?”

Y/N tried to grab it from him, but Bruce wasn’t having it.

“Give it back,” Y/N growled.

“So you’re dealing drugs now?” Bruce asked. “That’s your new angle for trying to get back at me.”

“Oh, please.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “As if I give enough of a fuck about you to even put an effort into pissing you off. I’m not dealing.”

“So you just planned on using $100,000 worth of drugs?” Bruce challenged.

Y/N actually laughed in his face. “It’s discounted. Sometimes using your stupid family name gets me a favor. I pay half of what it’s worth and charge those stupid brats at school twice as much.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “As if you need the money.”

“It’s my money,” Y/N growled. “That I earn myself. And you can’t track it.”

“Planning on running away?”

“It’s not running away if I’m 18,” she told him, matter of factly.

“You want to move out of here and never speak to me again when you’re 18? Fine. It’s not as if I’ve ever threatened to cut you off. But I will draw the line at you getting involved with cartels.”

Bruce couldn’t tell what made Y/N angrier: the fact that he knew exactly where she got her drugs or the fact that he wasn’t pushing back like he clearly wanted.

Then he saw Y/N’s eyes suddenly darken, as if something snapped within her.

Y/N stepped closer to Bruce slowly. It made him tighten his grip on the backpack.

“Did you see me during your little patrols in your stupid costume?”

Bruce’s eyes widened, a rare slip of showing a reaction. But he couldn’t stop it.

And he could tell he’d given Y/N exactly the reaction she wanted – shock, panic, fear – because she gave laughed darkly in his face.

“I always knew you thought I was stupid,” she continued. “But did you honestly think I could live in the same house as Batman and not figure it out.”

Bruce’s heart was racing. “How…How long have you known?”

Y/N scoffed. Of course that’s what he would zero in on. “A year or so after I moved here.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She snapped back.

Bruce was silent, processing every interaction he’d ever had with his daughter and seeing in through the new lens. She knew. She knew almost all along.

But Y/N wasn’t done hurting Bruce yet. “Jason didn’t die that night. Robin did.”

Suddenly, she seemed done with the conversation and started moving around the room.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked.

“Leaving.”

“No, you are not. You are still a kid. My kid. And I–”

“Oh, yeah?” Y/N cut him off. “How am I your kid? Huh? Besides sharing you’re DNA, there is nothing between us. I hated you then and I hate you now even more.”

Bruce’s next words were even and slow, “You are not leaving this house, Y/N.”

Y/N stopped packing and walked to him again. “You are going to let me do whatever the fuck I want, whenever I want. And you know why? Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world their beloved Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

Bruce just stared his daughter down.

And somehow he understood that it was not an empty threat. She would do it.

Y/N seemed pleased with silence and finished up her packing.

She approached Bruce one last time with a warning look before shifting her gaze to the bag of drugs he was holding. She snatched it from his hands, and he let her.

“Stop pretending like you’ll miss me,” she called over her shoulder. “You sent me away the first chance you got.”

“I sent you away because I was terrified that you would be next,” Bruce muttered just as she reached the door. “You already knew I was Batman. How long would it have taken for you to make your way down the same path?”

Y/N had frozen in place to listen, but refused to turn around.

After a few moments, she turned ever so slightly so he could hear her say, “The idea of me becoming one of you was so terrible, that you made me this way instead.”

With that, she left the manor.

———

Bruce didn’t see Y/N for months. He always knew where she was, tracking every relocation she did. But she never checked in again, never came back to the manor. Now, she wasn’t even answering Alfred’s calls. Dick tried to reason with her, but had only snarled at him to leave her alone.

It was another night in Gotham.

The signal had only been in the air for 5 minutes and Batman was on his way, screaming through the streets in his vehicle.

He found Gordon waiting outside a the Iceberg Lounge, surrounded by dozens of Gotham PD. It only took a few seconds for Bruce to see that the group was struggling to keep it together.

“What happened?” Bruce asked with his Batman voice.

Gordon seemed to be failing to find words. His head was bowed and he couldn’t find the courage to meet Batman’s waiting gaze.

Finally, he lifted his head and looked at his cops. “Tell everyone to clear the scene.”

A younger cop spoke up. “But we’re still–”

“That’s an order. Clear the area.”

