Batfam X Batsis - Tumblr Posts

Reader (imprisoned) having some kind of argument with Damian and Batman having to intervene in the fight

Damian: I was just doing what was best for her, Father! How could she not understand? Batman: See? He only wanted what was best for you, Reader. Do you have anything for your dear blood brother? Reader, rummaging through her pockets: Oh, wait, I do! Just a moment….. Reader: From the bottom of my heart… to you:

Damian, rolling his eyes: Wow, that's very mature of you…

Reader, with a smirk: I urge you to shove all your 'maturity' in the middle of your suppository, brother.

Damian, internally: SHE CALLED ME BROTHER

Now That You’re Home

Warnings: cursing, mention of kidnapping, violence, mentions of running away, injuries, let me know if I missed any :)

First part here —> Welcome Home

Pairings: Batfamily x batsis!reader

*not my gif*

Summary: After finally getting home, things can’t be expected to go back to normal right away. You were gone for far too long

A/N: I know a lot of you have been waiting for this and I’m sorry it took so long, I kept losing the will to write it, hence why it’s not as good as the first chapter

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

You yawned, slowly sitting up, wincing and gingerly holding your stomach, scanning the room.

In bed next to you was a peacefully sleeping Cass and Damain.

On the floor was Jason, sprawled out on his back, with Dicks foot resting on his face.

Dick himself, was sleeping half on, half off the couch, looking like if he moved even a muscle he would come crashing down onto the floor.

Steph was hanging upside down off your bed, somehow sleeping.

Tim and Barbara were nowhere to be seen, making you assume that they already got up and began their days.

It was hard to believe that it had only been last night that your family had come and saved you from that warehouse, it felt like it had been years since you were tied to that chair with a piece of tape over your mouth.

Pretty much right as you got into the batcave, Bruce made you get checked up by Alfred, and he gave you some pain medication for your head and ribs.

Then right after, Dick dragged you and your siblings up to your room, which surprisingly hadn’t changed in the slightest, and made you all have a sibling movie night.

After an hour of arguing about what you were going to watch, you finally put on your favorite movie as they continued arguing, which soon stopped them and they just began watching.

The rest of the evening was full of yelling, laughing, and junk food.

The perfect Wayne sibling night.

Apparently you had all fallen asleep, hence the uncomfortable positions most of your siblings were in right now.

The painkillers must have worn off by then, so you carefully put your feet over your bed and crept out of your room, not before taking Dicks discarded phone, snapping a photo, and sending it to your new number of the phone that Bruce gave you last night. Considering your phone was broken in the kidnapping.

You had no idea how he had one just laying around though.

You didn’t feel like walking down all of those stairs, so you hopped into the elevator that Bruce had installed for Babs and rode it down.

You got out of the elevator and walked to the living room, where you knew Alfred would be at this time, having a nice cup of tea before the rest of the children woke up and disturbed the peace.

A small smile made its way onto your face as you stepped into the living room to the sight of Alfred and Bruce drinking tea and coffee, just chatting.

“Morning.” You croaked.

Bruce’s head snapped over to you and he quickly stumbled up and over to you, taking you gently by the arm and leading you over to the couch.

Alfred looked at you with a smile, “Good morning, Miss. Y/n, how are you doing this morning?”

Last night was nice not only because you were finally able to hang out with your siblings, but also because nobody had asked or pushed you to talk about leaving.

You returned his smile and gently said, “I’m doing okay. Thank you Alfred.”

Bruce cleared his throat, “Y/n, I think we need to talk-“

“No, we most certainly do not.” Alfred cut him off sharply, giving him a warning look before turning back to you with a smile, “Care for some tea?”

“I would love some.” You said, voice full of gratitude for multiple reasons. You really didn’t know how you got on without this man.

The three of you fell back into a silence, one that seemed comfortable for Alfred, but very uncomfortable for you and your father.

The silence was thankfully broken quickly though by the sound of feet hurtling down the stairs, “Alfred! B!” The panicked sound of your eldest brother sounded through the room before any of you could even see him, “She’s gone! Y/n’s gone! I don’t know where-“ He cut himself off as soon as he sprinted into the room, skidding to a stop.

He sighed a big breath of relief, visibly relaxing.

Alfred looked at him in amusement, “She is still here, Master Dick.”

“Good.” Dick said awkwardly, rocking back and forth on his heels.

You looked up at him with a look that was a mix of guilt, concern, and sadness, he had thought that you left again.

He briefly glanced at you before quickly looking away, clearing his throat, “I’m- um- I’m gonna go get some coffee.”

With that he scurried off into the next room, stealing one more glance back at all of you.

“He thought I left.” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, the sadness in your voice caught you off guard.

Bruce hummed, “Which is exactly why I think we need to talk-“

“Bruce!” Alfred burst out, standing abruptly, “May I have a word with you?” His tone was anything but questioning, it was demanding. He turned back to you and in a softer voice said, “I think Mistress Barbra and Master Tim are down in the Batcave if you would like to go see them.”

You nodded, quickly standing up and exiting the room, leaving your father to face Alfred’s wrath.

Sure enough, once you entered the Batcave, you were met with the sight of your older sister and younger brother typing away furiously at the keyboards of the computers.

“Morning.” You called out after a moment of them not noticing you.

Their heads snapped up at the sound of your voice and wide grins broke out onto both of their faces.

“Morning, honey.” Babs called out, beckoning you over with a hand, “How did you sleep?”

“Better than most of the others.” You responded with a small chuckle.

You watched as they both laughed a little before Tim took a large sip from his coffee mug.

“Still an addict for coffee, Timmy?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

He looked over at you sheepishly, “You know me.”

You rolled your eyes a little, trying, and failing, to hide your amusement.

“What are you two doing up so early?” You asked, changing the topic which made Tim ‘secretly’ sigh in relief.

Babs shrugged, “Work to be done. What about you?”

“I usually get up at this time.” You copied her shrug.

Tim looked at you with a small laugh, “You used to not get up until noon.”

You cleared your throat, “Yeah, well I’m also not up until the early hours of the night every day now.”

Tim’s laugh quickly faded along with his smile and a sad look came over his face. He quickly looked down and Barbra looked away awkwardly.

A heavy silence fell over the three of you, seeming to crush down on top of you, almost making it hard for you to breathe.

“Well,” You said, “I’ll let you get back to work, sorry for interrupting.”

They didn't respond, and you didn’t wait for them to, as you quickly rushed away from the cave to try and rid yourself of the guilt you felt for what you had just said.

Why had you brought it up?

You mentally groaned and you felt like running your head through the closest wall as hard as you could.

As if on autopilot, you navigated your way through the manor. And though it had been years, you still knew exactly where everything was, almost nothing had changed.

There were still family pictures hanging on the walls alongside some expensive artwork that you could assume had been duct taped thirty times over in the back from your siblings probably destroying it.

A lot of the pictures were ones with you in it, but there were also some clearly updated and new ones.

You made your way through the maze of hallways to the place you had always gone whenever you were upset or needed some space to clear your head. The library.

Bruce had bought every single book in there for you and Jason because the two of you were the bookworms of the family.

As soon as you walked through the doors you sucked in a sharp breath, it was exactly as you remembered, besides at least six new bookshelves filled to the brim with books, down to the exact placing of the chairs and couches.

You wandered down the shelves of stories without really paying attention to anything, let alone where you were going.

You were walking down the fifth row when you suddenly ran into a hard wall and fell backwards.

A hand quickly flew out and caught you right before you could hit the ground though.

Your eyes quickly snapped open to see Jason standing above you with an amused smirk, “Watch where you’re going, Sunshine.”

Sunshine was a nickname he had given you when you were first dropped off at the manor. You had always been in a good mood back then, bubbly and full of giggles.

It seemed to annoy Jason to no end back then, and he had begun calling you Sunshine as an insult, but it ended up sticking.

A slow smile made its way onto your face as you fully stood up, “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

The black haired man scoffed, “Obviously, because I'm the only one that can call you that.”

“So true.” You said back, falling into a comfortable silence as the two of you began to wander down the aisles together.

The two of you fell back into the pattern that had been your weekly routine before you left.

You would go back and forth making new book recommendations and you would both do your best to give summaries about them without spoiling.

The peacefulness of normalcy was interrupted by Jason’s phone making a loud ‘ding’.

He grumbled under his breath and fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket. He glanced down at it for a second before announcing, “Dickie Bird says breakfast is ready.”

Your eyes widened slightly in horror, and Jason must have noticed because he quickly reassured you, “Don't worry, Alfred doesn’t let him actually cook. Just let’s Dick think that he helps.”

You breathed a small sigh in relief, “Good, I wasn’t really in the mood to have shit sprinkled with a pinch of poisoning.”

He laughed as the two of you made your way back through the hall mazes and to the dining room.

When you got there, everybody was now awake and all seated in the same seats that they sat in when you had left.

Your eyes swept across the table before they landed on the chair that was in the middle of your father and Damian, the chair that you had always sat in. And it was empty.

The thought made you sad, realizing that they had left that seat empty for you all those years, waiting for you to come home and fill it again.

You quietly made your way to the seat, hesitating only slightly before sitting down, but you were sure that your family noticed.

Across from you sat Alfred, and next to him was Tim, then Cass, Steph, and Jason.

And then next to Damian was Barbra and then Dick.

You all began to eat the pancakes in front of you in silence. And while you sensed your family sending numerous glances your way, you kept your eyes trained on your plate.

Once you were halfway through, you finally looked up and mumbled, “This is very good, Alfred. Thank you.”

You had almost forgotten how much you loved his pancakes. Almost.

“You are quite welcome, Miss. Y/n.” He said, clearly delighted that you spoke up.

Then you all fell back into the uncomfortable silence.

Bruce was the next one to break it.

“Where have you been?” His question was genuine, and there was such sadness in his eyes that you had to look away.

Your siblings all snapped their heads towards you, eagerly awaiting your answer.

Alfred on the other hand, was glaring at your father, “Master Bruce, the breakfast table is no place to discuss such things.”

Once again, you were grateful for Alfred.

“I just wanted to-“

“Enough.” Pennyworth said, face calm, but eyes raging with a fire that you hadn’t seen since you and Jason broke the most expensive piece of art in the manor by having a pillow fight.

Bruce’s mouth snapped shut and he quickly averted his eyes back to his own plate, your siblings quickly following suit.

You cleared your throat, pushing your still half full plate away, “Thank you again, Alfred.”

With that you hastily stood up and exited the room as fast as you could, avoiding eye contact with everybody.

After a moment of silence, Damain rolled his eyes and scoffed, clearly directing it towards his father, and stood up, harshly pushing his chair away from the table and stomped in the direction you had just exited.

It didn’t take him long to find you out in the backyard, sitting on a bench in the garden, knees pulled up to your chest with your head resting against them.

This was where you went whenever you and your father got into a fight.

“Sister.” Damain called out from a few feet away from you, trying not to creep up and end up scaring you.

You turned around quickly with wide eyes before relaxing when your eyes landed on your youngest brother, “Hi, Dami.” You greeted quietly, scooching over to give him room on the bench as well.

He walked over and sat down, letting silence wash over the two of you, this was something that the two of you used to do whenever something like this would happen.

You and your father would fight, then you would end up storming out into the garden and Damian would quickly follow after you.

Then you would end up sitting together for as long as it took for you to calm down. Either by talking it through or just sitting in silence, taking in the comfort that your brother gave when you had him close.

After about ten minutes of a comfortable silence, you let out a deep breath, keeping your eyes straight ahead, staring at nothing, “Thank you, Dami.”

He nodded, looking over and studying you, deciding what he should do next.

Without warning, he quickly stood up, “Come, sister.” He said in less of a commanding way and almost as a question, as if he was afraid you would say no but was trying to hide it, “I want to show you something.”

Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you stood up and followed behind your brother as he led the way through the rows upon rows of plants until he came to a stop in front of a large bush and dropped to his hands and knees.

You looked down at him in confusion and he quickly explained while trying to look under the leaves, “He normally like to hide here.”

Though you were still confused, you nodded slightly.

“Ah,” He said suddenly, “There he is.”

He stuck his arm into the bush and for a moment you were terrified that he was going to scream as it got eaten off by a wild animal, instead it slowly started coming out of the bushes, with a cat in his hand.

“Alfred.” You said in surprise, instantly recognizing the now much older cat.

Damain nodded, holding out the cat named after the butler for you to hold and pet.

“You still have him.” You said softly, gazing at the beautiful creature.

“I also have more pets.” Your younger brother said proudly, before diving into an hour long conversation and meet and greet of the rest of his pets.

The two of you were in the barn, introducing and being introduced to Batcow, when Steph came bounding through the doors with a wide smile on her face.

“Sorry, Dames.” She said, not very apologetic at all, gently taking your arm and beginning to drag you out the door, “I need to borrow our sister.”

You looked at your little brother helplessly as the blonde girl dragged you out of the barn and Damain stood with his face beginning to grow red and a glare pointed at your sister.

Before he could threaten to take his katana out though, Stephine quickly ran and exited, taking you with her as you had to run to keep up with her long strides.

When she finally came to a stop once you got inside the manor, you were gasping for air and bent over with your hands on your knees, “W-what’s up, S-steph?” You asked breathlessly.

Your sister, who wasn’t even out of breath, shrugged, “Eh, I thought I deserved some time with my sister, seeing as my little brother was hogging her all to himself.” She answered with her iconic grin.

This caused you to smile a little, “Well fair enough.”

You looked around, trying to see what room she had brought you to, and with a little shock, you realized that you were in the game room.

Looking back at her, you were about to say something until you noticed her looking at you with a now evil grin, “I Stephanie Brown, challenge you, Y/n Wayne to a game of air hockey.”

You quickly copied her look, “Oh it’s so on.”

The next hour was spent with yelling, laughing, betting, and cursing. Just like old times.

The two of you didn’t stop until you heard someone softly clear their throat from the side of the table.

You and Steph each jumped a foot in the air, letting out a little scream each, and Steph threw the puck that she was holding at the person.

Cass dodged the piece with ease and an amused smile on her face.

You sighed in relief when you realized that it was just her, “You scared me, Cass.”

She giggled quietly, and Steph rolled her eyes playfully, “That’s cause you're a scaredy cat.” She teased, and this time it was you rolling your eyes.

“If I remember correctly, it was you doing the screaming as well.”

She opened her mouth to rebuttal, only for Cass to beat her to it, “Actually, Bruce sent me to get Y/n. He wants to talk with her.”

This caused you and your sister to fall silent and for her to send you an apologetic look.

You looked down and took a deep breath before looking up at Cassandra with a clearly forced smile, “Well then, lead the way, Cassie.”

She nodded, beginning to lead you to wherever Bruce had told her to go.

On the way she started a conversation to get you caught up on some basic things that changed around the manor, like a change in breakfast cereal, or everyone’s new favorite movie.

Even though they weren’t big things, it still made you sad to hear about everything you had missed out on while being away.

You had been so caught up in your thoughts, that you hadn’t even noticed Cass had come to a stop until she put a hand on your shoulder to stop you from continuing down the hall.

With a small, reassuring smile, she quickly turned on her heel and left you to deal with your father alone.

After taking a deep breath, and seriously debating just not going in at all, you mustered up the courage to knock gently on the door.

You were met with the muffled sound of your fathers voice calling back a, ‘come in’.

With another deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped right into your fathers office, only to find it exactly as how you had left it.

Bruce sat behind his desk and you could see him studying you carefully, before he gestured to the seat across from him, indicating that he wanted you to sit down.

You strode across the room, keeping a brave and confident exterior on, while on the inside you were squirming with nerves.

Sitting down graciously, you didn’t take your gaze away from your father and neither did he to you.

You two just sat there in silence, both of you still trying to wrap your heads around if the other was actually before you or if this was some dream that you would wake up from any moment.

“It’s been put off all day.” Bruce started, leaning back in his chair, “But I-“ He cut himself off and cleared his throat, darting his eyes away quickly, “I need to know.” His voice came out quiet and suddenly you were feeling guilty all over again.

It was weird for you, even after all these years to see your father like this. So vulnerable, so… small.

“Dad,” You began and then opened your mouth again, but no words came out.

You didn’t know what to say.

That you were sorry? That you couldn’t live his lifestyle anymore? That being Batgirl was one of the worst times of your life?

“A day never passed that I didn’t think about you guys… I missed you all so much.” You admitted, tears filling your eyes as you looked down and fiddled with your fingers.

Bruce stayed silent for another moment, “We looked for you. Everywhere.”

You nodded your head, “I figured. That’s why I changed my name.”

A pained look crossed Bruce’s face, “You changed Y/n?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard, “I changed Wayne.”

“Oh,” was all that came out.

You finally looked up, realizing that he deserved to know, and you were just being selfish not telling him, “I was in Bludhaven.”

His head snapped up and his eyes met yours, “You were?”

You nodded slightly, “And I- I left because…” You took a deep breath before letting the words tumble out of your mouth before you could convince yourself to change your mind, “I couldn’t do it. The whole vigilante thing. The violence. Staying out late every night. Never knowing if I was ever going to see my family again. I couldn’t handle it. Any of it. I wasn’t strong enough.”

It was like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders when you said that.

Bruce stayed silent for one moment. Two. Three. Four.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” His voice came out so broken that you almost started crying right then and there in that chair, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.” Your voice was thick with emotion.

His next words surprised you, “You could never disappoint me.”

Next thing you knew, you were around the desk and had launched yourself into your fathers arms, taking him and you by surprise, but he quickly wrapped his arms around you in return, holding you in a hug that said a million things.

And you stayed like that for a while, holding each other in silence and comfort.

Then the door was slammed open, surprising the two of you so much that you each jumped a foot in the air.

Out of instinct, Bruce immediately pushed you behind him and put his hands up, ready to fight off whoever dared step foot in his office.

But instead of some random goon or attacker, all of your siblings filed into the room, Jason in the front, who you had assumed was the one who did the kicking in of the door.

Steph let out a battle cry as she emerged from the hallway and entered the room, shoving Tim out of the way, who fell with a heavy thud.

Damian followed quickly after, katana raised and ready for action.

Bruce dropped his arms to his side and scowled and you stepped out from behind him, “What are you kids doing?” He asked in a tired voice.

Before any of them could answer though, Alfred stepped into the room, not even glancing down as he stepped over Tim’s groaning form, “They all insisted that since it had been so quiet that one of you had ended up killing the other.”

You watched as your siblings came to a halt upon seeing both of you alive and well, and all shuffled awkwardly and Barbra slapped Dick’s arm and muttered something about an idiotic idea.

Dick then proceeded to gasp dramatically and shove Jason slightly, saying something about it being his plan all along, and he just rolled his eyes before motioning to Damian and muttering about the demon child being the one with a weapon.

The room then erupted in chaos as your siblings yelled at each other and Bruce and Alfred tried to calm them down.

And despite everything, you couldn’t help but allow a small smile to grow on your face.

You were finally home, and this time you weren’t going anywhere.

Eventually, your siblings calmed down after all agreeing to blame Steph (because she was the one to bring up the silence coming from the room in the first place), who was very much against that accusation, and made their way down to the living room where you all sat around as Bruce told you all to wait before he exited the room.

After a moment of silence, you cleared your throat and spoke up, “Guys, I’m sorry for every-“

“We know.” Cass cut you off with that small, kind smile that she’s so famous for.

“I just-“ You tried again.

“We know.” Babs repeated her sister.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What do you-“

“We may or may not have been eavesdropping on yours and Bruce’s conversation.” Tim rubbed the back of his neck and avoided your gaze.

Your mouth dropped open, but you quickly smiled, “I suppose I can’t expect anything less from you guys.”

“Pennyworth was listening as well.” Damain blurted out, pointing a finger at the butler.

Alfred turned his nose up, “I am quite certain I have no idea what you are speaking of, Master Damian.”

Before the youngest could open his mouth to rebuttal, Bruce walked back into a room with something hidden behind his back.

Everyone fell silent and looked at him expectantly, so he smiled and revealed to all of you the monopoly box he was holding, and grins broke out on every single one of your faces.

The monopoly box he was holding was something that you had helped make with all of them before you had ran away, it was a DIY that held enough pieces, money, and properties to buy for everyone in your family to play at once.

The next hour was spent laughing and yelling while trying to make each other go bankrupt and keep Jason and Dick from cheating.

Jason slammed his hands down on the table, “You piece of shit!” He screamed at Damain.

“Well at least I wasn’t beaten to death by a crowbar!” The younger one yelled back.

Then it went silent and everyone snapped their heads over to you, but you just stayed quiet.

The silence lasted for about five minutes before you slowly stood up.

“I’m sorry… YOU DIED?”

