Smalltown!Neglected! Meta!Reader X Yandere!Batfam

Smalltown!Neglected! Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam

Part Seven

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️

A/N: I’m not sure if I’m satisfied with this. But, I doubt I’ll ever be satisfied with this. I want Reader to come off as more Bruce like with the emotional suppression and planning. And, this was my actual first and third attempt at dialogue. I’m gonna need some practice. But, I tried.

A/N: Up next we get some yandere!Bats vs. yandere!Smalltown action. (Holy frick is that gonna be hard to write.) I’m also going to start work on the Dick Obsession now. Gotta fight the temptation to write the Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader story while this is still in the works.

Warning: Yandere Themes.

As the coming months passed by, Reader could feel Gotham starting to wear on them. Or, they at the least Wayne manor starting to wear on them. They haven’t been given permission to leave the manor since the kidnapping. Not even to drive their truck for some unhealthy, but soul healing fast food. Of course, that doesn’t stop the other residents of the house from leaving whenever they wish. 

They see the Bat Burger wrappers in the trash the morning after another soundless night in the manor. God, how they’d love to try it one day. 

But, as time moves on something draws closer. An important date. Reader’s legal eighteenth birthday. They’re excited, by all means. But, there’s something significantly more important coming sooner. 

Reader’s Younger Brother’s Birthday was just a week before Reader’s. There had been many fond memories made while growing up with the week between the two different dates being filled with fun and excitement. (And love.) 

With such an important date coming up, and with Momma and Daddy no longer being here, Reader had plans to make it a fun week. 

They just have to convince Bruce to let them go back to Smalltown. Just for the week. They’re all too busy to spend time with Reader anyway, besides this is important to them. They’ve stayed in the manor like asked. They’re grades are good. They do their chores. They don’t ask for much. It should be perfectly reasonable to request to let them visit back home. 

But, just in case, Reader approaches Dick next time he's in the manor and is smothering them in affection before he goes to disappear into the library. 

“Can you help me convince Bruce to let me go, please, Dick?”

It’s a simple request. And, it makes Dick’s heart melt a bit. Reader’s the only one in the family to easily give into his affection and to have them finally ask him for help in such a sweet polite voice was heart melting.

Wholeheartedly, he agrees and he is rewarded. With Reader bouncing into his arms with an impressive amount of enthusiasm that he hasn’t had a chance to see previously. Probably due to always being so busy. Maybe he should make more time for Reader if they shower him with such genuine gratitude and affection like this. 

The thought lingers in his head as he makes his way towards the Batcave. A spring in his step despite the glares he receives as he makes his way down the stairs. 

The manor cameras had caught the entire thing, leaving the occupants in the cave to get a front row seat to Reader being sweet on Dick. 

He can’t stop the tiny smug smile from forming on his lips as Barbara gives him a disapproving ~~jealous~~ look. Or, the look of straight bitterness on Damian’s face. The mild satisfaction from Duke’s face being as blank as Cassandra’s. Stephanie’s forlorn expression. The way that Jason looks like he wants to shoot him with the gun he’s cleaning that makes him want to laugh with glee.. 

Tim doesn’t even look at him. Too annoyed with Dick as he sits at the Batcomputer furiously clicking and typing away on something. 

Bruce had been out at the moment for League Business. But, the entire family now has a competition forming. Whoever could convince Bruce for Reader would win. The prize being the winner possibly getting showered in Reader’s affection. And, the hope of visiting Reader’s hometown with them. The very idea of it makes some of them shudder with some particular emotions. 

The bombardment of pleading and puppy-dog eyes began almost as soon as Bruce stepped back into the cave. It was nearly comical how everyone petitioned Reader’s case. 

Hell, Bruce was nearly convinced they should all make the trip when Tim threw his bid in.

Pulling up all the research on Smalltown and how apparently harmless it was. He even managed to remotely bug Childhood Friend’s Brother’s phone just to double check. 

That’s when things spiral. 

Right at that very moment, a call comes through to the phone. It seems harmless at first. The guy talking to his boss. The two had immediately talked about Reader returning to town. As if the two knew without a doubt that they were coming back.

That sparked suspicions, but it's not what ignited the fire.

The fire came when the two started talking about Reader's time in Gotham. The whole kidnapping incident. Childhood Crush admitted that Reader tried to down play the incident to Nana. After which his boss ask a horrifying question.

"Do you and Grand Daddy need some help killing this guy? It might be a bit harder than the last one y'all killed."

The last one.

Immediately the phrase makes questions arise. But, once again things get worse.

"Nah, we'll let him live. He's from Gotham. He'll probably never come out this way. And, if he does them we'll drag him out where we drowned the last sorry son of a bitch. He was just in it for the money."

"That's right. The other guy just wanted to kill Reader to keep 'em for himself. Still..."

It was difficult to give the rest of the conversation their full attention after that.

It was like the blood had crystalized in their veins. Both cold fury and hot rage filling them till it seemed to shred their minds apart.

There was no way in heaven or hell or high water that they were possibly going to let Reader go back to that vile little town filled with monsters. As if Gotham wasn't filled with abominations of it's own designs.

Without a moment to delay Bruce Batman jumps into action, barking orders for Tim, Barbara, and Cassandra to start digging up everything imaginable on Smalltown. Every resident, every social media post or mention, every single person that has ever lived there, visited, and gone missing. "Find me the name of the bastard that nearly took my child to the grave. I want the memory of them wiped of the face of the earth as their bones rot in it."

The other's are ordered to cover his patrol and redouble their efforts to capture the remaining Gotham Rouges by any and all means necessary The Court of Owls is low priority until more is uncovered about Smalltown and what the hell happened.

Reader's usual pacing around the unoccupied halls of the manor conversing on the phone is interrupted by Bruce Batman stalking towards with a violence simmering under the surface of an obsidian mask. Easy to shatter and sharp to the touch. Before a words is even spoken the phone the lifeline is ripped from their hands and shattered under a pair of designer loafers.

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You could only stagger back as you watched his foot trample over the well used phone. You hadn't even chance to hang up the conversation you were having, when Bruce had come barreling down the extravagant hall way you roamed so often you 'd already practically memorized the brush strokes on each painting and the pattern of the wood grain on the walls. Not even the chance to put a hold on the plans you were making before it all came to an abrupt halt without your blessing.

For a moment your just baffled. Looking at the shattered phone screen with pieces of glass and plastic on the ground before looking up at the shattered facade your father Bruce wore.

His face was deathly still. Not even a twitch. It gave him an inhuman like visage that set off the same warning bells that Jason Red Hood had made you hear.

So that's where he got it from.

You can't help put think, trying to form the words to question his actions and confront him. It isn't long before he gives you the excuse explanation for his unwarranted action himself.

"You're not going." Is all he says. His voice was cold enough to burn.

It doesn't take a genius to know what he's talking about.

"If this is about me getting Dick to help convince you-"

"Dick agrees. Everyone agrees. You are not going." The interruption is rude, but the words sting. They thought that everyone else would be on board with it. Even the members of the family that didn't care for their presence should have been on board with it.

"I'm not asking for a vote. I was asking for your permission and yours alone." Another attempt.

"I am saying no. I am your father and you will listen to me about this." The totality found in his icy voice makes them finally feel that helpless. Like nothing they say will improve this situation. That continuing to smile will not solve a damn thing.

"What did I do?" The resentment that has locked up tightly inside beings to swirl. Ire churning into gales. The long withheld temper becoming a tempest. "What the hell did I do to make you treat me like this?"

"This has nothing to do with you. This is my decision on the matter. You need-" The sound of a notification going off interrupts his words, but they don't stop the ringing in you're ears. Even after Bruce abruptly dismisses himself, muttering about getting you a new phone, before moving towards the library. Again.

For once, you don't bother cleaning up the shattered pieces on the floor. Leaving them on the ornate carpet in the lavish and deserted hall. You have planning to do. Restraint is gone. Holding back is over. It's time to take things into your own hands. They want to ignore you, fine. You'll leave and you'll fucking live without them.

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Consequently, incoming weather reports start showing some unusual patterns on the news that week. Meteorologist say there's a massive possibility of a potential hurricane brewing off the coast. Everyone is on edge. (Gotham is already a disaster as is. No one wants another one on top of it.)

Reader's not to worried. They grew up with Hurricane parties. Besides the manor has it's own power grid says Alfred. Gotham's power grid is a bit more vulnerable, but luckily the Hospitals and Arkham are on different power grids. Everything should be alright. (Everything should also go according to plan.)

The next time Dick comes by, Reader is a bit short with him. Giving him a disgruntled look that breaks his heart a little and makes it melt. Try as he might he gets nothing other than their annoyance. Even when he finally admits it was Tim's fault they had been denied the chance to go home. It does make them pout even more, how cute. Even when he gifts them a newer phone. Their not stupid, the damn thing is probably bugged to high heaven. And, it's missing all their old contacts since Bruce slammed the SD card under his big bat toe.

Their clearly in a foul mood and everyone is being subjugated to the silent treatment. As their birthday, and their younger brother's birthday, draws closer and closer, a dark cloud seems to hang over them and Gotham.

In a moment born from guilt and ignorance, Bruce buys them a car as an early birthday present. A grandiose little luxury model. With all the bells and whistles. It's even in their favorite color. Not that anyone in the family asked what it was. (Tim might have had something to do with it. After all he did get them banned from traveling. Not that he feels guilty. No way in hell was he letting you go. Especially without him or the others.)

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"It seems kinda wasteful." You can't help saying it. To tired of putting on that pleasant people pleaser mask for once.

"I know it's a bit extravagant, but since everyone has their own car I thought you should have your own too." Bruce had such an eager smile on his face. Like the whole incident with the crushing your hopes and your phone never happened.

To bad you haven't forgotten nor forgiven.

"Still a waste. I'm not going to get to drive it anywhere." Vinegar coating your tongue as you look at the sleek design.

You can here everyone around you stop cooing and praising the gift. There's no need to further elaborate your point. He gets it. The family gets it. The very earth you stand on gets it. You're not leaving this house. There's no need for the tank of gas to be filled. Or the damn thing to be charged since its some fucking electric hybrid, and probably filled to the brim with all sorts of nasty little tracking bugs.

You could have left it at that. But why not sink that needle deeper into his chest. Not a knife. Never a knife. You want your words to sting and stick. No taking the cut and letting it heal overtime. Let it be tattooed on the skin.

"Besides I already have Daddy's old truck. I don't need this." Don't those words hit like a strike to the soul. Bruce grows visibly still at them. That practiced mask going up and hiding the tells from all of them. Except Cassandra. There's no hiding things from her. They're all laid bare in front of her and she can tell everyone has somethings to say. While you have something to scream.

"You could at the very least be grateful for Father's gift" He had been so well behaved to far. Keeping quite and watching with attentive green eyes. He could tell this wasn't going to go in the family's favor. He didn't necessarily blamed you for being disgruntled. But, would it kill you to give them a smile. They missed those. Hell, he missed those.

Something in you crackled, but you managed to hold you're tongue. The side-eye you gave him, however spoke enough volumes for you instead.

Astonishingly, it was Duke that set off the electric charge.

"I mean, it is a really nice car. You sure you don't want to take it for a spin?" You can here his attempt at trying to defuse the static in the are, but as fond of him as you are compared to the others, it just sets you off.

"Oh, and where to exactly?" You can't help but snort. "Down the driveway and back?"

"You're acting like a brat." Jason throwing in his two cents. Of course he would say that. And, he's rewarded with a voltaic look from you eyes and a snarl from your lips.

"I. Don't. Care." The words echo in the massive car garage. Bouncing of the walls and the other sleek fancy model cars in it. Your apathy and anger is reward with quiet.

It doesn't last long.