Batman tensed. Out of all the years of working with Gordon, he’d never done something like this before. He had never feared the gaze of Batman, never shied away from explaining the disturbing crime scenes they were about to study together.

But when they walked into the lounge, Bruce understood.

The usual colorful strobe lights were off, replaced by the bright fluorescents that were only on after hours when the cleaning crew was working.

And they lit the bodies perfectly.

Dead bodies.

Everywhere.

Sprawled across each other. Blood from one person staining the clothes of another.

And then Bruce saw her.

And he finally understood Gordon’s strange behavior.

There Y/N laid, her lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling of the club. There were three bullet holes in her chest.

Bruce had always suspected that Gordon knew the truth, knew who he was behind the mask. And those suspicions were finally confirmed.

Gordon was bringing Batman in here alone because he knew that Y/N was his daughter.

But Bruce was silent.

There was a ringing in his ear, making it hard for him to process the crime scene like he usually did so naturally.

“It was a fight between gangs,” Gordon explained. “The crossfire…it…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. He couldn’t find it in him to politely explain that Y/N Wayne was just collateral damage in a petty turf war.

Batman said nothing.

His gaze hadn’t moved from Y/N.

“I’ll give you a moment alone.”

Bruce was trembling the moment he was alone.

He heard someone drop to the ground behind him. He turned to find Dick in his Nightwing uniform, eyes already wide with horror as they stared at Y/N’s dead body.

“No,” Dick gasped. “No, no, no.”

Then Dick was rushing forward, crying over Y/N.

After a minutes of silent tears, Dick looked up at Bruce. “We can’t leave her here.”

But Bruce was shaking his head already. “We have to.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Every police officer has already seen her. What will they think if they put together that Batman took Y/N Wayne’s body from a crime scene?”

Dick knew he was right. But he hated it. Absolutely hated it.

Before he let Bruce drag him out of the club, Dick silently cried over Y/N’s body, clutching her hand as if it could bring him any comfort.

———-

“How did it end?” Y/N asked in a whisper.

As Bruce told the story – their alternate timeline, their lives in a parallel universe – Jason had moved closer and closer to Y/N. Her body got stiff and her skin lost some of it’s color.

Bruce didn’t answer Y/N’s question.

“Bruce,” she pushed, a tiny bit louder.

“Jason,” he finally stated.

Y/N looked at her boyfriend, but he was glaring at Bruce.

“Jason killed me,” Bruce clarified.

“Because of the Joker?” Jason asked.

Bruce shook his head. “Because of what happened to Y/N.”

Jason tensed at the realization.

Bruce continued with, “Instead of hating me for not seeking revenge with the Joker, Jason hated me for not protecting Y/N.”

She looked to Jason again, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Because Jason could completely see himself – another self – doing such a thing. If it was Y/N, even if they weren’t involved like they were in this life, Jason would despise Bruce more from that than for never killing the Joker.

“What they showed you,” Y/N began, “Is there any sort of permanent damage? Will you be OK?”

“I’ll be fine,” Bruce answered roughly and far too quickly.

“I called in a favor with Constantine. He should be here tomorrow afternoon,” Dick chimed in. “Better safe than sorry.”

“What Master Wayne needs is some rest,” Alfred appeared behind them.

Jason, Dick, and Y/N whipped around to see the butler’s disapproving look. But they all nodded, understanding that Alfred always knew best.

“I’m gonna go for a drive,” Jason suddenly muttered. And he bolted out of the room. “I’m takin’ one of the bikes,” he called over his shoulder.

“As long as it’s not mine,” Dick called after him.

Y/N was taken aback by Jason’s abrupt departure. But clearly he needed to think.

After Bruce finished his story, Jason clearly couldn’t look at her.

Leave it to Jason to be guilty about not protecting her – even when it was an alternate universe that he wasn’t a part of.

“Hungry?” Dick asked Y/N with a heavy sigh.

She just nodded, knowing she wasn’t hungry, but agreeing to go with Dick to the kitchen anyway because she wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon.

Y/N picked at the leftovers Dick heated up for her. He knew better than to try and actually cook for her. And both of them didn’t want Alfred to stress himself with making them food with everything going on.

