#yandere damian wayne
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Blowing Raspberries Part 2
Batfam x Male!Reader Platonic
@jaythes1mp Finally the 2nd part is out! A bit short but I genuinely felt there wasn't much needed.
Part 1
TW: Child Neglect and just Yandere themes
Living full time with the Waynes was different. It shouldn’t be, because he’s lived here before. Even if it wasn’t permanent, he still knew the ins and outs of the manor and the daily lives of each member of this family.
He watched the television numbly, feeling Dick’s fingers carding through his hair and twisting and twirling each lock. The difference was the Wayne family. Underneath the smiles and gentle gestures, Y/N could see the underlying desires and wants in each movement. A desire that Y/N has seen art collectors view paintings that are not in their collection. The want and need to have it with them at all times.
Y/N could almost see it. In their eyes, he was no longer the brother that came and went, but now a piece of the collection that they had bought from the original collector.
‘I’m being dramatic.’ Y/N thought, focusing back on the movie and trying to ease his fears about everything. Just because they bought the company,which he was still better about, does not mean they own him. They would never do that to him.
He also believed that about them buying the company.
“Y/N, is everything okay?” Dick asked, peering down at his older brother who was looking dazed. Y/N smiled, “Just thinking.”
“About what? Maybe I can help.” Y/N smiled and Dick, and when Dick smiled back, there was absolutely no way that Dick could do that to him.
“About this situation.” Dick looked confused momentarily, “What situation?” Y/N blinked in shock, digesting the words before slowly sitting up so he could face his brother, “This situation. Me being here indefinitely now, the family company is no longer mine…”
Dick cocked his head to the side, “There’s nothing to think about though.” Y/N’s smile was tense as he processed what Dick said, “Yes. Yes, there is Dick.” Blue eyes continued to stare at him in confusion, “Like what?”
“...Seriously?” Y/N sat up, and for a minute, he felt Dick’s hands tighten in his hair before they let go. Dick furrowed his brow before realization crashed into him, “Oh! You mean living here!” Before Y/N could say anything, Dick leaned against Y/N’s shoulder, “What’s there to think about? The only difference is that you are now living here 24/7.”
Y/N chuckled, “Just because you guys bought the company doesn’t mean I live here.” Dick’s gaze turned cold before he began pouting, and Y/N had wondered if he momentarily hallucinated it. Dick let out a loud groan, “But you can’t leave! Y/N, what on earth are we going to do?” Y/N laughed, “The same you have always done, Dickie. Besides, for what it is worth, I’ll be here for a few more days.” Dick smiled up at him, “You better be. Dropping contact like that.” There was something dark in his voice that Y/N chalked up to him still being upset.
Y/N continued to chuckle, his attention now returning back to the t.v. They watched it together for hours, browsing through different channels and watching different shows. It was just like when they were younger, Dick leaning against Y/N who flicked through the channels. Only now, there was an arm strategically looped with Y/N’s, and the man could feel the muscles underneath Dick’s skin that although weren’t flexed, they were a little tense.
Almost like Dick was expecting Y/N to leave. It was kind of unsettling.
“Master Y/N, your father is on the phone.” Y/N looked up at Alfred with a confused look, “Okay, thank you Alfie.” Dick’s grip tightened momentarily before he released his hold and let Y/N get up from the couch. Alfred passed the phone to Y/N, and he had a moment of confusion as to why his father called the Wayne landline instead of Y/N’s phone
“Hello?”
‘Why the hell aren’t you picking up your phone?!’ Y/N pulled the phone away from the phone momentarily, letting his ears ring before placing the phone next to his other ear, “What are you talking about? You haven’t called.”
‘Do not lie to me Y/N! I have been calling you for days, and I expect an answer!’ Y/N’s face morphed into confusion as he pulled out his phone and looked at his notifications, “Father, I am seeing no calls from you.” Y/N flicked through their messages, phone logs, even voicemail but there was nothing.
He heard his father sigh irritably on the other side of the line, and Y/N fought back a shiver. Taking a deep breath, Y/N stilled his racing heart and continued the conversation, “Okay, since you have me on the phone, what is it that you wanted to talk about?”
‘The bloody Waynes!’ There was no way Dick didn’t hear it, but a quick glance at the man and he was on his phone. Returning his attention to the call, Y/N’s father was still screeching and yelling about the family.
‘-and you! You probably helped them out with that!’
“Me?!”
‘Yes you! You don’t think I don’t know about you running to that manor whenever I am gone? Ridiculous! It is your fault the company was bought!’ Y/N felt heat rise to his cheeks and fire lit in his chest, “You were the one who signed the papers! How is it my fault?”
‘You idiot! Do you think I had a choice?! If it weren’t for you, that company would still be mine!’
“What do you mean you didn’t have a choice?” Before he could answer, another person joined in on the call, ‘Mr. L/N, to what do I owe the pleasure of you having called my manor phone?’
‘Mr.-Mr. Wayne.’
“Bruce?” He could hear the other hum, ‘Y/N, you can hop off. I need to talk to Mr. L/N.’ The heat in Y/N’s chest dimmed, and instead ice began to fill his veins, “Um, no it’s okay Bruce. I can talk to him–”
‘Y/N.’ There’s a way he said it, one that left no room for arguments, that had Y/N blinking in shock. His body frozen and eyes wide, he pressed the button without really thinking about it. It wasn’t Bruce who said his name, but Batman.
Y/N wanted to call back and tell Bruce off, but Alfred was quick to take the phone away and someone had grabbed his hand. He met the exhausted blue eyes of Tim, and worry eclipsed his feeling of irritation at the sight of those bags under his eyes.
“Oh my God, Tim! When was the last time you slept?” Y/N herded his younger brother to the couch where Dick was still sitting and gently plopped the teen between the two of them. Tim groaned, collapsing against Dick who wrapped his arms around his younger brother, “Wednesday.”
“It's Sunday!”
“Oh.”
“What do you mean ‘oh.’” Y/N shook his head and did everything in his power to make Tim comfortable enough for him to get some sleep. Which wasn't hard. As soon as Y/N threw a blanket over his thin body, Tim had knocked out against Dick. Dick was content being a pillow for his younger brother, having his arm resting on Tim’s body as the other continued to sleep.
Y/N hummed, smiling at his younger brothers and placing his phone call with his father on pause.
++++
The strangeness of his current living situation wouldn’t come to light again until a few days later, when the bruises have turned yellow and the feeling of being restricted started feeling like a collar around the neck rather than iron bars. Y/Ns had tried, multiple times, to leave the manor. While he does see the manor as home, it doesn’t replace the other manor he grew up in.
“I’m not a captive, I can go and I am going home.” He stared into Damian’s blazing green eyes, the youngest Wayne being the one to stand in the way of Y/N and the door. Damian’s face in a scowl and his arms crossed, he glared at his oldest brother.
“You cannot.” His voice clipped and short, and Y/N wanted to roll his eyes, “Dami, why can’t I leave?”
“Because you belong here. Everything you need is here.”
“I understand that Dami, however the L/N Manor is also my home and I need to go back to it.” Damian shook his head, “No you don’t. This is your home.” It was like Y/N was talking to a parrot who kept repeating the same sentence over and over again. No matter the amount of reasoning or explanations given. He fought to bury his face in his hands, and instead he opted to suck on his cheek in irritation.
“You’re making it sound like if I leave, then I am not coming back.” Damian’s green eyes steeled and his nose scrunched in a way to fight off a pout. Y/N furrowed his brow, wondering where this tantrum was coming from. Damian was above tantrums, finding them childish and pathetic, however he wasn’t above pouting. Y/N had gotten used to Damian’s pouting faces, and even knew how to combat them.
However, this whole thing was new. Not once has Damian ever fought this hard for Y/N to stay.
“Damian, what is going on?” Y/N stared down at the boy, who looked like he had swallowed a lemon. He swiveled his head around when he heard footsteps approaching the foyer and sighed in relief that it was Alfred.
“Alfie, what on earth is going on?” The old butler raised an eyebrow, “Perhaps we should have this conversation over some tea.” It was said in a tone that Y/N knew not to argue with, and he gave Damian one last glance before following the older man into the dining room where a tea set was ready for them.
Y/N buried his head in his hands and groaned, “Alfie, what is going on in this household?” The near silent clink of a porcelain cup being placed in front of him had him reaching for the delicate handle. The butler sat next to Y/N, reaching for his own cup and taking a small inhale of the steam that was carrying the scent of oranges and chocolate, “They are being a bit difficult.”
“A bit?” Y/N let out a chuckle and stared at Alfred in shock, “Dick is acting like I don’t have a manor to go back to, Tim is being Tim, Jason pretends he can’t read on his own and wants me there when he does decides to pick a book from the library, and now Dami.” Y/N tapped the table with his fingernail, feeling the frustration digging into his skin, “Bruce is the worst of them. Asking a wall to change colors is easier than asking Bruce to be honest.”
Some part of Y/N was still bitter over Bruce acquiring the L/N family business, and he was trying desperately to understand it from that man’s perspective. Key word was ‘trying’ because he couldn’t wrap his head around it. Bruce knows how much that company means to Y/N, and how hard Y/N had worked for it.
Sure, Bruce says he can still manage it, but it means nothing if the company is not his. He’d have to answer to Bruce and Tim. Just thinking about it pisses him off so much.
Alfred nodded, “Oh trust me, I know. It seems they all inherited his stubbornness.” The manor’s residential grandfather figure understood each inhabitant perfectly, watching them grow up into the people they are today.
Y/N groaned, sipping the hot tea and sighing as the liquid warmed his throat and chest, “Like, is all of this a joke?” Alfred rested a hand on his shoulder, and Y/N could see the apology in his eyes. He sighed heavily and returned his attention forward, tracing a finger around the rim of the tea cup and staring into his own reflection.
It was all a joke. It had to be, right?
“Y/N.” He looked up and Bruce was standing in the doorway. His expression relaxed, but Y/N has been around the man long enough to know that those tense shoulders are those prepared to give less than savory news. Alfred removed himself from the table, and Bruce took the seat next to Y/N.
“How have you been adjusting?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, “There’s no adjusting Bruce. Every one of you is making it seem like I am going to stay forever.” Bruce gave him a sad smile, and Y/N glared at the look, “What?”
“Y/N, your father sold the manor. There is no L/N estate anymore.” The floor feels as though it is opening up and about to swallow him whole. Y/N could feel his heart stop and the air leave his lungs like it was a punch. The world going blank and his eyes could only focus on the painting behind Bruce’s head.
The manor was sold? His home, and everything in there, gone? Just like that?
Faint memories of giggles and smiles filled his mind, his memory unable to conjure up the face of his mother but he remembers her laugh. Back when times were good and his father wasn’t an asshole. When he didn’t have to seek comfort in the arms of his neighbor and try and fill the hole in his chest with lost boys and girls that he sees as his siblings.
All of it was gone.
“-uca, I need you to breathe.” There’s a hand on his arm, the chair is no longer under him. Y/N can see blue eyes staring into his own as he began to realize that they were on the ground, sitting. Or, more like Y/N was sitting and Bruce is kneeling. His face pulled to the center of his face with worry, and Y/N is only now aware of how fast he is breathing.
His hand reached towards his chest and clutched the fabric of his shirt, trying desperately to find something to cling onto as the air continued to get pulled out of his lungs. He couldn’t feel his legs or his other arm to be exact, and the when he tried to voice that all that came out were gasps.
“Y/N, can you hear me?” A nod.
“Good, I need you to find five things you can see. When you do, nod for me.” Easy, it was such as easy task but Y/N still found difficulty focusing his vision enough to see even at least three things. However, he finally found it and he nodded. Relief flooded over Bruce’s face, and he gave an encouraging smile, “Good. That’s amazing Y/N, now find four things you can hear.”
That is how they spent their next few minutes, Bruce counting down the five senses while Y/N slowly came to his. Once he could feel the floor beneath him and more movement in his limbs, he sagged forward and into Bruce’s arms.