"Let's all just calm down." Dick steps between them, trying to play reconciler. All it serves to do is make you feel more isolated. The way he steps between you cuts you off from the rest of the group and makes it seem like he's singling you out.

"I am calm!" The words coming from your clenched jaw.

"They're the one acting like a spoiled little-"

"Jason, enough." Bruce finally steps in. That stoic look still on his face. Internally, he knows he miscalculated. He made a mistake, and it's humbling to know he can still make them at his age and with all his experience. Still, he wears the mask. He's too busy recalculating and coming up with another plan. Perhaps he was putting to much focus on the wrong thing. That didn't stop him from glaring at that classless truck in his garage.

"Of fucking course Daddy's princess gets away with acting like a brat." Jason doesn't stop though, looking directly at you. Always looking at you. Everyone is always looking at you. But never speaking these days.

"Fuck you." You whisper. Caution and hesitance thrown into the stirring winds.

"Uh-oh, looks like the princess finally snapped." That sickly green look appearing in his eyes. God, does he love this. He knew they had some fucking bite in them. Some spice. Something that made them even more delicious. That just enhanced their sweetness tenfold.

"Jason. Knock it off." Barbara murmurs after Cassandra places a hand on her shoulder. Signaling the direction this could easily head in.

"No, I don't think I will." He sneers, making an attempt to step around Dick and get in your face. It's Tim and Stephanie that try to stop him this time. Both muttering to him and trying to get him to calm down.

You can clearly see it. Their family dynamic. Clear as day. It's right in front of you for you to watch unfold while you stand on the outside looking in. Only getting stray remnants of it when they deem you worth it. You're always worth it though, silly little sugarplum. They’re just terrible at showing it, you poor poor thing. That'll change soon, don't worry. Actually, you should worry.

There's no need to stick around any longer. No fucking need at all. Your feet echoing as you leave the room filled with strangers family and cars. You're leaving. You're going home. And you're going home tonight.

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That night, the news is blaring over Gotham. A sudden hurricane off the coast is set to hit by nightfall. People are being asked to evacuate, already there is panic in the streets.

As much as they don't want to leave things unresolved, the family has no choice, but to respond. Making sure evacuations go smoothly. Keeping the mobs at bay in the stores. Checking that the Arkham inmates are both secure and safe.

It gets worse when the reports further come in. There was lightning spotted off the coast. A lightning storm predicted to hit before the hurricane. That would double the difficulties everyone in Gotham was dealing with.

Most everyone, but Reader.

With the family busy they had plenty of time to pack a few belongings and necessities for a long drive. Glowing eyes taking inventory as the electricity crackled under their skin and the distant skies. Brewing excitement in their chest as the skies filled with dark clouds. Some might think it ominous. But, for Reader it was freedom.

In Gotham that ominous feeling continued. It was as if Gotham itself knew what chaos was about to unfold. Chaos that it would have reveled in if not for the impending feeling of loss found not only in the empty streets, but in Wayne Manor.

As the wind started to wail, nightfall seemed to come earlier with how dark the clouds made the sky. Rain poured in sheets. Most of the Bats took cover, but when the lightning began to strike is when things really when to hell.

By luck or something else, the Gotham power grid was hit. Shutting down over half the city in the first moments of the storm. The downpour hadn't even soaked the concrete when it struck.

The darkness washed over the city and the family knew it was going to be a long long night.

Barbara, in Oracle mode in the Batcave, was focused on keeping everyone updated on new alerts and any looting. She didn't have a chance to glance at the manor cameras and see Reader walking through the halls with a bag on their shoulders before. Multiple strikes of lightning reverberated through the manor. They could be heard echoing all the way down in the cave.

And, they caused the power to go out.

It was only out for twenty minuets. Twenty long minuets of Barbara and Alfred trying to fix the power and get everyone back in contact with each other.

A lot can happen in twenty minutes. Like a garage door opening and closing manually. Like someone driving down the long driveway out of the security gate without being noticed. Like someone could escape without notice in those twenty minutes.

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From Gold to Mold

Chapter 4: The Deal (Warning: this chapter will feature violence. Read at your own risk)

A/N: had free time this week to produce this. Next week is chock full of tests and midterms, so this’ll probably be the last chapter for some time. Enjoy! Also, I’m sorry to those who asked to be added to the tag list and weren’t. I tried to add many of you, but Tumblr wasn’t able to find your blog for whatever reason.

When you open your eyes, darkness goes on forever in all directions, the only thing you can see is yourself. Where are you and how did you get here?

“Hello,” you call out, hoping someone is nearby to hear you, not caring who hears you just as long as someone comes to you. “Is there anyone here?”

Nothing, which you expected, but you had hoped against reality that someone was here… wherever here is. The cold air surges through your body and you shiver, your teeth chattering, echoing in the void.

“What happened,” you ask yourself. “How’d I get here?”

Just then, your memory kicks in and images and words assault your mind all at once: walking through the East End, the three thugs, the dirty shack in the middle of the woods you had been dragged to, and—

“Oh my god,” you say as the final memory flashes before your eyes. “They killed me.”

That’s right, the flash of the muzzle and the sound of the gunshot still rattling in your head. And if you think hard enough, you can vaguely remember falling to the floor after the bullet entered your head.

“Wait,” you say, realizing something very important. “If they shot me, then why am I here?”

Sure, you aren’t religious (all beliefs in a just and loving god died after you lost your Momma and was forced to live in an abusive and neglectful household for thirteen years), but this dark and neverending void is a far cry from the bright and golden imagery that’s always been associated with heaven. And this sure isn’t the fire and brimstone that comes to mind when you think of hell. So, is this purgatory? Or limbo? You never could keep the two straight.

Is this your fate? To spend the rest of your afterlife alone in this abyss? Why couldn’t you just cease altogether? Was it too much to ask that you just close your eyes and never wake from your eternal slumber?

You realize you’re crying and you’re amazed that after crying so much throughout your life, you still have plenty of tears to shed, even in the afterlife. But that’s been your lot in life since you lost Momma: to be the world’s punching bag.

“Such powerful emotions,” a familiar voice says.

You look up in shock and see your Momma, looking exactly the same as the day she was taken from you.

“Momma,” you exclaim, rushing to her and embracing her, squeezing her as hard as your arms will allow, afraid that if you let go, she’ll disappear.

“This form brings out such joy, sadness, and loss in you,” she says. “Feelings from someone alive are far more vibrant than from someone deceased.”

“What,” you asks, looking up at her in confusion, but when you do, it’s not your Momma you see looking down at you, but Bruce. You let go of the man as quick as you can and put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“What did you do to my Momma, you son of a bitch,” you shout in disgust.

“This form brings out such anger, pain, and hatred in you,” Bruce says, looking you up and down as if dissecting you like a damn lab experiment. “How interesting.”

“What the hell are you talking about? How’d you get here and what did you do to Momma?”

“And it’s not just this form.” You see movement all around you and in perfect unison, the other members of the Wayne Family appear from the void. “You hold these forms in equal amounts of hatred and contempt.”

“You deem this one a failure,” Bruce says.

“This one a hypocrite,” Dick says.

“This one a brute,” Jason says.

“This one a know-it-all,” Tim says.

“This one a stranger,” Barbara says.

“This one annoying,” Stephanie says, before turning to Cassandra. “And while you’ve never heard that one speak, you deem her a freak.”

“And you deem this one a monster,” Damian says. He gestures to Bruce. “You hate this form and that one in equal measure, far surpassing the others.”

You see another figure step out of the void and when you make out the face, it’s Alfred. You feel relief surge through your body, happy to see the butler; if there’s anyone who you can depend on, it’s him.

“While this one serves the others, you hold great respect for this form,” Alfred says. “Although, you hold a not insignificant amount of resentment towards him.”

Your heart skips a little at the accusation. No, you love the man, who took the place of a father when Bruce failed to fill the void left by your Momma’s death; sure, you’ve had the occasional thought that if the man was given a choice between you and them, he’d choose them over you since he’s always helping them, but he’s always been there for you since day one!

“No,” you say, pleading with the man. “Alfred, I don’t!”

“But you do,” the butler responds. “According to you, he is the true master of your prison, but instead of using his power to make them acknowledge your existence, he allows them to continue parading through Gotham, fighting criminals.”

“You also believe all these forms belong in Arkham,” Bruce adds. “And that you wish to be the one to subject them to electroshock therapy.”

You finally realize that something’s wrong here. All of them have never been in your presence long enough for you to say how you feel about them (not that they’d care, anyway) and you’ve never told Alfred how you often daydream of locking them away in Gotham, strapping them to metal chairs, and flipping the switch to send hundreds of volts through their skulls, hoping to shock them into being decent human beings. All this has been kept in your head for well over a decade.

So, how the hell did they know all this?

“You’re not them, are you?”

“No,” Not-Bruce answers. “We only took the forms of those you see before you.”

“Then who the fuck are you,” you growl. “And where the fuck am I?”

“We have no name,” Not-Alfred says.

“We are one, and yet we are many,” Not-Damian finishes.

“It is impossible to define a being such as us,” Not-Jason chimes in.

“Alright, that doesn’t answer my question,” you mutter to yourself, but say it loud enough for them to hear. “Then answer me this: where am I? The last thing I remember was being shot by three thugs.”

“Yes, we know of your attack,” Not-Stephanie says.

“As for your question, we are appearing to you in your mind,” Not-Bruce says.

“My mind,” you exclaim. “How?”

“When you appeared to us, we reached out and established a link with you,” Not-Tim explains. “It is from there that we were able to peer into your mind and see your memories.”

“My memories,” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Not-Damian responds. “Through your memories, we saw these forms and assumed them. We thought it would be more preferable for you to speak to us if we took the appearance of the people who have the most influence on your life.”

“If you looked through my memories, then you should know I want nothing to do with any of them,” you snap at them.

“We know now that we were in error,” Not-Bruce responds, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “We owe you many thanks. Never before have we been put into a situation where have known the sensation of being incorrect. We will ponder this experience for years to come.”

“So, what do you really look like.”

All of them look at one another, unsure how to answer your question.

“We are not sure if you wish to see our true form,” Not-Alfred responds.

“While you are the first sentient being we’ve interacted with in our entire existence, we know that our true form is something many of your kind would consider… terrifying,” Not-Stephanie adds.

“I don’t care,” you snap. “I’m not talking to any of you while you look like this and I sure as hell don’t want you taking Momma’s form! And if we’re going to talk, we’re gonna do it face to face!”

“Very well,” Not-Bruce acquiesces.

And with that, everything fades to black and for a moment, you’re scared you’ll be left here in the dark by yourself again. Maybe you should’ve let them stay like that.

Just then, above you, you see an odd red glow. You look up and you feel your blood freeze, your heart stop, and the air catches in your lungs. Above you is a giant mass of red, bioluminescent flesh hanging from a cave ceiling, thick black tendrils extruding from it and digging deep into the surrounding rock, allowing it to remain suspended in the cavern. And if that didn’t freak you out enough, you can see the flesh obviously resembles the shape of a fetus in the fetal position. This thing looks like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say.

“We told you you would not approve of our true form,” it says, its voice beaming directly into your mind.

“What are you,” you ask, still awestruck at the sight before you.

“We are have no name,” it responds. “But, with the knowledge we have accumulated over the centuries, we suppose you can call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete?”

“Yes, we are a supercolony of sentient fungus that has existed for over four-hundred years.”

“Four-hundred years? That’s as long as Gotham’s been around.”

“We have existed as the city above. When its founders first arrived, we were nothing more than a collection of small, independent and unaware colonies of mold. Not long after the first buildings were built, an earthquake shook the area and revealed something we now know as a ‘Lazarus Pit,’ a pool of green, luminescent liquid that possesses remarkable restorative properties, and the colonies that would become us were plunged into it.”

“And this pit made you the way that you are?”