“You OK?” Dick asked after he could no longer handle watching her push her food around.

“I don’t know. How is one supposed to feel after finding out about an alternate timeline of their life?”

She wasn’t being sarcastic or snapping. Her confusion was genuine.

Dick smirked. “Believe it or not, getting involved with alternate dimensions isn’t all that rare in our line of work.”

“How do you keep it from driving you insane?”

Dick sighed. “No matter what happened to me in other worlds – or I should say is happening – I guess I always end up at the same place: There’s versions of me that have it better, but there’s also versions of me that have it way worse. I can’t fix them or copy them. All I can do is appreciate what I have here – right here. And be grateful I’m not living in one of those worst versions.”

Y/N gave Dick a shy and sad smile, knowing Dick had figured it all out.

“The thing is,” she began, “I can see myself hating him so easily. Had things gone that way, there’s not a doubt in my mind that the two of us would’ve never solved our issues.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t say this,” Dick winced, “But it’s good you found this family when you did.”

“I think you’re right,” Y/N admitted with a slow nod.

Suddenly Alfred came out from the kitchen with two large mugs in his hands, then softly placing one in front of each of them.

Dick whistled lowly. “Alfred’s famous hot chocolate. How lucky are we.”

“Alfred, you shouldn’t be worrying yourself about us. You should be getting rest, just like Bruce.”

“Y/N, you should know by now that rest is hardly found in this manor,” Alfred answered. “But I will be retiring to my room. Be sure to wake me if anything changes.”

“Night, Alfred.” The two of them said in unison.

“I swear, this hot chocolate has some sort of magic.”

Y/N eyed it, noting the ridiculous amount of marshmallows in it and how the smell alone had her salivating. She could tell immediately this was no standard, powdered crap.

“I’m worried about Jason,” she finally confessed.

Dick squeezed Y/N’s shoulder. “You know how he is…just gotta give him some time to sort out what he’s actually feeling.”

Y/N nodded, knowing he was right.

“Jason is fiercely protective. And knowing the people he loves were hurt in another dimension? He still takes it as personal failure.”

“I’m gonna wait up for him in the den,” Y/N sighed.

“Want company?” Dick asked.

But she was expecting the offer and shook her head before he even got the two-word question out. “No. Thank you, but go to sleep, Dick.”

He softly rubbed her back as he stood up.

Y/N went to the den with the rest of her hot chocolate and put on some random movie to zone out to while she waited for her boyfriend.

It wasn’t until an hour later that she heard the motorcycle return.

Jason was walking steadily until he passed the doorway of the den, clearly not expecting to find his girlfriend awake and waiting for him.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted ever so softly.

“Hey,” Jason mimicked back as he walked into the room.

“Wanna talk about it?” Y/N asked.

“I shouldn’t have left like that.” He was gearing up for an apology.

Y/N shrugged. “You needed some space to think. I get it.”

“No, it was selfish. I should’ve stayed with you.”

“But I’m fine,” she tried to tell him.

“Are you?” He challenged her.

“Am I supposed to crawl into a ball and cry my eyes out because there’s a universe out there where my life turned into a dumpster fire?”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Y/N.” Then he was sitting next to her on the couch, pulling her onto his lap. “I’m just telling you that you’re allowed to be upset after hearing crazy shit like that…”

Y/N didn’t fight the movement, but tucked herself against his body, inhaling his scent and finding comfort in his abnormal body heat.

“Dick thinks you’re feeling guilty because you couldn’t stop it…”

She felt his body tense at the assumption.

“You know I’d rather die then admit that Dick was right about something…”

Y/N giggled at his response and lifted her head to look at him.

But then her face slowly dropped to serious. “You can’t save me in every universe, Jason.”

“I don’t need reminding,” Jason answered curtly before his teeth ground and his jaw clenched.

Y/N grabbed his face between her hands, tracing the bottom of his strong jawline. “Jason, saving me in one world is more than enough. Don’t torture yourself more than you already do.”

But she saw that he was still not convinced.

“You’re enough, Jason. And you don’t need to be my hero in every universe. This one’s just fine.”

His eyes glazed over with tears, but he forbid them to escape.

He slowly nods, finally.