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 16]

Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Slight Body Horror, Gore, Graphic Depictions of Physical Assault, Gun Use, Weapon Use, Talks About Traumatic Incidents, CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 8.6K

(16/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

Notes: Coming out of my hibernation to drop the next chapter, as per usual, I will see you in many months (probably) AHjdhsjshkfhfdjs good news is i'm 5k into the next chapter so it shouldn't take as long as it usually does ahhhhhhh

Disclaimer: This series is originally by@fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

2019

The sky is blue. Your eyes were as heavy as every limb of your body was too, but still, somehow, you could count the few clouds in the sky.

This wasn’t Gotham.

You could feel the blades of grass dancing around your fingertips, you could feel the dirt under your heels, and you could breathe air clearer than you’d ever experienced before, surely, you were in Heaven. You died and you came to Heaven, that had to be the only explanation. As you stood up you felt the creak in your bones and the aches in your joints, nothing felt natural, and nothing felt real. There was still a soft fuzz in your ears, muffling sounds, if any, from coming through to your senses. You held your hands out in front of your face and, just like that, the rush of memories flooded you and the pain picked up where it left off.

Breathing became gasping, clear skies grew dull and blurry, that soft fuzz became your own past screams, or were they your current ones? You could still feel the blades, you could still hear the rushed mumbles of your assailant.

“Damned thing,” you remembered their voice. “Where is it? Why can’t I find it?” They said those same things after they’d pull off a piece of skin or bone from your body. Eventually, you stopped fighting it. What could you do? They seemed to tear through your flesh in an attempt to find something inside of you, anything. And you think you caught a glimpse of it too before your eyes shut for what you thought would be the last time.

A glowing stone, oblong from what you could see, your assailant held it like it was the most precious stone in the world. That was inside of you? How? It was in your chest, you think, but the pain came from everywhere so you weren’t quite sure if that was true.

You clutched your hands to your chest. You couldn’t find a heartbeat, and you couldn’t feel your pulse anywhere else. You hit it, you clawed at it, and you soothed it. Your nails were caked with the blood that oozed from your weeping wounds. The slashes around your body looked somewhat fresh or maybe in the process of healing, blood still ran through them and it flowed over the previously dried stains.

You just died. Why are you here now? Your throat was burning and it was then you realized how long you had been screaming in the middle of this field of grass. You gripped your hair, feeling the strands being pulled from your scalp as your eyes racked over your wound-ridden body. Hot tears rushed down your face and onto the scars, leaving a deep burning sensation in their wake. 

And suddenly you saw a blanket draped over you. A woman kneels before you, securing the blanket to cover your body. She’s speaking to you but no sound came through. She reaches over, wiping the tears and blood from your face with a handkerchief, and looks behind you, seemingly calling out to someone there, but you couldn’t move, everything hurt too much to. She holds your face gently and, slowly, the world settles around you.

“Breathe, it’s okay, you’re safe now,” her voice, you assumed, permeates your thoughts and everything stops ringing. You clutch onto the blanket around you and let her help you to your feet. You nearly stumbled forward from the pain shooting up from your ankles and you swallowed harshly with deep breaths following. You saw a man run up to the two of you and immediately supports your other side, helping you to their vehicle not too far off and settling you in the backseat. He straps you in and says something to the woman before they climb into the front seats and drive off. Your head hits the window next to you and you seal your mouth shut, hoping that you weren’t making a single sound. With no knowledge of where you were, who these people were, and what you were doing alive, there wasn’t much more to do than what you’ve always been good at. Observation.

The car stops in front of a home and the two help you out of the car again, leading you inside and seating you against a wooden chair.

In seconds the man opens the door and another larger man walks in. He had a large mask over their face that only allowed his eyes to be seen, but he was holding a clipboard with one hand and had a large bag in the other. He adjusts his lab coat and you feel his gaze linger on you.

The last thing you remembered before sleeping again was the woman holding onto your hand.

“You’re safe now,” her voice rang again. “Relax, you will be taken care of.” You closed your eyes.

And when they opened again, you were in a bedroom. Wearing a fresh set of clothes and with a few slices of bread and a glass of water on the table next to you, again your hands that were folded at your lap had taken your attention. The scars you had seen earlier were now dressed carefully with bandages, and they were everywhere. You lifted your hand, feeling the now numbed sensation from it. Nothing burned anymore.

You slowly picked up the plate next to you and started eating and, naturally, you downed the drink afterward. As soon as you had finished, the door opens again and the woman, seeing you awake, rushes in and sits on the bed next to you.

“You’re awake, how do you feel?” She asks aloud. You stare at her, then at your hands. “Are you still hungry?” She eyes the empty plate. You shake your head and she smiles.

“I’m Claire, Claire MacLennan,” she introduces herself.

“…” You kept your mouth shut, your words caught in your throat and your voice seemed lost to you.

“I brought you some clothes here, I’ve been moving a few of my old ones to this room so you’re welcome to borrow them,” she continues. You nodded slightly, and then you saw her expression change. “I know, I know,” she soothes you. You hadn’t even realized how much you were shaking until now. “You must have been so scared, it’s okay, take all the time you need, we can talk another day,” she says while holding one of your hands gently between hers. “Take all the time you need.” She releases you and steps out with a final smile.

With a harsh swallow, you pulled the covers back on top of you and you shut your eyes, silently praying that this was all a nightmare and that you’d wake up in your dorm room.

But you didn’t.

You continued to wake up in this same room. Eventually, you found the strength to even walk outside of it. Claire was always there, always helping you, and always soothing you. She showed you around the house and, silently, you offered your thanks. You were afraid that if you spoke you’d break the illusion of this dream, you were afraid that you’d have to accept it as your new reality. So, for a while, and with a selective muteness, you lived alongside this woman. You helped around the house, you went along with her to run errands, and for a while you watched over her bakery too. Nightmares plagued your thoughts every night, and every time she was quick to run over, hold you close and remind you that you were still alive, and just as fast she’d clean your body that had racked with sweat and fresh blood from the wounds you had subconsciously reopened. And soon it became routine, and you realized that you were starting to get comfortable, and that scared you. Her husband worked strange hours, he was always gone by the time you woke up, came home around the time you slept, and repeated that cycle. Then, one day at the breakfast table, a new resolve strengthened in you.

“(Y/N) Wayne,” your voice was hoarse and it felt foreign to you. And just like that, reality began to settle into you. Claire’s expression lit up.

“What a lovely name,” she replies. “I’m sure there’s much you want to ask.” You nodded and, trying to find your voice, you spoke again.

“Where am I?” You asked slowly.

“You’re in mine and my husband’s home in the Bloom District,” she answers. You nodded.

“Could I see a map?”

“Of course,” she pulls a small screen out from her pocket and places it in front of you, turning it on with a wave of a hand. You saw the holographic display spark to life before she opened a map on it. “Here we are,” she points at the glowing dot on the surface. You zoomed the map out.

True to Claire’s words, the district was called Bloom, the city you were in was called Haven, and the country was called Caelum. Strangely enough, a further zoom out showed you were still in the North American continent but it had a different name attached to it.

“Where are you from, (Y/N)? Could you point it out? My husband can take you back home.” Claire places a glass of water by your hands.

“Gotham, and it should be right here,” you point to its general spot on the map, seeing it empty. Claire’s face has a flash of concern for a moment.

“I see…” she says. She closes the map. “Do you remember anything from when we found you a few months ago? You gave us quite the scare there, if you’re alright sharing, what left you in such a state?” She asks softly. You leaned back on the chair and simply shook your head. You didn’t want to remember that. Claire could only nod. “That’s alright. You take your time, this is your home as much as you’d want it to be. I’ll talk to my husband when he gets home to see how we can help you, but until then do you need anything?” She asks.

“A cell phone, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” she leaves the small screen with you. “Just call if you need anything.” 

“I…” you wanted to ask her why, why was she helping you so much, why was she devoting her time to you, it’s not like she knows you, and it’s not like you know her. You would’ve never done something like this at home, you were raised to be careful and vigilant at all times but… maybe that’s why you let yourself relax around her, something about her countenance was something you selfishly needed at this time. And you didn’t want to wake up from that dream just yet.

You pick up the device. It’s lightweight in your hands with perfect angles, a small slit ran across it from one corner to the next where the hologram would project from.

“I’ll just… move to that room for now.”

“Of course.” You felt her eyes on you up to the moment you closed the door. You sat down at the chair in the room and looked down at the square device in your hands, after you copied her movements it sparked to life immediately. You tapped on the phone icon and stared at the number pad before punching in the first number you thought of.

“Hello?” A voice you didn’t recognize.

“Hello, I’m sorry to bother, is this Richard Grayson?”

“Sorry, miss, but I think you’ve got the wrong number.” 

“I’m sorry about that,” you ended the call. Then you typed the next one.

“Hi, who is this?”

“Does this number belong to Jason Todd?”

“No, sorry."

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Barbara Gordon?”

“Who?”

“Hi there!”

“Hey, is this Tim Drake?”

“No, sorry, this is Leo!”

“Hey there, I was wondering if this number belonged to a Roy Harper?”

“Nope, never heard of him.”

“Hi, is this the line to Wayne Enterprise?”

“Sorry, ma’am, you’ve go the wrong number.”

You stared down at the device, looking at the series of outbound numbers. You knew you weren’t in Gotham, you were somewhere else entirely, but something about the confirmation of it weighed heavily in your heart. You were somewhere far, far, from home. For months you wanted to ignore it, you wanted to believe that you’d wake up back in the nostalgic smoggy skies, but no, you were still here. And so you did the next logical thing and you clicked on the News icon. You had to figure out where the hell you just landed. After skimming through the Sports, Health, and Culture tabs, you finally tackled the larger one.

Breaking News: The Royal Family Approves a New Law Affecting the Housing Crisis

2020 Templar Applications Open

Updated: Monster Hunting Board.

URGENT: Fallen Soldier Identifications to Cease in One Week

This Just In: Foreign Affairs Grow More Tense as Negotiations between the Republic of Chavent and the First Kingdom Press On.

Cease-Fire to Peace, the Negotiations between RoC and the Kingdom Soon to Conclude.

You continued to scroll through the various articles, reading through each of them to get a general sense of the world and how it differs from yours. Then you stopped on one article, recognizing the front picture to be the one of the men who helped you months ago.

The Now Captain Allistor MacLennan on his Recent Promotion Following the Battle at Keelfait Plains.

Following the First Kingdom’s victory on the Plains, the highly accoladed previous Lieutenant MacLennan led a successful charge against the Chaventian Army and was awarded with an immediate promotion. Despite the heavy casualties suffered, his efforts allowed for the cease-fire and the reopening of negotiations between the two nations. One year later he finally shares his thoughts on the subject.

“How do you feel?” You tore your eyes from the screen and looked at the man standing at your door. He looked identical to the one on the page right now. You tried to wave your hand over the screen to turn it off and he sighed, walking over to you and shutting it off himself by pressing on the side. “Allistor MacLennan, but you already saw that.”

“(Y/N) Wayne.”

“Claire tells me you’re from Gotham City,” he says. “That’s a long way from here, you know.” He was different from Claire, very, where she took the time to understand you, this man felt similar to your father in some ways. He was interrogating you right now, you could tell from the glint in his eyes. But that’s not what you care about right now.

“You’ve been there?”

“Once, a couple of years ago,” he says. You lean forward now. “Something happens to you over there?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“…” You sealed your mouth shut.

“Looked pretty bad, surprised you’d wanna go back there.” You bit your tongue back and looked away.

“My family’s there.”

“Right, that’s usually what it is,” he pulls up a chair and sits next to you. “You’re from a different universe.”

“I figured.”

“I have to report dimensional anomalies to the Royal Family by law,” he sighs.

“Then?”

“They’re gonna execute you,” he says, sitting up straight. “More specifically, I’m going to execute you.” You looked down at the small screen in your hands. “Something tells me you’re not ready to go yet, though. Plus, Claire’d have a heart attack if I told her that, so I’ll pretend I didn’t know. You don’t seem the type to try to usurp a government, at least.”

“I’m not.”

“Exactly what a usurper would say,” he whistles. “Either way, let’s make a deal,” he leans forward with his hands folded in front of his lips. “I’ll do my best to find a way to get you home. All you have to do is stay here in this house.”

“What possible benefit do you get from this, moving through dimensions seems… harder than staying at a house does.”

“Claire likes you,” he says. He looks at the closed door. “I’m not home as often as I used to be anymore, and I’ve started noticing her getting quieter. She started talking again when we brought you in, really just talks about you all the time, but for a second she seemed more like herself so…” he clears his throat. “I don’t benefit directly from it, but it’d be nice for Claire,” he says. You nodded.

“Deal.” You’d been wanting to find a way to repay her anyway. Your shoulders slump down, a feeling of relief washing over you. “Thank you, I’m grateful to have been found by the two of you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just not in the mood for death right now,” he says. “But to avoid suspicions let's establish a cover story.”

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re a distant relative of mine, some cousin’s kid, alright?”

“Sure.”

“You’re staying with me for a while since your parents are busy. You used to live in Brefig Row before the war. Keep it vague, don’t give details.”

“Alright.”

“Do not tell anyone you’re from a different universe.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded curtly. “But… I don’t want to freeload, what can I do in exchange for your kindness?” You looked at the bandages around your wounds before you looked at him. He huffs.

“Claire owns a bakery and I’m a Captain in the Knightsguard. Which one do you want to do?” He asks. You thought for a moment, weighing your options, and it reminded you heavily of a conversation you once had with your father. Play it safe as a civilian or protect that safety as a vigilante. “Sleep on it. You don’t have to let me know now,” he says as he stands up. He walks to the door. “Claire’ll fix your bandages later, so stop playing with them.” Your hands left the ends of the bandages, you hadn’t even realized you were tugging at them.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shuts the door. You follow, leaning your ear to the wooden frame and carefully you listened.

“She’s no threat, I told you.” Claire.

“I just have to be sure, Claire. It’s our job.”

“It’s your job. I’ve been with her these few months and she’s the kindest soul.”

“Claire.”

“I’ve been inside her mind, Allistor, she’s hurting beyond words.”

“I figured that from the five rolls of bandages Sam had to use at first, and then the dozens you’ve bought after. If she didn’t scream bloody murder she probably would’ve passed away on that field.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” her voice had a sort of stern tone. “I don’t want to push her, Al, but she’s not the only one they found. Dozens of people scattered across the world all with clean scenes and unexplainable wounds… none of course as significant as hers but still.”

“Right, I know, Sam’s been telling me to keep it under wraps.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Neither do I, he doesn’t even want the Royal Family involved.”

“You don’t think…”

“I… she looks so much like her, I wouldn’t know.”

“It was shocking, yes. And her name…”

“Shh, let’s move somewhere else.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you opened the door. Allistor and Claire looked at you quietly.

“Yes, did you need anything?” Claire asks first.

“A pen and paper… please,” you cleared your throat.

“You’d be hard-pressed to find those,” she hums. “I’m heading to the market today, if you’re feeling up to it, why don’t you come along?” She smiles. 

“Sure, I’d appreciate that.” Claire walks beside you and leads you into the next room. 

“How about you, Al?”

“Hm? I don’t need anything. I’ll be in the office.” Allistor remained silently observing you until the door closed.

“Just wait right here,” she seats you down in their bedroom. “I’ll be just a moment.”

“Take your time,” you looked looked around the room and, with a quick furrow of your brow, you looked at her. “How… how did you do that?”

“Hm?” She doesn’t look over her shoulder and continues to pull out sets of clothes.

“My mind…”

“Ah, that! It’s my ability. They call it Empathy,” she says. “I can reach into your mind, understand what you think and feel, and I can walk you through it too,” she says. “I hadn’t used it in a while, I apologize if I startled you.”

“No… it’s fine, I needed that,” you say. She turns back around and disappears into the closet.

“I’ll be right out,” she smiles and leaves. Once the door clicks you make a move to pull the slightly larger sweater off of you.

Silently changing into the set of jeans and a tshirt, you looked around carefully. Picture frames of the happy couple, trinkets with stories behind them, and small hints as to their habits filled the room. You looked at one image in particular. Claire, Allistor, and a man with a mask, the same who helped you, probably. They were wearing uniforms that sported three gilded pins on their right breast. You stepped away just as Claire had finished and followed her out.

~

“Stand up straight in a single line, don’t move out of rank,” one of the instructors said sternly. You stood as straight as you could, glancing around at the other recruits with some level of discernment. You hoped that you wouldn’t regret this. “Chins up, hold your salutes! The Captain is arriving.” Allistor steps up to the incoming class.

“It’s gotten smaller,” he tuts. “Now that the war’s over no one wants to enlist anymore,” he shakes his head and lights a cigar. He stands in front of the first cadet. “Name.”

“Carter Adara, sir,” he holds his stance and Allistor moves down the line.

“Lucián Rubio.”

“Evangeline Chandler.”

“Kaila Anae.”

“Urbi Said.”

“Cosmo Volkov.”

“Seong-Ho Choi.”

“Nixon Jones.”

“Sekou Siby.”

“Alexander Wright.” Your ears perked up at this and your head whipped over to the voice quickly. Allistor was saying something to him and Alex maintained that rigidity you’d long known him for.

What were the odds? He can’t be the same person, surely. In new dimensions, there’s bound to be parallel versions. You wondered if you looked hard enough would you be able to find your brothers? Your sisters? Yourself? You snapped back to attention as Allistor made his way to your row of cadets, and when he finally got to you, you swallowed harshly.

“Name.”

“(Y/N) Wayne.” You answered curtly. Your eyes slid over to Alex’s position, and you saw him turned toward you, an expression as shocked as yours was just moments ago. Then Allistor moved on with the rest of the introductions. You kept your face forward, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. Joining this Cadet class was probably one of your most impulsive decisions ever, but since that night that you first picked up a sword you knew this had to be the new path you went down on. You wouldn’t be content just sitting still anymore, you had to take action. But you wanted to do it the right way and follow the right steps, it was the least you could do to pay back the two who showed you gratitude. Allistor steps again to the front and you and Alex snap forward.

“Alright, to the 24th Class of Cadets, welcome to your first week of training. It will be difficult, you will want to quit, and you will wish you never signed up for this. Suck it up until your first advancement, once you take that you can quit, cry, or move on. You will follow your instructors to your respective areas and you will get acquainted with your group, you will be training, studying, and living together from here on out.”

“Yes, sir!” The responses echoed across the field.

“Disperse.” Allistor steps away and the instructors take charge.

“Adara, Chandler, Jones, Volkov, Wayne, and Wright you’re with me!” One of the knights called out and you rushed over. “I’m Lieutenant Syke,” he introduces himself. “I will be going over your drills…” and he droned on. You could tell Alex was looking over at you, seemingly studying your actions and likely wondering the same thing you were, but with present circumstances, you zeroed in on your instructions. “From here on out, you’re a unit together,” Syke steps between the group. “Three and three, these are your trios. For upcoming missions, you will act within these pods. Advancement exams are taken individually. Training occurs as a group.” He speaks as if he’s reading off of a list. You look at the two behind you. Alex and Carter. The trio next to you are Eve, Nixon, and Cosmo. “Alright, any questions?” He’s met with silence. “Then we continue with our tour. Training starts at 6 am sharp tomorrow, the schedules will be sent to your dorms,” he hands off the slips with each of your rooms on them. Yours seemed to be 7C.

“The thing with the dorms,” he says. “Well, you’ll know what I mean when you get there, but just know the higher your overall ranking the higher the upgrade.” He waves you all over to follow him, and while the group moved forward you stayed back, and so did Alex. The two of you look at each other a while longer before being called over and following quickly.

“Do you—”

“Are you—”

You both stop speaking and Alex clears his throat, gesturing you to go first.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask him, the tour going deaf in your ears.

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “am I the familiar type?”

“You seem like the type to write letters.”

“And you seem the type to take forever to reply to them.”

“It’s good to see you, Alex,” a small smile settles on your face and he nods, pulling out a letter from his pocket and handing it to you.

“And so the last letter makes it to its destination,” he says quietly. You held it in your hands, it was old, folded, and starting to tear at some ends. In the corner was an international stamp covered with a ‘return to sender,’ in the next was the return address for Alex’s mother’s flat in London, and the destination was to Wayne Manor. “You can read it later, it’s nothing important.”

“Sure,” you chuckled quietly. It’s nice to see a familiar face so far from home… “What are you doing here?” You asked him, a hint of suspicion in your voice.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he crosses his arms. “To be honest, I was just as surprised to see you here. One day I was at home, the next day I woke up on top of some building’s rooftop,” he keeps his voice below a whisper as soon as he realizes the Lieutenant looking his way.

“We’ll discuss more of this later,” you mumbled and he nodded.

“This is it, don’t be late tomorrow,” Syke stops in front of a door with an inscribed 7 on it, next to it is a pile of everyone’s personal items and luggage looking like it was tossed to the side. “You are all dismissed.” He steps away, leaving the unit on its own. Nixon clears his throat and grabs his things, leading everyone to follow.