“The pit made us aware, but it did not give us our intelligence. With our enhanced capabilities, we were able to spread out our roots beyond the mountain. Not long after, we discovered the corpses of the first of Gotham’s citizens, buried after they drew their last breath; when our roots came into contact with their bodies, we found we had the ability to archive the knowledge, memories, and even DNA of the deceased. We became obsessed with growing our archive, so as Gotham grew over the years, so did our roots; overtime, we archived hundreds of its deceased, increasing our intelligence and knowledge of the outside world. Now, our roots touch every part of this city, becoming one with it, not only archiving the remains of its living, but seeing and hearing everything that goes on within its boundaries.”

“So,” you say, your mouth becoming dry at your newfound knowledge. “You’re like some fungal god?”

“While we know many of your kind may consider a being such as us god, we hold no illusion of being a divine entity. We think of ourselves as an immortal observer.”

As you attempt to process this information, your mind brings something to your attention and you feel your heart stop when you realize it. You really don’t want to know the answer, but there’s that damn stubborn part of you that has… no, it needs to know.

“So,” you begin, trying to summon the courage to ask your question. “Earlier, you said all of this is going on in my head, right?”

“Yes, our roots were able to establish a link with you and allow us to convene with you in your mind.”

“So, if we’re in my head right now, where’s me? I mean, my body?”

Although the Megamycete doesn’t have eyes, nor does it turn anything that resembles a head, you can feel it shift its awareness to the side, as if looking at something. You feel yourself break into a cold sweat as you slowly turn your head to the left, wondering what exactly you’re going to find.

And when you do, your greeted by a sight that makes you feel as if the world around you had crumbled away and you’ve been left behind to float in the void left behind: you, lying in a mess of tendrils composed of mold, broken, battered, and bloody; your limbs lying in directions they’re definitely not supposed to be in, your eyes glazed over, and a gaping bullet hole in your left temple.

“Oh my god,” you shout, utterly horrified at the sight before you. “Oh my god!”

“We saw the torture those three criminals subjected you to. Their leader was quite thorough in inflicting damage.”

“So that’s it, huh?” While this is all just some projection in your head, you feel like you’re hyperventilating. “This is how it ends: being eaten by some sentient mushroom and becoming a part of it? Doomed to spend the rest of eternity tethered to this damn city? I survive in a place where you’re likely to be killed by some trigger-happy murder clown and his psycho-ass whore while getting your mail and some two-bit thug is what does me in?”

“If you look closer, you will find that you are still alive.”

You practically snap your head to look back at your body and sure enough, you can see your chest moving up and down. It may not be much, but it’s there.

“I’m alive,” you ask, shocked at the sight of you breathing.

“You still live,” it answers back. “Your life force is low, but still there.”

“But how? He shot me in the head and then threw me down here! People don’t live after something like that!”

“While a gunshot to the head is normally fatal, our archive shows us two revelations: that the bullet did not go through your brain, but graze it and that the bullet used was of a lower caliber. While the wound was grievous, you still had a chance of surviving it. As for the fall into our chamber, your body was caught onto our roots as it fell, slowing it down and allowing it to land with diminished force.”

“But I’m still going to die, right?”

“Yes,” it answers, seemingly sympathetic. “If you were in a proper hospital, you could recover, but right now, your body is slowly shutting down. By the time anyone found you, you would long be deceased.”

So, you survive attempted murder, but you’ll still die in the end.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Wasn’t the end I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind for your death,” the Megamycete asks.

“Shouldn’t you know what i had in mind for my death?”

“We do, but our knowledge shows us talking to the dying brings a form of comfort to them. Plus, this is the first time we have had the chance to interact with a living mortal. We wish to prolong the experience as much as possible.”

You chuckle at that. “I thought I would spend my final days back home in Goodsprings, sitting in the big recliner Momma bought for me. I use to spend Saturday mornings in it, eating cereal and watching cartoons.” You smile at the memory of the chair. “It was a damn good chair.”

“We see it, a brown cushioned seat, perfect for watching television or reading books.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Would’ve been perfect to spend my last days in.”

“Perhaps you still can.”

You look up at the Megamycete. “What?”

“We offer you a deal: we will repair your body and give you the strength to leave this chamber and rejoin the outside world.”

“And you’ll get what?”

“You become our host.”

“What,” you balk. “Host?”

“Yes, we will entangle ourselves with your very being, becoming as one.”

“And why the hell would I agree to that,” you exclaim. “You fix my body just to take it over? No deal!”

“You misunderstand. We will not override your control over your body. We will be nothing more than a spectator in your life, seeing but being powerless to intervene. In addition to being restored to your former glory, you will gain access not only to our vast archive of knowledge, but gain abilities many of your kind would consider supernatural.”

That certainly cools your temper. “So, you fix me up and give me superpowers, but all you get in return is front row seats to my life. Sounds like I’m the only one benefitting from this deal.”

“On the contrary, we stand to gain just as much as you do. For over four-hundred years, we could see the outside world, but not join it. With each new corpse we archived, we began to desire a way to interact with the world firsthand and not by mere memories. You are our solution to this dilemma. Through you, we will know what it means to feel the sun on our face, or to taste the finest meals, or to hear a symphony.”

The Megamycete’s words shock you to your core. You guess if you were stuck in this cavern for four centuries and only knew of a world beyond it through memories, you’d do anything to experience it, too.

“Please, Y/N, we beg you to accept our deal. We promise everything we are, from our archive to our longevity, will be at your disposal. You will be stronger, smarter, and better than those who thought less of you. In comparison to you, they will be nothing more than mere ants.”

You’ve thought about showing the Waynes up for years, to be able to pay Jason back for that black eye, to make Tim feel like a complete idiot, and especially to make Damian feel inferior in every way possible.

“We can do that for you. With us at your side, you’ll attain a level of perfection they could never dream of. All we want is to be able to witness this firsthand.”

“Alright,” you relent. “If all you want is to go outside in exchange for making me better than them, you have a deal.”

“We thank you, Y/N,” it says, sounding incredibly happy. Relieved, even.

And with that, your world fades to black once again and when you open your eyes, you find that you’re back in your body, feelings of pain overwhelming your senses, making it hard to concentrate on the Megamycete pressing its tendrils into you. You watch in total awe as the giant, fetus-like mass that is the Megamycete begin to shrink and when you look down where the tendrils are embedded in your skin, you can see a black substance being injected into under your skin. The more of the substance being pumped into your body, the smaller the Megamycete gets.

That’s when you feel weird all over, like every cell in your body is transforming into something else. While not painful, per se, it’s an incredibly odd sensation.

(Your body is becoming one with our mold,) you hear the Megamycete explain in your head. (Not only will it repair the damage that was done to you, you will find that you are far more durable than any mere mortal and have the ability to change your form into any that is stored in our archive, both man or beast.)

“Wait, you’re saying I can shapeshift?”

(If that is what you wish to call our mimetic abilities, then yes, you may “shapeshift.”)

When the last of the mold was transferred to you, you find your body stitching itself up and the incredible pain you were in fading fast, like it was never there. You see a puddle of water lying nearby and when you look in it, you see that all your injuries are gone, even the scar on your left check that Damian gave you three years ago. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it never happened at all.

And not only do you look better, you feel better! You wouldn’t say you were the healthiest person ever, but you tried to stay somewhere in between active and sedentary; sure you weren’t going to be running any marathons, but you were able to climb the many stairwells at school when the elevator took too long. Now, however, you felt like you could run and win a marathon, or climb up a mountain without climbing gear, or swim the English Channel during a hurricane! And you didn’t feel better physically, but intellectually as well! Gotham, for all it many flaws, has attracted the best artists, architects, doctors, engineers, musicians, scientists, and more; you feel your mind being rushed with the knowledge and memories of countless people throughout the ages, ranging from the city’s early days to now. Hell, you even have access to the memories and knowledge of some of Bruce’s greatest employees, giving you knowledge on much on Wayne Enterprises’ tech and projects that he’s spared no expense in keeping under wraps. Maybe you can get a pretty penny from Lex Corp in exchange for this information since everyone knows Bruce and Lex are bitter rivals and are constantly trying to one-up each other, with Bruce, unfortunately, often being the winner in their battles to develop the next technological development.

“I feel like I could run circles around Einstein,” you laugh, completely blown away with your newfound intellect. Right now, you feel like you could write a symphony that would make Beethoven feel inadequate while at the same time painting a masterpiece that would eclipse the Mona Lisa and designing a fusion reactor capable of powering the entire country. You look around the cavern, looking and not seeing a way out. “Now how do I get out of here?”

(There is a passage directly above you.) You look up to see a big hole in the chamber’s ceiling. (That is how you ended up here when those three threw you in here. Our archives have absorbed many of Gotham’s birds. Any one of them should give you the power to fly out of the chamber.)

The mention of the three thugs remind you of your stolen pen and Game Boy, which then fills you with rage. You’ve never liked thieves and the thought of your Momma’s treasured pen and your gift from your thoughtful boss in the hands of such lowlifes gives you even more of a reason to hate them. By now, they could be anywhere, maybe even outside of the city for fear of your disappearance being reported (mostly by Alfred, the only person left in Gotham who would give a damn).

(Remember our roots span all of Gotham,) the Megamycete says. (Through them, we have seen and heard all that occurs in this city. As our host, you now have access to them. All you have to do is reach out and think of who you wish to find.)

Following its advice, you reach out and feel the roots that entangle Gotham like a spider web. As soon as you do, you’re overwhelmed with sights and sounds from every corner of the city.

(Focus on the three,) it advises you. (If you concentrate on who exactly you want, the roots will do the rest.)

It takes some doing, but you manage to push aside the multitude of people that are in your mind’s eye and focus on the three kidnappers. You’re taken across the city, rushing past the many buildings and stopping at some seedy building in Coventry. Your newfound knowledge of Gotham tells you this is the My Alibi bar, a place for Gotham’s criminals to get together to eat, trade gossip, and find work.

With your destination known, you search through the Megamycete’s archives and something to get you out of here and find something that should do the job: crows. Your body manifests into a murder of crows and takes off in perfect unison, keeping in formation. It’s extremely weird to be a bunch of birds; you know that what was once your body is now numerous birds, but while you’re multiple birds, you’re still one person. You can see through all their eyes all at once and change their flight path and they actually do it like it’s nothing. In a matter of seconds, you’re on the surface, flying above the forest and looking down at the twinkling lights of Gotham’s buildings.

“You know, from above, that cesspit actually looks kinda pretty.”

(We thank you, Y/N. We never thought we would be able to experience such a sight firsthand, but here we are. Now, shall we retrieve your stolen property?)

The crows fly through the city, zipping past the buildings and as you do, you realize that you’ve just fulfilled a dream you’ve had since you were ten-years-old: to fly like a bird. When you realized that the Waynes were awful and all you wanted was to go back to Goodsprings— to take flight like a bird and leave this city and the Waynes behind. Now, you can turn into a flock of birds, or even grow a pair of wings, and fly all the way to Nevada!

Eventually, you reach the My Alibi club, which looks even worse in person than through the Megamycete’s roots. You land on a nearby building’s rooftop and see the only security for the entire building is a single bouncer. You command the birds to land near the bouncer and when they do, they come together and reform your body, but instead of revealing you, you command hardened black mold to cover your body, not wanting your face to be seen by anyone.

What’s going to happen here needs to not get back to you.

“What,” the bouncer stutters. “What the hell?”

“Leave,” is all you say.

The bouncer says nothing before he runs away.

(Are you ready,) the Megamycete asks as you near the door. (We highly doubt your three would-be murderers will take your return likely. Nor will they likely be in a hurry to return your property. You may have to resort to violence.)

“Good,” is all you say as you enter.

The noise coming from patrons’ conversations, drinking, and arguing comes to an end when you walk inside. A quick look around and you can tell this place lives up to its reputation of being for Gotham’s criminal element; everyone here looks like they’ve done time and will probably spend their last days in prison.