“It hurts. Even with me holding you right now, it hurts to think that there’s a you somewhere that needed my help, but I wasn’t there.”

“I know,” Y/N coos.

“But Dick had a good point: we can’t go crazy thinking about the other versions of us doing better or worse.”

“When did he get so wise?” Jason mumbled, clearly annoyed that he couldn’t help but admit that Dick saw reason where he didn’t.

“I promise I won’t tell him you said that,” Y/N giggled lightly.

A silence settled between them as they continued to cuddle on the couch.

“You’re worried about Bruce, huh?” Jason finally asked after a few minutes.

He knew that’s why she wasn’t as freaked out about what she’d heard. If the people she loved were in danger or hurting, she pushed all her own needs and thoughts and feelings completely to the side.

“Yeah,” she admitted.

“He’ll be fine,” Jason assured her. “The bastards been through shit a hundred times worse than this. He was worried about you. But now that he saw you, he’ll pull himself together.”

“I know you’re right. But my worry is taking over my brain and it’s hard to be logical.”

Jason kissed the top of her head and managed to hold her even tighter.

Another few minutes passed.

“Hey, Jason?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad I get this version of you.”

“I’m the luckiest fuckin’ bastard to get any version of you.”

––––––––––––

Honestly, can't believe I just wrote something and published it. This has been saved on my computer, halfway done, for like months and months. I teased it a long time ago. So if anyone was ever actually waiting for it, hope it was worth the wait.

#father of mine #father of mine universe #jason todd x reader #dad!bruce wayne #batdad #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batfam #batboys #father!bruce wayne #red hood x reader #dad!batman #batman #bruce wayne #batman reader insert #jason todd reader insert

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cas-backwards-tie · 6 months

Text

Chapter Six: The Summer of a Lifetime

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Heiress of Gotham | Previous Chapter

Summary: With things out of the way and perhaps a little more trust, maybe the reader will finally start to make some progress, and a few friends along the way.

Warnings: Spying, Being Spied On, Insects, Wet T-Shirts, Flirting,

Words: 3.6k

A/N: While this chapter may seem like it takes a lot of twists in turns in the vignettes, it's sort of meant to reflect the ups and downs and small moments we have during summer. Honestly, though, this is perfect for the introduction of certain characters and plotlines I wanted! القرف = ‘shit’

It'd been an interesting end to the school year, really, and that's aside from the fact that you'd had to deal with and go through the grief of your Mother passing. Within the few months you'd been at Wayne Manor, the family had quickly learned many things about you. Bruce had found out how frugal and tenacious you are, insistent on selling some of your old articles of clothing for money on some app he could never remember the name of, meanwhile refuting the many attempts he'd offered to take you out shopping. Who wants to go shopping with their Dad anyway? He'd been consumed with work, and therefore more time had been turned over to your brothers.

While school was out for both you and Damian, Tim had decided to take summer classes at the nearby community college since it'd make his college applications only look better. Dick, of course, was still working, and Jason, really, you had no idea what was going on with him since it seemed he had most days free and nights taken. While you'd considered the possibility that someone associated with the Wayne family had a night-time job, you also didn't want to think of someone who very quickly became a big brother to you in that manner. That was just... ew. With the three eldest gone or rarely home, you'd been left with Damian and Alfred mostly.

--------

“So… you’re spying on your own child because…?” Tim draws out, leaning against the motherboard as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Because it’s Bruce? You’re not the first. Thought you would’ve been the wiser, Green Bean,” Dick chides as he manually stitches another loop into his uniform. Seated on the edge of the metal table propped against the railing on the other side of the platform.

“She’s been watching television for over two hours straight. Is this unhealthy?” The man of the hour speaks, eyes unmoving from the image of you through the lens of one of his pesky drones.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s supposed to be parenting, yeah? You chose to bring her on, you choose what’s healthy and unhealthy,” the elder boy retorts, a clear sass in his tone that reminds Bruce where Damian’s gotten it from.

“Hn,” the old man groans, “That doesn’t mean I know what’s standard in teenagedom as of currently,” he grumbles more to himself than anyone.

“Have you tried, I don’t know, just talking to her?” Tim asks, an eyebrow quirking as he doesn’t try and hide the amused smile breaking across his lips.