“Uh… I’m Nixon,” he introduces himself first.

“Evangeline,” she says from the floor, trying to pull her duffle bag from under a suitcase.

“Cosmo.” The man pulls his luggage from on top of Eve’s items.

“Carter.”

“Alex.”

“(Y/N),” you were the last to grab your backpack, but the first to step forward and open the door. You stepped in and then to the side to let everyone in, but you could feel the disappointment in the air.

“Would it kill them to give us bed frames,” Cosmo nudged the mattress with his foot.

“Be glad we each get one,” Carter looks up at the exposed lightbulb. Eve eyes the one dresser to the side that had one drawer per person.

The room was just big enough to fit the six twin-sized mattresses, there was a small raised platform between the head and foot of each, and it had a small walkway down the middle. On the wall next to each bed there was a hinge and indent that dropped into a small table about the same width as the mattress, and at the end of the aisle, just under the one window, was the dresser. On the ceiling were two rods that stretched across the room lengthwise, each with a curtain at each end that was as wide as the mattresses to provide some semblance of privacy.

“Way to motivate your recruits to work harder,” Cosmo steps further into the room.

“This is the leading military force on the continent?” Alex grimaces.

“Well… I’ll take this one,” you dropped your backpack on the mattress closest to the door and Eve was quick to grab the one next to it. You’d slept in worse, you think.

“Anyway…” Cosmo picks up the paper on top of the dresser. “Here’s the schedule,” he holds it up and reads it out loud for you all to hear. Meanwhile, you and Eve untie the ropes holding the curtains up and they fall open, stopping right before the walkway. Everyone starts to act on their own, some fixing the beds and some unpacking their things into the dresser.

“We should grab something to eat, it’s around dinner time right now,” Eve speaks up over the silence.

“I could eat,” Cosmo shrugs.

“If anyone remembers where the mess hall is I’ll follow,” Nixon was next.

“I’ll go since everyone’s going.” Carter.

“Sure.” Alex.

“I’ll follow you all out, I’ll just finish unpacking,” you nudged your head toward your untouched backpack.

“Sure thing, we’ll save you a spot, (Y/N),” Eve smiles and the group filters out. You, meanwhile, open the letter.

Hey (Y/N),

Finally, you’ve responded. I hope all things are going well with you. I’m glad Roy’s been helping you out with moving into the dorms. Things aren’t too bad on my end, Uni’s been kicking my ass but what’s new? I was thinking of coming to visit again once summertime comes but that depends on whether or not I get this legal intern position, it’s at that firm I was telling you about in my last letter.

Magic studies are going just as well, Constantine is still the exact opposite of how you described him, I can’t see an ounce of kindness in that man when it comes to practice. I’ll show you a trick or two when I come over, I’m experimenting a little something right now and if it works I may be able to help out a lot more people than I would in a courtroom. I took your thoughts into consideration and tried a few spirit tricks and it’s been working out really well so far, I owe you a bout of gratitude for those.

How are you and your dad? Your last letter worried me, (Y/N). I know you miss them all, and if I can be frank I know you’re too stubborn to take the first step. I know it’s unwarranted advice, but you need a support system right now. Who better than your siblings, at least. Don’t shut them out, (Y/N). I’ve seen how close you all are, and it’s a shame if you let your falling out with your father stop that. You have time, don’t forget that. Your thesis will only be as good as you are while making it. Talk to someone, if not them, talk to me. You have my number now, and while I love the classic styles of handwritten letters, there’s a more efficient way at the palms of our hands.

Take care, (Y/N), and be safe always.

Alex

It was just a letter, as ordinary as the ones he’d sent you before and as ordinary as the ones you sent him. But it was proof enough, proof that you weren’t alone in this world as you thought you were. And that thought alone brought so much peace than you could’ve expected. A peace that you followed just to the next building, and with an empty spot next to him, Alex flagged you over and you were swift in your movements.

~

2020

“Ugh…” you wiped the caked mud from your face. You felt like you could barely move, your muscles ached with every step and your mind was in the gutter.

This felt like hell, and that’s saying something.

“You good, Wayne?” Carter hands you a water disc and you open it, not even thinking to answer until all the grime was off your face.

“Why couldn’t I have decided to be a baker,” you finally muttered, wiping the loose water beads from your face and hair.

“Last time I checked you almost poisoned half the squadron,” Carter laughs. “Come on, Xan’s waiting for us at the mess hall.”

“Run off, Adara, we’re just finishing up here,” Captain MacLennan swung his sword in the air and kicked yours back in front of you. “Get up, Wayne.” You did. You grabbed your sword and held it steady. “I asked you if you wanted to make a name for yourself, and you told me you wanted to be greater. Work for it.” You steadied your breathing.

“Tell Alex I’ll skip dinner today,” you readjusted your grip and Carter let out a small sigh.

“What are we going to do with you,” he shakes his head. “Don’t work yourself too hard.” 

“Please, I’m just doing this much so he can let me take the advancement exam.”

“Good luck with that.” And with that, he was gone, and once you could no longer see his retreating figure, you charged forward. Every attack you sent was easily deflected, every defense you made easily broken, it was like Allistor could see everything you could do next.

“You’re too predictable, Wayne.” With the flick of his sword, yours flew out of your hand and buried itself yards away from you. “Change things up a little.”

“How would I do that?” You huffed.

“That’s not something I should answer,” he shakes his head. “Find your style. I don’t know who’s you’re using, but it doesn’t suit you.” Your breath caught in your throat.

Truthfully, you’d been trying to imitate Damian’s style, and it’s worked so far. He was the only one you had observed long enough with some kind of sword to even try to imitate and, funny that the Captain caught onto you fast. Maybe it was because Damian was two heads shorter than you, his fighting style had to make up for his height somehow. Or maybe it was because you’d never even considered holding a weapon until fate placed one in your hands.

Allistor tosses the practice sword into its bin. “You’re tired. We’ll stop here.”

“No, one more time,” you took your sword up. Allistor stood still.

“As important as it is to be stubborn and never quit, you should know when to fall back too,” he says. “Tell you what,” the Captain stands up straight. “If you’re able to disarm me once, I’ll consider you ready for the next advancement exam.”

“And if I can’t get it?”

“You never advance, easy as that. It’s the third advancement, a lot of knights stop after their second,” he shrugs. You tossed your sword into the bin.

“Fine then, you know more than me,” you snarked back and the Captain dropped his necklace.

“Go eat dinner, kid,” he ruffles your hair and pushes you toward the mess hall. “Those two are waiting for you, I know.”

“Ugh, I told them to eat without me,” you grumbled.

“Funny thing about trios, spend enough time together it starts feeling weird to do things without ‘em,” he grins and brushes the dirt off your shirt. “Go, eat, then sleep. Claire thinks I’m being too hard on you,” he sighs.

“Can you ask her if the Baker 2 job is still open?”

“It’s not,” he glares at you.

“Figured I’d try,” you threw your hands up and entered the mess hall.

“(Y/N)! We saved you some roast!” Nixon shouts.

“Yeah, we had to take it from those two before they finished it all,” Eve laughs, signaling you to sit next to her.

“Hey! We saved some originally,” Carter defends. “But your drills were taking too long and we figured it’d be a waste,” he adds quickly.

“You two suck,” you frowned and Eve reaches over, wiping the remaining mud from your face.

“Go eat actual food now, (Y/N), dirt can’t be healthy for you,” she says. You stared at the meal in front of you and took a deep breath.

One step to being greater, one step at a time. You were sick of sitting around waiting for something to happen. Now? Now you want to be the one who makes things happen.

And this group around you would become your new driving force.

“Shouldn’t you all be resting for the advancement exam?” You asked after taking a bite.

“What exam? We’re waiting for you,” Nixon steals a piece of bread from your plate.

“Oh, come on, don’t stunt your growth,” you rolled your eyes.

“No way, we entered together we finish together,” Cosmo tosses his gear down. You looked over at him, sporting a new set of cuts and bruises, he seemed to wince as he took a step toward the table. You didn’t miss the slight limp in his leg either.

“Easy to say for the guy who already took the exam,” Eve glowers.

“What?! (Y/N) said it was fine,” he pointed at you with his fork and you nodded.

“I’ll catch up to you all eventually,” you shook your head.

“No way, we take that exam together or not at all,” Carter chimes. “Plus, it’s recommended to take it in your trio, I have no clue how Cos did it without you two.”

“I’m simply better,” Cosmo kicks his boot up on one of the prongs of Eve’s chair, twirling some of her blonde hair around his hands.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffs and scoots away from him, his boot landing heavily on the ground. She brushes her hair out and it lands on the other side of her shoulder.

“Ugh, gross, some people are trying to eat here,” Nixon gags and nudges you lightly. “Back me up, Wayne.”

“You should see what me and my ex used to do in front of my brothers,” you chided, thinking back to the times you’d invite him over to the manor. The way Tim would groan and grovel, at one point you just did it to make fun of them.

“Dear god,” Alex finally chimes in. “The paragraphs.”

“Still though, once we all advance we should have a party,” Eve hums. “Should be fun, I’d love to hear more about everyone’s hometowns,” she grins.

“Why don’t we celebrate Cosmo’s? You’ve gotta be damn good to do that advancement on your own,” your offer. “How’d you do it? Find a way to hack the system?” You asked him.

“Come on, you know me better than that, I do things fairly,” he says. “No point in a victory if it wasn’t achieved the right way.” On the cadet rankings Cosmo was consistently first. Archery, swordsmanship, hand-to-hand, you’ve even heard the Captain call him a perfect knight.

“Right, right,” you pushed your plate toward him. “I know you told them to give me yours so just finish it.”

“You did what?” Eve looks at him.

“Seriously, Wayne, just eat the food,” he grumbles.

“Man what a waste, I hate these vegetables,” you make a move to get up and he pushes the plate back down.

“Don’t waste it, no wonder you take longer than all of us to finish drills,” he says, dragging the plate toward him with his fork.

“Wow, the top of the class is nicer than he seems,” Alex whistles.

“Either that or I’m smart enough to know that making not eating a punishment is stupid if you’re training knights,” Cosmo defends. “Anyway, I’m serious, you need to get serious, Wayne, we can’t wait forever. What insane task does the Captain have you doing now to qualify?”

“I just have to beat him at a duel once,” you grumbled. “Tough luck.”

“Ah, the legend of the lucky dueler,” Eve says with a whimsical tone. “He’s never lost an actual fair duel.”

“That does nothing to make me feel better, Eve,” you frowned.

“How hard can it be, I know you’ve got a trick or two up your sleeves,” Alex says.

“Yeah, but none are technically mine. He keeps going on and on about how I need to find my own style, whatever that means,” you grumble. “I’m just annoyed that he’s actually barring me from taking the exam.”

“He cares in his own way,” Eve eases in. “It’s nice to see he looks out for you, you had a rough start.”

“Rough is putting it lightly,” you shook your head. You really did have a hard time adjusting. The nightmares, the ghost pains, and the day terrors. It was luck alone that you were found by him and his wife that day, and it was still luck that they took care of you after that all. To say you were indebted to them wasn’t enough, you should really credit your current life to them.

It was true, you wanted to make a name for yourself. When your mind became clear again you realized that this was your chance to start fresh, new, and different. In this world, Wayne is just a name. No bats attached, no dirty money to creep up on you, and no legacy to live up to. No shadows to loom over you.

So, on one of those sleepless nights, when the Captain dropped a sword in front of you, you picked it up.

And you haven’t put it down since.

~

It’s heavy in your hand, a simple short sword that had small chips along the blade and its handle was just as worn through. You ran through the motions with it now, practicing the techniques you had been learning and the techniques that got you to pass the first two advancement exams.

“Wayne.” You stopped your movements and looked behind you. Cosmo pulls a chestguard over his nightshirt while he yawns.

“Volkov,” you replied likewise. He picks up a sword and holds it at the ready. He nods at you, giving you permission to move first. You readjusted your grip on the sword and began to circle him, and all the while he matched your movements. With each nudge or twitch of your sword he copied you. “Playing games?”

“Trying to find out why you can’t advance,” he says. You nudged your head in annoyance and he copied that too. You narrowed your glance, and he followed. Then, you pivoted and charged forth. You expected him to block you, but instead he did the same thing and your swords clashed together. The sound of metal hitting metal filled the dorm courtyard, not relenting once and not slowing down. Then, you saw it, a flash in his eyes.

“You got an ability,” you said while the blade of your sword was pushing against his, threatening to cut his neck at a moment’s notice.

“I did want to try it out,” he pushes back and you hold your footing. That was the prize for the 3rd advancement exam, a specially bestowed upon blessing from the Royal family.

“Alright, Volkov, show me what you can do with it,” you pushed forward with enough force that he stumbled back.

“Sure,” he spins the hilt of his blade in his hands and you freeze. You knew this stance. Sure, he’d completed the advancement exam a while ago… “It’s called Mirror, by the way.”

“I figured.” How are you going to beat him? You racked your thoughts and tossed the sword down. He quirks an eyebrow up and you readied your fists.

He’s just a taller Damian.

You charged forward and he responded in kind, throwing out the same moves you had been practicing earlier. Mirror? He needed an ability to do that? You’d been mirroring your siblings since you got here. You evaded like Dick, you swung like Jason, you strategized like Tim, and you charged like Damian.

But even without you to be his subject, Cosmo was at the top for a reason. You swung at his legs and he stepped over, grabbing your arm and swinging you over him and onto the ground. Before he could think of the next move, you grabbed the previously discarded blade and slashed it upwards, stopping right at his neck. He bounces back and you stagger up. In seconds he rushes you, sending a flurry of strikes in every direction. You parry as many as you can, feeling the vibrations ring from your hands to your chest, but the fresh shallowed cut on your face proves you still have much to learn. You hold your sword at an angle and stop his final blow, then you turn it against him, flinging the sword out of his hand and once again slicing near his neck. A small line of blood drips onto his shirt.

“Alright, alright,” he raises his arms up and you drop the sword. “Good one, (Y/N).”

“You let me win.”

“I was just trying to find out why you suck at swords.”

“By mirroring my movements?”

“Sure.”

“And what did you find out?”

“Whatever style that was… we’re too tall to use it,” he shrugs. “You like to rely on your arms a lot, don’t forget to look down every now and then, and try not to trip over yourself in battle, geez, how the hell did you pass the first two advancements?”

“For the record, I carried those other two,” you snarked back. 

“I worry for the future of the kingdom, then,” he laughs tiredly. You wiped the blood from your face with your sleeve. “Did you have to cut my face?” You shot him an annoyed look. Even dead tired Cosmo was a skilled swordsman.

“Blame the technique,” he exasperates. “And you, were you actually trying to kill me?” He pulls at his collar, the edges of it spotted with red. “Geez… Line’s gonna finish the job for this,” he pulls the chestguard off.

“I’ll tell Eve I did it then she won’t do anything,” you shook your head. You look up at the dorms, seeing one of the lights on and a few loud shouts coming from it.

“Carter bet against you.”

“Fucking asshole.”

“If I didn’t have this limp I would’ve won.”

“Sure, Cos, let’s have a fair duel once we move up.”

“Once you move up.”

“You don't have to be cruel about it.”

“Cosmo! You better not have overdone it again!” Eve’s voice rang from the window.

“‘Course not, beauty,” he calls back. “See you tomorrow, (Y/N),” he takes your sword from your grasp. “Go sleep, if I gotta wake up to you talking to yourself out here again I’m actually gonna lose my shit,” he says with a small smile. “Plus, Carter keeps bothering me to check on you.”

“Yeah, right,” you watched him enter the dorms before cleaning up around yourself. You grabbed your duffle bag from the side and walked into the dorms. When did your hands get so calloused? It wasn’t even a thought until you pressed the pads of your fingers to the bridge of your nose. The hardened skin around your palm was just proof of what’s happened and what’s bound to happen.

The third placement exam. The first exam promoted you from Cadet to Soldier. The second exam promoted you from Soldier to Knight, and that’s where most people stop. But the third… if you pass that one you get to have an audience with the Royal Family, and you have heard many a time about how the Captain would be sent on inter-dimensional missions.

Instead of an ability, you wondered if they could get you home.

Imagine the look on everyone’s faces. Would they be shocked? Angry? Happy? Sad? You had run through the scenarios so many times. What would you say to them when you stepped into the manor? What would you look like?

Would you cry?

You could easily see Dick’s face. The slow contort from shock to relief. Jason’s was just as easy, knowing him his jaw would be wide open. Tim would be next to you in moments, studying but meaning well. Damian would have his own ways of looking through you. Barbara would’ve seen you coming from a mile away. Stephanie would pick up where she left off. Cassie would be on the other side Tim wasn’t on.

Your dad…

You paused just as you reached your room. Your dad… dad… Bruce Wayne.

“What the fuck…?” You shook your head and leaned against your bike.

Why couldn’t you remember what he looked like?

You took steady breaths, trying to remember the details and, well, there he was. A tall imposing figure whose shadow you constantly walked around in. As a child and as an adult, the name ‘Wayne’ weighed heavily on you. As the named heiress you had a mountain of expectations on you from learning how to properly run the company to achieving something great for your namesake. You didn’t dare make mistakes, the tabloids would have your face plastered on them the next morning, and if you weren’t careful enough there went a large sum of money to keep them quiet. And for what? Was it because of your name only that you were so careful? Some days you wished things stayed simple, you wished you stayed with your mother and that you never knew who your father was. It didn’t matter that she was a liar, at least she was in a way more truthful than the Wayne facade you held for years.

“(Y/N)? Are you coming in?” Eve asks. You didn’t even realize the door had opened. “You look tired, come rest,” she takes your hand and pulls you in, shutting the door behind you. After many missions, after many evaluations, and after many battles, your unit has moved up to the higher-end living spaces. High enough that you each had separate rooms, at least. You and Eve shared one, Carter and Cosmo in another, and Nixon and Alex in the last one. The three rooms surrounded a significantly larger middle room, it was the least the knighthood could offer high-performing knights.

You sat down slowly, kicking your boots off and pulling your shirt off in the process. Then, you collapsed on the bed.

“Come now, (Y/N), you should at least take a shower,” Eve leans over you.

“I’ll wash the sheets tomorrow,” you mumbled, feeling your eyes grow heavy. You force one eye open. “Did you bet for or against me?”

“Hm?”

“Who did you think would win, me or Cos?”

“I bet in your favor, obviously,” she chuckles. “Cosmo’s too prideful to change his tricks, and after training together for a year you know all of them. I knew you’d win.”

“Thanks, Eve, that’s nice,” you yawn.

“Just like I know you’ll beat the Captain and advance forward,” she smiles.

“Sure…” your voice trails, and just like that you had fallen asleep.

Not Your Classic Vigilante: @gabytodd @peachydokii @marshmallow12435

@f0leysgurl @luminaaz @lolsnack

@akuri-shinsou @pansinspace @time-shardz

@lovely-maryj @urminebutidontwantyou @y3oudsc 

@rainnyydaysworld @daydreams-to-passages @franini

@mayo-0-o @mileskisser @nightw-izhu

@alishii @bluebear142077 @miso-sopas @enjisthings

Batsis as Craig

Bruce: why can’t you behave

Batsis: idk

Bruce: better behave if you don’t no cookie for you

Batsis:…

Batsis: 🖕

Batfam: 0o0

Bruce:

𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘬𝘰𝘮𝘪-𝘴𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘮— 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 1

[ 🌸 ] ...

characters: cassandra cain my girl nedds more love, okey 😭?;; some character mentions  

genre: bad comedy-

warnings: fem!reader, strong social anxiety disorder and many communication problems.

- - -

𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀: 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑥𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑜.

- - -

Lmao let's say you're in the same classroom as Cass. 

You arrive at your classroom, you are new and you feel the gaze of the people who see you go by. 

Your legs shake with anxiety but you try to hide it as best you can. When you finally get to your desk is when you inwardly let out a sigh of relief.

And suddenly this unknown girl comes in, with beautiful Asian features, she just sits next to you without saying a word, which gives you incredible peace... until you feel her gaze on you. That's when you recognize her.

‘The locker girl’, you had seen her when you were leaving various things in your locker when you first arrived. She was putting some notebooks in her own locker when she looked at you, both of you had made eye contact, but you had gotten so anxious that you had just walked away as fast as your legs would carry you while still looking elegant.

You expected her to just ignore you and go about her business, you actually wanted to disappear, but you couldn't do that. Due to your good grades you had accidentally gotten your parents to decide to send you to the prestigious Gotham High which meant moving to another city, you really didn't want to go, but your parents argued that this would be a great opportunity for you to study in such a unique place. 

The quiet moment of recess was interrupted when people from your classroom crowded around your desk to buy you a meal. And It was a pity that due to your difficulty in communicating you could not say that you wanted to eat with these people. It seemed like reaching your goal of making 100 friends this year was going to be difficult.