“I need to call him. I need to call-” Bruce’ phone was already in his hands, and Y/N didn’t even question why it was Bruce’s phone and no his.
He dialed a number he had memorized by heart and held the device close to ear. The damn thing didn’t even ring, ‘I’m sorry. The number you have dialed has either been disconnected or no longer exists–’
A sob on his lips as the weight of it all began crashing on him. The family company gone, the manor, and now this. It was like the universe wanted to take everything that made him a L/N gone.
“Y/N, I am sorry. I don’t know why he did that…” Bruce consoled the son that was never his. Always within arms reach and always a mile away. Always a brush on the fingertips but never in their hands. Until now.
Finally, after so many years of waiting patiently for Y/N to see, here he is in his arms. Here is their strong oldest sibling crying in his father-figures arms because his real father wants nothing to do with him. It took some encouragement, but finally he was theirs.’
Bruce held him tight, his strong arms wrapped around those soldiers that carried too much, and blue eyes met green. Damian stood in front of the door and he watched the interaction take place. A nod to his son and the youngest was gone, without a doubt moving to go and tell the others of the news.
It took ten minutes to get Y/N off the floor and onto the sofa in the lounge room, where Jason and Dick were waiting for him. After passing him to their waiting arms and better worded promises, Bruce carefully peeled himself away from the Y/N and began making his way back to his study.
One thne doors were shut, he pulled out a phonme and began to a dial the most recent number. They picked up on the first ring and Bruce couldn’t help but to smile, “Mr. L/N, thank you for all you have done. Y/N is now in good hands.”
“...My son–”
“Will be happier. You have done your role, Mr. L/N.” He listened as the other seethed on the other side of the line, “Mr. Wayne–”
“Rememer your side of the contract Mr. L/N. No more contact with Y/N, and you get to keep all this money you earned from selling both the business and the manor. You can continue to live out your days in Cabo, with your other family.”
The line went silent, and when he head the shaky exhale, Bruce smiled victoriously, “Take care, Mr. L/N. For your sake, I hope we never speak again.” He hung up, and Bruce couldn’t help but to smile. Finally, after years of watching and waiting, it has finally all come togethe. The final link in the chain forY/N to remain here.
It was hard getting Mr.L/N addicted to Cabo, and evern harder to get him to find someone worth marrying and staring a family with. However, it all paid off. The business was his, and Y/N will still manage that, and the L/N Manor is now Bruce’s which he’s not too sure what he’ll do with.
Maybe a surprise gift for Y/N, but then again, that would mean Y/N would be leaving again.
“Hey Bruce, we’re gonna watch a movie soon to help Y/N feel better. Did you wanna join?” Tim’s voice was muffled through the doors, but Bruce heard them nonetheless. He smiled as whe opened the door, “Sure, its important we are there for him during these times.”
He’s finally with his real family. The family he should have been with from the start.
______________________________________________________
And Scene
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Damian’s classmate looking at all the cat trees and toys splayed across the young heir’s room.
“You must own a lot of cats!” They say.
Damian looking at them blankly as he spouts out “No, that’s for my partner/girlfriend/boyfriend.”
Tim not so subtly kicking away the ball gag from his room away as he hands them snacks to eat while studying/working. Cursing inwardly when he realizes he forgot the blindfold.
Alfred being the hero he is and collecting all those in broad daylight + providing distractions for the sake of everyone’s dignity.
#and cat villain reader a c t u a l l y uses those#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagine#yandere fic#yandere core#yandere batfam#damian#damian wayne#damian wayne x reader#tim drake#tim drake x reader#yandere tim drake x reader#yandere damian wayne#yandere damian wayne x reader#yandere tim drake#batfam#yandere batfamily#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batfamily x reader
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Bat-Boys in Bed
I couldn’t find a good gif, sue me
Dick Grayson’s mouth is filthy. And he gets enough praise, so I think he’d be into praising you instead.” You’re so pretty, all fucked-out and dumb…just for me” as he pounds into you, panting in between words.
He’d also be into touchy sex positions, like missionary where he can hook his nose into your neck and wrap his arms around you. Dick would be into you giving him hickies.
I think Dick has an insane stamina—round after round. His hips would meet yours at a punishing pace as he muttered out praise,” this cunt is so warm and wet for me. My beautiful girl.” And he place wet kisses to your neck and cheeks.
Dick isn’t above moaning, but he’s not pornographic about it.i see him whimpering and begging if he’s getting a blow job or if you’re on top and teasing him, but I don’t see him moaning as much or more than you.
Jason Todd isn’t much of a talker during sex, but I do believe he moans. He’d be a lot more gentle with you than popular belief thinks. Especially if we’re talking older, mature Jason who’s passed his “fresh from the pit madness.”
I do believe Jason has a choking kink and I’ll die on this hill. And it doesn’t have to be his hand around your throat or vice versa. It can be him shoving his cock to the back of your throat and feeling you pulse and throb around him.
He enjoys, mature Jason too, seeing your eyes go wide and glassy. Jason loves to pull his cock from your mouth after you’ve had enough and seeing your lips plump and pink. He loves the slight flush of your tits.
Jason is a lot more eager to switch roles and be on the bottom than Dick. If you’re feeling top-ish and want to ride. Jason wouldn’t argue as you ground down on him, rolling your hips and leaving a trail of slick on his pelvis.
He’d beg through covered lips as you shushed him and picked up your pace, driving your hips forward and giving Jason the release he’d been craving.
I don’t know enough about Tim or Duke, sorry.
Bruce is harder to read because there’s decades of lore, canon, and stuff that’s not in the main continuity. Many writers have different versions of him that some favorite—however, here goes.
Bruce is a control freak. Whether you planned it or not, you’d end up in a dom/sub dynamic. He’d be choosing your clothes, picking which jewelry he buys, telling you when to cum before you even realize it.
I also think he has a power imbalance kink, just a little bit. Nothing extreme or megalomaniacal. So I truly believe you wouldn’t be rich (sorry lol); you’d maybe be a lesser known vigilante, and that’s if Bruce is healthily interested in you. I believe you’d be a civilian, but a smart and compassionate one. We know Bruce isn’t one to dumb himself down for company; we know Bruce is attracted to smart women, but none of his past relationships worked because they didn’t have a heart ( I love Talia, but he real; she wasn’t Mother Teresa).
This one may lose people, but I believe Bruce has a breeding kink. It would be a chance for him to restart. His only blood child is an arrogant, cold assassin and the rest of his children are masked vigilantes who dance with death nightly. But with you, his love, he could have a child not born in pain and anger. He’s older and wiser; he’s not as vengeful and mission oriented as he was when he adopted Dick and Jason; Tim sought him out, and Damian came with a chip on his shoulder.
Bruce is unyielding in his refusal to switch places. He’s too paranoid and enjoys control too much to bottom. The closest you’ll get to topping is bossing him around from the bottom.” faster, pretty boy.” You reached up and caressed his face as his pace stuttered and he spilled into you, gasping and groaning as he did.
You wouldn’t be fucked in the suit or the Batmobile. And he hates being called Batman in bed. The closest you’d get to mixing sex with his vigilante life is getting fucked in the Batcomputer seat.
Damian Wayne is the kinkiest Batfam member. I see Damian, who didn’t undergo such a beautiful arc, having a blood and bondage kink.
Damian preferred to tie you down rather than tie you up. He cares for you, and tying you up puts you in an uncomfortable position (he doesn’t want that) and it screws with your circulation. And if he ties you down, he can see your face as he places the vibrator right on your clit. He can see you try to knock your knees—to no avail.
Damian loved to take a small knife and inflict a wound, if you can even call it that. It was feather soft, and you loved when he would wrap his mouth around the wound and suck the blood. Then he’d kiss you, letting the saliva and metallic taste mingle.
I believe Damian would be into hickies and spanking too, but not the for the violence like I see from the kinkier side of the fandom. He would be into hickies, spanking, bandage, and blood play for the markings. It all boiled down to markings. And that’s not to claim that those activities didn’t get you both off, but Damian’s true enjoyment stemmed from the possessiveness of it all.
That’s why he likes to untie you and massage the rope imprints, then walk you to the mirror and spin you around, letting you see all the prints and marks. He could feel himself harden again, but he knew he’d break you if he ever tried to impose his libido and stamina on you.
Don’t kill me, but Damian isn’t into cunnilingus. He also wouldn’t bottom, not like you’d want him to. If, and that’s a huge “if” ( it’s months into the relationship too), he does bottom, it’s not traditional bottoming. Damian would top from the bottom,” go slower, grind harder, beloved.” And he’d grip your hips hard enough to leave prints, because marks, duh!
Damian likes sloppy blow jobs. I know he’s proper and clean, but trust me. Spit, moans, and whimpers; that’s what gets him off. And seeing your cheeks flush and your breathing quicken, but you keep going lower and taking more of him in. He appreciates the determination, and it makes him feel in control, huge, and dominant which strokes his ego.
#yandere damian wayne#damian wayne#jason todd#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x plus size reader#damian wayne x you#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x female reader#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x female!reader#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x oc#bruce wayne#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x fem!reader#bruce wayne x you
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False Pretenses (18+)
Yandere ! Damian Wayne x (Fem) Reader
romantic, 18+
> summary: Damian needs an heir someday, and he knows your body can provide that.
> tw/cw: stealthing/baby trapping. there is consensual sex under false pretenses, so this could (and should) make this fall under dub- or non-con! there is also a brief mention of somnophilia. Plus, some breeding kink, praise kink. Also some weird thoughts about (cis) women who are fertile being ‘ideal’ and a preference for biological children. Just a warning.
> word count: 5088. jesus christ.
> [a/n: (smokes a blunt). ]
> again 18+ only, damian wayne is 21
So, Damian has a breeding kink.
You sit in bed (his bed), knees to your chest, trying not to smile.
The covers are wrapped around your bare body as you recall the night prior’s events.
Last night was the farthest you two have gone physically. You’ve made out, of course. That was in short order after officially becoming a couple, the both of you starved for the other. You’ve groped each other, both over and under your clothes… You’ve given him a handjob… (To his utter dismay that you’ve brought him to orgasm first rather than the reverse.) And last week, you took him in your mouth for the first time. But yesterday night was the first time you had been on the receiving end.
Now, you are no virgin, but the memory does make you clutch your metaphorical pearls. You didn’t know simple fingering could be so… perverse.
Damian’s two middle fingers are thrusting back and forth into your trembling cunt. Your ears are steaming at the resulting noises filling the air. They’re lewd, and entirely involuntary on your part. Sweat on your temple drips, your torso heaves with shaken breath. Your damp back lies flush against his hard chest, two perfect puzzle pieces. Damien’s chin rests on your shoulder, allowing him to have a beautiful view of the mess you’re making on his slender digits. Viridian eyes have their entire focus on you, utterly fascinated.
The look in them is enough to make you blush, even if two of his fingers weren’t in you right now.
Sinful, reverent whispers into the shell of your ear marvel about how well you’re doing, how prepared you’ll be to take him afterwards. Damian’s free hand rests on your abdomen, pointedly over your womb.
He’ll fill you. Breed you. After all, you can handle that. You were basically made for it. He knows you’d be perfect at it.
Chin resting on the palm of your hand, you come back to the present.
Yeah, that was really turning him on, you mull, with almost academic interest. Your lips curl into a catlike grin. How curious!
Hey, you aren’t judging! You can see the appeal. After all, you hadn’t exactly been complaining last night… just caught off guard.
You sit with your thoughts as Damian washes up in his restroom.
It is in his bedroom you currently lounge, absentmindedly fiddling with satin sheets. His bed is large enough to drown in. His room is a wash of dark emerald greens and deep blues, with golden accents. On a table sits a sheathed sword, its grip a beautiful gold.
Both of you are college students finishing up your last semester. During the school season, Damian stays in his penthouse. Yes, his penthouse. Why he couldn’t just stay at his billionaire father’s mansion, you don’t know. Bird has to leave the nest sometime, you suppose.