“You’re one to talk,” Bruce teases the boy. He’s still somewhat resentful of the way he’d handled things with Stephanie a few years ago now.

A huff of annoyance leaves Tim and he rolls his eyes. Pushing off the computer, he turns to head for the stairs when he spots movement on the monitor. Dick doesn’t seem to care, rather, he’s focused on fixing and upgrading his equipment. However, Tim watches from just a few feet behind the old man’s chair. His drone follows you as you get up, bringing an empty dish and glass to the kitchen. You don’t notice, of course, as Tim knows this has to be one of the nano drones, most likely, disguised as a fly following your movements through the Manor just a few hundred feet above them.

It’s uninteresting, really, the way he watches you put your empty dish in the sink along with your glass. Your visage shifts, heading back to the living room, but doesn’t fail to notice the nano drone. “Spotted,” Tim announces, curious to see where this goes.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Most people aren’t fazed by an insect,” Bruce defends, finally taking his gaze off the screen for a mere moment as he turns to Tim. The boy watches as you step closer to the drone; the still fly on the fridge’s handle was easy to spot, and while your eyes quickly move on in an attempt to seem as if you hadn’t noticed the bug, not wanting to disrupt it or scare it away, you step closer to the fridge.

On top of the box lies an item you’ve been grateful for ever since you’d gotten your Mom to buy it offline. Easily stepping on your tiptoes you grab the object’s handle and have your finger ready atop the trigger. Now all that’s left is to catch it off-guard.

The amused look on Tim’s face makes Bruce paranoid; blue eyes racing back to the monitor, he watches as a tennis-racket swatter comes his way. Lifting the nanodrone up and off the surface he barely escapes the touch of the electric swatter. Bzzt! He’s hit. Flying across the kitchen and landing on the counter, he turns the drone around to get you in frame again. “And you thought she wouldn’t do anything,” Tim laughs. An error message pops up, screen turning red along with the artificial voice alert. Clearly you’ve damaged the drone.

“It only took twenty-five percent capacity,” Bruce announced, clicking different keys to get everything back to neutral.

This elicits Dick’s eyes as his focus shifts up to the situation before him. An amused smile graces his lips and he can’t help but sometimes pity the man. Bruce… tries. He means well, but he doesn’t always have the best approach. “Gotta say, this is better than reality tv.” His Father shakes his head and, attention returning to the monitor again after being distracted by Tim.

“You risked a drone for this? Come on, man. This is your own daughter we’re talking about,” Tim chastises, even if he’s still laughing and more than amused by this. If he wants to waste his tech, by all means, let them watch. It’s not like he can’t get more.

The men watch as you look around the kitchen, eyes taking everything in. With an occasional turn, and a flip of your hair, he’s spotted again! This time Bruce sees you coming before he can be squashed. Out of sight, out of mind, he thinks. “Honestly, I’m just lucky she didn’t spot me earlier. Ace and Titus weren’t the most helpful considering they kept tracking my movements, clueing her in. But she didn’t get me until now.”

“I’m impressed she even got you at all, honestly,” Dick comments, drawing their attention again.

“Not a fan?” Tim asks, curious to hear his thoughts. After all, he hasn’t been around as much considering things have been busy with school, and hectic with Stephanie… therefore, he doesn’t know as much about you. He hasn’t spent as much time around you as the others.

Met with a noncommittal noise, Tim watches Dick shrug. “I’ve got nothing against her aside from what she said at her dinner and obviously her hate for the BPD,” he trails off, a shudder running through him, “then again, she was kind of insane when we were moving her stuff. Threatened to kill us and all. Not really the type of vibe you wanna have running around the house, you know? At least, not mine, I’ll tell you that.” With a chuckle, Dick lifts the needle to his mouth, teeth going for the fabric since he hadn’t bothered to grab scissors.

Tim almost laughs along with his brother, that is until he processes what he’d said. “Wait, what-?!” Eyes quickly darting between him and Bruce, he’s suddenly alert. “What do you mean she tried to kill you?! What’re you talking about? Hey- why didn’t you tell me this?” He zeroes in on Bruce, determined to get an answer. “Does Damian know? Why am I the last one to find out about anything around here?” He complains.