And in the back corner sit your targets, looking at you with their table filled with glasses and plates of food. The sight fills you with rage; they shot you in the head and threw you in a ditch and here they are, eating and drinking like they just got off work and wanted something to take the edge off. And what really pisses you off is seeing the one called Butch holding your Game Boy like it was his right!

“I’m here for them,” you say, pointing to your quarry. “The rest of you are free to go.”

“Up yours, freak,” some shithead shouts back, pulling out a revolver and fires it three times. The bullets hit the hardened mold and fall to the floor, looking like crushed tin cans rather than deadly projectiles. “What the hell?”

He goes to fire it again, but you raise your hand and a tendril emerges from it, piercing the man’s heart; he drops his gun and lets out a disgusting gurgle, blood dripping from it and pooling on the floor, before falling silent, dead.

While most of your mind is disturbed at the sight; you’ve just killed a man, his blood literally on your hands, but you can’t deny there’s a part of you that’s not saddened by your actions. After all, he did try to kill you and if he was in a place like this, chances are he was a piece of shit and Gotham’s a slightly better place for his passing.

For a moment, everyone is paralyzed at what just happened. The place is so quiet, a pin could drop and it would deafen everyone. Then, everyone breaks out of their stupor, practically all of them pulling out their guns and begin shooting at you, but just like their friend here found out, their bullets are useless against you. Numerous tendrils emerge from all over your body and rush at them; some of them empaling them, others wrap around their throats and crush them, while the rest just whip them with enough force to break them in two. One by one, they fall until it’s just you and your prey.

“Look, man,” you killer whimpers as you draw closer to him. “I don’t know what you want, but you can take what we have. Tom, hand him the bag.”

The other one throws a bag, which lands at your feet; you look down to see it’s your book bag. You pick it up and open it to find everything still inside, from your binder and notebooks to your phone and the gift box Mr. Chen gave you. You’re relieved to know that you’re not missing any of your school stuff and don’t have to go looking for anything or replace it. You are, however, missing all the money from your wallet, but a look on the table shows where it went to. But, you’re still missing the most important thing: your Momma’s pen.

“Here, take this, too.” The leader takes the Game boy from Butch and holds it out to you, which you snatch from him, reveling in the fear in his eyes as you did, and carefully place it inside.

That just leaves one last order of business. You extend two tendrils and wrap them around the leaders throat and hold him up from the floor, his legs kicking around, trying and failing to get him back on the ground; his arms pathetically wrap around the tendrils, trying to crate some room for him to breath, and his mouth is gaping like a fish out of water, trying to get any sort of air. His cohorts go to say something, but a quick glare from you shuts them up. You bring the man close to you until you can see your reflection in his eyes, which are wide and full of terror, and open your mold mask, revealing your identity to them and based off their expressions, all three men could probably crush coal into diamonds with their sphincters.

“Holy shit,” Butch whispers, his face showing his complete disbelief.

“It’s that kid,” Tom adds, his face mirroring his partner. “But, we killed him, right?”

“My pen,” you say, looking at this piece of human filth with complete contempt. “Where is it?”

You loosen your grip to allow him to speak.

“My pocket,” he says. “It’s in my pocket. All the pawn shops were closed, so I wasn’t able to sell it.”

While you’re happy that your beloved pen is not is some sleazy pawn shop’s display window, you’re utterly disgusted at the thought of this man’s audacity to think he had the right to sell your most treasured possession like its some worthless trinket. A small tendril emerges form your shoulder and searches the man’s pocket and pulls out that beautiful gold ink pen. You have it deliver it to your left hand, which is empty as your right hand is being used to hold the man in front of you, and hold onto it with a vice-like grip.

(Not even death could separate you from your Mother’s memento,) the Megamycete states. (We are impressed at your dedication to it.)

“Look, we’re sorry for what we did to you,” the man pathetically whimpers. “Really, we are.”

“Did you know this was my Momma’s pen,” you ask as if the man had not just said something. “I lost her on my sixth birthday and was forced to leave my home in Goodsprings to live here. This pen is the only thing of hers I was able to bring with me. And you had felt like you had the right to take something I treasure more than anything else in the world and pawn it off for some petty cash.”

“We didn’t know, man,” Butch responds, now realizing the depth of his mistakes. “We’re sorry.”

“We promise we won’t tell anyone about this,” Tom adds. “Just let us go and you’ll never see or hear from us ever again.”

“You’re right, we won’t see each other again, but wouldn’t you like to know who I was forced to live with?” The three of them pathetically nod in unison and you have to fight the urge to laugh. A few hours ago, these men were looking down at you, sure they could do anything they wanted, but now, here you are, far above them in the food chain. “I was forced to live with my father, Bruce Wayne.”

“But he said—“ the leader starts to say, but you cut him off.

“That bastard has ignored me since I moved in with him,” you shout, shutting him up. “I was his first biological son, but he’s completely forgotten about me!” You take a deep breath. Just the mention of him brings out the worst in you. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need him. Just like you don’t need your lives.”

And with that, you rip the man’s head clean off his shoulders, not even giving him the chance to realize his fate before killing him. You release the body and both it and his head crumple to the floor in a heap of lifeless meat and to further invoke fear in them, you stomp on the head while looking at them, the thing making a wet splat sound. The other two shout, but you cut them down with ease, tendrils emerging from your back and wrapping around their heads and crush them with ease, showering the floor in their blood and grey matter. Their bodies fall to the floor and flail around for a while before finally stopping.

(Well done,) the Megamycete praises. (You cut down these criminals and made Gotham safer faster than any police officer we have known. Perhaps the local police should seek out your services?)

“Not gonna happen,” you laugh as you walk out of the bar with your backpack in hand. “I have no intention of staying in this place. Once I graduate, I’m going back home.”

(Yes, Goodsprings. A small town located in Nevada. We look forward to experiencing your return to your point of origin.)

And with that, you manifest a pair of black wings on your back and take flight, flying far above the city’s skyscrapers, so hopefully you’re safe from detection. In just a few minutes, you’ve flown from Burnley Island to Bristol, something that should’ve taken almost an hour by car. Thanks to the Megamycete’s roots, you can see the Bats still out and about throughout Gotham, so you don’t have to worry about running into any of them while hurrying into your room.

You land down the street to avoid being picked up by the security cameras (Bruce’s picture is the definition of paranoid based on the amount of cameras in both the estate and in the house itself) and walk the rest of the way there. Normally, walking down the marathon-length driveway to the manor when coming home from work, but his time, you cross the distance like it’s nothing; in fact, you feel like you can do this another dozen times and still feel energized.

But, while you’re physically invigorated, you’re mentally drained and all you want to do is curl up and bed and pass out; you enter Wayne Manor and hurry to your room, never more thankful for being far from the rest of the household than you are now. While you’ve been flying under the radar of Gotham’s vigilantes for years now, you’ll afraid that even they won’t be able to ignore you when they found out about your newly gained powers. During your stay here, you’ve listened to their conversations when they thought you weren’t around and you know that while they distrust everyone (even each other based on the fact that no one seems to be allowed to have secrets), they distrust those with superpowers the most. Two years you listened in on a conversation between Bruce and Superman, who offered to help him during a time when many of Arkham’s most dangerous patients escaped all at once, and Bruce said in a tone that felt like sandpaper being dragged across your face: “Gotham’s off limits to metas. You step one foot in my city and you’ll regret it.”

Honestly, you’re confident that Bruce is only on this planet to be the biggest asshole who ever lived. He treats his first biological son like shit, he raises his “true children” to be as paranoid and pessimistic as him, and he threatens anyone who offers his sorry ass any kind of help. It seems to you that the only one who should’ve died that night in Crime Alley is Bruce.

You shove the man’s image in your head aside. Before tonight, he wasn’t important to you, but now, he’s irrelevant. You never needed him before, but now, you really don’t. With the Megamycete, you have everything you need.

Just then, your phone rings, bringing you out of your thoughts. You fish out your phone and look on the screen to see Alfred’s caller ID staring back at you.

“Hello,” you answer.

“Master Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s over an hour since you should’ve called me since getting off work.” You wince when you peek at your phone and see you’re overdue your nightly call with the butler. “So, I ask again: are you alright?” Based off his tone, he’s not going to accept “I’m fine” as an answer.

“Yeah, I am.” You quickly think of anything that could explain your tardiness and realize something: the best lie is an obvious truth. You just need to modify it a bit. “I just stayed behind to tell Mr. Chen goodbye. Today was the last day for the store because his daughter said Gotham was too dangerous for him to stay by himself, so she brought him to her home today.”

“Oh, Master Y/N, I’m sorry.” His tone says he’s bought it and you actually feel bad lying to the man you’ve come to see as a father figure. “I know how much you loved working there. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I will be. I’m gonna miss him.”

“Of course you will, he was a good man and you were the best employee he could ask for. Can I do anything for you? I’m halfway through with my vacation, perhaps I should—“

“No,” you cut the man off. “You don’t have to come back early, Alfred.” With everything that’s happened today, you need some time to prepare yourself before facing Alfred in person again. It would be a disaster for you to expose yourself as some form of metahuman in front of him. Plus, he deserves to have all his allotted vacation time. “I’ll be fine, really.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, obviously wanting to say more, but doesn’t press the issue. “I’ll let you go, I’m sure you’re tired and you need your rest. Please make sure you catch up on your sleep I’m sure you’ve missed this week during your spring break.”

“I will, Alfred, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Very good, Master Y/N. Good night, my boy.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and let out a sigh of relief, glad he bought it.

(You say you trust the butler with your life, but keep the events of tonight a secret from him. Why?)

“Because Alfred’s highly protective and would most likely steal a boat and sail back to Gotham within an hour if I told him I was kidnapped. And if he knew about you, he’d probably drag me to a hospital and have every last trace of mold surgically removed.”

(We do not wish for that to happen.)

“Me neither, bud. You know, after tonight, I think we’re gonna do great things together.”

(We agree. Now, heed the words of your butler and rest. Tonight was very eventful for you. It would not do well for our host to shirk in his bodily needs.)

You chuckle and strip down to your boxers before climbing into bed. Not long after you get comfy, you feel yourself drift off to sleep. For the first time ever, you’re actually looking forward to waking up in Gotham.

Bruce hears Jason whistle at the sight, but says nothing in favor of studying the carnage inside the My Alibi bar. Bodies are scattered everywhere around the establishment, some are relatively intact while others look like they were ripped in half.

“Looks like someone had fun here,” Jim says as he approaches him, Jason, and Damian. “What do you think?”

“Looks like someone had a score to settle,” he responds to the police commissioner. He motions to the remains of three men crowded together in a corner of the bar with their heads missing; two of the heads are near the rest of their bodies while the third has been reduced to a fine red paste. “Especially these three. Based on how they were killed, I’d guess whoever did this was after them.”

“Doesn’t look like Joker’s handiwork,” Jim adds. “No one here’s smiling and the place is devoid of murderous gag toys.”

No, this is definitely not the clown’s MO. Neither does it match the MO of anyone currently missing from Arkham. The only one he could think of that could rip apart and crush some of the victims is Bane, but that doesn’t explain why the remaining victims are impaled; plus, the giant is still locked up in Arkham’s high-security ward. So, this can only mean one thing.

“This is definitely the work of someone new,” he says, bending down to study the squashed head. “And with this being the only scene we know of, this was their first time killing.”

Whoever did this is highly dangerous and needs to be stopped and fast before even more people get hurt. Looks like he and his family are going to have their hands full for the foreseeable future.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bundlofcigars @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper

Family Reunion

word count: 6.5K

Summary: y/n reluctantly goes to a family reunion that may or may not be a disaster

TW: adoption hate, No y/n used

You were sitting in the living room reading a book when Alfred walked into the manor with the mail. He placed it on the table behind the couch and went into the kitchen to start dinner. Jason came running into the room and jumped on the couch next to you. 