Slowly lowering your knees and letting your back hit cool sheets, you lie down. You get lost in the ceiling – a beautiful Arabesque pattern is subtly molded across its expanse. Damian’s culture is so cool. Such was a sentiment you had communicated in such words, and he simply kissed your knuckles with a proud curve of his lips, and thanked you for the compliment. You blush.
Ugh. Damian is so cool.
You start pulling up every uncool thing about him in your mental reservoir. You can’t have him getting a big head, after all. Or rather, can’t have his head getting any bigger.
Hmm… breeding kinkster, breeding kinkster, thy name is Damian Wayne.
You blink dumbly.
Breeding... breeding…
Pregnancy.
Your body stiffens.
Wait. Does this… does that mean something? Is that like. A thing? What people call foreshadowing? You sit up, disturbed.
At that exact moment, Damian saunters out of the washroom. His eyes catch yours immediately, as if drawn by magnetism. He is still shirtless, navy blue sweatpants looking entirely artful on his tall, bronze body. His usual shrewd expression relaxes at the sight of you.
At the sight of him, your heart skips a beat, and not out of admiration for his looks. It was like you had been caught red-handed, speculating things. Sometimes you swear he knows what you’re thinking.
He stalks toward you, eyes loving. He places a kiss on your lips, punctuating it with “Good morning, my love.”
“G-good morning,” you return, painfully aware of your nakedness under his sheets. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He places kisses on your bare shoulder, trailing down until he’s kissing your hand. While normally you’d be melting, you remain stiff.
Damian pecks one last kiss when you blurt, “Do you want kids?”
You inwardly smack your forehead. Well, you weren’t one to shy away from a tough conversation. For better or worse.
Damian stirs, blinking at you.
You continue, trying not to wilt, “Do… Do you want kids? I-is that something you want? Like, someday?”
How the hell did this not come up sooner, you don’t know.
… Well.
Perhaps it hadn’t come up because your relationship was fairly new. You’ve known Damian for five years now. And for the last two, your relationship had been under a taxing, soul-sucking ‘will-they-won’t-they-it’s-complicated’ vague denomination for quite a while. Both of you knew each of you had feelings for the other. But Damian confessing his vigilante secret and his assassin past was quite the double whammy.
Damian was resolute in keeping you and himself safe and alive, but you had to think critically about a future with him. Eventually you said fuck it, throwing caution to the wind because you loved him, and you wanted him. And he, you.
Officially, it’s only been three months of dating – and you both are young. You both are in your last year of college. Talking about kids felt … fast.
Damian remains silent, face tentative. Having been leaning over you, he now sits on his bed, looking thoughtful.
“... Is that something you want?”
You sigh. Of course he’d turn it on you.
“I…” Your throat feels tight. God, why can’t we just enjoy a damn honeymoon phase… “I mean…? I’m… open to it. But yeah, it seems kinda… Like. I don’t know. That’s a lot right now.” Your voice is uncharacteristically small and meek.
You should stop there. Keep it vague. Keep things light. But you know which side of the fence you’re leaning on, and so should he.
“A-and you know– like, you know I didn’t have a good relationship with my mother– I just. Don’t know. If ever. I guess?”
You sit in awkward silence with him. You pray God just decides to smite you where you sit, because Christ. That was horrible.
Things like this could break a relationship, you know. And your chest clenches painfully at the thought of separating from Damian.
Damian takes in your words, nodding. He’s usually so easy to read – you’re well-versed in Wayne-nese by now, having spent a lot of time with him and the rest of his family. But he seems to be withholding his inner thoughts intentionally from you. Your heart sinks.
You nudge him with your feet.
“Damiii. Do you?”
Damian’s eyes glimmer with characteristic haughtiness, instantly making you warm. He crawls forward, hands sinking into the bed by your hips. He nips at your nose before locking lips. It’s a sweet, sweet kiss that’s like candy, until you feel the stroke of his hot tongue. You moan freely, not caring that he’ll likely tease you later for being so easy.
He retreats, licks his lips.
“You fiend,” you blurt. The insult rolls off him.
“What I want is to be with you.” You swallow dryly, heart thumping like a chorus line. You wouldn’t be surprised if Damian could see literal hearts in your eyes.
He puts a hand on your knee, stroking softly. You feel mollified at the action. Damian only did that when everything was alright.
“We’ve got class. If you get dressed fast enough, I’ll buy you that confectionary you’re always wanting.”
You stick out your tongue. “It’s a frappe,” you say, adding before he could say otherwise, “and yes, it is real coffee.”
Back from class, you decided to read on his living room recliner while he drew in his study. Damian indeed sketched, as he did everyday. Unsurprisingly, you were the subject, along with your favorite flowers. But Damian chose his study, rather than drawing you from life, because he also wanted to check if today was the day he thought it was. He opens the drawer of his wooden desk, papers neatly filed. He picks up a sleek black folder that spends most of its time laid in hiding underneath.
…
So, for the record, Damian did not lie.
He merely obfuscated an answer with a truth.
He does want to be with you above anything, and if children were out of the question due to natural causes… sure, he would learn to get over it. His brothers are all adopted and are as legitimate heirs to his father as he. But as it stands, Damian needs an heir someday and he knows your body can provide that.
… A not-insignificant part of him quietly admits that he simply wants his children to be blood-related. He’d never express this to anyone. His brothers are adopted, so how could he? But instilled from infancy into Damian was that he was the result of two genetically perfect individuals.
So why shouldn’t his child be the genetic amalgamation of you and him, both of whom are also two perfect beings? The thought of impregnating you sounds… good. Ideal. Natural, even. Call him a romantic.
When opened, inside the folder is a calendar for the year, with no notes or writing. Some days are blank. Some are highlighted in either red or green.
His eyes skirt down to the current day of the calendar, and Damian's pleased to see it is indeed among a week that's painted in green. You've ovulated, and the six days afterward are an ideal window.
You've said in passing that your cycle is pleasantly regular and Damian's past investigations have proved this to be true. Not that he asks anymore. He snorts, remembering how last time you looked at him incredulously and asked if he was a Republican, since he was “all up in your womb.”
However, you do keep menstrual products in your bag when he’s predicted it. You also spend quite some time at his place, so he does note when there’s pad wrappers in his bathroom trash bin.
Last year, the day he knew you were the one – his One – he brewed you a tea before bed. Its sedative contents ensured you wouldn't wake, and you were out like a light within minutes. So, Damian pulled off your pants, and collected a specimen from you as you slept. Of course, he did so with sterile, sexless precision – Damian wasn’t a pervert or deviant. He sniffs. He’s better than that. Even if his hands did linger.
Test results proved you were healthy and fertile. He recalls this with pride. As expected, you were perfect in all things. Damian closes the folder and ruminates in his seat.
Damian had assumed so, but now you’ve confirmed with him that you’re unsure about raising children based on your history with your own family. He hears you. As if he doesn’t have his own slew of mommy problems. If you bring it up again, he’ll wave you off. You’ll be an amazing mother. You just need a push, and you’ll be confident soon enough.
His fingers steeple. Hm… There’s the issue of having children before marriage… He doesn’t know how you feel about children outside of wedlock, but it’s not as though you’re very traditional. You don’t seem to have a problem with the fact that’s how he was conceived. It’s not a big concern regardless, because Damian is going to marry you anyway. If it’s an issue, you both could marry in as soon as a month.
It all works out.
It’s perfect, he thinks.
Damian puts up his sketchbook and folder alike, heading to his bedroom to change. It was about time he put his plans into action, and he knows just how to usher it into fruition.
“That doesn’t look like a very satisfying read,” Damian says, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.
You don’t look up from your book, your cringing face only deepening.
“Well, that’s because it isn’t. I was lied to! By my favorite Youtuber! By BookTok! And fuck it, by the government–”
"My love."
“You ask for one slow burn rivals-to-lovers and instead you get him fawning over her within three chapters–”
“My love,” he repeats, though amused.
“And let’s not even start about how this prose is abysmal–”
“My love.”
Since it was said oh-so-sweetly, you look up from your book.
Damian is... oh. He's in that outfit he knows you like. The League of Assassins one that's sleeveless, dark, and form fitting with gorgeous gold trim. It turns his body into a marvelous painting of black and gold on the tanned backdrop that is his skin. And you’ve told him so… Except his eyes. His beautiful, intense green eyes. He straightens from how he leans against the wall, stepping closer.
You toss your book, not even watching its trajectory. It takes out a vase on the way down and you still don’t spare it a glance.
"Damian Wayyyyyne," you sing, hopping up to stalk toward your prey. Your hands land on his chest. Hello, tig ol' biddies, you cheer internally. It takes considerable restraint to keep from saying it aloud – you know Damian gets all flustered with his delicate sensibilities. “Why, are you trying to seduce me?”
An elegant, thick brow rises in amusement. Well, that was exceedingly easier than expected.
“That depends entirely on whether it’s working.”
“Oh, it’s working,” you say, running your hands down to his abdomen. His hands rise to capture yours.
“Tt.”
Damian takes steps backward, leading you by the hands into his bedroom. Your leer grows even bigger. Oh, yes. You two lock eyes the whole while until you reach the foot of his bed, merriment and attraction dancing in both pairs.
You push him onto the bed, on all fours above him. You dive down for a deep kiss, tongue eager for a dance. Eventually it’s you who separates to breathe, panting lightly. The sight below you is one for sore eyes, Damian Wayne lying with eyes glazed with lust. He’s acting awfully agreeable, and you can’t say you don’t like it.
“Habibti, I want you.” Damian slides his hand to cup your crotch. You shiver, at his touch and his words.
“And you have me,” you say, voice warm. “Habibti.”
He smirks, probably thinking your accent could use some work.
“It’s Habibi, coming from you.”
You nod shyly, but you can have a lesson later. You’re about to slip off your pants when he brings your hand in between your bodies, placing it on his crotch. You sharply inhale. He’s hard, and straining against sinful, elastic tights.
“... And I mean, I want all of you.”
Your brows rise. So, he wanted to go all the way today? You feel your cheeks and crotch flood with heat. You find it easier to nod your head rapidly, lest you start barking. At your agreement, Damian’s face washes over with anticipation. You’re glad it’s not just you over the moon at the prospect.
You both rip your clothes off manically, laughing and elbows butting into each other’s sides. Damian expertly flips positions, boxing you in with his knees. You exclaim in surprise, a sound that drifts into shaky breaths and mewls of pleasure as he runs his fingers over your breasts, your stomach… He wets his fingers with his mouth before his digits start circling your clitoris.
You inhale sharply, mesmerized by the cyclical motion. Never until Damian has sex felt so flustering. Just watching his administrations was overwhelming, let alone the feeling– Your head reels back from an electric shock of pleasure. You gasp into the air.
"W-wait... wait, you have a condom, right…?" you whisper, though you have half a mind to just go without. You need him.
Damian tensed.
"I... I don't like how it feels." You raise a brow. You've heard condoms can feel like a second skin, especially nowadays. Then again, men were always complaining about them. It's not like you had the necessary equipment to confirm, so hell if you knew how it felt.
You place your hands on his cheeks, and his hands ghost over your wrists. You bite your lip.
"Well… Just this once? And if... it's that important to you, maybe I'll get on birth control–"
His head jerks as if struck, his brows furrowed.
“No.”
You stare, agape. There’s a small pause, both of you staring at the other. Damian’s face looks as though he’s betrayed himself. Your boyfriend didn’t strike you as so… traditionalist, to say the least. Lord knows you wouldn’t be with him if he was… so you will hear him out before nurturing any suspicion.
Sitting up on your forearms, you ask, “... What do you mean ‘no’?”
"I mean… I…” Damian sighs, looking utterly frustrated with himself. “I mean, you don’t need to.”
You blink and raise a brow, unimpressed.
“... Because?”
Damian’s jaw hardens. He grits out, “Because, I'm… sterile."
You flinch, purely from surprise. Damian merely stares, eyes narrowed in what you presume is annoyance at himself.
Uh. Okay, hello brand new information? Why hadn't this come up before? Well, it is pretty sensitive information. And since you hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, why would he have brought it up? And today was the first day you had even thought about kids. It… makes sense.