“I mean she tried to-“ Dick begins.

“She did not! Dick, stop exa-“ Bruce interrupts.

“Bruce-“ Tim interjects, eyes suddenly on your approaching visage in the drone’s visual. “Bruce!” You’ve got the fly cornered, with one swift sweeping wack, and a press of the button, it’ll die.

“What?!” He yells. As soon as he turns from Tim to the monitor he’s too late. Zzztt!!! They all grimace and wince. An alert pops up on screen:

‘V I S U A L L O S T’

The options to ‘connect to different device’ or ‘relay input’ lie underneath the big text, but ultimately you’d destroyed the thing. With the click of a button Bruce closes the tab and the background of the Manor’s security camera feeds linger. Alfred dances in the office as he dusts along, presumably, to music—Bruce knows his routine. On another, you’re carrying the nanodrone on the electric swatter to the trash, disposing of the ‘fly’ you’d killed. Lastly, Damian is reading, doing his homework as he sits in an armchair by the fireplace in the Library, Titus curled up by his feet.

“Dammit! This is why you can’t just be in here. You’re either here for a purpose or you’re out,” Bruce dictates. “Dick is actually doing something, Tim. You’re just gossiping.” With a defeated drop of his hands to the desk, he raises himself from his computer chair and rounds Tim.

“You still didn’t tell me what happened,” Tim argues, the anger in his voice no longer hiding. “I’m tired of being out of the loop! What happened?” he demands. A sigh weighs Bruce’s shoulders down, and as Dick finally takes in the men before him, he doesn’t dare to add any more flame to the already burning fire.

“She was involved with Marin. Alright? She thought he was coming for her, momentarily figured we were in on it. Satisfied?” Bruce responds, turning to face the boy.

They all know he’s been hurt. That he has trauma… it’s no secret. Yet, it’s only in few and far between moments that the boys are able to see things for what they are in a crystal-clear view. This is one of those times. Their warped views on good and evil, right and wrong, revenge and punishment… they blur the lines of reality in ways he’s sure that you, a civilian, would never understand, and yet… Tim realizes the weight of this.

“Who-?”

“Angel Marin. Bludhaven’s biggest mob boss,” Dick informs. A ‘Hn’ leaves Bruce’s lips as he makes his way toward the stairs, and a sigh leaves Tim. With a grateful nod in Grayson’s direction, Tim follows after Bruce.

------

“You know, someone mentioned your birthday is coming up,” Bruce teases, a hint of a smile hiding behind his wine glass.

The quick flash of a smile overtakes your face before you try to hide it. None of them miss it. “Um… yeah. W-who said?”

It’s invisible, perhaps, to all besides those who know him best, however, Bruce pales at the question, faltering. While you’re good at reading people, you don’t notice. Whether it’s the subject matter or the way everyone’s staring, you simply wait for a response.

“Uh, the-“ he clears his throat, eyes suddenly downcast as he reaches for his knife and fork to cut his steak, “the social worker! Yes, she mentioned it while you were in your meeting.” Obviously a lie. If anyone truly knows Bruce the way most at the table do, they'd know he found it in your files and footprint.

“Oh,” you respond, putting on a fake smile as you too attempt to hide behind the meal. Birthdays can be a big deal for some, and others, not. It all depends, and you aren't sure where things lie in this family. You still feel like an outsider, despite their attempts, and you don't want to burden them further.

“We could have a party!” Damian suggests, to everyone’s surprise.

“You just want a party,” Jason comments with a chortle.

“Is there anything you want?” Dick asks, looking down at you from your side, putting you on the spot. His kind blue eyes stir something within you, and you turn your gaze back to your plate. Busying yourself by cracking your knuckles, your lips purse into a line. With a shake of your head, it’s clear no one is sated.

“There’s nothing you want? At all?” Bruce prods, eliciting your eye contact again. Lips pursing even more you shake your head again.

“Um,” eyes falling to your lap you collect yourself, not allowing your imagination to run wild. “You taking me in was enough. Thank you.” Voice quiet, everyone has their own reaction to your words, albeit unbeknownst to you.

“Oh, shut up! You know there’s at least one thing you want,” Jason teases from across the table.