 Seeing that you were alone, you asked yourself: “why can't I talk to people?” It was an innocent question, it really was. And you definitely didn't notice that the girl sitting next to you was standing right at the entrance of the classroom.

You almost passed out, luckily it didn't happen. So you ran to the other door that was in the corner.

 “Do you have trouble communicating with people?” It was the first thing out of her mouth, which in turn stopped you from your swift escape. 

You timidly turned to her, and tried to speak, but only incoherent and anxious sounds came out of your mouth. 

 "Y/N" spoke in a calm voice, stopping the soft sounds abruptly. She remembered your name, well, you wrote it in front of everyone when your teacher asked you to introduce yourself, even though it was actually still written… 

 It seemed that Cassandra was thinking of a way to communicate with you. 

Despite only spending a few classes together, Cassandra seemed as quiet as you, but the only difference was that she spoke when she needed to. She could communicate her desires, her thoughts… 

And then, you could barely think of what you wanted without a mental breakdown. 

 Oh- it seems that she already came up with something... Pointing with one of her delicate fingers, she spoke: "board" 

 you got the message 

 Grabbing the chalk, you began to write everything you felt. 

What came to torment you, how difficult primary school was, how difficult it was to communicate with people.

When you finished writing, Cassandra picked up the other piece of chalk. She had also started to write, but instead of writing something like what you wrote on the board, she wrote: "I would like to meet you"

The little Joy you felt in your chest was overwhelming. The first thing you wrote was that you liked cats, to which she replied that she liked ballet.

Little by little, the big board was filled with your conversation, with her likes and dislikes. You learned that Cassandra has seven siblings, that she loves her “grandpa's” cookies and loves the movies she watches with her sisters.

When you both got to the subject of the dreams that you two wanted to fulfill; Cassandra wrote that she wasn't so sure she had a definite dream, you on the other hand wrote that your dream was to have a hundred friends.

For a moment you thought she was going to make fun of it, after all it was a childish dream, such a childish wish. but she didn't, instead she wrote something that made your heart skip: "I'll help you with that."

No one.

No one told you that before, but looking into her eyes. Seeing her determination in her eyes.

You knew she was serious.

. - . - . - . - . - .

Cassandra was waiting for you by your locker when you arrived. When you finished grabbing some books that you needed, you both walked towards your classroom. 

 30 minutes were left before classes began. So you still had time.

You were going up the empty stairs when Cassandra stopped you.

“Yesterday, I was looking for ways how you could ask someone to be your friend…” Oh, so she looked for ways to help you. "You could start by saying, 'Do you want to be my friend?'. Do you want to try saying it?"

Talk. 

She was asking you to talk…-oK Ok ok calm down, calm down, you just have to say it.

Taking a soft breath, you began, “D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D—“  No, You can not.

Your body did not stop shaking, and your mind did not stop tormenting itself with many insecurities.

"uhhh- Y/N are you alright?"

Ah, it happened again. Your nerves could against you.

“Well then, I know someone who is very good at talking. Come on, we still have time." Taking the notebook and pencil, you wrote; "Okey"

. - . - . - . - . - .

Now you both were in front of Class 1-B. 

 Cass spoke as she opened the classroom door a little more, "The person I was talking about is my sister, her name is Stephanie– she has a great ability to talk to people. Although my big brother Dick is good at it too."

The few students that were inside didn't pay attention to you, they were too focused on talking among themselves. 

 The pretty long blonde hair of a girl who had her back turned was the first thing that caught your eye when you looked closely at the classroom.

.

..

...

𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯? | batfamily x batsis!reader

—

Synopsis;

Perhaps the most important question is not; "How did you end up in this place?"

it's, will you be able to finish the pending matters that your self from this world left pending?.

—

Quotev & Wattpad

Damian smiled as you stroked the unruly locks on his head.

He knew the purpose of your touch wasn't to mess up his hair; that's why he didn't complain.

"Do you have everything?" you asked as you bent down to fix his uniform shirt. Today, he was going to school; the holidays had ended, marking the start of a new day at school.

Damian pretended to grimace, "You talk as if I were a little kid, sister."

Your small laugh made him undo his fake grimace, making him smile again.

"Well, it's better if you go, young man," you suggested before playfully pinching his nose, "you wouldn't want to be late like last time."

At your words, Damian huffed as a blush of embarrassment covered his slightly chubby cheeks, "That time was Dick's fault, not mine."

You hummed, “Whatever you say”.

"Sister!"

Your laughter was the last thing he heard as he ran off to where he knew Alfred was waiting to take him to school, feeling in his chest the strange and warm bubble of happiness that was becoming increasingly familiar.

…

Damian woke up. The sunlight streaming through the windows warmed his cold face.

He slowly got up. His tired eyes scanned your room, which, despite the sunlight streaming through your window, still looked gloomy.

He missed you so much that sometimes he would enter your room to sleep. Your scent, which always comforted him, had disappeared a long time ago.

Last night, he had a nightmare, or rather a memory, of when he found your lifeless body, and with nowhere else to go, he went to your room, enveloped his body in your sheets, and pressed his face into one of your pillows, trying to capture your scent to calm himself.

But it was impossible.

And he cried, cried as silently as he could. Keeping silent was easy. A long time ago, when his mother punished him and the pain of the blows wouldn't leave him, he simply let the pain of the bruises flow silently.

He had gained practice in doing that, but he had lost it a little because of you. You had spoiled him by letting him cry so loudly around you when everything was too much for him.

Damian didn't want to get out of your bed; he wanted to stay here. But he knew that if he didn't go down, Alfred would come up to see how he was, and honestly, he didn't want to answer any of the old butler's questions.

He stroked your empty spot one last time, hoping for some reason it would feel warm, but instead, it felt eerily cold, just as cold as your corpse.

a small part of the chapter that was published today haha!

wanna read it? Sure! below are the links of the story 👇🏼

Quotev & Wattpad

I am so convinced if one of the batboys were going to propose to someone, they would ask Selina for help picking the rings cause she has the best taste in jewelry and she’s knows exactly what to pick

The Mysterious Visitor I

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: On a cold, snowy dawn, a naive young girl knocks on the door of Wayne Manor in search of her brother, whom she hasn't seen in a long time.

Warnings: The reader is 13 years old and is Damian's twin sister; the tone of the story is somewhat sad.

Word count: 2.1k

Note: I felt the need to emphasize that Talia is very attached to the reader and kept her hidden from Bruce. Although it's obvious that the reader is their biological daughter, I still haven't specified her physical characteristics.

Part II

It was late at night when the doorbell of Wayne Manor rang. Much to Alfred’s dismay, he seemed to be the only one awakened by the sound, as he didn't hear anyone else getting up to answer the door. Whoever was waiting outside seemed patient, or perhaps shy, since it took a good two minutes for the bell to ring again. A single chime, just like the first time.

It was snowing now; no one would be crazy enough to show up in the middle of the night in this cold unless it was something important. Because of this, Alfred hurried to slip on his slippers, moving as quickly as he could to the entrance, but still cautiously peering through the peephole to see who the visitor was.

All he could see was the top of the head of someone very short, with a few strands of hair standing up, covered in snowflakes.

“Who is it, Alfred?” The sudden question from behind didn’t scare him, but it did surprise him. Dick had been awakened by the sharp sound of the doorbell the second time it rang and came down quickly to check.

“I don’t know yet, Master Dick,” the butler replied, intrigued, glancing quickly at the boy to see him rubbing sleep from his eyes. Alfred noticed how he stepped forward, obviously cautious about who might be on the other side. “I can handle this, sir,” he stopped him while turning the knob and opening the door without giving him a chance to protest.

Alfred tightened his robe as he felt the cold air rush in, ruffling the white hairs on his head and making the hairs on his arm stand up. He looked in astonishment at the young girl standing before him, clearly suffering from the outside temperature. Her lips were trembling and chapped, with a trace of dried blood coming from one of the cracks. Her rapid breathing also did not go unnoticed, forming a cloud with each exhale.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asked with furrowed brows, feeling pity for her condition. Perhaps she was just a street child seeking shelter; you didn’t seem dangerous in any way.

“I-is this the W-Wayne Manor?” The question came out stuttered, and your eyes had a confused expression. He wasted no more time and extended his arm to pull you inside. It didn’t seem right to leave you out there.

“Come in, come in. Don’t stay out there, it’s not healthy.” He had that concerned, almost paternal tone, and you didn’t refuse his gesture. You grabbed the old man in a hug to keep safe from the cold, grateful he didn’t push you away. In fact, he pulled you closer, placing both hands around you and guiding you to the largest couch in the room.

“It’s just a girl,” he announced to Dick, who had been trying to peek at your figure since the door had opened.

“And who is she?” Dick moved closer, sitting on the couch facing the one where you and Alfred were seated and embraced. You didn’t seem to want to leave Alfred’s side anytime soon, appreciating the warmth he provided, clutching him firmly.

“What is your name, dear?” You heard the old man’s question, but it took you a while to respond. Alfred didn’t mind being ignored, or at least he thought he would be, already averting his eyes from you until your fragile voice was heard.

“Y/n,” you pronounced your name simply, so quietly it could only be understood due to the common silence of the early morning.

“What were you doing out there? Where are your parents, young lady?” Alfred pressed on with more questions, rubbing one of his hands on your back to bring comfort.

Now that he could look at you more attentively, he saw how well-dressed you were. And just by feeling the fabric of your coat, he knew it was an expensive garment. Your knowledge of Wayne Manor also didn’t escape him. It didn’t seem like something important to note in this situation, but you certainly weren’t an abandoned child; you were probably lost and knew them somehow.

His question seemed to upset you, as you turned your face to hide it, avoiding giving an answer. He noticed your reaction and decided to change the subject: “Let’s take off this coat and get a blanket. What do you think?” He moved you away, already pulling the sleeves of the garment off your arms, and you didn’t resist. The coat was damp from the snow and definitely no longer served to keep you warm.

“She’s going to get hypothermia if she stays like this,” Dick said hurriedly as he went to get a blanket, finding a thick enough one on one of the armchairs. Someone must have left it there before going to bed.

“I will light the fireplace,” you heard the old man say as he got up from the couch and picked up some sort of stick, probably a large lighter, to start the fire.

You opened your mouth to try to thank him, but stopped yourself, finally feeling shy upon realizing you were in strangers’ home. You felt a large, soft blanket wrap around you, turning your eyes to see the tall boy crouched in front of you, draping it over your shoulders.

“In a few minutes, you’ll feel better.” His voice sounded genuinely concerned, and you felt guilty for disturbing their night. You regretted disobeying your mother; you were supposed to be home now.

Dick saw your lost look, wondering who you were. Your expression was distant, and he thought you were lost in thought, until he felt your hand grab his wrist, preventing him from getting up. Your touch was gentle, yet cold, and now your eyes were focused on his.

“Does Damian live here?” you asked hopefully.

“Damian?” This caught him off guard. He was confused, processing for a few seconds what he had heard. From his confused tone, you felt your hopes fading, thinking he had no idea who you were talking about, but his next words encouraged you a little more: “How do you know him?”

You hesitated. At first, you weren’t sure if they were trustworthy, and your mother always said to be careful with whom you spoke. Growing up within the League of Assassins made you aware of how evil some people could be, and having grown up under Talia’s extremely protective arm, who treated you like an untouchable jewel, you were limited to conversations with few people, developing an abnormal fear of strangers. But bad people wouldn’t have taken you in as they did, would they?

“We’re siblings. Is he here?” Your confession didn’t carry the same weight for you as it did for the two men in the room. Alfred heard well, and like Dick, widened his eyes. Neither of them remembered Damian ever mentioning he had a sister. If you were truly an al Ghul, where was Talia? That woman might have had the blood of a viper, but she didn’t seem like the type to let her daughter wander alone at night.

“You said… He’s your brother?” Although Dick’s question was directed at you, he looked at Alfred, who returned an intrigued frown.

“Yes.” Your voice sounded simple to him, still not noticing the tension in the room.

“Master Dick,” Alfred said his name as a cue to follow him, walking away from the couch, and the boy quickly stood up. You found it strange and turned your neck to see them going to talk in the corner of the room in whispers, watching them with curiosity.

“I think it would be wise to inform Master Bruce.” The butler sighed, trying to speak as softly as possible, knowing you were watching them. “If she is Ra's al Ghul’s granddaughter, it’s convenient to take her home as soon as possible and avoid any unnecessary conflict with the League of Assassins.”

“You think she ran away from home?” Dick asked, turning to see you, who now was no longer watching them but had your gaze down, playing with your hands.

“I suppose so,” Alfred said punctually, moving away and walking to the stairs, climbing them with his usual formal posture. “I’ll wake him up. Stay here.” He seemed calm, but inside he was worried.

“Right…” Dick murmured to himself while taking slow steps back to the couch. He analyzed your face for a few seconds before sitting hesitantly beside you. You were almost disappearing inside that blanket, wrapped up like a cocoon, and he found it a bit amusing. All he could see was your head and hands.

You didn’t bother to say anything, nor did he. Instead, he clasped his hands together and paid attention to anything else, trying to hold back the urge to ask questions but couldn’t help himself: “So, you’re Talia’s daughter?”

“You know my mother?” You raised your gaze, and your tone was excited by the possibility.

“Not personally.” He picked at his nails before deciding to keep the conversation going, as the silence was becoming too uncomfortable: “My name is Dick, by the way. But you probably know that.”

“The old man is your grandfather?” For the first time, you referred to Alfred as “the old man” out loud, which made him smile amusedly. Dick found it funny how the nickname sounded innocent, imagining how the man would react knowing someone had referred to him like that.

“It's like he was. He's family.”

“Is Dami your family now?” You asked, trembling with the answer. It wasn’t something to be proud of, but you couldn’t help feeling jealous, and you hated it. It was an excruciating feeling, mixing sadness, anger, and other confusing emotions.

Dick frowned at your question. You seemed disappointed with the idea and it didn’t escape his notice how you were completely unaware of Damian’s current life. It’s been more than two years since he came to live here, enough time for Dick to see him as he always saw his other brothers and participate in patrols as an equal.

“He’s my brother too,” he tried to sound compassionate, and suddenly the silence returned, as you didn’t want to talk anymore and he didn’t know what to say. A lump formed in your throat and your heart felt heavy with each new beat. “How old are you?” He tried again, this time changing the subject.

“Twelve,” you answered immediately, but then shook your head and corrected yourself: “Thirteen.”

“Twelve?” Dick repeated the first answer to try to confirm, letting out a muffled laugh at your strange confusion.

“It’s thirteen.”

That was impossible. Damian was thirteen.

“I still haven’t gotten used to the new age. My birthday was on Monday.”

Damian’s birthday was on Monday.

Dick swallowed hard. He lost his voice for a few seconds, trying to piece things together in his head. He felt his heart race with nerves, doubting if he had been hearing voices all along.

“Y/n, right?” He said your name, seeing you nod positively. “Are you and Damian by any chance… twins?”

You heard him well, but couldn’t help feeling your heart ache with sorrow. He had no idea who you were, even after you knew Damian saw him as a brother. The realization that Damian hadn’t even mentioned you was painful, and as you felt the tears start to roll down your cheek, you quickly wiped them away.

“Hey, hey. Why are you crying?” He moved closer, brushing your hair back with his fingers. You seemed to be the type to answer yes or no questions with gestures, as you nodded positively to him once again.

“Twins…” Dick whispered to no one, trying to come out of shock.

“Y/n,” he called your name hoping you would pay attention, but you continued trying to dry the unstoppable tears. “Y/n,” he called for the second time, and you finally looked at him again.

Now, analyzing your face after what he had just discovered, he finally noticed how much your features resembled Bruce’s. It was like he had been blind and now could finally see.

“Does the name Bruce Wayne mean anything to you?”

“He’s the owner of this house,” you said nonchalantly, as if that was all that mattered and you needed to know.

His next breath came out shaky, completely incredulous. ‘Damn Talia,’ he cursed mentally. This night would be long and, undoubtedly, very complicated.

The Mysterious Visitor II

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: The unknown child evokes conflicting feelings in Bruce Wayne, who once again finds himself needing to deal with Talia's life problems. The girl only wanted the simple desire to see her brother again, unaware of the danger she had put herself into on her journey.

Warnings: The reader is 13 years old and is Damian's twin sister; the tone of the story is somewhat sad; Bruce is intimidating; Hugo Strange mentioned; this will have a third, and hopefully final, part.

Word count: 2.8k

Note: I feel like maybe I could have developed a more emotional scene between Bruce and the reader, I also want to delve deeper into her thought process, but I hope to make up for that in the next part. I like it when you guys tell me what you want to happen next, it gives me ideas. Please, go ahead and do that. That was my first time making a tag list, so I apologize if I didn't do it correctly.

Part I

Alfred could finally check the exact time now that he was standing in front of Bruce's room, admiring for a few seconds the clock in the corridor's decoration, which showed 4:17 am. He prepared to knock on the door, but suddenly a thought crossed his mind: would it be more rational to wake Damian instead of his father? Throughout his life, he had faced unusual situations thanks to the Wayne family; hardly anything would shake him now. His concern, however, was not for himself, but for Bruce.

Talia was a persistent shadow in Bruce's past, still haunting him, and although he had tried to convince the butler many times that the only link he had with her now was because of their son, Alfred still doubted it. Their relationship had been complicated in many ways, either because of her ambiguous nature or Ra’s al Ghul's insistence on trying to persuade Bruce to join the League of Assassins, making Alfred fear that Bruce's morals might deviate because of this passion at the time.

Alfred raised his fist to knock three times and waited patiently as was his custom, but it seemed that was not enough to wake his master. He knew the door was open and knew he was allowed to enter without knocking, so just this once he used the liberty the young man had given him over the years; because in the end, Bruce Wayne was just that, a young man, and would always be seen that way by him.

Inside the room, he turned on the light, and the intense glare made him close his eyes to avoid the sting of the brightness. Approaching the bed, he sighed at the sight of Zolpidem pills left on the nightstand. This had been the only way Bruce found to stop spending sleepless nights, reluctantly since he was too stubborn and preferred to patrol in the darkness. Waking him would be a difficult task.

"Master Bruce," he called, waiting for a response, but got nothing. Alfred felt sorry for waking him, seeing how he finally seemed to be resting. "Master Bruce," he called again, this time nudging his shoulder. The pills must have been wearing off because he started to stir on the mattress.

"What’s going on, Alfred?" Bruce asked in a hoarse voice while rubbing his eyes to relieve the discomfort from the lamp. He sat up in bed, leaning his back against the headboard, blinking several times to see the butler in the corner. One of the room's curtains was open, and he saw the snow falling outside with the dark sky, showing that it was still night. "Is it Hugo Strange? Has he shown up somewhere?"

"Unfortunately, or fortunately, no, sir." Alfred paused, then licked his lips, preparing to continue and finally revealing, "There's a young lady downstairs who claims to be Master Damian’s sister." Direct, as always.

"Sister of Damian?" Bruce repeated the information, still not fully comprehending its meaning. He needed some time, just standing there absorbing the words. It seemed to be taking an eternity, but Alfred wouldn't interrupt the moment of clarity he was having.

He squinted, pushed the covers aside, and picked up the shirt he found nearby. Buttoning it up and getting out of bed, he continued, "When did this happen?"

"Just now, sir."

"Did Damian bring her here?" The question had a bitter tone but never crossed the line of respect that was drawn between them, and Alfred knew he should prepare for his interrogation. Bruce saw the alarm clock and, like the butler a few minutes ago, checked the time. "He never mentioned anything like this."

"Nor to me." Alfred suddenly extended a coat for him to take. Bruce held the fabric between his fingers, confused. "This coat is hers. There’s a map of Gotham City and a letter inside. I recommend you take a look at the addressee."

Pulling the papers from the right pocket, Bruce noticed a map folded into many smaller parts and a letter witch was still sealed, though the corners were noticeably crumpled and marked by small fingers. Carefully analyzing the cursive handwriting, he read. "I had no idea Damian still had contact with his mother. Much less that Talia had a daughter," he said, still drowsy, staring at the name 'Talia Head,' to whom the letter was addressed and recognizing his son’s elegant handwriting. Apparently, she still used the alias surname.

"It's not surprising considering you only discovered your son after so many years." The statement could have easily been interpreted as irony, but it was acidic. "She didn’t seem sure Damian lived here; I suppose she found out because of this letter."

"You left her alone downstairs?" he ignored the previous comment.

"I left her in Master Dick's care."

Bruce stared at him for long seconds and hurried out of the room. Halfway down the stairs, he could already see some glimpses of Dick's hair over the back of the sofa, talking to someone, or rather, laughing with someone.

"Dick?" The voice quickly caught his attention, turning his face to see his father approaching. When Bruce stood in front of the fireplace, he could finally look at the child beside the boy. Dick began to say something, but Bruce couldn’t hear. 