"Y-you are...?" You settle down, much like a cat whose hair is lowering from standing on end. "Okay… okay...” Damian remains stony, but he cringes at your clear relief.
Mistaking it as embarrassment, you quickly stroke his cheek. “No, baby, I'm sorry about that." You could assume it's quite emasculating. Men and their complexes about performing and wow, suddenly the breeding kink makes sense.
“So, you can’t…” you trail off. Knock me up? remains gracefully unsaid.
Damian nods stiffly. He really does hate lying to you like this. "I've been told it's very... unlikely." In reality, Damian knows his sperm count, and he's verified there should be no issues with reproduction. You both are in peak condition.
Despite the heat raging in your pants and your body begging can we just fuck already, you furrow your brows. All of this sounded fine, but it was still just… you needed specifics. To be safe. After all, there’s no rush, is there? Even if your pulsating cunt would beg to differ, painfully aware that two naked people were in a bed not doing naked-people-things.
"When did you get tested? And w-why? I mean, you're only twenty-one."
He waves his hand, snorting with his typical condescension. "I'm an heir to a dynasty – as soon as I was of age, it behooved us to know."
Us. That’s not a you-and-me “us”. You cringe, thinking about Talia and Ra's Al Ghul making it their business to know Damian's fertility. What an invasion of privacy for him… And no wonder he thought nothing of being in your body’s business as well.
"Well, unlikely is still possible, right?” You fear any surprises. Lord knows it would be just your luck to get fertilized by the un-fertilizable. You point at him. “And we should be using condoms anyway! It's not just pregnancy we should be afraid of."
Damian wants to assure you how insanely low the chances are of an infertile male getting anybody pregnant, and is about to do so, when his eyes narrow.
"Is there a reason we would need to protect against venereal diseases? There are none between the two of us." You flinch at his tone, colored with the acidity of jealousy. Suspicion.
The implication (accusation?) causes you to glare at him.
“...Yeahhh, okay,” you reply coldly. “Moment's ruined.”
You push him off you, but in a panic, he hisses your name. You flinch. At your wary expression, the color drains from his face.
“I… I’m sorry,” he says, brows furrowed and looking utterly ashamed. “I… I’m sorry.” You don’t meet his eyes, simply nodding. He places kisses on your wrist, shoulder, nose. Damian sometimes had his moods, although he was truly confusing you today.
“It’s fine, really,” you reassure. And it’s true, it was mainly the heat of the moment. You were sure Damian could never really scare you.
Your words don’t persuade the shame and fear out of his eyes or lighten the heaviness of his brow. You smile, huffing. Taking his face into your heads, you kiss him chastely on the forehead, nose tip, both cheeks. Until you punctuate the action with a kiss to his lips.
“Damian, really.”
Damian nods stiffly. He’ll never truly forgive himself, but he’s probably okay enough for now.
You shift on the bed, and there’s the telltale sensitivity between your thighs. Damn it. You still want him. You two stare at each other, still very naked and aroused. You turn the idea in your head … He’s sterile, right? And pregnancy is your only reservation.
As if hearing your thoughts, Damian’s face fills with determination.
“... I-it’s–” okay, let’s have sex anyway, you are going to finish.
“I’ll do it,” he interrupts. You blink. He leans toward you, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. You’re sure he’s about to kiss you, when he suddenly withdraws.
Your eyes catch the glimmer of some metallic object. He holds a silver square wrapper in between his fingers, likely plucked from beneath his pillow.
You look at him, and he says frankly, “I’ll do anything for you.”
You melt… before grinning, catlike. “My, my. So it seems Mr. I-Don’t-Like-Condoms still prepares a contingency plan. Very Son of Batman of you–”
“Shut it,” he groans, dotting kisses along your neck to make you do just that.
You feel relief flood your bloodstream. Then it is quickly replaced with raging desire. Oh, finally.
“Lay back,” he says, too soft to be an order. You do so without fanfare, a little curious as to why he’s not following you. Then you see him scoot back, feel him hike up your lower half, and you feel a thrill of excitement.
You squeak, feeling your ass leaving the bed entirely. A pillow is quickly placed underneath, and you are feeling quite pampered.
There’s curious licks along your labia, to which you twitch.
Damian finds his way to your clitoris, suckling and stroking heavily with his tongue.
“Hhnngh,” you speak. Keep going. Right there.
“Truly, a poet,” Damian’s voice says, muffled. You bite your lip, unable to retort because it feels too good. Damian is curious, experimenting. You know he’s gamifying this, responding and changing his strategies entirely on what draws the most unintelligible noise out of you. He slips his tongue in, and you grasp at his hair. He responds by pumping it back and forth.
Eventually, you do fear he’ll bring you to orgasm with this alone, when you both have more plans for the evening.
You wipe a layer of sweat from your temple, panting. “I’m ready. I’m ready,” you say, tugging meekly at short black locks.
Damian hums, and the vibration hits you straight in the clit. He sits up on his forearms, lips delightfully messy. His cheeks are ruddy and his brows are pinched with effort, chest heaving for breath. He looks very good like this.
“I’m ready,” you say again. Damian doesn’t need to be told twice. Your head hits the back of the pillow, and you close your eyes as you catch your breath. You hear the rustling and discarding of a condom wrapper. Damian positions himself accordingly, hands sunk into the bed on either side of your waist.
“Ready?” he asks. His eyes hold… shyness, if you can believe it. You stroke his cheek, grinning.
“Always ready for you,” you respond. You make sure to sit up. You want to see.
You watch, fascinated, as the head of Damian’s cock slowly disappears into your body. The consonance between seeing it and feeling it only stokes the fire of your arousal.
You moan openly, the sound making your ears heat. Damian dares to chuckle, and you claw his back in retaliation.
“Oh, shut up, and go deeper,” you breathe, eyes fluttering with pleasure. You didn’t realize how much you missed this. The feeling of being filled, of being full. You didn’t realize you could miss something you never had as well – Damian felt like he belonged in you. You feel every inch of you work to accommodate his sudden presence.
“And how can I deny such a request?” he gasps aloud, voice strained.
You feel more than a little pride that you were among the few who could make Damian bend to your whims with this (or any) level of subservience. The proud, proud Damian Wayne. The same Damian that sinks into you further, into your tight, hot wetness. He finally bottoms out and you exhale.
“You’re… a perfect… fit,” you say, dazed and in between pants.
Little do you know the resulting pang that shoots into his groin at that statement. He grasps you harder, maybe even enough to bruise. He needs you badly. He needs to fill you badly.
Damian leans even more forward, and you squeal. You’re just along for the ride at this point. He does all the necessary machinations to fold you in half, thighs bending back.
"W-wait," you stutter, but it falls on deaf ears.
He’s really stretching the limits of your flexibility here. Before you know it, you’re in a mating press.
“Damian,” you moan, because you’re too overstimulated to say much else.
“You’re perfect,” he says into the shell of your ear. “You can take this. You were made for this.” You nod, slack-jawed. He rocks into you, skin slapping against skin as your pelvises meet. Your eyes flutter and roll back.
“I could spend forever filling you up. I could spend forever watching it spill out of you.”
You close your eyes, cheeks aflame, much too embarrassed by his perverse whispers. You feel … almost ashamed at how much it arouses you. Almost. Majorly, it’s fulfilling a dark fantasy you didn’t know you liked.
“... Come inside me,” you breathe, unable to say anything more. You were embarrassed enough. He was using a condom, it was assumed he would be. But hopefully he’d see you were participating in his little fantasy, that you liked it too…
His thrusts are unyielding, and they only get harder, faster, more desperate as the time passes. Damian finishes with a groan, his abs clenching and flexing with effort.
You welcome it, taking it all because he’s right, you were made for this. In this moment, it’s like you were entirely made for this.
To your surprise, there’s sudden stroking on your throbbing clit, and that brings you to the finish line as well.
Your head jerks back violently, body snapping to attention as you ride the wave of an orgasm. A gasp by your ear. You’re clenching around Damian’s length, wringing him dry.
He collapses, narrowly keeping himself from squashing you flat. The two of you are a tangle of sweaty limbs, chests heaving.
“You’ve got to get out of me sometime,” you tease.
You’ve both been lying like this, too taxed to move for maybe ten minutes now.
“Is that so? Honestly, I could die here without complaint,” Damian says, and you get the feeling he’s dead serious. Nevertheless, he rolls away. He does not let you go far, wrapping his arms around you. You shiver at the feeling of him unsheathing himself, suddenly feeling empty.
… And wet. Wetter than expected.
You keep from flushing. Damn, you were really enamored with him, it seems.
You rub your thighs together, relishing in the feeling. Until you pause.
… No, like, you’re really wet.
You slowly sit up, investigating. To your surprise, you’re leaking… cum. And clearly not just your own. It’s smattered down your thighs, sticky. When you pause and can literally feel the cum drip out of you, you exclaim.
“Fuck… fuck.” You put a hand to your dripping cunt, and are surprised when it indeed comes back wet and pearlescent white. It’s for real.
“What’s wrong?” you hear, but you hardly register it.
You pull at a scrap of wrinkled plastic, pulling it out. The condom is shredded. It broke.
“Damian. It broke.”
You stare at it dumbly. It broke. You feel the onset of fear creep by… it’s held at bay, when you feel Damian hushing you, stroking your shoulders.
Damian holds you, asks why are you worrying…? He told you there’s no way. He can’t, he’s sterile.
You dumbly nod, combating fear by reasoning with yourself. Well… you were about to have sex without it anyway, after all. What does it matter if the condom broke?
You suppose it’s just the shock of a failsafe… well, failing to save you. So why do you feel so disconcerted? What’s this niggling feeling, you wonder. You stare at your inner thighs. His cum paints you like a mark.
“It’s nigh impossible,” Damian states. He’s doing what he does best – nullifying your emotions with facts. He pulls you back into his arms, your back against his chest. “The condom was really for your peace of mind. It’s not like it did anything.”
You don’t speak, simply staring at the condom in your hand. You nod.
“Really, there’s no point in wearing condoms from now on anyway. They break.”
Damian’s fingers trace circles on the bone of your shoulders. “I mean, they’re practically pointless. And either way–”
With his long reach, he grabs his phone off the nightstand. He pulls up an article, illustrating the likelihood of him successfully inseminating you.
“See?” he says. “It’s not a factor.”
Unwilling to let whatever strange funk you’ve entered ruin the afterglow of your orgasm, you nod again. You turn your head halfway, smiling. Of course, without missing a beat, Damian kisses you sweetly.
To hell with the condom. And to hell with getting stuck in your head. Lord knows you overthink everything. It’s as Damian says.
His fingers dance on your abdomen, and it tickles.
It’s impossible.
#yandere damian wayne#yandere batfam#damian wayne x reader#girllllll#i just have to post this already im tired#mine
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I can’t get this scenario out of my head with yan!batfamily in which Bruce worms his way into a depressed reader’s life by marrying their mother and slowly taking over the role of parenting reader while dealing with the depression.
No because Bruce would do that. In his head, its just another mission to "save Y/n" and sure, your mother isn't exactly his type, and your depression isn't exactly her fault- the poor woman just works day and night for you both to survive in this outrageous economy, she doesn't have had enough time to see you not doing so well mentally.
Bruce and his sons, by whatever sequence of events, are now infatuated with you. What started as concern for your well being has now turned into obsessive need to control your life to make it better. So, yeah... Bruce decides to marry your mom, who is more than happy to finally find a chivalrous, handsome man... who just happens to also be very rich.
Meanwhile, you hate him. It's stupid, but you hate how filthy rich he is and even though you know that he donates a lot to charities, you still hate him because Bruce thinks money can solve everything (and in your case, it almost can), but you can't help but feel insulted everytime he offers you a cheque, a wad of cash to pay off your bills and loans, or even a $20 bill to get yourself some snacks. It feels... abnormal. You're not a charity case.
Perhaps your socioeconomic status isn't the only reason you're depressed. Maybe it's just you missing your father (could be dead/murdered/suicide/just moved far far away).