“Oh? And what’s that since you know her so well?” Tim pries, knowing he’s setting his brother up. Jason hesitates, almost choking on his drink which elicits laughs from the boys, and an amused smile from Bruce. As bickering starts to ensue, you decide.

“I-“ all eyes turn to you, “I want a party!” You announce. With a confident smile, you figure, how bad could it be? After all, parties don't need to be big! Something sweet, the family there, and a boardgame is all you'd need for it to be considered a party to you.

“See? At least I know what she wants,” Damian chides proudly.

“Oh? Well what kind of party would you like?” Bruce asks.

“Who do you want to invite?” Dick inquires.

“What’s the theme?” Jason adds.

“Actually, isn’t your birthday coming up now that I think of it?” Tim voices his concern over to Jason.

“Uh…” Jason shakes his head a little, taken aback, “I mean, I don’t really celebrate anymore since-“

“-the same day as Alfred’s, that’s right,” Bruce saves them, an unfazed smile on his lips, “though I believe we can celebrate both, can’t we?” While you’re not exactly paying attention, to the rest of them there’s a silent, yet menacing request behind his eyes. It’s clear they’re not allowed to speak freely anymore, no matter your new seat at the table of their family.

“Okay, but mine comes first- or did you forget again?” Damian asks with a bite. Upon the silence, he rolls his eyes and goes back to his meal with the exasperated sound of his breath hitting his tongue against his teeth. An audible ‘Tt’ sound.

“I didn’t forget, Damian,” Bruce clenches his jaw and grips his glass a little tighter. Does every family dinner have to turn into a fight? “You know I was with the-“ he catches himself, “Hn- that I had to-“

“-business calls… we’re well aware, Father. Perhaps you’ll do yourself a favor and won’t miss your other child’s birthday,” Damian finishes the conversation. “Not that I count on it.”

--------

Walking through the pool room, you’re focused on texting Daisha, intent on telling her the good news!

‘Omg you’ll never guess what just happened! I’ll ha-‘

Splash!

A dissatisfied exclamation escapes your lips as you stare at the wet stain on your shirt. “Really?! Dam-“ looking up from your drenched navy tank top, your eyes widen and lips part.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I thought you were Damian.”

You quickly take in the super-soaker and the boy’s apologetic expression, and it’s easy enough to put two and two together. As footsteps quietly click against the tiled floors of the locker rooms leading toward the pool deck, you grab the boy’s hand and drag him back the way he’d come around the corner. There lies a linen closet between the pool, laundry room, and stairwell. With a swift hand, you open the door and shove him in, following after as you quietly shut the door.

A bemused smile appears on his lips as his eyebrows furrow. “You’re his sister,” he whispers with certainty, “I’m Billy.”

Whispering back your name, he repeats it. Visibly eager on saying something else, you place your fingers on his lips to shut him up. He follows your eyesight, both of you staring through the slats in the closet door. With a keen ear, he gets the gist and remains quiet. As moments pass, you can feel the boy staring; curious, you meet his gaze only to find him searching your eyes. You can’t help but notice how pretty his are. Though you almost get swept up in admiring his features, you hear a faint creak only meters away; with a motion of your other hand, you beckon him to hand you the gun.

Transferred into your open hand, you slowly remove your fingers from his lips, cupping the barrel of the super-soaker while the other wraps around the handle, fingers ready at the trigger. With a head nod toward the door, you mouth the words: ‘On three! Ready?’

Billy seems to understand, as he holds his hands up in a ready stance to push open the doors. Together, you both mouth the countdown (which is really a count up, but anyway): ‘One… Two…’

“THREE!” Busting out of the closet, Damian is just a few feet from your right. It’s easy to spin and shoot as you’d been prepared, having watched him walk past the door together. Your brother had jumped, yet shot a few instinctive rounds of water, splashing both you, Billy, and the wall.

“القرف! What the hell! What are you doing here? Who let you play?” Damian curses, holding his gun in a stationary position once you’ve all recovered from the attack. His suspicious green eyes narrow as they dart between the two of you.

“I figured it was only fair since you didn’t let me know about your little game and I got caught in the crossfire,” you reason, pointing to your shirt with the gun.