He stared at the girl, analyzing everything about her, from the way she intertwined her fingers nervously to her deer-like eyes. Her iris were shining, as if she had cried, and her swollen and bruised lips were quite noticeable. She had definitely been outside not long ago, shaking and rubbing her hands together constantly to warm herself up. She seemed too sweet, but Bruce knows that appearances can be deceiving.

His gaze passed over the pendants hanging from her bracelet, a simple detail that caught him off guard. Two crossed swords and a demonic head, he understood well what they meant; they were some of the symbols of the League of Assassins, the third was a simple "T" surrounded by a moon. He shouldn’t have been surprised, Talia was a possessive woman and he knew that the "T" was her way of marking property.

"Her name is Y/n," he heard Dick say after a long time.

You noticed how this man's eyes went dark while he watched you and couldn’t help but shrink back on the sofa. It was impossible to hold his gaze, and you began to feel ashamed of being stared at for so long.

"Y/n, this is Bruce Wayne."

"What do you want?" That came out ruder than he intended, but his aversion to the League of Assassins stirred a certain anger. The idea that this could all be a trap crossed his mind. You might be young and exude innocence, but you must have enough understanding to participate in their malicious plans.

"I just wanted to see my brother," you said with sadness in your voice, questioning yourself if this whole situation was worth it. Bruce knew the best way to confirm if this was all true would be by his son’s word, but the signs were so explicit that it might not even be necessary.

You don’t look anything like her, at least at first glance, but you wore her favorite colors and clothes so perfectly matched that no girl your age could choose yet, exactly to Talia's taste and with the appropriate youthful touch for your age. The pendants, the cut of your hair, literally everything had her touch. It was impossible for anyone to convince him otherwise.

"Go get Damian." He said, and Dick understood that the message was for him. Bruce needed to make sure you were telling the truth, or at least needed to make sure you weren’t dangerous. This could still be a League scheme or some plot by your mother.

"Can I see him?" Your voice was the loudest you had spoken that night. The excitement was clear, and it was so much that irrationally you stood up to follow Dick, but a calloused hand suddenly wrapped around your torso and stopped you, making your back hit a slightly prominent belly. You looked up and saw the old man again, his expression was not happy, and you realized it was directed at Mr. Wayne, who had an arm extended towards you but that never managed to touch you.

Like his face, his arm was tense, with visible veins and contracted tendons. You didn't know what his intentions were, but by the way the old man grabbed you to prevent him from laying hands on you, maybe he wasn't as good as he or Dick. It was a very scary sight., making you feel that this man could be dangerous. Trusting the old man, you turned to hug him, hiding as much as possible. Mr. Wayne’s aura was dark, very unfriendly, but you still saw how he recoiled with his face displaying a certain sense of regret.

Dick noticed Alfred's sudden movement behind him before he could leave the room. He glanced at their faces and for a moment considered whether it would be appropriate to turn back and mention the conversation he had with you to the butler in secret, but then his eyebrows furrowed thinking of Damian. Maybe he should confront the little demon first.

"Don’t do anything stupid, Bruce." Dick thought.

Frantically he knocked on the boy’s door. One, two, three, four times until he lost count. At no point did he hear any noise inside, so he began to turn the doorknob, only to find it was locked.

"Of course he’d lock it, that brat..."

"What are you doing?" Suddenly Tim's bedroom door behind him opened abruptly, making a sliver of light from inside illuminate the opposite wall. He was obviously irritated at being woken up but still had that tone of seriousness he carried most of the time.

"Where's his room key?" Dick completely ignored his brother's attitude.

"Forget it. I heard him sneak out to patrol again." Tim's voice sounded tired.

"And you let him?!" Dick snapped but reminded himself to contain it, remembering that Jason was sleeping in one of the rooms in that wing and that you three downstairs might hear the commotion. "Why didn’t you stop him?"

"And what good would it do? That boy is too stubborn." Tim tried to defend himself. "Besides, I have his location right here. He’ll be fine." He opened the door a bit more to show one of his computer monitors tracking the trajectory and heart signals of a green dot on the streets of Gotham City.

Dick looked both ways down the hallway before pushing Tim back into his room and closing the door.

"Hey, what's this? Why are you acting so weird?" Tim was startled by Dick's unusual behavior, feeling anxious as he watched him go to the computer to check Damian's exact location, observing the dot on the screen moving. Dick pressed a button, likely an emergency notification to get Damian to return home. Then he turned to Tim, gripping his shoulders and looking at him with intense seriousness.

"Tim, what I'm about to tell you might be a lot to take in, and I need you to try to understand as much as possible." Dick pointed a finger in his face, waiting for confirmation.

"You're scaring me like this. What the hell happened?"

"No questions and no interruptions! Understood?" Dick's tone was authoritative, stepping back only when he saw Tim nodding affirmatively.

"Why the hell is everyone awake downstairs? Did someone die or something?" Jason barged into Tim's room without ceremony, trying to make a joke, but when he saw the ghostly expressions on their faces, he quickly shut the door again, this time with him inside the room. "My God," he exclaimed in shock. "Can I join in on your little secret?" he asked ironically.

"Did you see the girl?" Dick asked Jason nervously, with a certain expectation.

"Yeah. I saw a girl with Bruce and Alfred. But they didn't see me, since I went back upstairs. The mood down there is pretty tense." Jason threw himself on the bed, making the mattress bounce and Tim frown in displeasure. "I think Alfred is going to give him a lecture afterwards."

"She's Bruce's daughter."

Jason propped himself up on his elbows, and Tim had to sit in the computer chair. His mouth formed a perfect 'O' as he struggled to believe Dick's words.

"With who this time?" Jason seemed to be reacting better than Tim to the news, even letting out a light laugh. It was a typical, caustic Jason response.

"That's not all." Dick ignored his comment. "She said she's Damian's twin."

Tim let out a short whistle, processing the idea like a complex calculation. "Tell this story from the beginning, Dick. Why did she show up now?" He finally managed to rejoin the conversation. It took a while for the shock to pass, but now he had his usual rational demeanor.

Dick rubbed his hands over his face, trying to recount the night and organize the information. "Apparently, she doesn't even know Bruce is her father. And he doesn't know about it either."

"Damian also never mentioned having a sister."

"Damn. Hiding one kid for a decade is something, but two?" Jason stared at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, a strange sensation taking over the room. But seeing the melancholic expression on Dick's face, his curiosity grew even more. "What else do you know, huh Dick?" He questioned him, sensing there was something much deeper behind this, and his brother just gave him an enigmatic look.

"She said she came here to see Damian. That she found out where he was because of a letter he wrote to Talia..." Dick suddenly froze, pulling a little box from his pocket as if it were a dangerous bomb. "While we were talking, she said a man had helped her get here. He gave her a map and asked her to deliver a present to Bruce, but she gave it to me to deliver." He handed the beige little box to the two, but it was Tim who took it.

Whatever it was, it was very well wrapped.

"Is it right to open it?" Tim asked. "I mean, it's for Bruce, isn't it?"

"I already opened it." Dick said bluntly. "I thought it might be a trap, I was careful."

"Give it here." Jason took the small box from Tim's hands. It was the same size as an engagement ring box, perfect for carrying in a pocket. He pulled the lid off and took out a card, freezing when he read it.

"What does it say?" Tim was curious, taking the card from his hands and reading it out loud:

'I sent your daughter home as a demonstration of my benevolence. Merry Christmas, Batman. Signed, H.S.’

"Holy shit," Jason exclaimed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "That bastard figured out Batman's identity."

"Even worse: he knew about her before we did." Tim added reflectively, his voice barely a whisper. "That means he knows much more than just Batman's identity. He might know other things, including our identities. He probably suspects we are also vigilantes."

"I want to hear the whole story properly." Jason's intensely serious voice broke the silence that had settled in the room, determined to fully understand the appearance of this girl and how she got involved with Hugo Strange.

Dick took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "Alright, here it is. Minutes ago, Alfred and I woke up because a girl showed up at the manor claiming to be Damian's sister. She told me that she had a map of Gotham and a letter addressed to Talia from Damian. Alfred brought Bruce to her, and then I went upstairs to call Damian, but I discovered that he's out on patrol. And now we're here."

Tim interrupted, "Wait, so Damian's been in contact with Talia and didn't tell us?"

"That's what it seems like," Dick confirmed, rubbing his temples. "The girl didn't even know Bruce was her father. She mentioned that a man helped her get here and gave her a map along with a present for Bruce."

Jason leaned forward even more. "And this man was Hugo Strange."

"Not xactly, he could have sent someone else." Dick nodded. "The present was that card. Strange knows about her and about Bruce being Batman. He sent her here as some twisted gift."

Tim, processing the information, asked, "Did she say anything about why Strange would do this? What does he gain from sending her here?"

"She didn't seem to know much about Strange's intentions," Dick replied. "She just wanted to see Damian. But it’s clear that Strange knows a lot more than he's letting on. He must have some larger plan in mind."

Jason clenched his fists, his anger palpable. "So, this girl is just a pawn in his game. We need to figure out what his endgame is."

"Agreed," Dick said. "But first, we need to make sure she's safe and find out everything she knows. We also need to talk to Damian and see what tell us about all this."

Tim nodded, adding, "And we have to stay vigilant. If Strange knows this much, we can't underestimate him. He could have more moves planned."

Jason stood up, his determination evident. "We need to get to the bottom of this before anyone gets hurt."

"But what about Talia? Did she just let her daughter go out there, be deceived by a stranger, and then simply come here?" Tim pointed out. "And you, Dick? Are you going to tell Bruce?"

Suddenly, the sound of someone tapping on the window glass was heard. The three brothers turned their heads to see Damian, clad in his Robin attire, asking to come in. "Open up already, you idiots."

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Credits for the divider: @cafekitsune

The Mysterious Visitor III

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Bruce begins to suspect that Damian is hiding something after the two of you finally see each other, and the father-son trust between them is shaken. Tim finally sees your face, and something strange happens. The meeting between siblings was not successful, and to their dismay, Bruce will need to confront Talia face to face once again.

Warnings: The reader is 13 years old and is Damian's twin sister; the tone of the story is somewhat sad; Bruce is intimidating; Hugo Strange mentioned; family discussion; maternal overprotection.

Word count: 3.6k

Note: I'm sincerely sorry if I didn't include someone on the tag list or if I made any mistakes. This part took longer because it's a bit longer.

Part I Part II Part III

"Forgive me for not offering anything sooner, miss," Alfred said, watching you carefully pick up the hot chocolate he had given to you. He found it curious how you ignored the handle of the mug, instead holding it with both hands, making sure wouldn't spill it.

You diverted your eyes from the brown liquid and looked at the old butler, now knowing his name, licking your lips after the sip to clear the excess drink. "It's okay," you responded, unaware of the chocolate mustache that had formed.

Bruce, still in the room, watched the scene from the side while patiently awaiting Damian. He traced circles with his index finger on the rim of the whiskey glass he had poured for himself, trying to keep control of how much he drank. Bruce would never admit it, but he needed to calm down, and perhaps a bit of moderate alcohol might help. He knew it wasn't appropriate to drink in front of someone as young as you, but he couldn't stop himself.

He was caught looking at you with a suspicious gaze that didn't waver. The room was filled with a palpable discomfort, and you, embarrassed, went back to staring at your own drink again, focused on listening to the crackling of the fireplace.

"Here, take this," Alfred said gently, extending a napkin from the tray. You accepted it and wiped around your mouth, finally realizing you'd made a mess.

Your mother would have scolded you for your lack of manners, you thought to yourself. And, for the thousandth time that night, you worried about how she would react to discovering you weren't in your bed. Maybe she had already noticed and was preparing a furious speech along with your punishment.

"What are you thinking about, dear?" Alfred asked, noticing your quietness as you rested the hot chocolate mug in your lap and started staring into nothing.

You snapped out of your stupor upon hearing the question, fiddling with one of the charms on your bracelet, the "T" specifically, Bruce couldn't help but notice. His mind was in turmoil, much like yours, with a thousand different thoughts arising every second. He felt strangely betrayed, questioning how much more his son hadn't told him—important things like the fact that he had a sister.

"I was just thinking that..." you trailed off, swallowing hard as the nervousness grew. Letting out a shaky sigh and with visible tears forming in your eyes, you continued, "My mom's going to be mad at me."

"And are you afraid of your mother?" Alfred insisted, trying to sound gentle upon seeing your distress.

"It's not quite that," you replied, trying to ease the situation so he wouldn't jump to conclusions.

You weren't exactly afraid of her, but you knew that rummaging through your mother's belongings, stealing a letter, and sneaking out in the middle of the night would disappoint her. You worried about her reaction and, above all, about Damian's reaction. If he was still the same, he certainly wouldn't be happy with the circumstances.

You tried to calm yourself, convincing yourself that you had the right to be angry for the first time in your life, not them, even knowing that your family would see you differently. It was as if you were perpetually a five-year-old in their eyes, always needing to hear lectures about every dangerous step you took.

Even though you and your brother were the same age, he was more responsible, smarter, stronger, destined to be a leader. And it annoyed you so much, but no matter what you said, your mother wouldn't change her mind about your upbringing.

When Damian left, Talia had said he would spend some time in a different place to learn new things and improve himself. For the first few weeks, it was even liberating not having him on your neck all the time, but then you realized it was because of him that you could do simple things like take a walk around the neighborhood alone.

Without Damian at home, your mother had no one to contradict her decisions, and her constant protection began to suffocate you. Then came the longing, and what was supposed to be a few months turned into years, and you never saw him again. You never stopped thinking about him. Every day, every birthday, and every Christmas, you would wait near the entrance of your apartment before going to bed, hoping that he would open the door again.

"Where is your mother?" Bruce suddenly interrupted, feeling Alfred's cautious gaze on him. You hesitated to answer, after all, although Mr. Wayne was a very popular man with a good image, you didn't know him. "I don't intend to harm you, but I need to know to take you back home," he justified, looking directly at your face, but Alfred knew this was Bruce's way of telling him that he wasn't interested in Talia, but rather in ensuring your safety.

"I'm not dumb, I know how to get home by myself," you tried to defend yourself. And though the words might sound arrogant, you said it calmly, not wanting to offend him.

"The point is not that. This is Gotham City, you shouldn't have gone out alone in the middle of the night." Bruce tried to reason with you, and it seemed to have worked because you fell silent.

"You need to trust us, miss," Alfred tried to encourage you to respond, but you remained silent. Bruce turned the glass to take a big sip of his drink and both gave up, not wanting to pressure you further.

The following minutes were silent, interrupted only by the sound of you drinking the hot chocolate in a few sips. Unexpectedly, Titus, Damian's German Shepherd, seemed to have taken a liking to you. He entered the room from the kitchen and stopped by your side to smell the new scent in the house. The relatively gentle dog sniffed around you, appreciating the head pats he received while you were enchanted by the furry animal.

Bruce couldn't help but compare you to his son since he began to analyze you. Damian had his mother's cunning personality and an arrogance that Bruce couldn't deny he had too, but it was more pronounced in Talia. He clearly remembered the first meeting with Damian. The first thing the boy did was make a ridiculous joke about his height, and he never seemed shy when meeting Bruce or the other boys. Also, when he arrived at the mansion, he felt comfortable analyzing every tiny detail of the house, unconcerned if his opinions were unpleasant.

You, on the other hand, although in different circumstances, limited yourself to a small space on the couch, responding only when asked and gladly accepting the kindness of Dick and Alfred. Bruce wondered how Talia could have raised a daughter like you. She and her sister, Nyssa, were sharp women, trained to be natural-born assassins, despite having a traditional father like Ra's. It was hard to believe that you, an apparently ordinary and shy girl, could be her daughter.

"Do you like dogs?" Bruce asked, deciding to stop being grumpy.

"I do, but I think I prefer cats." You continued to stroke Titus's cheeks, who began to want to climb onto your lap. Unfortunately, he was too heavy, and you had to push him back to the floor. The animal seemed to interpret that as a game because he kept trying to climb several times. "Mom gave me one for Christmas last year."

"Titus." Bruce's voice caught the dog's attention, patting his right thigh, calling him to sit on his lap. His gesture, although meant to stop the animal from bothering you, made you a little disappointed that you couldn't pet his soft fur anymore.

"What a coincidence. It seems you and Damian share something in common." Alfred was smiling while talking to you, which was rare for him. "Last Christmas, he also brought us two stray cats. The black one lives with us, but unfortunately, I don't know what happened to the other one. Curiously, the cat has my name." The butler tried to make a face at you, pretending to be unhappy. A Cheshire smile spread across your face, followed by the most contagious laugh he had ever heard, and he couldn't help but widen his own smile.

"The cat's name is Alfred?" You asked incredulously, seeing him nod positively. "Mine is an orange cat. He's cute but very troublesome; he even scratched one of my ballet shoes." You commented, much more at ease in Mr. Wayne's presence.

"An orange kitten?" Bruce's eyes widened slightly, just like Alfred's.

An orange and a black cat, both mentioned on the same date. Your seemingly trivial confession revealed to both of them that Damian had indeed kept in touch with you. Perhaps not directly, but it showed that he hadn't forgotten your existence and cared enough to have given the other cat to his sister as a gift. Now, because of you, they both finally knew what had happened to the other furball.

"Your brother also raises a cow here on the property." The butler thought it would be of interest to mention the funny fact, given that Damian was too irritable to raise something like a cow. And it seemed to have worked, as you laughed with genuine surprise in your eyes.

Bruce couldn't help but let out a muffled laugh when reminded of the cow, and unlike how he had been so suspicious of you moments ago, he was now more relaxed. He wondered when was the last time he saw Alfred so cheerful with someone new here at the mansion. The butler was a man full of tenderness for the family, but he was difficult to deal with for outsiders, although he always presented himself in a polite manner.

But the pleasant moment was suddenly interrupted by a series of voices coming from the top of the stairs, making Bruce and Alfred frown. Both stood up to see better what was happening and saw Damian pushing and shouting at his three brothers while struggling to descend the steps without being hindered by them.

Jason saw that Bruce and Alfred had already noticed them, failing to prevent the boy from confronting you three, and let go of his arm. Dick and Tim followed suit, defeated. The events of the night were revealed to him by his brothers, who told him everything from you being here to the fact that you had had some sort of contact with Strange. Damian went berserk at the last part and stormed out of the room in a flash.

Seeing his son in the Robin uniform, Bruce thought of reprimanding him, knowing he had gone on patrol alone again, but decided that was a matter for later.

"Damian," Bruce called out, calming him down a bit from his excitement. "We have a visitor." There was no view of the stairs from the living room, so you couldn't grasp that Bruce was calling Robin by your brother's name.

Damian descended the steps slowly, as if it were a very difficult task for him, and then finally looked at you, then at Bruce, and back at you, completely ignoring anyone else. He took a deep breath, trying to process the situation. Dick had told him that his father didn't know anything about you being his daughter, but he was sure this secret wouldn't last much longer. And honestly, he preferred that both of you knew the truth, even knowing that his mother wouldn't be happy.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, surprise evident in his voice.

You slowly got up from the couch, gripping the hot chocolate mug tightly. The truth was, Damian hadn't realized he was still dressed as Robin, and that's why you didn't recognize him. You stood there, paralyzed, not understanding why he was in Bruce Wayne's house, and why would he talk to you? Or maybe this was some kind of joke, and you still hadn't figured it out.

Damian was silent for a moment, his expression serious. "You were supposed to stay with Mom. It's not safe for you here."

"Master Damian," Alfred spoke, signaling to the mask on his face. Damian quickly tore it off, feeling stupid for forgetting about it.

You almost let the mug slip when you saw him. Your brother had grown a lot since he was ten. His face was thinner, more defined, and his eyes smaller, plus his voice was deeper. That's why you didn't recognize him at first. Before, you would have known who he was just by the sound of his voice, but it wasn't the same anymore.

You were happy and surprised at the same time. That moment was shocking, and the bitterness you felt a while ago was forgotten. Your anger at discovering Damian ignored you for two years for the people in this house didn't cross your mind now, too busy trying to memorize each of his new features. The superhero world wasn't new, after all, but how could your brother be Robin? And if he was Robin, did he know Batman?

"I wanted to see you," you replied, your voice trembling. "I missed you."

Damian sighed, approaching. He wanted to argue but fought against it, knowing the last thing he should do was yell at you after so long. "I missed you too, but you shouldn't be here, S/n. Things are complicated here." He responded tensely, calculating his words and trying to find a way to get you away from Bruce as quickly as possible before something slipped.

Bruce watched your interaction, unsure of what to do. He didn't understand the depth of your relationship, wondering if he should intervene or let you talk alone. It seemed too personal to discuss in front of so many eyes.

In a brief exchange of glances with Dick, in a kind of silent conversation, Bruce signaled for him and the others to leave.