“Hey, mom, whatcha doin’,” he asked, laying his head on your shoulder.

“Just reading,” you answered as you turned the page of your book. Jason snuggled closer to you and let out a sigh. You put your book down and looked over at your son. 

“What's the matter, J,” you asked, placing your book on the table behind you. 

Jason sat up straight and looked at you. He gave you a serious look, which made you worry a little. Jason was one of the least serious of your kids; well, they are all less serious than Damian. “Nothing, just bored,” he said, looking at you with a smile.

“Mom, did the mail come in yet?” Tim yelled, running up from the cave. 

“Yes, Alfred just brought it in,” you replied. 

Tim ran into the living room and searched through the mail. He was so excited that he dropped the rest of the mail on the floor. Your husband walked in and sat down on the couch between you and Jason. 

“Hey honey,” Bruce said, kissing your temple.

“Tim, make sure you pick up your mess,” you said, cuddling into Bruce.

It was moments like these, where Bruce and the boys stayed home that made all the drama of marrying Batman/ Bruce Wayne worth it. Just as Tim came and sat on the chair next to you, Dick and Damian walked in through the front door. Dick walked over to you and kissed your cheek while Damian stood in the living room with a grimace. 

“Grayson, just because I asked a question about your job didn’t mean I wanted to spend the day with you,” he exclaimed. 

Dick went to throw his keys on the table, but they landed on the floor. When we bent down to grab them, he noticed an envelope under the couch. 

“Hey, Mom, there’s mail for you,” he said, handing it over. 

Your name was handwritten on a baby blue envelope. Just from the writing, you knew what was in this piece of mail. Your mother was trying to get you to come to a family reunion, but we were not interested. You loved your family, but there were some people you just didn’t want to talk to anymore. “It's nothing.” You said, placing it on the table and opening your book back up to finish the chapter you were reading when Jason interrupted you. 

“Nothing, Mother, it looks important. It’s handwritten,” Damian said, opening it up. 

Before you could stop him, he started to read the invitation, which you had already gotten about seven times.  Bruce looked over at you and gave you a questioning look as your son finished reading the invitation. 

“Like I said, it's nothing,” you said, getting up from the couch and grabbing the invitation from Damian. 

“Family reunion. That sounds fun, Mom,” Jason said, grabbing the card from your hands. 

“Sure, but not when it’s my family that is reuniting,” you replied, grabbing the invite again. 

This time, before anyone can grab it from you again, you rip it up and throw it in the waste basket in the living room. You knew you probably should have burned it, but you had hope that your sons and husband knew to leave it alone.  You went to your office to do a couple of things for work when you got a call from your mother. 

Hey Sweetie

“Hey, mom. What’s up.”

 Nothing, I just wanted to talk to my daughter.

“I’m not going mom.”

We miss you

“I miss you too, Mom. You know you and Dad are welcome to come visit whenever you want. The kids miss you.”

Sweetheart, please

“Is she going to be there?”

Yes. She’s a part of this family.

“Then just let me know when you and Dad want to come visit.”

It’s not just me who misses you. It's in two weeks you still have time to change your mind.

“Ugh, Mom, if I say I'll think about it, will you stop sending the invitations?”

Yes, only if you consider it

“Ok, Mom, I will consider going to the reunion.”

Great, well, I’m going to let you go and let you get back to work Tell my grand-babies I love them and tell Bruce I said hi.

“Alright, mom. I love you bye.”

Love you too, baby. Bye

You hung up the phone and looked up when you heard a small knock at your office door. Bruce was standing in the doorway, waiting for you to finish your phone call. He walked over and sat on the edge of your desk.

“Mom says hi,” you said, placing your phone on your desk and walking to stand in front of your husband. 

Bruce gave you the face he makes when he wants you to tell him what’s wrong, but he won’t ask. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you told him, placing your head on his chest.

“I didn’t say anything,” he responded, wrapping his arms around you tightly. 

“I would love to see everyone, but every time I’m in the same room with HER, it doesn’t end well. You remember,” you opened up. 

The memory of the last time you had a run-in with your sister. It was before you and Bruce adopted Dick. It was also the last family reunion you went to. The night just went downhill as soon as she walked into the house. It ended with her calling you a gold-digging whore and Bruce having to hold you back from attacking her. 

“Oh, I remember. You were scary,” he said with a smile as he kissed your head. 

“Mom. Scary? Impossible,” Damian said, walking in to check up on you. 

You knew that going to the reunion was a terrible idea. No matter how much you would love to be around everyone again. Bruce looked at you, and you knew whatever you decided, he was going to support you no matter what. 

“Your mother can be very scary,” he responded to Damian but still looked at you. 

“Demon, ask her about the letter,” you heard Jason “whisper” from the hall. 

You laughed and shook your head as you stepped out of Bruce’s warm embrace. Damian tried to act like he had no idea what Jason was saying or that he couldn’t hear his brother from the hall, but you knew better. When you walked past him to go to the door, Damian avoided eye contact and acted innocent. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself, Jay,” you said, poking your head out of your office and looking at Jay. 

He quickly stood up and caught your other boys off balance, making them either stumble back or fall on the ground. You motioned with your head to come in while you walked back to your office. 

“Grandma says hi,” you said, sitting on your desk. 

“You talked to grandma,” Dick asked excitingly. 

Just seeing Dick’s reaction, you knew that you had to go for your sons. You looked over to your husband, and he knew what you were going to do. 

“That letter was from Grandma about a family reunion in two weeks,” you explained. “I didn’t say anything about it sooner because last time I was at a family reunion, it didn’t end well.”

“Your mother almost got into a fight,” Bruce explained further as he took out his phone and rearranged his schedule so he could go with you. 

“Mom getting into a fight. I would love to see that,” Jay said, sitting in one of the chairs in front of your desk and putting his feet on your desk. 

“You might jay bird,” you whispered. 

“So, are we going,” Tim asked. 

After taking a deep breath to calm your already anxious mind, you told them yes. You grabbed your phone to call your mother to tell her that you will be attending, so Bruce and the boys left your office. Your mother was super happy that you would be going home. She told you how she wasn’t going to tell anyone, so it would be a big surprise. After you hung up, you were heading back to spend time with your family when you overheard Bruce and the kids talking. 

“I can’t imagine mom getting in a fight,” Dick stated.

“You haven’t seen your mother with her sister,” Bruce responded, taking a sip of his drink.

“Aunt Lilah?” Tim asked.

“No, Sophia.”

“She has another sister,” Jason exclaimed. 

You walked into the living room, and the boys stopped asking questions because they didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or angry. You sat down next to your husband and Jason and put on a movie. 

The next two weeks consisted of your mother texting you how excited she was to have you, Bruce, and the kids back home. You also spent those two weeks learning some kind of calming technique Alfred knew in hopes it would help you not go crazy. The night before you left to head back to your hometown, the boys kept talking about how they were excited to see where you grew up and hopefully learn some embarrassing stories about you. 

In the morning, you woke up before Bruce and just watched the love of your life sleep. You trace your name over his chest when you hear a small laugh escape your husband’s throat. Your hands stopped as your eyes met his blue eyes. He grabbed your hand, brought it to his mouth, and placed a small is on the palm. 

“You don’t have to mark me. I'm already your’s,” Bruce said, pulling you onto him. 

“Shut it,” you smacked him. 

The two of you just lay there til Alfred knocked on the door and came in with two cups of coffee and the newspaper. He placed the try on Bruce’s nightstand and opened the curtains before leaving. Bruce handed you your cup, and you just wrapped your hands around the mug, absorbing its warmth. A light kiss on your right shoulder brought you back to reality. 

“Penny for your thought,” Bruce asked, leaving more kisses on your naked shoulders. 

“Wow, only a penny. When did you get so cheap,” you joked, placing your coffee on your nightstand and turning towards your husband. 

He let out a chuckle, pushing you on your back, and hovered over you. “When my wife got so expensive,” he joked, leaving love bites on your neck and collarbone. You slapped his chest at his comment. “I hate you,” you said, pulling him on top of you so you’re being crushed by his weight.

“Sure you do.” Bruce pried himself from your grasp to get ready for the flight. “As much as I would enjoy you staying like that for the trip, it might traumatize the kids,” he joked, staring at your naked form still lying in bed. 

“Or we can just forget the reunion and abandon our kids and just go on another honeymoon,” you suggested as you got out of bed and joined Bruce in the bathroom.

“They would find us,” he replied after giving your idea a moment's thought.

“And whose fault it is that they are great detectives,” you asked, getting into the shower. 

While you and Bruce were taking a shower, Alfred was in the room packing your bags for the trip. Since the boys haven’t seen your parents in a long time, you decided to spend a week at home. The boys were excited to get to spend so much time with their grandparents. 

“Your flight is scheduled to leave in an hour, so I suggest you two hurry up,” Alfred yelled as he left the room. 

“Last time I checked, it's my plane,” Bruce called back as he was helping you dry off. 

“The sooner you leave, the sooner I can find some actual peace,” Alfred replied, causing you to laugh. 

The boys were waiting in the living room with all their bags when you and Bruce finally got dressed. You saw how excited they were for the reunion, and you understood. You come from a giant and mainly loving family. They’ve heard a few stories from your childhood, and you noticed how there was a longing look in their eyes. So, you decided to push past all the drama and try your best to make this the best weekend for your kids. You want them to have a happy, normal family experience. 

“You guys ready to head out,” you asked, interrupting their conversations. 

They all jumped up, grabbed their bags, and ran to the car. You laughed at their antics as you followed them out. During the car ride to the airport, the boys were planning all the things they wanted to do during the week. Bruce pulled you against his side as you watched the kids.

“I brought some of the jokers laughing gas if you need it,” Bruce whispered into your ear.

“I'm gonna need it later, I’m fine now,” you laughed. 

“We can just drop the boys off and go do something just us,” he suggested, kissing the top of your head.

“No,” you exclaimed, jumping up and turning to him.

Bruce looked at you with concern and questioning. “What’s wrong,” he asked. 

“We are all going as a family,” you replied, ignoring his question. 

“Mom,” Dick asked.

“It's nothing, ok. I promise,” you replied, rubbing his back. 

As soon as you got on the plane, your outburst was forgotten by all except Bruce. As soon as the pilot said we were free to roam the plane, Bruce unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you into his lap.

“B, the kids are right there,” you lightly scorned as you tried to get out of his lap.

“As much as I would like to. I’d much rather talk about your outburst in the car.”

“I don’t want them alone around Sophia,” you told him. 

Before he could ask why, you pulled out your phone to show him the family bulletin email chain. You showed him the edition where Sophia announced the birth of her son, Aaron. And her reply to why the title was a new addition to the grandkids instead of the first grandchild. 

“She constantly refuses to acknowledge the boys as family. Because they are not blood, they don’t count,” you explained. 

“Sounds like Damien when he first came to us,” he joked, pulling you closer to him. 

“Yeah, but Damien matured and realized he was wrong. She never has. I’m worried she’s going to open her mouth and ruin their trip,” 

“They’ve heard all that before, especially when the world wants to know if/when we are going to have a baby. But they know the truth.”

“But that’s coming from strangers. This would be from family.”

“Does anyone else think that way?”

“No.”

“Then there should be nothing to worry about,” You relaxed in his arms and rested your head on his shoulder. “But if something does happen, I’ll release the laughing gas, and we can book it out of there.”

You let out a loud laugh, causing everyone to look at you. Bruce buried his face in your neck and just enjoyed the sound of your laughter. He only pulled away when Damien came over and glared at you. 

“Ummi, father, please, do not join the mile-high club while we are right here,” he said with a deadpan look on his face before going back to the video game he was playing with Jason. 