The moment Bruce finds out that your dad is the reason why you're so depressed, oh it's "I WILL FATHER ANOTHER CHILD IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL HELP" time. He's doubling down on his paternal instincts and he's just mentally smacking himself like "ofc you need a father figure in your life. Who better than me????"
And it just makes your skin crawl at how nonchalant Bruce is about all this- about incorporating himself into your and your mother's life. Treating you both, especially you like you're actually related. Like he's been around with you two his entire life. You lose your appetite when he stays for dinner, but you sit at the table for your mother. You try to make excuses when your mother tells you that you have to go with her at the Wayne Manor because "Bruce wants to spend a day with family". You can't help but look at your mother in wonder at how she is comfortable when you both pull up at the manor. You thought things would be easier if Bruce's sons were also uncomfortable or even hated you and your mother (or thought that your mom was a gold digger), but no, they're just as worse as Bruce. Dick being particularly the worst in the sense that he's more affectionate and his love language is physical touch, so you get squished to his chest everytime he sees you, with a small cry "my baby!" Sometimes, "sis" would be added.
You didn't like either nickname.
Then there's Jason, who is the most normal one of them all, perhaps because he isn't around much and when he is, he just makes small talk.
Tim doesn't talk much either, but he stares a lot. Somehow you feel like he knows something about you, at least more than he's letting on.
And lastly, there's Damian, that pompous little shit. You know he's being amicable for Bruce, but his eyes look at you like he's judging you- thinks you're beneath him. Which is true, in the sense of finance. Despite all of that, Damian still wants to show you off his interests/things around the manor. He's still being arrogant ofc, "Look at this oil painting- it's a Van Gogh original. Van Gogh is a famous painter- he's dead though. I'm sure you aren't familiar with his works. I can take you to the Gotham gallery to show you more paintings. Father owns it, so it can be just us two without other people bothering us." He's nice but also not nice. But at least he's not doing it intentionally.
Then there's Bruce. Who is always looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes are always analysing you, even when he's not looking at you directly, you know that he's watching your every move like a hawk. He tries spending time with you, often he succeeds, only because your mother makes you go. He's a good man, hasn't done anything exactly inappropriate, but... even something as small as making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk so that you're safe from the cars... it doesn't sit right with you. Why is he being so paternal? You certainly have been rude to him on purpose. Always giving him one word answers when he asks you how your day was.
Then one day your mother returns home with a beaming smile.
"Bruce proposed to me! We're getting married!"
After only 3 months of dating? It's what you wanted to say, but you held it back when you saw how happy she was.
The next day, Bruce held a dinner at the manor to celebrate the engagement. Surprisingly, that was the first time you saw Damian looking mad at you and your mom.
It was a reasonable reaction. Acceptable to you, instead of the overly excited yell of Dick "WE'RE GOING TO BE SIBLINGS! That means we can have slumber parties and pillow fights and-"
Your mother and Bruce were shopping for the wedding, looking at dresses and venues and all the shenanigans while you were at the manor, moving your and your mom's stuff in with the boys. It was the last thing you wanted, but your mother.... she insisted on it. Or at least that's what she says, you know Bruce insisted.
Doesn't matter because by next year, you'd be moving away to college anyways.
You just need to put up with this for a little longer and see your mother finally be happy.
You didn't expect your mother to be dead a week before the wedding.
It was out of the blue. You were sitting in the library at the manor because Dick refused to let you be alone in your room all the time, so he was making you some cookies while you read. Then he and Bruce came together, their faces pale as they looked at you.
"Y/n... your mother, she... she got in an accident."
She was driving to some restaurant, wanted to get you your favourite fried chicken and spend some time with you alone. But on her way, a truck crashed right into her car.
She died on the spot.
Whatever little improvement you had on your mental health went straight down the drain. You locked yourself in your room and just cried quietly. They left you alone the first few days, but then Bruce and Dick tried to persuade you to come out, that they were concerned for you. You did come out the day the funeral was held. And it hurt you... it hurt you so deeply when you found out they were burying her at the Wayne cemetery.
She wasn't a fucking Wayne.
If you had any strength, if you had any energy at all, you would've taken your mother and buried her someplace else.
But you didn't.
When you returned inside the manor, you went straight to your mother's room, which was also Bruce's room but you didn't care if he saw you in there or not. You just started packing all of your mother's stuff, her clothes, her jewellery, her photos, everything she came here with, which wasn't much to begin with but still.
"Y/n?" You stiffened when Bruce called you, but you didn't pause on packing. "What are you doing? Looking for something?"
You sighed. Might as well get this over with.
You turnd around, not looking him in the eye.
"I'm moving out. And I'm taking mom's stuff with me. You can check, I'm not stealing anything that belongs to you."
Bruce looked at you in confusion. "Moving out? Where are you going?"
"College. I'll be going there soon anyways, so I'm moving to an apartment with some friends."
"Oh, but you don't need to move out. You can stay with us. Youre family-" you cut him off.
"Bruce, let's not." You finally look at him. "We're not family. I never was, I never wanted to be. Mom's gone now, and I have no reason or desire to be here. Thank you for letting me stay here for as long as you have, but I will be moving out by tomorrow, if not tonight." You said picking up your mother's bag of stuff and walking out of the room. Bruce followed you to your room.
"But I don't want you to move-"
You dropped the bags. "I don't care what you want!"
Bruce looked at you with his brows furrowed. He didn't get why you were acting like this. Your yelling had gotten the attention of the boys too, all looking in confusion at the bags.
"I don't want to be a part of this family. I never have, and I never will. I never liked you or anyone in this family. And if you're concerned about me speaking to the media about you guys, don't worry. If it helps you, you can make me sign an NDA!"
Damian narrowed his eyes at you. "Dont talk to father like-"
"Shut up!" You yelled harshly. You didn't care who you were hurting. Your mother was gone, you had no reason to be amicable to them anymore.
-
They left you alone that day, and by the next morning, you were ready to leave. At 6 am, you walked down to the main door, with your bags. You weren't expecting them all to be waiting for you, but here they were. You took a step towards the door, but Dick stopped you.
He cleared his throat. "Um, this is the NDA... if you'd just sign it here." He handed you the papers.
Unbelievable. They actually drew up a contract. You took the pen from his hand and signed at the dotted lines.
"Bye." You took another step, except Damian and Tim blocked your path.
"What now?"
"Where are you going?" Tim asked.
"Do we have to go over this again?" You grumbled. "College." You answered.
"You can't." Damian said smugly. What's he smirking for?
"You're gonna break my legs?" You scoffed.
"No, you just signed a document saying that you're a part of this family, and Bruce Wayne is your guardian and has authority over all decisions concerning you like going to college, or even... going out of the house." Damian replied.
You looked at Bruce, because there's no way Damian is being serious. But there were no signs of joking. You looked at Dick, at Jason-
They were all dead serious.
"You cant- you can't be- you can't keep me here." You said.
"You signed the documents. It's your fault for not reading them." Tim said.
"Bruce-"
"I really do believe that it'd be better for you to stay here." Bruce said, taking ahold of your shoulders. "At least until you're doing better mentally."
"I'm fine-"
"I don't think so. And I could even take you to a psychiatrist, they'd agree with me." Bruce cupped your cheek as you flinched away. "You'd be happy here. I promise you that, you'll be safe and happy with us."
You'd try fighting, but you already knew you were outnumbered.
Besides, even if you weren't, even if you were alone with the smallest one of them, you still wouldn't be able to leave. You have no idea what Damian is capable of.
After all, he's the one who had your mother killed.
#yandere batfamily#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batfam#yandere batman#yandere batboys#yandere bruce wayne#yandere damian wayne#yandere dick grayson#yandere tim drake#yandere jason todd
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What if reader accidentally called superman "dad" while they were on a mission? Like Batman needed some help tracking down some new murder cult and thought Spider could help? But they wouldn't come unless superman wasnt there since Spider does NOT trust the batfam?
Ok so, I'mma make a scene with your idea and then say what it would happen. Just to then explain how the Batfam would react.
You were called with Clark to a mission, knowing the Batfam was there but you didn't care since you knew Clark would protect you from them.
Plus you made sure to grab two tasers this time and incorporated a new type of web fluid that could emit electricity when it hits someone.
You did create it so you didn't have to use a taser but also so you could tase anyone of the Batfam that would dare to get too close to you or even touch you during the mission.
Clark finally landed while you adjusted your mask since you took it off while you were flying to feel the air in your (long/short) hair.
You looked at the batfam, already annoyed when they didn't even do anything but just their presence was a source of anger and annoyance for you.
While the Batfam was also annoyed that Clark was there but he had to come or you wouldn't even consider going with them to a mission.
You didn't say anything to them, just giving them the blank stare your mask provided and just stayed next to Clark, listening to them talk about what everyone was supposed to do in the mission.
Bruce did try to make you go with him or any of his kids, making you nervous since you couldn't really refuse without any excuse. You did have one but you can't really say "I refuse to go with any of your kids (directed to Batman) because I hate all of you".
But Clark surprised you by refusing any option of you going with any on the Bats and stated that you would go with him, making you smile a little and lean a little on the kryptonian.
Which made all of the Bats jealous and angry at the kryptonian.
At the end you were supposed to go with Superman in the hideout of the cult, which you were happy about it and quickly followed the kryptonian while ignoring the glares of the Batfam that were directed towards Clark.
Well, during the mission you got separated from Superman in the fight against the cultist when they suddenly ambushed both of you, making you panic since you never fought so many people at once.
Yes you did fight small gangs but usually they were just kids and you just had to punch one and all of them backed down immediately. So fighting a large group of people that knew how to fight was a bit difficult and extremely different from what you're used to.
Plus your panic doubled when you saw Damian and Dick approaching, probably to help you but in the fight and the panic in your mind made them seem even more dangerous than the cultists trying to stab you.
So you did the only reasonable thing that your scared mind wanted. You called for Clark while fighting three cultists at the same time, tasing a few of them while fighting.
The problem? You accidentally called him dad.
Bruce Wayne: oh god how angry was he when he heard that from Dick and Damian's coms.
(He still doesn't know who you are behind the mask but already sees you as one of your kids even though you're already are)
He quickly finished fighting the leader and ran to where you were supposed to be, quickly knocking out anyone who was in his way.
He did kill a few of those in his way, but he made sure to hide the bodies and will deal with it later by burning down the hideout.
He finally arrived at the spot where you and the others were supposed to be and he saw something that made him want to grab his kryptonite batarang to hit Clark.
Why? He saw you in Clark's arms, hugging him with all your might while he flew so neither Dick and Damian could reach you.
Plus the worst thing was the sick smile Clark had in his smile, like he planned it. Like he knew you weren't ready to go in such a big mission and would probably call him in a panic.
Bruce just glared at the kryptonian and signaled him to get out with you so they could get rid of the rest of the cultists.
Basically Bruce would be a jealous bitch even though he doesn't care about you when you don't have the mask on, and would use his anger against all the cultists there since he blamed them instead of blaming himself.
Clark Kent: oh he would be so smug whenever he sees Bruce and you're not with him.
Especially since he planned it. He might not be as smart as the Batfam but he knows people and especially you.
He knew you weren't ready for such a big mission since you mostly trained with him and fought small gangs in Gotham.
He knew you would panic while fighting and knew you would call for him when you couldn't do it anymore.
The dad part was a surprise but a happy one for Clark, he became so smug when you jumped in his arms when he quickly flew to you.
He did see the glares he received from almost all the batkids and especially Batman, to which he responded with a smug smile while rubbing your back.
He left with you since you didn't want to stay and he also knew Bruce caught the leader so he didn't have any reasons to stay.
Not sure if you also wanted the Batkids but I didn't add them, just comment if you also want to have the batkids reaction and I will add it!
#dc#male yandere#yandere batman#yandere#platonic yandere#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batboys#yandere batfamily#batboys x reader#batman#yandere bruce wayne#bruce wayne#batfam#yandere dick grayson#dick grayson#yandere jason todd#jason todd#yandere tim drake#tim drake#yandere damian wayne#damian wayne#clark kent#yandere superman#yandere superfam
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WIP…!