Understanding as always, Dick nodded, indicating they should leave but not before approaching Bruce with something. "Bruce, promise me you'll only read this card when you're in a clearer state of mind," he asked in a whisper, placing a piece of paper in Bruce's hand, careful to put the written part facing his palm. Dick rarely asked for promises, so Bruce reluctantly agreed.

"Can you at least tell me what it is?"

"It's a clue about Hugo Strange," was the simplest response he could give. "But let's leave that for another time," Dick emphasized, looking at you and Damian, who, to their surprise, were watching them.

"Let's go. This is no longer our business," Dick tried to pull Jason and Tim along, but Tim was stubborn:

"Did you give it to him?" Tim said just loud enough for Dick to hear.

"Yes, Tim," he replied, not wanting to give him more room to argue, going up the stairs two steps at a time, followed by Jason who climbed more calmly, holding onto the railing. Tim gave one last look at Bruce, then at Damian, Alfred, and then you, who was now watching the three. You already knew Dick, but the other two figures aroused your curiosity. How many more people live in the mansion?

The boy you didn't know was called Tim started staring at you with an intrigued expression. He hadn't managed to see your face closely before, but now, looking calmly, he couldn't avoid noticing how familiar you seemed. He felt he had seen you somewhere, but where? You examined him with the same perplexity, and for a moment he parted his lips to say something, maybe to ask if he knew you, but Bruce's voice made him jump:

"Tim, you should go to bed, just like your brothers." He asked in a gentle tone.

"Sorry, Bruce." He responded quickly, going up the stairs in same style as Jason.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?" Damian took advantage of the fact that the three had left and angrily threw it in your face, but trying to disguise it at all costs to avoid sounding too harsh. His eyes were frantic, looking at every part of your face.

He wasn't sentimental, and he refused to go through the humiliation of showing any weakness at seeing your grown-up figure, even if it caused him heartache. "Why did you disappear like that? Mom's been worried for hours."

"I already told you. I wanted to see you." Your voice rose a bit, desperately trying to justify yourself. You wanted so much to hug him but felt too embarrassed to do so, finally realizing that the intimacy you had before no longer existed. It was as if he were a stranger.

"Let's go. I'll take you back." He grabbed your wrist, wanting to disappear from his father's sight at all costs, but you pulled away, surprising him.

"Why are you so eager to get rid of me?" You asked indignantly, trying to swallow the sob due to your wounded pride. The warmth in your heart rose to your head, finally feeling that old anger again. "I haven't seen you in years, and the first thing you do is want to keep me away again!" You were distressed, feeling rejected.

"Maybe it's because you only cause problems!" He exploded.

"I had forgotten how irritating you are!" You shouted at the top of your lungs, trying to push him back as you did in childhood arguments. Back then, you two were equal in strength, but now Damian was becoming a man, and he barely moved.

You didn't notice when you dropped the mug on the floor, which luckily didn't break as the impact was cushioned by the rug. But the little liquid left had spilled and stained it, and seeing Alfred pick it up to clean made you feel awful. You should have done it, but he stopped you when you made a move to bend down, saying it was okay. Alfred felt he shouldn't participate in this conversation and used the mug situation as an excuse to go to the kitchen.

"Stop." Bruce intervened between you two, separating both and giving his son a challenging look. He knew this kind of attitude was typical of him, but seeing how loyal and obedient Damian was to Talia, he thought he would at least show some sympathy to his sister. "S/n, why don't you go sleep a bit? It's late, it would be good to rest." He offered as a truce and also as a way to interrupt your meeting, seeing how bad it was going.

"Do you realize the danger she got into? Talking to strangers, no less." Damian spoke again, his voice dangerously calm, ignoring Bruce. "Do you have any idea who that guy was, S/n? Do you have any idea?!" His voice began to rise a few octaves.

A solitary tear rolled down your cheek, recalling the man who had helped you on the street. At that moment, he seemed like a good person, but the way your brother was talking, apparently he wasn't. "How many times do we need to tell you not to talk to strangers? Not to leave the house without telling anyone? It's always been like this since we were kids, you never change!"

You had no reaction. That single tear had turned into two, then into several others, as you shrank into your own shame. You felt ridiculous for coming here because of him.

"Damian, who are you talking about?" Bruce held him by the shoulders to stop him from continuing to spew anger at you. His voice was much deeper than the boy's, and although it didn't intimidate him, it was enough to make him look at him at least.

"Hugo Strange, Dad! Damn Hugo Strange!" Damian lost control of his own mouth, speaking without thinking and not realizing the slip he had just made. "Because she's too stupid to have the slightest notion about anything!"

"Hugo Strange?" Mr. Wayne asked out loud. You knew exactly who Strange was, just as you knew other villains, although you might not recognize them by appearance. But that didn't matter to you now, as you spoke right after:

"Why did you call him Dad?" You looked your brother in the eyes, expecting some kind of explanation, not noticing how his body hairs stood on end.

Suddenly, a realization hit you. This was his new family now, and this man was his father. That venomous jealousy returned once more, and you didn't know if it was because Damian now had someone to call 'Dad' or because it meant how close he had become to these people. Damian swallowed hard, sweating and standing still like a statue.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne. I didn't mean to cause trouble." You apologized, deciding to completely ignore Damian from now on.

"No need to apologize." Bruce felt uneasy, and like you, he drew a wrong interpretation from it. He thought Damian hadn't told his sister who his real father was, which was possible considering he also hadn't told her he moved in with him. The fact that you two were twins was also still unknown to Bruce. The most logical idea, though not spoken or thought, was that you were Talia's daughter with another man. "I'll ask Alfred to show you a room."

You looked one last time at Damian before disappearing into some wing of the mansion. It hurt to see him watching you leave without even saying goodbye. A 'good night' would have been hopeful, even though you hated him now.

"Come, miss." You felt Alfred's hands on your back, guiding you. "I'll show you the guest room," he explained, and you looked back, seeing Bruce watching the two of you.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you said, trying to sound as grateful as possible, while wrapping one arm around Alfred's waist affectionately. Bruce gave you a slight smile, uncrossing his arms to wave goodbye, which you returned with your free hand.

"You and I now have a lot to talk about." Bruce's aura had become cold again. The trust he had built with Damian wasn't broken, but it definitely had a crack.

"Mom is coming," he said in a low voice "I called her as soon as Dick started told me everything," he confessed, knowing Bruce would be furious, watching him run a hand through his hair to relieve the tension.

Following his example, Damian also sat in one of the armchairs in the room, analyzing his father's movements. Whenever Talia and Bruce were in the same room, even if they didn't do it openly, they fought for some kind of dominance.

Bruce made a move to take out the card Dick had given him to see its contents and maybe pass the time while the second storm of the night was yet to come. The first had been you, of course. He ran his fingers along one of the edges of the card, without taking it completely out of his pocket, and then remembered his son's words:

'Promise me you'll only read this card when you're in a moment of clarity.'

The last thing Bruce had now was clarity. So he sighed heavily and pushed it back into his pocket, staring at the boy beside him. "Why do I feel like your sister should be a secret, Damian?"

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Credits for the divider: @cafekitsune

The Misteryous Visitor IV

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Bruce finally confronts Damian, and hates how tonight's events seemed to turn out just to remind him what a terrible father he is. He felt like he didn't deserve you, and he wanted at all costs to avenge the injustice Talia committed with you two.

Warnings: Family discussion; maternal overprotection; Bruce has psychiatric problems and is mentally unstable, besides being very angry; mentions depression, post-traumatic stress and the like.

Word count: 3.7k

Note: I apologize for taking so long to post the fourth part. I was looking for inspiration to continue in other fandoms. Now I feel engaged again to continue posting

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

"She is not a secret." Damian tried to sound firm, looking Bruce in the eyes to avoid suspicion. But no matter what he did or how long he tried to maintain the lie, his father had already decided what to think about this enigmatic and strange situation.

"Hmm..." He let out a disheartened murmur, and the boy never thought something like this would happen, but he frowned with worry as he saw Bruce pour another drink. It wasn't like his father to act this way.

When Damian first met him in person at ten years old, he could have sworn Bruce and Talia were somewhat enjoying themselves that day, even with the barbs hidden in some exchanged sentences. Or maybe he was mistaken; after all, it had been so long. Perhaps he had preserved a false memory.

"How much have you drunk?" The boy asked with a disdainful voice, trying to hide that he was truly concerned.

"Why have you never talked about her? She is your sister, Damian." Bruce ignored the question but in a kind of silent acknowledgment, he rested the glass on the side table, preventing himself from getting drunk.

"Why are you acting like this? As if it's a big deal." He made a face of confusion. "Why do you care so much about this? She isn't even your problem. I won't stay here being interrogated because of her." Damian got up, taking hurried steps to the front door. He was running away, and he knew it.

"Where are you going?" Bruce stood to follow him, finally showing some kind of emotion beyond stoicism since they had been alone in the room.

"I'm going to wait for my mother outside. And when she appears, I'll come back to fetch S/n. Then you won't have to see her anymore, ever again." Damian said, and although Bruce didn't know if in the last part his son was referring to you or Talia, he didn't dare ask for the detail.

"Why didn't you ask any of us for help when you found out she was missing? If she is someone so close to you, you could have talked to us." Bruce was speaking in that strange way again, like when he found out Jason was the Red Hood. He was hurt, and as if a whistle had snapped in his mind, Damian understood that his father was like this because of him. It wasn't Talia or how she always ended up causing problems; it was him. "You hid from me that you were still talking to your mother."

"And did I need to inform you that I talk to my mother?" The boy tried to maintain a haughty tone, repressing the urge to shout so that Bruce wouldn't see his conflicting feelings.

The truth is that it hurt to lie like this. It hurt even more to lie to you. Damian didn't show or openly say what he felt; his mother once told him that was weakness, but honestly, now he was disgusted with himself.

"You didn't need to inform me, but you made an effort to hide it!" Bruce didn't shout. His voice was grave, authoritative, and deep down had a tone of betrayal that had twice the impact of a shout. He seemed to reflect on something, and patiently Damian awaited a lamentable outburst, but just as he himself would do, Bruce was avoiding becoming emotional.

"I don't understand why, but you came to live with me and seemed to exclude her from your life because of us. She is your sister and didn't even know I am your father! You sent letters, which I'm sure you hid not just from me but from her too. And she ended up here in the middle of the night like a fugitive. Will you tell me again that all this has no reason?"

"Even if there were a reason, it wouldn't be your business." The young man replied harshly, and once again: it was a lie. It was his business. Seeing Bruce's angry scowl turn into a defeated look made one of his fingers tremble. Realizing only after saying something that what he did was wrong made a panic arise in his chest.

Bruce sat back in the armchair, giving up on the discussion once and for all. He felt so stupid for thinking he was succeeding in freeing his son from the League of Assassins' clutches, that he was doing a good job showing him he didn't need the blind loyalty Talia taught him to have. He feared that Damian would succumb to a villain's life, exactly as Ra's al Ghul wanted Bruce to be: cruel and ruthless.

Talia stirred bad reactions in him, and his sense of justice hammered in his head. How could he simply hand you back into her hands after you came here tonight? That woman was a bad influence on anyone, and it didn't matter if you were her daughter; you were a child. And wasn't that what he did with all his children? Took them from the streets and bad parents?

He wanted to vomit at the idea of allowing you to continue being raised by someone like her, among those people, but if he couldn't even change Damian, what could he do for you? Bruce couldn't force you to stay, but at the same time, he grappled with the internal conflict of corroborating that one day you would become like those people. He is Batman, his duty is to protect. He should protect you too.

Bruce rubbed his eyes, feeling an intense headache and he day was already dawning again"Your mother isn't coming, Damian." He asserted, noticing that a long time had passed since they started waiting, getting up to return to his own room.

"You said we had a lot to talk about." Suddenly, the boy felt the need to prolong the conversation, if this could even be considered a conversation. It was as if they would never speak again if he allowed his father to leave.

"We don't anymore." Was cold, and that made the boy swallow hard. Bruce knew he would regret being so harsh, but at that moment, he wasn't thinking straight. The rational part of his brain was being dominated by his impulsive side.

Bruce opened his bedroom door with unusual violence. Lately, these episodes of anger were frequent, perhaps due to interrupted sleep; this damned insomnia was worse than in the last months. Alfred had already suggested he see a psychiatrist, but Bruce was sure he would leave there with a worse diagnosis than expected, so he avoided it as much as possible.

The butler once dared to mention that he might have some type of post-traumatic stress, but Bruce was stubborn and that led to an argument. He was a controlled man, but that day he shouted. The reaction was not unexpected, considering the tension from the chaos Scarecrow was causing in the city at the time, but Alfred was observant and knew the problems went beyond that.

The death of his parents was a delicate subject, and combined with the pressure of being Batman, Alfred saw Bruce become more obsessive, anxious, and even depressed over the years. Fortunately, the emergence of Dick was a break in the sad loneliness for him. And then came Jason, Tim, Damian, and things improved for a while, but the relapses still existed.

Bruce sighed as he admired his bed, wishing he could sleep again, but knowing he wouldn't be able to without taking another dose of pills, which certainly wasn't an option. Then he noticed your coat there. The garment had been left in his room, carefully placed on the arm of the room's couch.

He walked over and picked up the coat, rubbing the soft fabric with melancholy and noting how well-kept the garment was. It would probably be a good idea to return it to you; Would also be an opportunity to check if you were well accommodated.

Cautiously, he walked to the guest wing. Bruce thought he would need to check the rooms one by one to discover where Alfred had placed you, but a beam of light leaking from one of the doors indicated which one. He hesitated to turn the knob; it felt too intrusive. So, he knocked: three soft taps on the wood. He waited a few seconds, but you didn't come to open it, and he gave in to the act of opening it himself.

In slow movements, he leaned to look inside the room, without entering yet and checking if everything was okay. He saw your figure well wrapped in the covers, eyes closed and breathing in a consistent rhythm. You were sleeping, and the light he saw was the bedside lamp.

He entered, doing everything to control his steps, going to a chair to place the coat there. He felt the need to be gentle with the garment for some reason, handling the coat with such care, as if holding you in his hands.

He was envious of how pleasant your sleep seemed, wishing he could sleep like that too. He thought of turning off the lamp, but regretted it when he saw that his act interrupted your sleep. As soon as everything went dark, he heard the rustle of the covers, signaling that you had woken up. You stayed still for a while, staring at the shadow in front of you, knowing someone was there but too embarrassed to ask who it was, until the light was turned back on and you saw Mr. Wayne.

"Sorry, I think I woke you," he said softly, genuinely feeling guilty. "I brought your coat. I left it to dry better; it's still a bit wet," he continued, gesturing towards the chair.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you replied groggily due to the minutes you spent sleeping. Thinking he would leave, you clasped your hands as if praying and placed them under your cheek on the pillow. A common but funny position.

"Call me just Bruce," he sat on the edge of the bed, looking at your face. He had a question stuck in his throat and thought it would be a good idea to start a conversation. "Are you okay?"

"I am. Thank you for letting me sleep at your house." you answered serenely, and he nodded in agreement. "And you?" You asked back. Bruce blinked, surprised by your question, realizing that your eyes were shining. The truth is he couldn't say how he felt, so he said what anyone would say: 

"Yes, I'm okay," he said, more focused on your face, knowing you might be uncomfortable with that but wanting to see you better. 

“Can I ask you something?” He seemed anxious, and you waited expectantly in silence, which he took as a yes. “Why did your mother separate you two like that? Why didn’t she tell you anything?”

You stared at a random spot on the mattress, feeling a pang in your chest at the memory. “She did, in a way. Mom doesn’t like you very much, Mr. Wayne. I think that’s why,” you said, looking back at him, seeing him raise his eyebrows in amusement; you corrected yourself with a gasp: “Bruce.”

“Did she speak badly of me to you?” Bruce was curious like a silly child, even though a serious scowl was etched on his face.

“Not exactly about you. Mom and Grandpa hate Batman.” By this point, you had already figured it out. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots between your family and Robin with him after a few minutes of reflection. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Bruce let out a dry laugh, caught off guard. “Yes, it’s me,” he confirmed, and you shifted to sit more upright on the bed, excited.

“Is it true that you killed the Joker?” Your question made Bruce’s scowl turn puzzled. So that was the kind of rumor circulating.

“No, I didn’t kill him. He just... disappeared one day,” the same day Bruce thought he had lost Jason, and although deep down he wanted very much to have done it, he didn’t find it appropriate to admit that to you.

“I’m confused,” your voice became more relaxed, he thought it was due to the casual tone the conversation was taking. “If Damian is Robin now, what happened to the other one? He didn’t die, did he?” You asked the last question in a whisper, fearing it was true.

Bruce laughed at this. He had never thought about how people assumed Robin was a single person all these years. “No, he’s fine. You’d be surprised if I told you five different people have been Robin.”

Your eyes widened, and suddenly you remembered a detail: “There was a girl, wasn’t there? I remember seeing some photos in an old newspaper.”

Bruce was perplexed at how much you seemed to know about him, but in a good way. “Yes, there was a girl. She’s Batgirl now,” when he said that, your smile widened even more. It seemed like you were a secret fan, he would say, since in your own words: "Talia hates him" and Bruce knows she would hardly allow you to have such admiration.

But your smile faded, and that worried him for a moment until you spoke: “I didn’t know that man was Hugo Strange,” you looked at him with regret. “If I had known, I would have caught him for you.”

“Would you?” He asked, doubting you really could.

“Well... I would have tried,” you defended yourself, shrugging your shoulders.

“Very brave. But it’s good you didn’t do anything,” he said playfully, stopping to think for a moment. “S/n, what did he tell you?”

He saw you wrinkle your nose in a grimace before answering. “I thought we met by chance. I was walking and saw a man smoking a cigarette on a corner. I was going to walk past, but then he asked if I needed help.”

“Which corner?”

“I don’t know, but it wasn’t far from home. I was trying to figure out the street on a map I found in the municipal library’s phone book,” you sighed, frustrated at not being able to give the information. “I ignored him, but he followed me. I got scared and started running, but he said he was a cop, so I trusted him.”

“Did he have a police car nearby?”

“He said he was undercover. But I don’t know what that means; I thought it was the same as being off duty.”

“It could mean that too.” Bruce saw your guilty expression, your lip trembling and your hands nervous.

“You don’t need to feel bad for believing him,” his larger hand enveloped both of yours like they were nothing. They were warm, and it was comforting. “I know Damian said horrible things, but he speaks in the heat of the moment.”

“They’re not in the heat of the moment... He never just speaks,” your voice dropped so low it was almost inaudible. Your eyes burned, but there were no tears. Crying for your brother would be the last thing you would do again. “What was in the box?”

“What box?” He was confused by your sudden change of subject.

“Didn’t Dick give it to you?” You asked, feeling his hand move away from yours and touch his left pocket. What Dick had given him was a card and not a box. Maybe he had taken what was inside. “I guess he forgot.”

“No. He didn’t forget,” he quickly responded, snapping out of a stupor. A curiosity grew in his chest, a need to know what was in that card.

Bruce fumbled in the pocket where the card still was and pulled it out. He quickly examined the paper, turning it over to check the back for anything. For a long time, his voice was muffled, and Bruce could only hear a buzzing in his ear. It was impossible for those words to have any real meaning. His breathing became loud and shaky, as if he were in the cold, and you were startled to see his eyes blinking frantically.

“Are you okay?” You moved to approach him, seeing moisture suddenly form on his forehead. It was cold sweat.

“How is this possible?” You heard him ask himself, bringing his fingertips to his eyes, rubbing them to make sure he was really seeing. That card had left him unsettled, you realized, and hesitantly, you tried to take it from his hands to remove it from him, but his grip tightened at the feel of your fingers, so tight that it completely crumpled the paper. “Sorry. It’s nothing,” he stammered, seeing that the abrupt movement had scared you.

He got up from the bed, completely oblivious to you or anything else now. He staggered before reaching the door, very disturbed and seeming out of it. Maybe it was you who did something wrong and didn’t realize it?

He didn’t seem fit to walk, so you quickly removed the covers from your legs and went to him, supporting and guiding him to the chair where he had left his coat. He was very heavy, but he was so disoriented that he went limp. He seemed so shaken that he didn’t protest and simply sat there. You stood in front of him for a few seconds, not knowing what else to do to help him.

“Shouldn’t I call someone?” You asked.

“Dick,” he mumbled without looking at you, and that worried. It seemed intentional, as if it was too difficult to face you.

“Where do I find him?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of something, but Damian’s voice on the other side of the door caught his attention:

“S/n, open the door.” You stood still, recognizing your brother’s voice, until he continued: “Mom is here. She’s going to take you home,” he said as a warning, opening the door after a moment without even asking. “Come on. Why are you standing there like a statue?”