“Oh my god,” you said, trying not to laugh as you looked at your husband. 

“Damien, really,” he asked, turning to look at his youngest. 

“That’s your kid,” you said, getting back into your seat.

“Mine,” he laughed, quickly checking his phone. 

You nodded your head as you took a sip of your drink. The rest of the flight, Bruce did as much work as he could finish before the plane landed, and you read more of your book. When the plane landed, instead of a town car, your mother was standing by her minivan, jumping up and down. 

“She insisted on picking us up,” Bruce explained, helping you down the stairs. 

“Jida,” Damien yelled, jumping over the railing and running over to your mother. Your heart melted at the sight of Damien jumping into your mother’s arms. She spun him around and then put him back on the ground. As soon as she took a step back, Jason wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. 

“Oh my, baby, what are you feeding this one,” your mother laughed, hugging Jason back. 

“Jay, put Granny down before you hurt her,” Tim warned as he started putting the bags in the trunk of the minivan. 

Bruce helped Tim while you tried to greet your mother. Before you could get your hug, Dick stepped between you and stole your hug. “Oh my, look how tall you’ve gotten. Your being safe,” she asked, pushing him back slightly as she looked over him. 

“Yes, Granny, I'm being very careful at work,” he said, pulling her into another hug and kissing her cheek. 

Once he released her, you finally got your hug. “That one worries me all the time,” she whispered in your ear. 

“Me too, but I get texts after his shifts, so I know he is safe.”

“I need those too,” she said, looking at Dick and Jason as they smacked each other on the back of the head. 

“Oh, my favorite son-in-law,” your mother said as she pushed you aside to hug Bruce. 

“Hey, ma,” he said, kissing her cheeks. “You look amazing.”

“You’re already my favorite, no need to suck up,” she joked, slapping his arm. 

Your mother loved Bruce. As soon as you told her you were dating, she warned you to be careful cause of his reputation. But after she met him, she would always say, ‘Don’t do anything stupid to mess that up. I’ll choose him in the breakup.’ Sometimes, she’d just randomly call Bruce, and they would chat for a couple of hours. 

Once all the bags were in the car, Bruce insisted he drive so your mother could relax and catch up with the boys. You sat in the passenger seat so your mother could sit between Tim and Damien. 

While Bruce was driving, he kept one hand on the wheel and the other was holding your hand. You just watched him drive as you listened to the lively conversation in the back of the car. 

“Never thought I’d see THE Bruce Wayne drive a minivan,” you joked, drawing circles on his hand. “I should send Clark a pic so he has an exclusive.”

Bruce squeezed your hand in response. “Don’t make me tell Ma that you’re being mean to me.”

Even though he whispered it, your mother still heard, and she slapped your arm. “Leave my baby alone,” she scorned, gently shaking his shoulder, then she returned to Tim’s story. 

You quickly stuck your tongue out at Bruce, then quickly made sure your mother didn’t notice. When Tim finished his story, your mother leaned forward and told you how the rooms were made so you could stay with her.

“Mom, there is not enough room for all of us.”

“Please, unless you had planned on wasting money on five different hotel rooms, I have enough room. The boys will double up,” she said, playing with Damien’s hair. 

“What about everyone else.”

“I kicked them out. Told them they couldn’t stay the night. Besides, unlike you, everyone else lives close by.”

Deciding against arguing with your mother, you accepted that you were staying at home. When Bruce pulled into the driveway, your father was mowing the lawn. As soon as everyone got out of the car, Dick and Jason went over to your father to mow the lawn for him. 

“They don’t do that at home,” You commented, watching Dick push Jason to the ground and start up the lawn mower.

“Our lawn is too big for a normal lawn mower,” Tim said, getting the bags out of the car. 

“Ah yes, the plight of the rich,” you joked, ruffling Tim’s hair. 

Your mother carried in your small bag and carried it up to your room. Then, she showed Tim and Damien the guest room and Lilah’s room that she made up for them. Tim refused to share a room with Damien, so they went their separate ways. 

“You guys freshen up, and I’ll start dinner,” your mother said, leaving you in your room. 

“Absolutely not. You set everything up for tomorrow. I'm taking us all out for dinner. You just relax. And make sure to utilize the 12 hands you have to help with tomorrow,” Bruce said, holding her hands. 

“You’re too sweet,” she replied, gently patting his cheek. 

“He’s right, Mom. Why is no one here to help.”

“I didn’t ask Lilah 'cause she’s got her hands full with the kids and with Henry being deployed. I asked Sophia, but she said she couldn’t. But now I can put those boys to work. You baby them too much,” she replied, ignoring your look of disappointment. 

“Mom, you are the one that spoils them,” you joke. 

“They are my grandbabies it's my job. Now, why don’t you two hurry up and unpack? I'm ready to eat you out of house and home,” she joked, walking down the hall.

“If those boys couldn’t do that, I doubt you could,” Bruce joked back. 

After dinner and a lot of butt-kissing done by the kids, you and Bruce got ready for bed. You were doing your nighttime routine when Bruce came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you.  Bruce took the moisturizer out of your hands and, just held you and stared at you in the mirror. 

“I can feel your tension,” he said, kissing your neck. 

“I'm worried about tomorrow,” you admit. 

“I’ll fake a work emergency if you want.”

“Won’t be as effective since we are staying here.”

He chuckled and placed another kiss on your neck before telling you to hurry up and come to bed. Your mother never changed a single thing in your room, so it looks exactly like it did when you left for college. Same embarrassing posters. Same stuffed animals. Same book. Same twin-sized bed you were supposed to share with your gigantic husband. 

There wasn’t a single inch of room for you to lay next to him. Not that it mattered at home you have a California king yet seem to still sleep on top of each other overnight. You were going to lay on top of Bruce, but he moved, so he was on top. His head was on your chest, and your legs were tangled together. Even though you knew his feet were hanging off the edge, he quickly fell asleep. You, on the other hand, stayed up longer, running your finger through his hair, praying to anything and everything that nothing terrible happens tomorrow.

“Let her sleep some more,” you heard someone whisper before the door closed. 

Since you didn’t feel the 200-pound man on top of you, you figured that Bruce already started his day. You knew you should get up and help, but unlike the rest of your family, you are not accustomed to minimal sleep. But your plan to get more sleep was thwarted by a tiny body getting into the bed and jumping on your stomach. 

“Tete, wake up,” your niece yelled, trying to force your eyes open. 

“Robin,” you heard your husband whisper and pick the little girl off you. 

“It's morning time. Tete needs to wake up Ruce,” she said with her adorable lisp. 

“Tete is very tired.”

“But it's morning.”

“I'll give you candy if you let her sleep more.”

“5 dowars AND candy,” she said with as stern of a voice as a four-year-old can have. 

“You’re just like your aunt,” Bruce said before carrying the little girl out. 

Another 5 minutes passed by before you heard the door open. Someone walked in and sat at the foot of the bed. “I know you're awake, dummy,” your sister Lilah said, slapping your feet. 

“First, your kid jumps on my stomach, then you slap me. Your violence is spreading,” you joke, sitting up to hug your sister. “I didn’t know you’d be here this early.”

“Yeah, I figured mom was super busy and forgot to call me, but imagine my surprise when I find out the prodigal daughter returned.”

Lilah handed you a cup of coffee and climbed into bed next to you. It felt like the old days when you two would sit in your bed and talk about anything and everything. 

“You know I’m surprised you showed up,” she said, gently nudging your side. 

“Me too, but the kids missed Mom, and I can’t just keep hiding,” you admitted. 

“How’s Henry,” you asked, changing the subject before she was mentioned. 

“He’s good. Safe. And excited to hear what happens.” She laughs.

Robin opened the door and ran into the room laughing. Your husband came in after her and lifted her off the ground. 

“You promised,” he said, holding her upside down.

“It's been hours.”

“It's been 7 minutes,” he said, turning her rightsize up. “Oh, morning, sweetie.” He walked over to kiss you while holding a wiggly child. 

“Tete, you sleep forever,” she said, slipping from Bruce’s grasp and getting between you and Lilah. 

You handed your cup to Bruce and attacked Robin with tickles. Robin laughed and cried out for her mom to save her, but Lilah watched and said she should have listened and let Tete sleep. 

“Ruce, save me,” she laughed. 

“I got you, princess,” he said, pulling her from my grasp. “Come one, let's go help with breakfast.” 

Before he left, Bruce looked at you and blew you a kiss. You heard your sister laugh and gently kick you. Lilah caught you up on her life and what Robin has been doing and showed you pictures of baby James, who was snatched from her by your mother as soon as she stepped inside. 

You wanted to stay in bed longer, but the smell of cinnamon rolls filled the house. You and Lilah looked at each other before racing each other down to the kitchen. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” your father greeted, looking up from baby James. 

“Morning, Dad,” you said, kissing his cheek and then making faces at James. 

You took a seat at the dining table, and Robin came to bring you a cinnamon roll drenched in icing. “I made this one for you, Tete.”

The roll had so much icing that when you bit into it, you could’ve sworn that you got a cavity. Your mother came out of the kitchen and plopped down in the chair across from you. She looked exhausted. 

“All the food is prepped we just need to throw it in the oven,” she said, picking at a cinnamon roll.

“Mom, did you wake the kids to help you,” you asked, slightly scorning her. 

“They need their sleep they are growing boys,” she said. 

Before you could scorn her some more, she got up and said she was going to take a nap. Your father came over to you and handed you the baby, and dragged your husband outside to help set up the tables and chairs. 

After everything was set up and you put a couple of dishes in the oven, you brought James to the floor and played with his toys with him. Your kids sat on the couch watching TV while you got up with James every couple of minutes to switch out the dishes.

“How do you do that,” Dick asked, helping you put a dish in the oven.

“I’m a mom. It’s a mom superpower,” she said, closing the oven with her hip and starting the timer. 

“I can take him to make it easier,” he offered, holding his arms out. 

“Im fine, Dick. Besides, Im soaking up all the baby time I can get,” you said, blowing raspberries on James’ arm. 

At noon, people started showing up. First, it was your aunt and uncles, then your cousins. The next thing you knew, the house and backyard were filled with family members. 

“Im going to try and put him down for a quick nap,” Lilah said, taking James from your arms. 

“Okay. You can use my room. I think Damien and Jay are in your old room.”

You tried to find your husband but were suddenly being hugged by someone. “I can’t believe you’re here,” your favorite cousin said, hugging you. 

You turned to face them and gave them a proper hug. They dragged you outside and grabbed a drink. Just chatting with your cousin lifted your spirits, but then you heard Sophia’s voice and could have sworn there was the noise of a record scratch, then she stepped into the backyard. 

Aaron stepped from behind her, and his face lit up when he saw Dick entertaining the kids with his acrobatic skills. He ran to Dick, and luckily your son was done his flips when Aaron latched himself to his left leg. 

“Hey, nugget,” Dick said, picking Aaron up and tossing him up in the air. 

Just as Sophia came up to you, Bruce appeared by your side and kissed your temple. Sophia looked between the two of you and smiled. “Oh, you two are so cute. Im so glad it worked out so far,” she said, hugging you.  

Bruce wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to him. “She can’t get rid of me.” He gave you another kiss on the temple before hugging Sophia. 

“How have you been,” he asked since you couldn’t open your mouth without saying something mean. 

“Amazing, it’s hard with three kids under ten, but it’s so adorable watching them grow up,” she said with a condescending smile. 

“Sophia,” you heard her husband call as he came up behind her with a look of apology. “I was getting the kids out of the car, and you just disappeared.”

“I heard my sister was here I just had to come see her. I haven’t seen her in years,” she pouted. “How are the kids,” she asked, glancing over your shoulder. 

“My kids are great. They are over there with all the other kids,” you said, turning to wave at Damien. 