Trying to improve painting so here’s a little flat of a thing I’m working on
#watching the sunset with dami and dick 💗#platonic yandere batfam#yandere batfam#yandere art#yandere x reader#yandere damian wayne#yandere dick grayson
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— Yandere Damian Wayne —
"D-Did you kidnap me again?"
"I hope that question was rhetorical. Then again, I didn't fall in love with you for your intelligence."
"Damian—"
"Yes, I'm in love with you. I said it out loud. I practically had to force the words out of my lips. You're welcome. You are extremely lucky to have captured my affections."
"I'm more worried about the kidnapping thing, I'll be honest."
"I did it for your protection."
"..."
"Don't give me that look! I'm an adult man. I can kidnap whomever I like."
"This isn't how people show that they love each other."
"I have been killing whoever I like for you. I will continue to do so. You don't get an opinion on this. You will stay in this manor as my new spouse, forever."
#damian wayne#damian al ghul#yandere#aged up character#yandere damian wayne#dc robin#dc#dc characters#dc comics#yandere dc#yandere dc x reader#batman#yandere batman#drabble#yandere aesthetic board#yandere damian#yandere damian wayne x reader#batfam#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne al ghul
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Not [ ]
A platonic Yandere Batfam series.
(I need a better name for this series-)
[General Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, No one is having a good time, Angst, Usual Yandere Tendencies]
Chapters
Chapter 1 (Not Tonight)
Chapter 2 (Not Here)
Chapter 3 (Not Now) [1] [2] [Teaser/Sneak Peak] [Teaser 2]
Chapter 4 (coming soon)
Asks
How do Damian, Babs, and Steph become Yandere for the reader (with more details on Tim)
Further Reiterating on How They Turn
How did the Reader Get Adopted
(Before Chap. 3) How Will the BatFam Find the Reader, How Would The Reader Do In One-On-One Fights With the BatFam, and How Would A Kidnapping Go (a non-canon one)
Damian is the Most Forgivable
What Would Happen if the Reader Wasn't In Gotham?
Is it Possible for a Villian to Become Obsessed with the Reader Like the Batfam
(Before Chap. 3) Discussion on How Y/n Feels
Ruining the Batfam's Reputation By Shitting On Them in an Interview with Louis Lane
(Winning Over Louis Means That Clark Kent's Seal of Approval is Removed)
The Reader and Batfam Sitting Down to Talk About Their Issues, but Harley Quinn is Their Therapist
Alfred is Kind Of the Mastermind
(He's just too good.)
(How far has he gone.)
(Why didn't he do anything before the reader left.)
([Generally] What would happen if the Reader saw/referred to Alfred as their Dad/something similar to that.)
What is Reader's Age
(Before Chap. 4) Would the Roomate Help the Reader?
Would The Roomate Help + Do They Know Batfam's Identities?
Some Members of the Batfam Being Able to Play Instruments with the Reader
(Before Chap. 4) Batfam Trying to Manipulate Reader Into Coming Back Home On Their Own
What if Reader wasn't a Overachiever
What Would Happen if Reader Snapped, and the Batfam Found Out About Their Life Much Sooner
(Before Chap. 4) How Resistant Would Reader Be to Getting Kidnapped, and Would They Try to Escape
How Would the Batfam React to Reader Going Insane
How Would the Batfam React if the Reader Escaped and Went Off the Radar for a Few Weeks, and Would They Actually Be Able to Achieve This?
If the Reader Tried to Give Being a Vigilante a Try, but Their First Attempt Goes Wrong
How Would the Batfam Celebrate the Reader's Birthday When They're Kidnapped
Has the Reader Made a Song for Batman
What if Someone Else Confronted the Reader?
What if Alfred went instead of Dick?
Does the Batfam turn purely because of their guilt?
Silly Doodles
Alfred: ah, surely my plan couldn't have gone horribly wrong. Oh, Master Dick? Are you okay? You look dreadful. Dick:
Batfam: *Scheming* Reader: Alfred, come pick me up I'm scared-
#platonic yandere batfam#yandere batfam#gn reader#sibling reader#yandere dc#yandere x gn reader#platonic yandere#neglected reader#yandere alfred#yandere batman#yandere jason todd#yandere dick grayson#yandere tim drake#yandere damian wayne#yandere cassandra cain#yandere bruce wayne
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No Prince Charming
(Batfam x Mom!Reader)
Anonymous asked:
Hello, I really like your work.
I saw that you have an open request, so I want to share an idea that has been sitting in my head for a long time.
Reader married Bruce for convenience. (In my head, the reader is a woman, but I'll leave it to your taste) The wedding takes place shortly before the appearance of the first Robin. Bruce and reader have a cold relationship. Reader comes from the wealthy population of Gotham. Therefore, reader is well educated and intelligent. So after a while, when Dick already appears, reader understands what her husband does at night. But reading doesn't say anything about it or hint at it. The reader doesn't want to get involved in any of this, it scares her. And although the reader is planning a divorce, she takes care of all the members of her new family. And although she is neglected in the family, the reader becomes a parental figure for children. But the children won't admit it. When Damian appears, the reader doesn't say a word to Bruce. But Damian treats reader very badly. And that becomes the trigger. The reader slips Bruce the divorce papers.(not to mention that they are getting divorced, since Bruce is likely to protest) and when Bruce signs them, he leaves the estate, leaving the divorce papers and the wedding ring on the bed when no one notices. And only then does the family realize what they have done with their neglect of reader. Their yandere trait is waking up in them and now they need to somehow find their reader.
Sorry if it's too much.
And I apologize for the English, I am writing with a translator
❤
Warning: Non-consensual drugging, not descriptive sex. It's just mentioned, no details. Hinted at Dick's trauma with his sidekick.
It was a marriage of convenience. That's all it was. Bruce Wayne knew Y/N L/N since childhood, and while they weren’t close, Y/N was the only one who never treated him any differently after his parents were murdered. Maybe it's because her own father was murdered, and she understood that sometimes the greatest support was to act like nothing changed.
Fast forward to young adults, Bruce Wayne was now Brucie in public, and Y/N was the unstoppable woman leading her own company by the reins. Bruce had come to her with an offer, one that had her brows raised and painted lips smirking. For Bruce Wayne, this will help solidify his position as someone who was not Batman, and for Y/N it would finally silence the hecklers that gnawed at her heels and bit into her shoulders.
A frigid marriage, filled with cold greetings, Brucie still entertaining women, Y/N still controlling her company with painted lips, and rumors surrounding them. Despite the coldness, Y/N knew a lie when she saw one. She knows a front when she comes face to face with one, and it is why when she saw Batman in the hallways of Wayne manor, staring at her in shock and apprehension, she rolled her eyes and continued to sip her wine as she made her way back to her office.
“Please don’t stain the carpet. Alfred just shampooed them.” They never brought it up again. Bruce was no Prince Charming, despite the front he put on for strangers. There were no whispered promises, no flowers, no gifts, nothing but ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes.’
Then, along came Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson. A child who had blinked up at her with large blue eyes, and Y/N could feel her heart crumble. She had welcomed him with open arms and smiles. She had welcomed all of the Robins in. Her manicured nails getting shorter each time, so she doesn’t have to fear hurting one of them, and her smiles became softer. Y/N had never tried to replace any of their mother’s, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel like one.
But it was Bruce they had a closer bond with. Which is why they started following his behavior towards her. Clipped words and rolling of eyes were common, as were the cold shoulders and tense silences.
“You’re not my mom! So stop asking how school was!” Y/N stared at Jason in shock and curiosity about where that outburst had come from. Alfred was the only one to say anything. A stern, “Master Jason,” and a look that had even Bruce cowering had the young boy apologizing. Y/N ignored the way her heart slowly broke, as the quirky child full of smiles, sass, and who loved classics, turned his back on her.
As if she wasn’t the one to introduce those books to him.
Y/N doesn’t blame them for their cold behavior towards her. She doesn’t blame Dick’s disregard, Jason’s hurtful words, Tim’s cynical looks, Steph’s taunts, and Damian’s heated actions.
Y/N had cried at Jason’s funeral, she helped Bruce fight for custody for Tim, she had consoled Dick after some of his own traumatic experiences, and she sat there and listened as Damian compared her and Talia. Talia, of all people. She had met the woman once, and Y/N had nodded at her. Y/N never judged Bruce for sleeping with the woman. Hell, Y/N would have too. Y/N can recall the day Damian came to their manor, and the short look Dick had given her when she and the child made eye contact.
Y/N doesn’t know if it was a look of concern or mockery, but she knows he did look.
She was there for Richard when his trauma with his sidekick happened. He may have never told her, but Y/N is a woman. A woman who has known people that have suffered the same way Dick has. That are still suffering like he is.
“I’m sorry Richard.”
“What do you even know?! You know nothing! Absolutely nothing so just butt out!” Dick glared at her with blue eyes that had put the arctic water to shame. Y/N stood there and took it all. She stood proudly with her shoulders back and chin up.
In public, she was a stoic mother keeping the children in check while Bruce goofed off. She was the woman who failed her children, because she chose to continue running her business. Her very, very, very successful business. A business that had taken her and her mother from the bottom of High Society, to the top 10%. A series of great investments, smart marketing, and pretty words have lined her pockets with money that she could easily retire on.
Yet, all that money couldn’t save her mother. The woman died of a heart attack, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing Y/N could do besides bury her mother.
“Bruce please.”
“I am busy.”
“I know but Bruce, this is my–”
“Ask Alfred.” He had turned his back and Y/N was stuck staring at the retreating man with a new feeling of heartbreak. The tabloids ate up that she was alone at her mother’s funeral. A private event that no one was allowed into besides close family and friends.
When she came back, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped, Damian had picked the time to make his disdain known again, “–and my mother would have never let herself go like that. You look horrid, unbefitting of a Wayne. A disgrace.”
Blank E/C eyes stared into raging green and she sighed, “Thanks, Damian.” She spared him no glance after that, and she walked towards her bedroom to take a hot shower. It was there, under the hot spray of water that she finally cried. She cried for the last part of family she had, and the years she lost from marrying a man who didn’t even like her enough to attend a godforsaken fucking funeral. She cried for the children she couldn’t even call her own.
She cried for the life she missed by marrying Bruce fucking Wayne.
“Honey, are you happy?”
“Of course Mama.”
“You never could lie to me sweetie.” Her mother kissed her forehead and looked into E/C eyes with nothing but love, “You’ve worked so hard, sweetie.” That acknowledgement alone had her almost in tears, “But please start working for yourself now.”
Taking a deep breath, Y/N hopped out of the shower and called her lawyer. Divorce papers were in her hands within 24 hours, and her bags packed in 3.
She stood next to Bruce, ignoring the scowl on his face as she ‘disrupted’ his work. Y/N kept her face neutral, because if she smiled it would give it all away, and handed him the page he needed to sign.
For a billionaire and for a vigilante, he sure didn’t read the damn paper. Which is fine. Great even, because now, after being here for over a decade, Y/N is free. She laughed in her room, laughing so hard that it almost tore her throat. Leaving a copy of it on Bruce’s bed once he was gone, she grabbed her suitcase and accidentally ran into Alfred on her way out the door.
The old man took a look at her clothes, her bags, and her expression before sighing, “Shall I drive you for the last time, Lady Y/N?” Y/N smiled, bitterly at the thought of leaving Alfred, her only solace in this cold mansion.
“To the airport, please.” The ride was silent, and Y/N didn’t look back as they left the gates of the mansion. It wasn’t until they were halfway there that Y/N spoke up, “My lawyer will call in a few days, just to hash out the details.”
“Is that so?”
“There’s nothing I want. No assets, no money, nothing will be taken, I just want a divorce.” She just wants the law to recognize that she is not a Wayne. That she will never be a Wayne.
“Lady Y/N, perhaps a check for compensation for the emotional strain would be nice?” Y/N laughed, bitterly and sad, “I don’t want his money. I want nothing to do with him anymore.”