He was perplexed when you didn’t respond, and then he noticed his father sitting beside you in terror.

“Dad?” He approached, kneeling to assess the severity. He was having another episode. Lately, Bruce had only been getting worse every day and still refused to ask for help.

“What happened?” Your brother turned to you, but your face already showed that you had no idea.

Damian tried to place his hand on his shoulder, but Bruce pushed it away aggressively. Your father would never act like this just because of the argument they had before, much less give him a venomous look as he did now, but beneath it all, there was hurt. He had found out about you, somehow.

He should have felt bad about how the news seemed to have been revealed, but he was relieved not to have to lie anymore. At the same time, he regretted choosing to cater to his mother’s whims once again, deceiving his father this way. But the omission had grown so much over the years he spent in the mansion and, after so long, it didn’t matter when he told him, the damage was already done.

Bruce wasn’t in a perfect mental state. He wouldn’t react like this normally, and knowing that, the man felt pathetic in front of the two of you.

“He asked for Dick,” you said to Damian, giving him space to breathe by stepping back.

“Forget Dick,” Bruce replied firmly, surprising. In an instant, he had a fit, and as quickly as he entered this state, he left it. Now, he seemed furious. “Where is she?”

This was a ploy by Talia and Strange. They were planning this together to hit him, a way to weaken him. It could only be that. It was too much of a coincidence Strange had found you just that night; nothing made sense. When had he and Talia gotten involved again after that day that led to Damian? He couldn’t remember and wasn’t good at recalling such old things. Maybe that wasn't even true. It was as if there was a big blank page in his mind.

“Get out,” Talia’s silhouette appeared at the door where she was leaning. Like most times when referring to the children, her voice was imposing, leaving no room for contestation. “Both of you.”

“You were supposed to wait downstairs,” your brother tried to contradict her. Despite everything he did for your mother, unlike you, he was the only one who had the courage to face her.

Her frown deepened at Damian’s defiance, but her stern expression softened at your trembling voice: ‘Mom...’ She sighed and opened her arms to you, casting a challenging look at Bruce, who returned it with an even harsher one, while you clung to her smaller frame in a tight embrace.

She knelt to your level, her hands gently brushing your cheeks and hair, noting how frizzy and messy it was. ‘Look at you. Your hair is all disheveled.’ She ran a finger down to your lip, grimacing at the cut there.

‘I’m sorry.’ Although less anxious now that you knew she wasn’t angry, you still regretted disobeying her.

‘My sweet girl,’ she said in a soft, genuinely affectionate voice. She kissed your cheek, casting that same malicious glance at Bruce again, as if provoking him. He felt a wave of nausea seeing her use you as a pawn just to taunt him. ‘Let the adults talk,’ she ordered, standing up and regaining her authoritative tone.

‘I’m staying,’ Damian protested. Leaving his father alone with her in his vulnerable state was a mistake.

‘Go and stay with your sister, Damian,’ Bruce was as harsh as Talia, but unlike her, he was seething with anger.

The boy closed his eyes in frustration but gave in, knowing it was useless to argue. He glanced at you, who had already walked out of the room and into the hallway. Damian was about to follow, but his father’s voice stopped him again:

‘She’s not leaving the house, Damian,’ his firm tone carried the weight of undeniable authority, with bitterness seeping through. The coldness in his voice left no room for warmth; it was distant. Bruce had finally gotten the push he needed. The possibility of you being his daughter gave him a sense of entitlement, and it made Talia’s arrogant expression falter for a moment; she looked apprehensive. ‘Do you understand?’ It was a question directed at both his son and Talia.

‘Yes,’ the young man replied simply, avoiding eye contact with his mother as he left. Damian paused in front of the door before fully departing, and his mother slammed it shut in his face.

He resisted the urge to eavesdrop and turned to look for you in the hallway, but you had vanished.

‘I deserve this,’ he muttered impatiently. You were avoiding him, and Damian couldn’t help but feel irritated at how childish that was. But he was one of the villains here; he was the one who lied, insulted, and rejected you. Realizing this filled him with shame, and unlike the first time, he repeated the words, this time with a tone of regret: ‘Yes, I deserve this.’"

Tag list:

@lafrone @sylum @mileskisser @belowbreadcrumbs @riddle-me-im-sirius

@rafa-the-beautiful @shehrazadekey @fairuzwhat @bedeater @arianapjs

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The Misteryous Visitor Masterlist

On a cold, snowy dawn, a naive young girl knocks on the door of Wayne Manor in search of her brother, whom she hasn't seen in a long time.

⤿ Part 1 ⤿ Part 2 ⤿ Part 3 ⤿ Part 4 ⤿ Part 5 ⤿ Part 6

The Misteryous Visitor 5

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: The argument between Talia and Bruce is catastrophic from beginning to end, and while the whole truth is revealed, neither of them wants to let go of you. Strange was always a greater danger than he let on and was closer than he ever thought.

Warnings: Family discussion; meaningless kiss; aggression; blood; kidnapping; maternal possessiveness;

Word count: 4.5k

Note: Talia has a slightly different relationship with Bruce in my story compared to the canon, being more tense than the impression I got when I watched scenes between the two of them.

I forget to mention that English is not my first language, forgive me for any mistakes.

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

"Is it true?" Bruce asked quickly, barely giving Talia time to dare say anything before him. The woman rolled her eyes, still with her back to him, and prepared to maintain her confident pose.

She turned to face him and took a few moments to admire the vision, blatantly diverting her eyes to his lips and seeing how the messy shirt had given him a more fierce and attractive aura. Their relationship was complicated, that's a fact, but she could never stop finding the man in front of her charmingly handsome.

"You'll need to be more specific than that," Talia's voice dripped with a sweet and wicked tone as she walked toward him. Bruce violently stood up from the chair when he saw her hand reach towards him and imposed his height over hers to intimidate.

"Don't play the cynic." There was a suppressed fury in his tone, and she was sure he was using the last bit of self-control that still possessed.

"For heaven's sake, Bruce." Talia mocked, picking up the coat she had intended to grab from the beginning from the chair, having recognized it as yours. She grimaced as felt the damp fabric and dropped it in a corner of the room on the floor. The look she was receiving could burn her skin, and when she turned her face back to his, she realized how disturbed he was. "You look horrible. Strange really got into your head, didn't he?"

Talia saw him narrow his eyes with impatient indignation as he snorted. She found seeing him like this very peculiar and thought it would be fun to try and provoke.

The woman brought her face close to his, making her warm breath touch his chin provocatively while boldly wrapping her arms around the broad neck. She tested the waters, seeing how he remained still, and brushed her red lips along his jawline, then moved up until their mouths shared the same breath.

She was going to try to persuade, convince him that he was overthinking, and smiled inwardly when she saw Bruce become disconcerted for a second, completely unresponsive when she sealed their lips together. She managed to seduce him in that second to the point where, unconsciously, he moved his tongue with hers, but tasting her saliva brought him back to rationality.

He left her in complete shock when abruptly pushed her away and grabbed her face in an aggressive manner, squeezing the cheeks and making her squirm until eyes glazed over into his. “You repulse me.” Bruce spat and was glad to see her bold expression disappear. “Tell me once: she is mine?"

Talia tried to take his hand away with hers, but he seemed implacable, and didn't even move a finger out of place. He might be stronger, but she wasn't weak, and that was what made her let out an astonished sob.

"She is my daughter?!" He shouted, shaking her, no longer able to take the lack of response.

"Yes it is true." The confession made him let go of her finally, and she almost stumbled back with how sudden it was.

She massaged her face, seeking relief, and it didn't take long for her eyebrows to furrow in shock. Bruce felt no pity or regret, she deserved much more than he would ever have the courage to do.

"How?" By the way he looked, she knew there was no more room for lies or evasion. She had never seen him like this; Bruce had always been the most balanced man she had ever known in her entire life.

"She and Damian are twins," Talia responded immediately.

"Twins?" Bruce's voice sounded incredulous. He felt that even all the time in the universe wouldn't be enough to process that. It seemed simply unreal. "Why did you hide this? Why did you tell me about Damian and not about her?"

"Because you would have taken her from me!" She shouted, running her fingers over her face to check if her makeup had smeared. "I handed Damian over to you willingly, but if you had found out about him before, you would have brought him here just the same. And with her, it would be no different. You should be grateful to have had the boy."

"How dare you say such a thing?" Bruce threw the chair to the floor in a fit of rage, making a loud noise that echoed even outside the hallway. "And 'handed Damian over willingly'? You only did that because you felt pressured after your father died." He threw it in her face and suddenly remembered something: "You made that boy lie for you." He accused her.

Talia was silent for a brief moment, but her face showed nothing but contempt. "I did, yes." She admitted.

"What's the point of that? Was it just out of whim?" Bruce seemed fragile before her for the first time in so many years. For a moment, she glimpsed an old argument, from when they were still dating and didn't hide feelings from each other as they do today. "Do you hold that much resentment? You know very well why I dismissed the League of Assassins."

"Of course, Bruce. Your morals are too valuable, aren't they?" Talia replied with her chin up, not letting him affect her. "You think you're a good guy, a pure superhero like Superman. But I know you and I know how rotten you are inside. You are not as different from us as you think." She spewed the words in his face like venom.

"You wanted her to come here, didn't you? You and he planned all this?" Comprehension seemed to have hit Bruce, but that only left the woman confused.

"If it were up to me, you would never have discovered her existence. Why would I send her here?" The confession left him silent, not because he wasn't angry anymore, but because he was tired of hearing her voice; he simply couldn't believe anything Talia said. "She is my daughter. And I don't care what you're going to do now, but don't think you're going to drag her with you like you did with all those boys.”

"You think you can offer something better? You, the same person who left her in the hands of that sicko, consider yourself a better option?" Bruce insinuated this with a firmness that made it clear he had no doubt Talia was cooperating with Strange, making her eyes turn red. She could hear many insults from him, but insinuating that she had put you at risk was something entirely different. "You can be sure you won't lay another finger on her."

She knew Bruce was serious, and that he could actually prevent any future contact betwedn you and her. She wanted to kill him right now out of sheer hatred, but she was smart and knew that acting impulsively wouldn't solve anything. So, reluctantly, she tried to change the tone of the discussion to a neutral one. There was no way she could leave without giving him explanations, and if she tried, he would stop her.

"Maybe Strange had been threatening me for some time, possibly before deciding to appear publicly again and attack you." There was a slight irony of indignation in her words. Her gaze was firm and her green eyes shining with the intensity of someone defending their own honor. "Let it be clear: I didn't help anyone; I was as much a victim of this as you were."

"Victim?" Bruce retorted with disdain.

"This threat wasn't for you, Bruce, it was for me. Today you didn't lose anything, quite the opposite." She ignored the acidic tone and continued. "Maybe this contributed to some kind of psychological game Strange is playing against you, but it must be just a bonus."

"Why is he threatening you?" The question contained no compassion or empathy, but it didn't matter to her to receive that kind of consideration from him.

"What did he do to you?" Talia ignored the question, and as a form of childish revenge, he did the same. She sighed and tried a different approach: "If you tell me, I'll tell you too." She needed to know to try to understand the depth of Strange's current intentions or at least get some clue about the plan he was plotting because although she wouldn't say it to Bruce, she was also trying to catch him.

"A photo of my parents," he confessed, trying to sound indifferent before continuing, "Photos of the boys, of Alfred..." Bruce left the sentence hanging in the air and didn't proceed. He would never say more than he deemed necessary to her.

"Damian too?" She asked, worried about her son, and saw Bruce nod affirmatively. Bruce calmly unwrinkled a card while handing it to her.

"He asked her to deliver this to me today." His tone was serious, revealing a determination to deal with the situation pragmatically and directly.

Talia repeated those printed words several times, and every hair on her body stood on end all at once. "Did she…?"

"She didn't read it." He said curtly. "But what I don't understand is how all this seems so convenient and you claim to have nothing to do with it. He had this card perfectly prepared."

"Knowing him well, he must have been waiting for an opportunity for many days, or he induced this to happen somehow." She reflected, scratching the fine texture with her nails right where the text was printed to the point of making it illegible. "The letter that Damian said she picked up took longer to arrive than the others; it must have ended up with him at some point."

"How could he be so close, and you didn't notice?" His voice became aggressive again, the same beastly rage returning.

"I did notice! I just didn't imagine Strange interested in her; I thought it was about Damian. So, I didn't worry because he wasn't with me; he was with you." She raised her voice, trying to match his volume. "Strange has been sending me coded messages. Threats that had nothing to do with my daughter. I thought he didn't know she was yours and therefore wouldn't care about her." She finished, and Bruce clenched his jaw, observing how she increasingly emphasized the expression "my daughter," excluding him.

"Threats related to Damian?" He asked. His muscles were tense and sore, but he endured the discomfort if it meant clarifying everything once and for all. "And, of course, you never considered telling me."

"This started long before I left him with you, Bruce. They were still children." Talia said, growing increasingly frustrated with the conversation.

"What could Damian have done to him as a child?"

"Damian ended up leaving Strange with one less eye. He was already pursuing him because of you, but after losing an eye, all he wanted was revenge." She walked to the bed, leaning on the arms while crossing her legs. A very characteristic gesture of her behavior, which was highlighted when she wore her extravagant dresses, but the cold pants she wore made the movements relaxed. "He was a child; he didn't do it on purpose. He was just protecting his sister."

"How could Strange have known about Damian for so long and not about her? What you're saying doesn't make any sense, Talia." Bruce was frantic, and after a brief moment of melancholy, she sighed:

"I blame my father for this." Her voice almost wavered in front of him, but being the proud person she was, she quickly composed herself.

“What did Ra’s do?” He threw the question into the air, laden with apprehension.

The room plunged into a disturbing silence. Talia remained motionless, while the sound of Bruce's heavy breathing was the only thing breaking the void in the atmosphere. For a brief moment, her eyes met his and captured the storm of emotions brewing there: betrayal, despair, expectation.

She did not fear him, but rather how he might react to this. You were there, nearby, in the hallway, and the last thing she wanted was for the primal figure Bruce was becoming to explode and expel her, taking you to him. Moreover, she needed to remind herself that she was at a disadvantage there. It wasn't just Bruce she would face if things turned worse or physical, but everyone else in the house.

“What did he do, Talia?” Bruce growled, repeating the question with intensity.

She stared at the floor, fully aware that her next words would turn against her later, but at this point, he needed to know. Strange was out there, and he was still as much of a psychopath obsessed with Batman as before, meaning he wouldn’t rest until he managed to take Bruce’s place as a vigilante. So, with a low but icy voice, she moved her mouth to tell him the truth:

“Years ago, Strange sought out the League of Assassins. That lunatic was always smart and somehow discovered the rift between you and my father.” The mention of such an old event took Bruce by surprise. He slightly recoiled and his eyebrows raised, but he restrained himself from interrupting her. “He wanted the League to help him defeat you and vice versa. My father was suspicious, but he was so resentful that he agreed. Your betrayal was still fresh to us.”

“And of course it went wrong, didn’t it?” He asked with implicit sarcasm.

“Strange was so cunning that he managed to manipulate him to his advantage. He provided us with precise and important information about you, but after a while, he wanted to advise my father on how to act. That’s when I started to hate him, realizing how he was controlling.” She shook her head in denial, recalling the memory with bitterness, and continued:

“My father trusted him so much that he allowed Strange to infiltrate us more and more, until one day, by chance, he found damian in Nanda Parbat. Strange was nosy and curious; he tried to extract the information from me, but discovered on his own that you were his father.” Talia blew a strand of hair that fell on her face and decided to add the next part with acidity: “Strange was so fascinated by this that he made an absurd request. We denied it, and then he rebelled against us. Of course, that incompetent couldn’t accomplish anything, and then disappeared, as he always does when things go wrong.”

“Ra’s and Strange working together?” Bruce asked himself. He could never have imagined that two such distinct people could have had a relationship like that in the past. “And what did he ask for?”

“He was obsessed with surpassing you, but it wasn’t just that, he wanted to be you and have everything that was yours. He asked to raise Damian as if he were his own son, can you believe it? Luckily, Y/n never set foot in Nanda Parbat, so he didn’t discover her in that time.” She paused for a moment, reliving the events. “He wanted to prove that he could raise him and make a better Robin. Strange has known your identities much longer than you think; he knew the real Robin was your adopted son.”

Bruce’s face contorted in an expression of disbelief. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his mouth opened as if about to say something, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. He blinked a few times, needing to assimilate what he had heard. “If he never saw her before, how did all this happen?”

“A few years later, when my father hadn’t been dead for long, I returned to live in Gotham City with Y/n, and Strange found out Damian was here too and broke into the apartment where we were. He intended to kidnap Damian, but he used to share a room with his sister, and by mistake, Strange went to her bed.” She spoke with a heavy voice, the last sentence sending chills down her spine, but she persisted:

“I woke up to her frightened scream and a loud noise. I ran and when I saw it was him, I had no mercy. He is intelligent, but sometimes he is blinded by his own obsession and do stupid things. He was already bleeding, with a pencil piercing one of his eyes, thanks to Damian, then fled through the living room. I didn’t initially chase after him because I wanted to make sure Damian was okay; the problem was I hadn’t realized that Y/n wasn’t in the room. Damian had distracted Strange to let his sister escape, and because of my delay, he took her.”

Talia seemed to be in a trance. Each word weighed on her chest like lead, yet she threw them out as if they were disposable. Her usually confident and determined eyes didn’t know where to look. Sitting rigidly on the bed, her imposing posture didn’t waver, as her pride didn’t allow her to show weakness.

“What did he do?” Bruce throat tightened, as if the air was rarefied, as he waited for the answer. Talia might think otherwise, but he could see through her facade. And despite it being selfish to say this, he couldn’t feel a shred of concern for her, especially when someone more important to him was now involved.

After standing for so long, Bruce sat on the bed next to her. He reflected on the sad incident, deeply disturbed. He blamed her. He blamed her for her character, for lying so much, and for hiding from him that his children were in danger. He was grateful that she had fallen silent for a few seconds, as he was mentally preparing himself for a grim scenario, one he wasn’t yet ready to face.

“What happened to her?” He asked, seeing that she wasn’t showing signs of speaking, trying to prompt her to continue.

"Strange carried her through the city, desperately fleeing from me until he ended up in an alley. He encountered a group of drunks who surrounded and wanted to rob him. He's not a good fighter, you already know that, and like a damn coward, he threw her into their midst as a distraction while he escaped again.”

“Unbelievable…” Bruce massaged his eyebrows with his eyes closed, visibly upset. He pressed his temples hard, as if trying to dispel the accumulated frustration. After a deep breath, he suddenly exploded in a shout of frustration and anger, just like at the beginning. “You should have contacted me!"

“Are you trying to blame me?!” She asked indignantly.

"She didn't seem to recognize him when she spoke to me just now. It sounded like she was talking about a random stranger." Bruce was confused.

"I don't know if she would recognize him again, she never wanted to talk to me about that day. And I never mentioned Hugo Strange either, everything she knows about him she sees on the news."

“You and your father are the worst kind of people I could have gotten involved with,” Bruce said, his voice dangerously low this time. “If it weren't for Ra's, Strange would never have gotten close to them. If it weren't for your stupid lie, nothing you just said would have happened. And I don't even want to imagine what the hell happened after that!”

"You would have made sure nothing like that happened, wouldn't you, Bruce? You talk about it with such certainty, but weren't you the one who let the Joker do something similar to that kid… Is Jason his name?" A menção dela a algo assim fez os ouvidos de Bruce ficarem surdos. Ele podia ouvir claramente o som de seu coração batendo dentro do peito, até que a voz nojenta dela soou novamente: "You would have put her in the same disgrace!"

Bruce lost the control he tried so hard to maintain from the beginning. He threw the lamp next to him into the headboard on the wall. The movement was so violent that the wire connecting the object to the socket broke in a strange way and the entire glass part broke into several pieces. The noise was thunderous, and even when he stood up with a piercing look at her, Talia continued with her laughing face, enjoying watching him go crazy.

“Don't try to compare the two things. You didn’t tell me about Strange before because you were embarrassed. It's too hard for you to admit that you can fail. Besides, you always liked having someone to control, to manipulate at your pleasure. You did this to her, didn't you? And even then, you’re not satisfied. You continued to torment Damian, using him.” Bruce took a deep breath.“I thought you cared about him.”

Talia got up too and lifted her chin, her eyes shining with defiance. “You understand nothing, Bruce,” she responded with a firm and cutting voice. “Everything I did was to protect them both. I explained my reasons to you. Do you think hiding them was just my decision? My father would never have allowed it, and I won't deny that I wasn’t against him, but it didn’t depend solely on me. You, with your inflexible morality and your rules, would never understand.”

“Don’t give me that,” Bruce growled, his gaze fixed and penetrating. “You branded the girl with your initials like she was cattle. It was never about protection; it’s possessiveness.”