“I accidentally shot her thinking I had you cornered, so…” Billy’s words die on his tongue. Without sparing the kid a glance, you shove the super-soaker back in his hands before offering him a grateful smile. At least you’d hit Damian once, you figure. With that, you’re more than happy to abandon the boys to their games as you walk toward the laundry room to see if your clothes are finished drying.

“You didn’t tell me she was my age!” You head Billy yell before a series of exclamations and curses follow with the sound of splashing water and rapidly receding footsteps.

--------

As stupid as it was to find your thoughts continuing to drift back toward a certain brown hair, green-eyed boy, you couldn’t help it. Though you’ve grown more tolerable of one another over the past few months, you still can’t believe that one of Damian’s friends is who’s on your mind. Nevertheless, fate would seem to have an amusing time linking the two of you together, constantly running into the other.

You suppose it isn’t strange after all, especially when considering he is one of Damian’s friends… however, you find him over the at Manor more and more often after the initial first time he’d quite literally bumped into you.

--------

“Grab me a juice box? I forgot one too—“ Damian’s voice echoes throughout the theatre as Billy yells back an affirmative answer and heads back toward the kitchen.

“Oh, hey-" You greet, backing up as a familiar figure exits the home theatre.

“Hey- what’s up?” Billy asks, a friendly smile gracing his lips.

"Was just gonna get a snack before we start," you tell him, "Guess we're headed the same way then," you tease. Walking down the hallway and up the stairs to the kitchen, you're aware of your brother's friend just a few steps behind.

“Are you gonna watch with us?” Billy asks hopefully.

“I mean, if that’s okay, yeah, I was planning on it." You respond, not thinking about it too much. After all, you want this popcorn to be good, not a burned pile of charcoal.

“Oh, I didn’t mea-“ Billy goes to correct himself.

“It’s fine. I’ll be down in a minute, I’m just making my own popcorn because the boys would eat it all otherwise,” you joke. Surely since he's friends with Damian he knows what the guys are like.

“That’s smart- that way you don’t have to share and keep passing it back and forth the whole time.” Billy adds on.

“Yeah. Do you want some? I can make another little packet,” You offer.

“Sure! I can do it though, you don’t have t-“ He argues.

“-I don’t mind! I've gotta wait for it anyway and grab some bowls. So I'll see you down there!" With that reassurance, Billy offers you one last smile before taking the juice boxes downstairs.

The older boys and your Father had insisted you pick the movie considering it's your first movie night with the family, and while most of them had been dreading what genre you'd pick, everyone ended up excited to watch a classic comedy most of them hadn't seen in years. Snuggled up under the fluffy blankets with your popcorn and the laughs of your brothers all around, you couldn't help but enjoy the fun.

--------

Most of the summer felt like it was spent in your room. Whether it was trying to explore the things that truly make you happy, or being lonely in a place that still feels entirely all too unfamiliar despite the fact that it's been a couple months.

The material things did help at first, the new environment, the little gifts your Father and brothers would treat you to, like those little Squishmallows you'd always seen and wanted at the store, but never bought yourself. They were more expensive than you'd ever thought to casually pay. Nevertheless, you've started to make your room truly your own. With decorating, personalizing, and getting into your own sort of routine, it seems that everyone has been slowly becoming used to this new lifestyle.

Alfred insisted that as summer begins to come to a close, you all decide on either making time for a vacation, or perhaps you and Damian get involved in extra curriculars. In the sake of preparation for school, you'd taken up driving lessons as you'll soon be old enough to begin the process of obtaining your permit. Then there was also the announcements from the school you'll be attending in the fall; with sports and clubs gearing up for homecoming, tryouts were coming up. Your Father had insisted that Damian consider a sport this year, and Alfred equally has been trying to push you in any sort of direction that'll lead to getting you out of the house and your room.

Needless to say, he wouldn't let go of the idea that your mental health could use less isolation and more friends, hobbies, and pursuance of your 'passions' even if you're not entirely sure what those are yet. It didn't take long for you to succumb to your butler (essentially) grandpa's badgering. Though you have a plan in mind for what sport you'll be trying out for, you haven't revealed them to the family. The way they seem to share everything is... still new, and somewhat unsettling to you.

~~~~~~~~

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