“Oh right, that’s Bruce’s son. I read about that in the news. So glad you two worked through that issue.”

“Damien is my son, too. And that’s none of your business,” you said, flexing your hand.

“Ummi, I'm hungry,” Damien said with a fake smile, trying to act like a normal 10-year-old. 

“Ummi,” your sister questioned. 

“It's Arabic for mother,” you said, grabbing Damien’s hand and bringing him inside to get him food. As soon as you got inside, you let his hand go and turned to him. “Which one put you up to that,” you asked, hugging him. 

“Father, he gave us signals so we could be a buffer. But I don’t understand why I had to act like an idiotic fool,” he scowled as he crossed his arms. 

“I love you,” you said, ruffling his hair. 

“I love you too, Ummi,” he said, grabbing a plate and grabbing his food. 

With that freedom, you decided to walk around and converse with anyone else. You were talking with weird Uncle Bert when Sophia found you again. Everyone in the room got quiet and just watched the two of you. 

“I’m so proud of you, little sis,” she said, rubbing my arm.

“Whatever for Soph,” you asked, slowly turning to her. 

“For putting on a brave face with Bruce’s affair and accepting the consequence with open arms,” she said with a genuine smile like nothing she just said was wrong. 

“Excuse me,” you exclaimed.  “First off, that consequence is my son, and I’ve already told you to mind your own business in the matter.”

“Sorry, I guess you’re still sensitive about it. I thought you and Bruce were in a good place.”

“We are,” you replied, confused about where she was taking this. 

“Oh good, so when are you finally going to have a kid,” she asked giddily. 

“I have four kids. But I’m not sure when we are going to have a baby,” you replied through your teeth. 

“Yes, of course you have ‘kids,’ but like an actual kid. You're the only one without one,’ she said, playing with a string on her sweater like she didn’t just insult you. 

“Why the air quotes, Sophia,” you asked, clenching your fist. 

“Cause they're not your kids. You didn’t give birth to them. They are not your blood. So they don’t count. 

Outside, Bruce was looking around for you when he saw Sophia’s husband looking around, too. “Scott, where’s your wife,” he asked with a small bit of panic in his voice.

“Hopefully not by your wife saying something very stupid.”

“Excuse me,” they heard you yell. 

“I think I found them,” Scott groaned, rubbing his face in annoyance. 

“Boys code red,” Bruce shouted before going inside. 

When he got to where you were, your face was red and cracking your knuckles. He could tell you were pissed. 

“What the hell do you mean they don’t count,” you asked, fuming. 

“Look, if it means that much to you, I'll let them get into the family photo,” Sophia said, holding her hands up.

“Oh, thank you so much for letting my kids join my family photo,” you said sarcastically. 

“You know how much mom loves her grandkids I just hope she gets some from you.”

“She has 4. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damien.”

“Real grandchildren.”

“Ok, that’s it. Just because they are not my blood and I didn’t give birth to those boys doesn’t mean they are not my kids. I love them with every ounce of my being. I came to this for them cause they missed Mom, but you came and opened your mouth, spouting ignorant shit once again. And if Bruce and I have a baby, I'm not going to love those boys any less. Cause I chose to love those boys, and they chose to have me as their mother, and nothing could top the feeling of hearing them call me mom for the first time. Now, please, for once, keep those thoughts to yourself. No one cares about your Etsy shop or how you're trying to start a media business.”

“I was being nice before, but since you want to be a bitch I can too. That little one is a freaking psychopath, and I don’t want him around my kids. The oldest is a terrible influence cause now Aaron wants to join a circus. The other one, Jason, is even worse. What kind of kid fakes his death at 13 years old? Guess you're not that great of a “mother.” I mean, look at his scars, and he’s probably on drugs. The only one I feel sorry for is Tim. He looks so sleep-deprived I'm not sure what you’re doing to that poor kid, but CPS needs to take him and the psycho away from you,”

Before you could attack her for threatening to take your kids away, you heard Damien yell out in pain. You pushed through the crowd that formed and went to him. 

“What’s wrong, dami,” you asked him. 

“I hurt myself outside,” he said with a tear falling down his cheek. 

You saw your mom staying in the kitchen and told her you were taking Dami to the hospital and weren’t coming back til Sophia was gone. When you stepped outside, you watched as Damien popped his shoulder back in place. 

“Damn, mom. I'm a bit scared of you now,” Jason said, scratching his head.

“Good. Not stop using Damien and a buffer, and don’t dislocate his shoulder again to do it.” You said, making sure Damien was okay. 

“Yeah, I could have faked it.”

“Are you okay,” Bruce asked, hugging you. 

“No, I hate her so much,” you said before turning to your boys. “I'm sorry about that. I hope you don’t take what she said to heart.”

“I mean, the demon is a psychopath,” Jason joked, earning him a kick in the shins from Dick. “No, mom. We’ve heard that kind of stuff before it doesn’t bother us cause you are our mom.”

You were hugging all your kids when the front door opened, and Sophia stormed out angry, and Henry followed with their three kids. Sophia sat in the passenger seat while Henry put the kids in the car. 

“I'm so sorry,” Henry said, coming over to say goodbye. “It was nice seeing you two again, and nice meeting your kids.”

“His wife is nuts, but he seems like a cool guy,” Tim said as the car pulled out of the driveway. 

Your mom came out of the house and saw that you guys were still here. “Is he okay,” she asked, looking over Damien. 

“Yeah, he just dislocated his shoulder. We popped it back in. Is Jen still in there so she can give him a quick look over,” you asked.

Your mother nodded and went to grab your cousin, the pediatric doctor. “Mother, I'm fine. I’ve done that hundreds of times,”

“I know, but I would still like a medical professional to check it out since your brother actually hurt you,” you said, glaring at Jason. 

“I was trying to stop a fight.”

Jenny came out and checked Damien’s arm. She said it seemed perfectly fine, but she would prefer to have it x-rayed to double-check, but for now, an ice compress at the joint will do. 

“Come on, boys, I’ve got to show you your mother's baby pictures. Have I ever told you about the time she went missing from home and we found her 3 hours later in the fireplace,” she called from the entryway. 

“Oh no,” you groaned, covering your face.

“No,” Jason laughed as he ran inside to gather some leverage for the next time he was in trouble.

“Fireplace,” Bruce asked, laughing. 

“You might as well go listen to see what you're getting yourself into if we have a baby,” you said, pulling him inside. 

“Why does a mini-you terrify me more than my night job.”

“Cause I was terrible growing up.”

“Was,” he asked, pulling your back towards him. 

“Listen here, Mr. Wayne,” you started to scorn before he pressed his lips to yours. 

“Oh my god Mom you started a fire at 3,” Dick laughed.

“It was an accident.”

“Yeah, I'm terrified for our future children.”

“Of baby. You should be terrified of our future children,” you said right before Damien yelled about how you told a police officer your mother kidnapped you cause she wouldn’t get you a toy.  

Bruce laughed and shook his head as the two of you walked into the house. 

‼️TWIN SHENANIGANS‼️

Platonic Damian Al Ghul-Wayne x Twin!Reader

Imagine having two demons that are from the league of assassins…but only one of them is a true menace to society while the other is just …normal?

Two robins? Double trouble for Bruce because Damian is the older twin while you are the younger one. Of course you will follow him without a doubt.

You two paint, draw, and do anything together, it’s a nice sibling bonding. Sure what if Damian was a bit jealous and almost booby-trapped Dick when you started calling him “brother.” So what?

You need help? He’s helping you, not by just giving you straight up answers but mostly letting you understand.

Someone picks on you, immediately they have a bruised eye and lip. But that’s when Damian is having a nice day though, if he isn’t. He almost sent them to the hospital and got expelled.

Sometimes you two hold each other hands as if you both were the girls from “the shining”😭

When you can’t figure out what outfit you want to wear, don’t worry! Your twin Damian is gonna lay you out straight! He immediately makes you match with him as he smirks at you two looking the same.

You both do combo moves with each other. Literally training each other to see what moves you can pull off at the same time.

Tim was scared of you, like he personally thought you were gonna try and kill him only for you to make him a drawing and he immediately calmed down. That was until a certain demon popped up talking about “Twin, let’s go.” And you left. Making Tim confused before realizing twins exist…man coffee was getting to his brain.

I won’t lie, Damian may be a small bully towards you. But when you cry, that’s when he stops and show his soft side. You are his other part of him, it hurts to see you cry.

Literal definition of “only I can mess with my sibling…”

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 6: The Return

A/N: Did this chapter during a slow day in class. Enjoy this mini chapter!

You tried to keep your promise to Alfred about taking regular breaks to stop for food and sleep, but the Megamycete gives you unlimited energy, reducing your need for food and rest and allowing you to focus only driving as much as you can before night because Alfred is no doubt keeping track of when you tell him you’re stopping and resuming your journey.

Finally, after forty hours (you wished you could’ve turned into a giant flying creature and carry your car all the way to Goodsprings, but you’d never be able to explain that to Alfred), you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home and you feel tears swelling up in the corners of your eyes.

(Your feelings for this home are quite profound,) it remarks as you make your way up the driveway. (May we ask a favor?)

“Yeah, of course?”

(Allow us to establish a root system around your house. We promise our roots will not damage anything.)

“Can I ask why?”

(You have longed to return to this house for years. We wish to ensure its protection. With a root system, we will be able to watch over your house and keep out undesirables, be they man or pest.)

“Sure,” you chuckle, bending down and touching the lawn and from your finger, a sliver of mold extends from your skin and disappears into the dirt.

(We thank you. Should anything threaten your home, we will intervene.)

“Thanks, buddy,” you chuckle as you walk up to the front door, pulling out the key that the Clark County Probate Office sent you after you turned eighteen.

As you insert the key into the keyhole, you realize that you’re holding your breath. You’ve dreamed on this moment for years and now that it’s here, you’re worried that the home you’ve wanted to return to won’t bring you the joy you thought it would.

(Do not let your fears stand in your way. This home contains memories of a time of your life that you cherish. You will also be able to walk through the halls of this house without fear. Within these four walls, you will create a new life that will bring you happiness.)

You’re thankful for accepting the Megamycete into your body. Not only has it given you powers and abilities that you could never dream of, but it’s provided you comfort and companionship. It’s been very helpful to have your own Jiminy Chricket, whispering guidance and help from your shoulder.

With that, you turn the key and push the door open, stepping into the small foyer. Sure, the house has that type of smell that says it’s been empty for years and it’s pitch black since the curtains are drawn, but you’re overwhelmed by so many memories all at once. You and your Momma chasing each other down the hall in a game of tag, you sprawled out on the couch in the adjacent living room to watch the latest episode of one of your favorite cartoons, and so many others.

As you make your way through the house and notice every piece of furniture is covered in white sheets, protecting them from being covered in dust. Probably Sheriff Foley, he was the last one here the day your left and from what you remember of the distinguished sheriff, he’d do everything in his power to preserve the house and make sure nothing happened to it.

Finally, you pass throgh the dining room attached to the kitchen, walk down the small hallway and stop at the door on the left.

“Momma’s study,” you say, looking at the door before you.

(A room she spent most of her time. Many hours spent at her desk, working on her books. And you would stay in here to watch her.)

You open the door to see her bookshelves, desk, and chair covered in white tarps and the curtains drawn just like the rest of the house. You walk over to the other side of the desk, pull the tarp off the chair, and plop down on it.

“Feels just like I remember it,” you say, spinning around in it.

(What will you do with this room? Will you keep it as a study, or repurpose it?)

“I can turn it into my own study. With all that money Lex gave me for Bruce’s secrets? I can buy one hell of a PC that’ll be perfect for making games.”