“And the kids?”
“They don’t need me. They never did. I doubt they will even notice.” Gotham International Airport wasn’t crowded, and that may be because it was 1pm on a Tuesday. Alfred helped her with her bags, and the old man stared at the woman before him. He remembers meeting her for the first time, a confident young woman who had a way with words and was unfairly intelligent. Matching wits and able to speak confidently in a room of people who thought little of her.
It's good to see some of that coming back.
Y/N hugged Alfred, “Thank you, Alfred. For everything.” The older man sighed and watched as the woman took her bags and walked away. Not once did she look back and Alfred decided to stay until her form disappeared in the building. He sighed heavily and when got back in the car, he dialed a number he knew by heart. It only took three rings before the voice of the man he raised answered, “Alfred, is everything okay?”
“Master Bruce, I fear you may have lost something precious, and I do hope you, and the young masters, have a plan to make this up to them.” He hung up afterwards as he merged into traffic, and he hoped his message finally hit something within his son’s dense skull.
When he returned back to the manor, he began the preparation for making dinner. All was silent throughout the manor, until the door opened and the rush of the footsteps began marching towards him.
“Master Richard, I urge you to not run.”
“Bruce told me there was an emergency and to hurry to the manor?” Alfred sighed, “While it is an emergency, it is not one you can fix on your own.” No, this was something for Bruce to fix seeing tha all the problems stemmed from him.
Dick raised a brow, “What kind of emergency is it?” Alfred pursed her lips, “Miss Y/N Wayne is now Miss Y/N L/N once more.” He turned to look the man he has considered his grandson in the eyes, and he could see the revelation sink in.
“Y/N divorced Bruce?” Alfred nodded, “The papers have been signed.”
“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Alfred raised a brow, “They are signed and waiting for him to read.” Dick slowly walked out of the kitchen, “Is she still here?” Alfred turned back to the food and Dick began speed walking towards Y/N’s room. As a child it never occurred to him why they would they never slept together, but as he got older he understood.
He knocked on her doors, calling her name like he used to as a kid.
Dick had always understood that Bruce’s and Y/N’s relationship was not one of a couple in love. He also understood that Y/N’s treatment in the manor by the residents of the manor was unfair. Whenever he could, he would correct Damian’s harsh words, but even he himself couldn’t fully bring himself to be all that kind to her.
He tried. He desperately tried, because he saw all that she did for them behind the scenes. He saw the mistreatment and judging looks others would give her as her ‘husband’ was out fooling around.
Dick saw the blank look she had given Damian after her mother’s funeral. The one none of them had gone too.
“What do you mean you didn’t go?” His voice panicked as he talked to Tim, “I didn’t go. I was under the assumption someone else would go.”
Y/N could have been Gotham’s biggest bitch, but not even then would she have deserved that. What made it worse was that Y/N was not a bitch. She wasn’t cruel, or unkind. She was as much of a philanthropist as Bruce was. Always aiding those whose needed it and desperately trying to make Gotham a better place.
Dick opened her doors and was greeted with an empty room. Gone were the picture frames, and the closet was empty along with the bathroom. Her prized jewlery, the things she took care of almost obsessively, all of it was gone.
He could remember beng 9 and sitting next to her as she cleaned one of her sapphire earrings. Thin fingers with long nail held the earring next to him, a scrutinizing look on her face before she would break out into a grin, “As I thought, nothing could ever compare to our Dickie’s sapphire eyes.”
“Holy shit.”
“What’s going on- why is Y/N’s room empty?” Tim looked throughout the room, and Dick could see the wonder across his younger brother’s face. Right, between all of them, Tim and Y/N had the least amount of time spent together.
Dick stared at his brother as the image of Y/N smiling at a string of pearls entered his mind. She had explained to him when he asked that pearls, while feminine, also symbolized new beginnings. She had gotten it when Tim’s custody was signed over to the Waynes.
“She’s gone.” Tim met Dick’s eyes, “Like… taking a vacation gone?” Dick gave a humorless chuckle, “She divorced Bruce, Tim. Y/N is gone.” This must have been what Alfred saw when he broke the news to Dick. The confusion and then realization coming to light in those blue eyes.
“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Dick had said the same thing, and yet here she was. Gone. As if to emphasize his point, Dick made an exaggerated expression and motioned to the empty room.
Tim looked around and he could feel a headache forming, “Bruce is gonna be pissed.” Dick groaned, “Fuck Bruce for a second, the only stable-mentally healthy-adult figure that isn’t Alfred is gone, Tim.” The boy didn’t look all that bothered, “Well, if she’s happier then I don’t mind.”
Of course he doesn’t mind. Why? Because this little stalker most likely knows where she’s going. Tim did a good job hiding it, but Dick was raised by Bruce. He is trained to spot the mciroexpressions of people, and even if they are his own siblings.
Tim is panicking. The very thought of Y/N leaving had not once occurred to them, and for Tim who loves planning, this was not once ever in the plans.
Not once. Y/N had been a staple within the manor, and to imagine her not being here was rough. Evenw hen she left for business trips, it was fine because they all knew she was coming back. SHe would come back with souvenirs, handing each of them something that reminhded her of them, before running upstairs to get out of the family’s judgemental line of sight.
“Fucking hell.”
++++
Bruce entered the condo with ease. His steps light as he walked through the dark room, noting the all the furniture. There was no Y/N in the living room or kitchen, but when he looked out the balcony door, he could see her back. She was leaning against the edge of the infinity pool, without doubt a hot tub of some sorts because it was too cold to be swimming in a regular pool.
She didn’t even turn around to look at him, her attention focused on the view of the snowy mountains and raging seas in front of her. Bruce could see the wine bottle left on the side of the pool and the glass that looked like it was finished only a short while ago. When she did turn around, E/C reflected the stars and dimly lit light around the pool, making them shine and sparkle like they were the galaxy.
Bruce isn’t blind. He knows Y/N is an attractive woman who had many people lusting after her even when they were married. Talia even made a note of it, “You should see if she wants to join next time.” He should have known that his clipped response was a sign.
It was all there, and yet he did everything within his power to ensure that he would not fall in love with her. Falling in love has always been out of the question, and when Y/N came into his life, Bruce made it his mission to do just that. The woman before him had never complained, and she never seemed to fault him for it, but he could tell there was resentment. If he couldn’t have allowed himself to fall in love with her, he could have at least offered her friendship. One that made life more bearable for the both of them, and set a good example for the kids.
“What are you doing, Bruce?” She didn’t seem shocked that he was here, let alone in her vacation condo. Bruce took off his shirt and pants, stripping down to his boxers before joining her in the hot tub. He had grabbed two glasses of wine before doing so, handing her one and taking a sip from the other.
“Is it wrong of me to want to join my wife on her vacation?”
“Ex-wife. The documents are signed, and besides this is a girl trip.” Bruce re-read those documents and kicked his foot for not fucking reading them when he first signed them. He should have known she was up to something.
“Y/N, come back to the manor.” He stared into E/C eyes as she took another sip of the wine. Bruce had come with a speech prepared, ready to convince her to come back with him, but it was all lost as he stared and observed the woman in front of him drink delicately from the glass. Y/N L/N has always been a woman of class, even when she was near the bottom of high society. It wasn’t her good looks that landed her in the top 10, possibly even top 5%, and like every classy woman, she was only allowed to regret a few things. Their marriage is one, but leaving is not even an option on the list of things she wants to regret but can’t.
He knows this. She knows this.
And yet, Bruce could only focus on how beautiful she looks, and how beautiful she would look sprawled on the silk bed sheets. Y/N has aged like fine wine, looking even more beautifully and worth more and more with each passing year. Aging gracefully and beautifully as the years passed and still catching the attention of others.
It's a shame his younger self was more into whiskey than wine.
He wonders how different their relationship would be if he had gotten to know her before and during the early years of their marriage. Without a doubt it would be easier to talk to her. Easier to convince her to come back to a manor that now misses her.
“And why should I?” It’d be easier to answer her with a compelling reason, one that would have her actually debating on whether or not to come back. Bruce reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and he’s shocked that she even let him do that. She didn’t flinch, nor did she lean into his touch. Y/N stood still as he moved the H/C lock behind her ears.
“The manor misses you.” He’s never heard her laugh the way she did in that moment. Throwing her head back and exposing unblemished skin to the night air as she laughed, and continued to laugh. Her shoulders shaking from the force and slightly distilling the wine.
Once she was done, her cheeks were red from the laughter and she was gasping for breath, “Yeah, okay. So Alfred misses me, I’ll make sure to give him a call then.” She turned her back to Bruce and began walking towards the edge of the pool.
“The boys, girls, and I do too.” Chateau Petra was on his lips and the feeling of cold wine hitting his face and upper chest had him closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them, Y/N’s wine glass was empty and on her face was a hard expression. Cold E/C eyes glaring into his as she pulled herself out of the pool, and grabbed the rest of the wine bottle.
“Sleep on the couch. You’re going home tomorrow.” Her steps quiet as she stalked into her home and she headed for the bathroom. Bruce sighed, and stared at the night sky with a new look in his eyes, ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures.’ He would like to believe that he is above this. He wants to believe that this was the worst case scenario happening and therefore this needs to happen.
Has to. The very thought of Y/N being away caused an itch to form under his skin and a burning fire in his chest. A fire he never knew blazed in him until it went out. Now, more aware and protective of it, Bruce found himself craving the warmth in ways that had his mouth foaming and muscles tensing. He looked down at the water and saw the red wine diluting and sprawling throughout the pool water, looking like blood for only a second.
A smile curled on his lips and he pulled himself out of the pool water, drying himself off before making his way into the shower with his ‘ex-wife.’ They may have never been lovers, but they were two adults living under the same roof.
So, of course they have had sex.
Hate sex is the best and worst sex. It is the best because Bruce can go as hard as he wants to and Y/N will love it. It is the worse because hate sex is all Y/N will see this as. Y/N will only see it has hate sex and not for the love Bruce feels for her. She won’t feel it in the way he caresses her skin or in the way he leaves his bite marks on her thighs. All Y/N will see this as, is hate sex.
Which is fine. If hate sex is what Y/N needs to see this as to work then Bruce will take it. He has time. He has plenty of time to show her how much he cares and loves her. Those divorce papers will be long gone, every single one of those copies non-existent. He loves her. He loves her in the way a cactus loves the sun, or how the stars love the moon.
Bruce was so enamored by her, that he couldn’t help but to fall deeper. Her soft hands, that have never broken a bone but have broken many hearts, cradling scarred shoulders and sharp cheeks. She didn’t flinch when his own rough hands gripped her’s, bruising and secure, and she didn’t flinch when intense blue eyes met hers. In fact, she smiled, like this was all a joke he was the butt of it.
It pissed him off that even she could have secrets and inside jokes that he doesn’t know about. As she laid there, her eyes now closed and body relaxed, Bruce pulled out a syringe filled with something that will keep her asleep. Only for a few days. Barbara is already working on getting rid of the divorce papers and the kids were preparing for her return.
Bruce kissed her forehead, smiling down at his Sleeping Beauty. If need be, the manor will be her castle and the kids her vines covered in thorns. Bruce, in all his daunting and terrifying glory shall be the dragon, keeping her locked within her castle because nowhere was safer than the castle. Only she could keep him calm, and only she could make him feel human.
Batman was never Prince Charming.
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Not my best work in my opinion... but I still like tbh.
@problematicreblogger
@kurai-hono-blog
@rosecentury
#yandere batfam#yandere dc#platonic yandere#batfam x reader#platonic batfam#batfam#platonic batman#bruce wayne#batman x reader#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere damian wayne#alfred pennyworth
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Menace! Reader who keeps using the batfam’s real names during patrols/fights.
Menace! Reader who doesn’t take patrol/fights or most heists seriously at all. They have numerous plans already prepared for the case that they lose or get bodied which is all the time. But they always escape even if the boys don’t purposely let them off
Bruce will say it’s cause Menace! Reader knows and won’t hesitate to expose their true identities to the world. Which is true, but Menace! Reader thinks he’s being too dramatic.