Like him, Talia stood up. “I may be a woman of whims, as you like to say, but I didn’t hide anything because I was embarrassed”

Talia paused, her voice softening but not positively. “And as for tormenting him… I trained him, prepared him for the cruel world we live in. Do you think you could keep him safe with your mild methods? He needs to be strong, needs to be able to survive, and in those years I taught him to protect her because no one else would. My father didn’t care about a granddaughter; he finally had the male heir he wanted. I had to meet his demands to make Damian perfect, and that allowed me the freedom to raise her away from all that. What I could do, I did. And what I wanted to do, I also did. And I’d do it all again.”

“You always think you did everything right, but everything you’ve said only proves how misguided you are. I remember I gave you a choice, Talia. I told you that you could abandon the League of Assassins and come with me. I told you that your father didn't need to control your life forever,” Bruce said, his voice laden with disdain. “You will never come near her again. You’ll have to go over my dead body first.”

Talia narrowed her eyes in contempt. “Do you really think you can stop me?” Her voice was low and controlled, but each word carried significant weight. “You always saw the world in black and white. Do you really think it was so simple to abandon my entire life and devotion for you, a mere fleeting romance? If you think it’s that easy to give up everything, I challenge you to abandon Batman right now. After all, it’s because of this secret identity of yours that all this started, isn’t it? Isn’t it as easy as that, Bruce?”

She took a step forward, facing him without wavering. “I can repeat it as many times as you want: I am a criminal, I am selfish, and whatever else you want me to say, but the only hypocrite in this room is you.” Her eyes shone with determination, while his wavered before her.

Bruce hardened his expression, sadness hitting him. He wanted to accuse her of being a low person, but deep in his conscience, he feared it was true. But he wouldn’t allow himself to be deceived; she was still the wrong one here. She was the one who completely distorted the situation, making herself the victim and trying to justify everything she did, turning him into the villain of the story.

“Talia, I never wanted you to be any of these things,” he began, his voice laden with anguish. He felt bitterness looking at her face now, as it painfully reminded him of the time when he had been deeply in love with this same woman. “I wanted to believe you could change, that you would be different from your father. But every choice you made, every lie you told… Our relationship was unsustainable, and now the only thing I feel for you is remorse.”

He closed the last distance between them, imposing himself with a somber aura. “Your actions, your alliances… they put her at risk. My duty as a father is to protect her, and I can’t ignore the danger you represent. I never wanted it to come to this, Talia. But if keeping her safe means keeping her away from you, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Talia clenched her fists, her expression hardening even more. “Do you think I didn’t want to protect her too?” Her voice became silky. There was a dark delight in how the words dragged, a subtle poison hidden in each intonation. “You talk about protecting her, but she needs more than simple physical protection. She needs a mother, someone who understands the complexity of her feelings.”

“Look at yourself for a moment, Bruce,” said Talia, her voice icy and full of disdain. “You’re losing your composure. Do you really think she’ll like finding out that her father is this weak and ridiculous man you’ve become?”

The woman took a step forward, fixing her eyes on his with a challenging gleam. “The only thing she’ll feel for you is shame.”

"Do you really think you can tell me who I've become?" He paused, swallowing hard. "I didn't want it to come to this, Talia, but if you don't leave voluntarily, I'll be forced to tell that girl everything you've done. And then we'll let her decide."

He intensified the confrontation, provoking her: "Are you sure she would still choose you after so many lies? After everything you've hidden from her?" His eyes darkened, pupils dilated by the dim light in the room. "Value the good image she still has of you."

Talia was momentarily silent, her eyes meeting Bruce's with a genuine expression of concern. She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice a bit more dangerous than before. "Would you really do that? Tell her everything?"

Bruce replied firmly, maintaining his serious gaze on hers. "It's what I must do, regardless of everything. Continuing to hide things isn't right. But if the only way for you to leave more easily is under this condition, then go now."

Talia took a few steps back, her serious expression showing shock and worry. Her thoughts repeated Bruce's ultimatum continuously, knowing you would not react well to it.

You were a smart girl, but emotionally very fragile. Your bonds of trust were limited to her and your brother, and you two had been apart for so long that having your relationship with your mother destroyed in this way would leave a huge scar on your heart. This would be the best choice, both for her and for you if Talia didn't want everything to fall apart.

She turned towards the bedroom hallway, as if seeking a moment to ponder the consequences. After a moment, she turned her gaze back to Bruce, her shoulders slightly lower. "You are not going to involve her in your vigilante life." It wasn't a request, it was a warning, and Bruce didn't contest it to avoid further conflict. Understanding that she had decided to leave was enough to reassure him.

"I didn't mean to." He walked past her, picking up your coat she had thrown on the floor earlier, checking carefully that it hadn't been damaged by the broken lampshade, and lifting the chair to let the piece dry once more.

"You know where the exit is; don't take too long." Without bothering to be polite, he quickly opened the door, leaving her standing there. He knew she would really leave after seeing how she reacted. She wouldn't risk irritating him by taking longer than necessary.

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The forgotten Twin’s birthday

L“Sorry, can’t make dance tonight busy with the boys”

You looked away from your phone and around your room annoyed at the fact that your father blew off your father-daughter date to train with the boys (mainly Damian) you shrugged and placed the phone back onto your bed.

This wasn’t the first time he had done this, hell even the boys blew you off but at least Bruce had the common decency to at least text you and not have you embarrass yourself.

So you decided to just go into the library and try to read to calm your thoughts which is what you did, on your way there you bumped into Alfred who was making his way down the hallway, probably to deleive bandages to Bruce or check on Tim to see how much caffeine he had had.

“Oh, Madam Wayne my apologies I did not see you” the butler apologies with a slight bow, you felt your lip twich up into a slight smile at the butler. Alfred was the only one in the family who actually cared about you no matter how silly or embarrassing the situation was.

“No no it’s fine Alfred i wasn’t watching where I was going, do you need help with anything at the moment”

“No Madam Wayne, I do want to wish you a happy birthday tho, I can’t believe you are now Sixteen” he said with a small smile which made you pause…Alfred..actually remembered?. You looked up at him with a small smile and thanked him before heading towards the library to do some light reading.

~later that night~

You were in your room scrolling through Instagram only to see a bunch of sappy happy family’s and other people celebrating their own birthdays or the girls at your school having fun at the dance with their own dads.

Shrugging and closing the app you threw your phone to the foot of your bed before getting up and stretching deciding to head downstairs to see if your so called family was back home from patrolling the shit city you lived in.

As you walked down the stairs you could hear voices…singing?, you quickly yet quietly continued down the stairs and peeked around the corner only to see the others along with Jon singing happy birthday to Damian, he was looking down to hide the small blush of embarrassment that appeared on his cheeks.

You just stood there…watching them sing to him before you felt something wet your cheeks, you lifted your hands to your face to feel what the wetness was only to realise it was tears…you were crying but you didn’t feel sad. You turned around and went back upstairs not seeing the confused yet concerned look that Jon sent your way.

“Kent? What is wrong with you why do you look concerned?” Damian questioned looking at Jon with a slight eyebrow raise

Jon looked at Damian, then to the others and that’s when he realised…did…did no one else remember it was also your birthday?, is that why why you had teary eyes. He looked at the entire family confused.

“Did you know..?”

“Know what Jon?” Dick said raising his eyebrow with confusion, the fact that he didn’t know pissed Jon off a little.

“The fact that it’s also y/n’s birthday?” He said in a tone that sounded as it should have been obvious what the thing they forgotten was.

When he saw non of them react to his words he stood up and sighed, he then turned to Bruce.

“Mr Wayne I have a lot of respect for you but…what you did was shitty, she’s your daughter and you Damian” he said turning to the now shocked Damian as Jon was never known for cursing

“She is your twin! I would have expected to you to have at least had the common decency to say happy birthday to her…but she’s not your sister to you is she..” he trailed off and started walking to the staircase.

He paused, turned his head to the Men in the room with a slight glare in his eyes and said

“She was never your sister, nor was she ever your daughter..at least not in your eyes because clearly in your eyes she was nothing” before turning back to the stairs and heading up them.

~With you~

You were sitting on your bed, a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other only taking small sips of the the beverage that Alfred had left you with a small birthday note and a plate of his delicious home made cookies. You looked up hearing a knock on your door, you placed your tea down and put your bookmark in before going up to your bedroom door and unlocking it.

You opened it to see…Jon?, he was standing there with that same adorable awkward smile that you had grown to love, aside from Alfred Jon was also there for you when needed him to be even if it meant waking him up at the crack of dawn to get burgers with you.

“Hey Jon..what’s up?”

“Happy birthday Y/N!” He yelled and pulled you into a hug smiling, you felt yourself tense up at first not knowing how to react…he..he remembered..?, you slowly raise your arms and hug him back burying your face into his neck and softly began to sob letting out all the pain and frustration you had been feeling that day.

He tightened his grip onto you slowing rubbing your back with one hand while the other held onto your waist, he knew that sometimes they family would ignore you but to this extent..? He sighed and continued to rub your back letting you sob until he felt you go limp, he looked down and saw you had passed out.

He stared down at your face admiring your features, you had a slight redness to your eyes but he still thought you looked beautiful, he kept staring until his gaze fell to your soft lips slightly parted because of your staggered breathing.

“No…no stop it Jon she’s your best friend”

he scolded himself in his mind but…he couldn’t stop looking at your face and gently placed a soft kiss upon your forehead before bringing you to bed and laying down with you, he tensed up feeling someone grab onto his arm only to look down and see you cuddled up to his arm with a small soft smile in your sleep.

~back downstairs~

No one’s pov: (IK this is probably annoying but I can’t do personal pov’s yet lol)

The boys sat at the table saying nothing and just continued to stare at the staircase when Jon had previously stood and scolded them, had they really forgotten that it was also your birthday? No they couldn’t have…could they?

“I see you boys finally understood why Miss Wayne has been upset recently” Alfred’s voice spoke from the entrance way to the kitchen, no one looked at him simply confirming his statement.

“She…we…I-I..it’s not” Dick stuttered trying to come up with an excuse but stopped when he realised that they had indeed forgotten your birthday and they felt horrible. Damian stared at the cake feeling angry but not at you for once…he felt it at himself, he remembered the promise he had made to you…the promise to make sure he protected you and was an actual brother to you but instead he did nothing, he simply trained with Bruce and the boys never inviting you.

“Wait…her birthdays today and she’s Damian’s twin meaning she’s sixteen…didn’t she invite us to her to her play yesterday…?” Jason spoke up making them all realise…when was the last time any of them actually acknowledge you and that’s when they realise..

They never went to the play

Dick didn’t show you some of his old tricks like you had begged him to

Tim hadn’t come and watched Game of Thrones with you after training like he promised

Jason didn’t go to your lunch date that you set up

Damian…he couldn’t remember the last he was with you in this house doing something together like normal twins

And…

And Bruce realises..he had cancelled his plans of going to the father daughter dance at your school with you. None of them actually spent time with you since you arrived only focusing on each other.

They were horrible brothers and they were finally realising it which also made them realise that you might never forgive them and they couldn’t have it so they made a silent promised to make sure that tomorrow was going to be the best make up birthday ever.

The Misteryous Visitor 6

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

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

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

Word count: 4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is he?” Alfred asked, worried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Master Damian?” The butler asked the boy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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@m4chine-girl @kellyyn02 @urminebutidontwantyou

Oh Sister of Mine - Chapter 7

Right Now

Dogs are odd. And Y/n is unsure why they feel such a way. Titus, is odd. Yet that toy, you like playing with him.

Warning: Death, blood, injury, an injured stray dog.

Word count: 1k

Damian’s dog, Titus, was a weird creature in your view. Walks on four legs, clipped ears that stood tall, jet black fur, sharp teeth, strong jaw and limbs.

You looked down at the dog who was lying on the floor. Calm, head laid between his front legs, back legs curled out to the side. You looked to the front of your bed. Thoughts rolling through your head.

Damian had come to visit you and drop off a glass of water, leaving Titus with you as somewhat of a guard.

You let out a breath, looking back to Titus who looked to you at the sound of your breath.

You both stared at the other before Titus finally put his head back down.

Your gaze drifted a little bit away from him to a toy that was on the floor. It was shaped like a dog bone.

You licked your lips, moving so your legs were hanging off of the bed now. You reached for the cup of water on the bedside table Damian had brought for you. You took a sip while setting your feet on the floor before you put the water back.

Damian had told you before he left. Titus was a sweet dog. A protector. He wouldn’t hurt you and he would love to be pet.

Titus was always there when Damian was, apart from a few times. He was a quiet dog, obeyed well.

In a way, he’s your twin.

Quiet. Well trained. Strong. Loyal. Protective.

“Ti..” Your voice shook before you shut your mouth tight. Lips refusing to break apart as your bottom one wobbled a bit.

Titus looked up. Looked at you. Stared. Waited patiently.

“Ti.. Tu.” You bit your lip while staring back at him. “Ti.. ‘S.” His head tilted. “Ti. us.” Your brows furrowed with your struggle. “Ti.” You stopped. Letting out a breath of frustration before you raised a hand, pointing to the toy.

Titus looked to where your finger pointed. Stared at it for a second before getting up with a stretch of his legs with a downward dog. He stood up, sniffing at the toy before grabbing it in his mouth and moving to walk to the side of your bed.

You watched silently as he dropped the toy next to you on the bed. You stared at it for a beat before looking at him.

You began to reach out before hesitating, stopping yourself. Hand hovering a bit above his head.

The dog didn’t move. Not closer. Not farther. He just stared up at you. Eyes trained directly on you.

You let out a soft breath, slowly and somewhat shakily letting your hand connect with his head. Holding it there for a moment before trailing your thumb against his soft fur.

Your lips parted as you felt his fur.

It was soft, but it was dense. You couldn’t see his skin. It was like some type of armor.

You had armor. The walls around your heart. The electricity you use to fight.

His armor is his fur. His teeth. Strength. Size.

You were alike in a way.

Two dogs working for masters.

But your difference is this.

Your master, he’s cruel. He’s mean, relentless, merciless.

And his master. He cares about him.

“Ti.. T-Tu.. T-Ti-t-us.” you let out a breath, staring into the dog’s patient eyes. “T-Ti-tus. Titus.” you froze. It wasn’t the best said, but. You said it. “Titus.” You repeated it, then once his.

The dog’s tail started to wag, not fast, but a steady rhythm. Like he was proud of you or something.

Your eyes were wide. Blood. There was blood everywhere. Your hands, face, the alley wall and ground. The rain and blood seeping together on the disgusting ground.

The man dead at your feet, his eyes lifeless, body cold. Heart stopped.

Your gaze drifted to a movement in the shadows of the alley. You were still, not moving a muscle. You watched as a figure emerged. Four legs, walking on all of them. One held in the air.

You looked further towards the figure. A canine. A mutt. A mongrel.

Limping. A guarded look in its eyes.

The two of you stared at each other.

Finally, you turned on your heel, beginning to walk away.

And the mutt watched you, ears that were originally held back in its suspicion, popping up onto its head. One had a chunk taken out of it.

The both of you, so alike, yet so different.

Both distant, closed off. Scared..

You grabbed the rubber toy Titus had brought to you like you wanted him to.

You inspected it. A light green rubber, shaped in a large bone. Titus sniffed at the end closest to his face before he went to open his mouth.

You saw him open it, and your blood ran cold, you pulled the toy quick, raising it away from him.

The both of you stared at each other. Him calm, and you calming down from your panic.

Titus seemingly understood you. Understood he needed to be patient with you, just like how Damian and Cassandra knew the same.

You took in his calm aura, slowly realizing, you didn’t need to be so guarded around the big dog.

Slowly, you let the toy come closer to the dog, to his mouth. And he took a moment to see what you would do before he let teeth sink into the rubber of the toy. He pulled gently at first, watching you carefully.

Your grip tightened when he pulled gently. And you pulled back with the same force. Cautiously.

He pulled again, then again, and you pulled back. Then he tried to yank it.

But you didn’t react to his yank. Not greatly, anyway. You were cautious, still. Yanking it back before he started to get a bit more rambunctious, and you as well.

Titus was patient. And sweet. And protective.

And; he’s just what you needed to take your next step out of the perfectly crafted fortress you spent all of your life in.

That stupid smile. You barely even realized it slipped onto your lips as you pulled the toy towards yourself. His tail was wagging, eyes wide. You could almost see the happiness.

His growl. It was a low rumble. One that, before, you would have taken as a threat.

You weren’t sure why you didn’t take it as one. But you weren’t focusing on that.

You could read into it later. Wonder about it later.

Right now. In the present. In the real world. You were playing with a dog.

<- Chapter 6 Chapter 8 ->

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We Stan Alfred

The Birds, The Bees, And The Bats  -  Batfam x Reader

“Batsis comes home with a hickey and the boys trying to give her “the talk” but it’s really just cringe + they always ask for the name of the boy and when its over she goes to alfred and is like ‘one day i will tell them it’s a girl’ ”

YES YES YES YES YES! ANON YOU’RE A GENIUS THIS IS GOLD! Hope you enjoy!

Please ignore any typos and stuff this is part of my morning of shorts and headcanons!

“Y/N can you come over here real quick?” Tim was sitting with Dick on the couch in the foyer, he rarely beckoned you to his call. “Yes Master Timothy what can I do for you” you grinned trying your best Alfred accent. “Oh nothing.. OH WOW LOOK OVER THERE!” Tim shouted, your head whipping to try to look at whatever he was point at.

“FAMILY EMERGENCY Y/N HAS A FUCKING HICKEY” Tim screeched, your hand going to your neck, feeling the light bruises and mentally cursing yourself for forgetting about your love bites. You heard an almost war-like battle cry as Damian burst down the stairs, katana in hand “where is he” Dami hissed, eye’s slit, looking for the perpetrator. 

“Jeez you guys are so dramatic! Don’t pretend like you think dear y/n has never had sex before!” Dick cooed, Tim and Damian covering their ears cringing. “Can a girl live in peace in this house” you groaned, walking towards your room when a literal batarang stopped your path. “Are you hurt? Don’t move, just tell me the name” Damian had appeared right night to you, scanning you for bruises or anything that signifies a reason to beat someone up on your behalf. “Dami stop it but y/n come back here!” Dick motioned you back to the couch, waiting for you to sit down. 

“Damian go upstairs, Tim you should probably stay- Dami I mean it” Dick waited for a pissed off Damian to stomp upstairs before he started with his talk. “Now you both are at the age where- obviously, you’re feeling things for other peo-” Tim’s eyes widened “OH MY GOD DICK ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE US A SEX TALK” your face flushed, trying to will yourself to teleport to a different dimension. 

“Yeah, I am, and you’re gonna sit here and listen to it” Dick used his “don’t mess with me” voice, freezing you and Tim in place as he continued. “Now I won’t bore you with the details because as y/n has demonstrated there has already been some activities. But, I feel I need to remind you of the importance of contraception, I am not ready to be an uncle. Timothy please do not get anyone pregnant we don’t need another Jason scandal, y/n please be careful I don’t think Damian’s fragile brain could take it, now because I am the cool brother I always have condoms on me, here, please use them” Dick finished the talk by pulling out his. wallet, giving you and Tim each three condoms to your disgust and embarrassment. “Now run along kids!” Dick grinned, clearly proud of himself for correctly fathering his siblings.

Dick got up first, walking towards the BatCave as Tim leaned to you, half laughing half embarrassed. 

“Dude when should we tell him we’re both gay?” you laughed, but stopped at the sound of a teacup shattering. Alfred stood in the corner, his shock turning to excitement. “Master Tim and Miss Y/N this is news to me, come I must make cakes in celebration, tell me- what colors should they be?” 

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Just Batfam tingz pt 2 ft: batsis. Or bro 🤷

Jason: I dont wanna talk about it

Dick: You sure? I'm a pretty good listener

Jason: Then why didn't you hear me say I don't wanna talk about it

Source: Young Sheldon

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*On a mission*

Tim : if this works then this will be the best day of my entire life

Y/n : damn, your life must really suck.

Source : regular show

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Bruce: Wait you all read (Y/n)'s diary?

Tim : Yeah

Jason: Uh huh

Damian: *Tsk*, what I can stomach

Dick: Oh I just skim through it, to make sure they're not on drugs.

Bruce: W-What does it say?

Dick: It's says "I am not on drugs"

Source: Bob's burgers

____

Bruce : (Y/n) sometimes life is hard

Y/n : Bruce sometimes you're a piece of shit.

Source: trailer park boys

____

*Red Hood on the News *

Red hood: Yep it was tough, but I can't take all the credit I had a little help from two others.

*Nightwing and (Y/n) in the background*: 😀

Red hood: from my left gun and my right gun 🥰

*Nightwing and (Y/n) in the background*: 😑

Source: bob's burgers

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