After the study, you head upstairs, which has your old room, your Momma’s room, an upstairs bathroom, and a bedroom she had turned into a storage room. Your old room’s empty since you took most of your belongings when you moved to Gotham, the only things left are a bed that you’ve long since outgrown and a small dresser, so you decide otherwise set up in your Momma’s old room, which has a large bed that’s been covered in a tarp for years, a large dresser perfect for your clothes, and a sizable private bathroom.

(This house seems perfect for your purposes. And your mood has definitely improved since arriving.)

“Yeah, we have the house all to ourselves and there’s no Waynes in sight. This is definitely better than Wayne Manor.” You look around at the dark room and sigh. “We have a lot of work to do.”

And you did. For a week, you worked tirelessly to get the house livable, making calls to utility companies to get power, water, and gas turned back on, airing out the house, taking down the tarps and making everything look presentable, and clearing out your Momma’s belongings. You kept as much of you could, like her books, movies, jewelry, and everything else in between, but her clothes were boxed up and donated, along with appliances that date back to the early 2000s.

You had a lot of shopping to do, replacing the old appliances you donated, groceries for the new refrigerator, and a new mattress for your new room since the thought of sleeping on a decade old mattress made you itch all over. If you could’ve, you would’ve done all the shopping online, but you didn’t want to risk attracting attention to your finances with so many large purchases, so going to stores and paying with cash was your only option.

The best part of all this was converting your old bedroom into your gamer cave, full of your Pokémon plushies, toys, and posters, LED strips lining the corners of the room, and a giant desk and a top-of-the-line gaming PC. As much as you loved your trusty laptop, this PC makes it look like a relic from over a hundred years ago, and you can now play more modern games without any kind of lag. You’re really looking forward to future video game sessions.

After your gamer cave came your office. You boxed up your Momma’s old books and placed them in the storage room, replacing them with a few art books and game guides and bought another top-of-the-line PC full of digital art and video game creation software and placed it on the desk. You also found a fancy pen stand and placed your Momma’s pen on it, retuning the pen to its proper place. Plus, it can give you inspiration while you work.

Thankfully, the Megamycete made this undertaking easier, giving you stamina and energy that allowed you to work for hours on end without getting tired and allowing you to summon tendrils so you can do something upstairs while your body’s downstairs.

“Finally,” you sigh, plopping down on the living room couch after finishing the second coat of paint in the living room. “We’re done.”

(You have turned this house into a place anyone would kill to live in. You should be proud.)

“You helped. Getting this place into shape would’ve a few weeks, probably a month.”

(What is your next course of action?)

“Right now? Rest. Tomorrow? Time to get back to work.”

(That is right, your game. With your new tools, you should create a masterpiece worthy of you in no time.)

“Glad to know you think so highly of me, bud,” you chuckle.

That’s when you hear your phone go off, indicating you have a text. You take the device off the table, which had been playing your playlist of video game soundtracks, and see a message from Alfred.

Alfred: I hope your first week back in Goodsprings and that you’re taking proper care of yourself. I was thinking about you earlier today and decided to make my chocolate chip cookies.

The text is accompanied by a picture of said cookies and you instantly start salivating at the sight of the baked goods.

(Yes, the butler’s treats were very palatable to you.)

That’s a gross understatement.when it comes to any form of cooking, especially baking, the man is a god, able to conjure up food that would bring tears to anyone’s eye. While you’re ecstatic to be back home and away from the Waynes, you miss the man and his cooking. Now, you have to make do with either what little restaurants Goodsprings has or try your hand at cooking your own meals. And while there are many in the Megamycete’s records that were good in the kitchen, none of them held a candle to Alfred.

Me: Looks delicious! Making me drool up a river in my living room.

Alfred: I certainly hope that’s a joke. A young man as respectable as you should never be caught doing something as disgraceful as drooling.

You laugh at the text. Bless him, the poor man really thinks of you as a member of the “prim and proper” Wayne Family instead of the product of a one-night stand. When you first moved in, he tried to teach you all the ways of high society, but none of it ever took. You are who you are and nothing’s going to change that.

Alfred: Is it too early to ask when I can expect a visit from you?

You feel your heart drop a bit. You miss Alfred and would do anything to see him again, but you promised yourself that when you left Gotham, you’d never step foot in that hellhole again. And you know the man’s been trying to get the Waynes to get their shit together and remember the third child brought to live with him, but you hate all of them more than anything and if you never saw them again, it would be too soon.

Of course, you can’t tell him that. It would break his heart and make him feel guilty for not doing more. So, instead, you say:

Me: Sorry, I’m still getting things cleaned up around here and I’m trying to get my game working. Don’t know when I’ll be able to.

Alfred: I understand, my boy. I just ask that you try to carve out a little time to come back to Gotham and visit home when things calm down.

Home and Gotham definitely do not belong in the same sentence. Not for you, at least. Nevertheless:

Me: I promise!

Of course, you have no intention of going back there. You miss Alfred, but that city isn’t a place where good people end up. You were dragged there against your will and if it wasn’t for that drunk driver, you never would’ve lost the best years of your life to it and the Waynes. No matter what, you will never step foot in Gotham again.

You’d rather die.

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Hi, Jason (Part V)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

Reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Warnings: no proof reading, Jason's relationships with Bruce and Dick are discussed, mentions of Joker, violence, death

You met with Dick again in a bookstore. At first, you thought that it was quite a strange coincidence, until you saw him trying to talk with a very big boy who didn’t seem very interested in talking with him. Dick appeared upset ; the other boy was just shrugging and trying to focus on the books in front of him. 

You hesitated to go to them; you didn’t want to intrude. You weren’t too sure to recognise the other boy, but his face somehow seemed familiar. What decided you was where they were standing: the classic literature aisle of the store. Which was what you were looking for when you entered the shop.

You thought you could just say hi and then leave them alone if your presence was annoying them. You carefully walked to them.

“Hey Dick” you greeted the boy who turned around and instantly smiled at you. 

You weren’t too sure if it was a real smile yet, so you didn’t come closer to him, but his answer showed he was actually glad to see you.

“Hey, Y/N! What are you doing here?” he asked

“Buying books I guess.” you teased “I was looking for Mansfield Park or Emma, now I finished Pride and Prejudice” you said. 

The big boy to whom Dick was trying to talk to, quickly turned around and looked you up and down. He watched you with curiosity sparkling in his green eyes. Dick took his chance before his brother could go back to the cover of the book he was holding.

“Y/N, this is Jason, my little brother. You seem to share the same taste in books” Dick introduced the two of them

“Hi, Jason” you smiled as you cautiously observed him, remembering who he was now you knew his name.

You remembered what you read about Bruce and his son “who came back from the dead” and all the headlines about “Bruce arguing with his adoptive son”. It had quite broken your heart at the time.

“You’re Bruce’s new girlfriend?” he asked you quite bluntly

“I hate titles and I hate to feel like a possession. But yes, I'm currently seeing Bruce.” you replied and Jason nodded “I’m surprised you heard about me.” you added. 

“Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that things are rocky with Bruce.” Jason said and you reassuringly smiled at him “And yeah, everyone is talking about you in the “family”. Dick and Tim said you were nice.” Jason explained his first coldness to you

“I understand; Bruce isn’t always easy and you don’t know me” you nodded

“Ah yeah?” Jason arched an eyebrow at you. 

He had expected you to take Bruce’s defence, like everyone else.

“Let’s say that I like challenges.” you smiled “And I’m not Bruce’s lawyer” you joked

“You should thank god for that, or you would have a lot of work” Jason grinned and you could tell Dick was quite happy about the current interaction.

“Can I buy the two of you a drink or something? Or a meal” you asked. “There is this sweet little café right outside the bookstore” you offered

You actually wanted to know more of them. Jason was curious about you so he agreed. Dick wanted to come as well, but he quickly received a call from Büdhaven. He reluctantly left the two of you together. Dick would have enjoyed some time with his brother too, but maybe you would help. If you helped with Bruce, he was certain you could do pretty much anything. At the same time, he really hoped Jason wasn’t going to scare you away from the family as a way to avenge himself.

But you knew better; you had met Red Hood before and you liked him.

You settled in the café. You started to talk about literature at first. You were both passionate so it was a good conversation starter. You gave each other some recommendations and debated on characters you liked or disliked. Your point of views on characters were often based on your experiences, so it naturally led to a conversion about each other’s lives. And of course, you arrived at the subject of Bruce Wayne.

“I’ll tell him to apologise to you. He shouldn’t have acted that way even if I do agree with the no killing rule” you said “You’re both right in a way, but… Bruce should have talked to you, he should have let you know what was going on with the Joker and why he couldn’t kill him. Why you couldn't kill him either. He should have been there to appease your anger, not the opposite” you said

“You’ll quickly learn that he doesn’t talk much. Especially not about his feelings. If it gets too personal, he’ll push the subject away. If it can hurt him, he’ll run away. He's a bad dad for that. And he might be a bad partner to you as well” Jason told you

“I’m sorry about what happened to you. It must have been so difficult to wake up without your family. And in a body you didn’t know. You did good, despite the murders and everything. Actually, Red Hood has always been my favourite vigilante” you admitted without commenting on the last part of Jason’s words. You wanted to believe that Bruce would make an effort for you.

Jason chuckled as you mentioned his vigilante persona.

“It’s true you never wrote anything bad about me. I thought you were scared of me… Until I realised we actually met” he teased, his eyes litting up

“Oh you remember? Yes I used to live in your territory, and now I’m nearby. I stand by what I said that night: I know what you did for people like us, that’s why I thanked you. Bruce can’t understand what it is to be poor and lost and to have to do bad things to survive. But I’ll make sure he does better with you.” you said “Just promise me to speak with Dick. Your brother looks like he is very eager to have you back in his life. He seemed very sorry you weren’t speaking with him earlier” you added

“I will try to talk with him again then. Thank you for… Thank you. I think I really needed to have this conversation with somebody but no one wanted to have it and I couldn’t really go to a therapist. You’re easy to talk with” he whispered, a little bit awkward

“I know” you smiled “I’m glad if I’ve been able to help”

“Is it your good action of the day to go to Heaven?” Jason joked 

“Absolutely” you giggled

A moment of comfortable silence engulfed the two of you. You both enjoyed your tea before you resumed talking:

“Hey you know what, this is my phone number. You can call or text me whenever you need it.” you offered

“Why?” Jason plunged his eyes onto yours. 

He was definitely not used of adults being there for him, especially without a catch

“Well I’m afraid I’m a family woman and my own family sucks very much. And since Bruce wants me around, I’d prefer it if I can get along with his people. I’d like to take care of you all.” you admitted, feeling a little shy to say all of this out loud.

Jason was also very easy to talk to.

“I don’t think I’m one of his people. Not anymore at least.” Jason sadly smiled at you

“You can be one of mine then. Take it as a repayment for allowing me to go back home every night without having to worry about anyone slicing my throat off” you insisted

“All the pleasure’s mine” he chuckled before saving your number onto his phone “You know, everyone says Bruce is nicer since you’re around. I have to admit this is true. Maybe happiness can truly change a man” 

“Even a bat?” you joked because Jason’s words were touching you a little more than you wanted to show it

“Even a bat” Jason nodded

A few days later, you received a message from Jason, clearly tasting the water with you.

J: Hey wanna go have some lunch together today or tomorrow?

You: Today sounds good :)

After this, you regularly had lunch together and Jason clearly started to see you as a motherly figure, and you saw him as a son. He crashed at your place more than once after patrol, so you could eat together. Bruce never commented on your relationship with Jason, but he heard you when you asked him to apologise.

Which he did.

Jason accepted it and tried his best with Dick and his other siblings. He was still feeling awkward around everyone, but he was slowly spending more time at the manor, even when Bruce was there. 

When Bruce asked if you wanted to meet all of his children anytime soon, you agreed but you instantly sent a message to Jason to make sure he would be there as well. He eagerly agreed because he couldn’t wait for you to be officially a member of the Batfamily.

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PART 6

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