I mean it’s not like they have an entire document detailing the atrocities Batman could have prevented if he didn’t have that stupid no-kill rule. The lives and people that has been lost to Joker. Detailing each one of them so they won’t end up as just a number under that monster’s belt.
Menace! Reader who’s always, always there for everyone of the Batfam’s members if they’re needed. Ever since Jason’s death, they made sure to keep tabs on every one of Batman’s kids.
Menace! Reader who hides how much they care, how deathly afraid they are of losing anyone in that family, Robin or not.
Yandere! Batfamily who knows of all of this and would die before anyone ever hurts you.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagine#yandere fic#yandere core#yandere batfam#batfam#batfam x reader#yandere batfam x reader#batfam imagines#yandere batfam imagines#yandere headcannons#yandere hcs#yandere batman x reader#yandere bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x reader#yandere dick grayson#yandere dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x reader#yandere jason todd#jason todd#yandere jason todd x reader#yandere tim drake#yandere damian wayne#yandere tim drake x reader#yandere damian wayne x reader#tim drake#damian wayne#tim drake x reader
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Hey there👋👋 could you please do whatever love language of the bamboos are ??
LOVE LANGUAGE OF THE BATBOYS
A/N: terribly sorry I let this request collect dust. My interest in comics fell as life got hectic and whatever the hell. I won't go all Wattpad author on you.
Dick Grayson’s love language is words of affirmation. At the peak of his characterization, he is a man ravenous for praise and attention. A moment of peace, of relief, of sweetness.
Stunted, yet too grown for his own good—simultaneously. He will seek attention, showering you with gifts and compliments in hopes that you reciprocate. Holidays would read like a HallMark movie that would move suburban mothers to tears.
Dick is also the man to send romantic quotes stolen from Pinterest, and the occasional confusing poem of his own hand. His nerves would grind as he read the ‘’seen’’ stamp beneath his text, worried out of his mind that it didn't properly convey his emotions, his love.
“What, no reply yet? If you're that moved, you could always come kiss me.” He'd send the message, playing it off as a joke. But his stomach groaned with the familiar ache, that cold and empty feeling of uncertainty.
What if she doesn't like it? Will she still like me? Would I seem lame if I double texted? Am I bugging her?
The flames of self doubt would spread and eat at his mind until his phone pinged with a,” it's beautiful, babe. A hard read, but the intention was there.” And a flirtatious emoji paired with it.
Thus, the flames of doubt were stomped out, like they never existed. They liked the poem, and he would spend hours rereading it. Marveling and gushing because you liked it. Something he made.
Jason Todd's love language is acts of service. It's a loyalty thing for him.
Gift sharing could be manipulation; soft words could be lies, and he's too self-loathing to believe them anyway. Red Hood swallows his spare time, and his desire for touch swung on a pendulum—one side thirsting for it, the other side uncomfortable.
The thought of returning home to a nice and warm meal would make him melt into a puddle. Or finding his hero suit washed, and his gear cleaned and stored away.
It reignites a flame in his cold eyes, the domesticity calling forth an unclassified emotion that sent goosebumps blazing over his skin like wildfire, calling his arm hairs to attention.
Jason would return the favor. You would awake to find breakfast made, the aroma of bacon and eggs thick in the air, the sweetness of syrup carrying around the house. Scalding tea trickling into a pot, milk and sugar already on the table. Plates washed and set.
Jason would also do laundry and iron clothes. He gets those random bursts of energy (or adrenaline) and cleans the entire house spotless.
Baths would be drawn for you, and if he's feeling lavish, he'll add roses to the bubbles. The finest soaps would lather your skin, scented with the the best smelling perfumes—business was good, and it was a present. His calloused fingers would be overjoyed to massage your scalp (he hoped you'd do his next).
Tim Drake’s love language is quality time. Also, I would like to preface this section by admitting I haven't read much of Tim.
He would help you study. Textbooks adorning the wooden table after hours of quizzing. Coffee steaming in a mug, pens and highlighters scratching at paper. Kisses shared with each right answer.
He'd tease,” Oh, that was a hard one. A trick question.” A smirk, sweet as frosting would tug on his lips, then a warm kiss would swallow yours.” If I were as filthy minded as Jason, maybe I'd crack a joke.”
Tim’s gaze would find you, in the middle of whatever—washing dishes, doing laundry, exercising. They'd burst with amorous passion, like exploding stars, shimmering and twinkling in his irises.
When the sun kisses Gotham goodnight, and the moon assumes it duty, he'd find himself wishing he could be beside you. Not Batman, not Dick, certainly not Damian. That's not proof that he hates his colleagues or that his work is last on the list of priorities. It's just. . . you're higher.
“Hey, love,” he'd speak into the phone, after the voicemail prompted him.” I know you're likely sleep tonight. But I wanted to at least call and tell you to sleep safe and warm. And to save space for me.” A chuckle would roll of his tongue, the wailing of police sirens in the background.
Damian Wayne's love language is also quality time.
Time is precious to him. His mother’s presence was unreliable. He, his father, his siblings tango with dead every silvery night. Each misfortune in his family reminded him of that.
Robin is not what Dick thinks. It's not just bursting into hideouts and knocking the crap out of villains. The peril is real, as well as the potential for failure—and failure in their line of work means death.
Oracle was paralyzed in a second, one wrong move and her nerves were shot. Jason’s life was quite literally put on a clock, killed by time itself. When Damian was an assassin, it merely took seconds to end a life, one of emotion and desires and opinions—gone at the stroke of a blade.
Time matters.
Damian would try to spend all of it with you, doing anything. Attending museums, painting you, listening to your playlists. Finding the child he was depraved of for so long. Being an angsty teenager and loving it.
“This is considered fun?” A dark eyebrow of his would raise teasingly. There you sat, at a sport's game, the roaring crowd trembling the stadium and stabbing his ears. The golden beam of the sun roasting both you, and the overpriced popcorn tossing and gurgling in his stomach.
But, deep down, the liveliness of the crowd intrigued him. Even he'd find himself screaming along with the masses on their feet, yelling out praise or curse words.
Damian's jade irises would slide over to you, the sheer glee decorating your features. A painting. He'd see a masterpiece in you; how that expression would translate onto a canvas.
#dick grayson x reader#damian wayne#dick grayson x female!reader#dick grayson x oc#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x you#bruce wayne#bruce wayne x fem!reader#tim drake headcanon#tim drake#dc robin#red robin#robin#red hood#jason todd x plus size reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#jason todd#damian wayne x female reader#damian wayne x you#damian wayne x reader#damian al ghul#yandere damian wayne#dick grayson headcanon#dick grayson#nightwing headcanon#nightwing#batman#batfam
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Sleepover
Yandere! Damian Wayne x (Fem!) Reader
romantic
> summary: During a sleepover, Damian makes his first foray into infatuation.
> word count: 1605
> [ a/n: i just love writing from the yandere’s point of view! Damian is 19 or college-age here. honestly not much plot, just musings~ i will try to write from the Darling’s POV next time hehe.]
This must be love.
“Wow, Damian… I’ve never noticed but your nails are so pretty,” you compliment, satisfied with the boy’s upkeep. Damian feels his heart thrumming against his ribcage. You are holding his hand.
Not for the first time either, but the thrill never fades.
If this had occurred a year ago, before Damian learned of how casual (generous, even!) you were physical affection, he might have dumbly stated, “You’re holding my hand.” Instead, he simply thinks it, on loop, in one long string.
You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand.
Unbeknownst to all this, you simply paint his forefinger with a stripe of green so dark it looks black.
“If we’re going to do this, it’ll be by my rules,” he had said.
In reality, if you needled him any harder, he would’ve accepted pink nails with glitter on them. Who cares? There wasn’t anyone who dared to make fun of him at school. Not to mention, it’d be obvious to everyone that you painted them. You'd be marking him as yours, essentially. And at night… well, Robin wears gloves.
“Hn. How so?” Damian asks with feigned coolness. Mainly because he wants to hear you praise him. In your hushed, awed voice. When he dreams, you often sound like that. (And he quickly pushes that thought away.)
You look at him pointedly, grinning. Oh, he’s not so slick. You acquiesce to his whims anyway.
“Your cuticles are impeccable and your nails are finely trimmed… I’m impressed. Don’t you do martial arts, too? Crazy they aren’t more dinged up.”
Martial arts. That was supposed to explain his abnormal strength and fighting capability, the one time you saw him nearly break a man’s wrist for trying to pickpocket you.
You accepted the excuse with only a little suspicion.
“It’s simple grooming.”
A catlike grin forms on your face. “Hm~ I don’t knowwww… Seems like you may be trying to catch the eye of a girl – you know, girls look at stuff like that.”
Damian frowns.
He’s infatuated but not delusional. He’s aware this ‘sleepover’ is pretty platonic on your end. After nails, it’ll be skin care. Maybe you’ll even do your makeup and take goofy pictures with him. You’ll laugh and platonically huddle against him during a movie. You may doze off on his shoulder while he’ll be committing your every dewy, moisturized pore to memory.
Because of Damian’s (self-admitted) social awkwardness with your peers, you think that gives you some sort of elder sibling-esque edge on him. You are the social butterfly, leading a naive, but well-meaning social pariah through the perils of young adult life. You don’t know you are so much more naive than he is, and he adores that.
Rather than addressing the question, he snorts. “When are you going to turn on the movie?”
You hum, completing his nail’s first coat. “Oh yeah, that’s right!” You grab the remote and press play. You continue painting, gingerly admiring his long, golden brown digits. Damian preens at the attention.
As the movie plays, you pause often to look up and gape at the screen. It’s a horror flick, and boasts an abundance of cartoonish gore. While a bit more sensational than something he’d put on, he likes your dark taste. An annoying teenager gets their head hacked off with a chainsaw. You laugh and Damian feels his heart sing.
There’s a chime that rings through Wayne Manor, and he has to bite back a groan.
“Pizza’s here!” you cheer. You begin to get up when Damian whips out his card in an instant.
“I’ll pay.” To his delight, you gape in surprise, cheeks warming.
“Oh… Thanks, Damian!” You never quite get used to him paying for things, but you at least know by now not to argue. You grab his credit card and – thank God – your fingers brush against each other. It sends the most pleasant trill down his spine. “Since you’re paying, I’ll go bring it! I won’t be long.”
A corner of his lips quirk. “I’ll be pleasantly surprised if it gets back to this room at all.” You stick out your tongue on the way out.
As soon as he hears your footsteps disappear down the hall – such clumsy, loud steps – Damian’s attention falls to the messenger bag you threw to the ground of his bedroom. He knows your diary is in there. (In his mind, he can hear you protest, It’s a journal!)
He’ll be quick. He flips open to a random page, and he already is laughing at your writing style. There’s little care for capitalizing letters and full of what you explained are “emoticons”, despite being handwritten. He flips to today’s entry, half-finished.
February 01.
there’s a guy in class who’s pretty cute… one may even say HOT xP
Damian’s jaw tightens. He knows exactly who you’re talking about, and he won’t allow that neanderthal anywhere near you. At least, not again. Yesterday, you told him that your crush had smiled at you. Brushed fingers with you when passing papers. In the only class you have without Damian.
(Also, “your crush,” he scoffs. What a juvenile concept. You and Damian share something much deeper. His feelings for you are not so trivial.)
The semester is still young. Damian can pull any string to land himself in your anthropology class.
The rest of your entry for today (and the past days prior) isn’t anything notable except for when he’s mentioned.
stressful day, but at least i have tonight with damian to cheer me up. he’s seriously the best …. i should tell him more often !!! (but it’d give him an even bigger head)
He doesn’t even attempt to stop the smile splitting his face.
Damian’s keen hearing catches you striking up a conversation with Alfred in the kitchen. Despite your promise, he knows you will, indeed, take long. You love talking to everyone, even in passing. It’s an admirable quality, and one he envies.
He unlocks your phone and rifles through some messages of yours. He uses his own phone for documentation purposes. What else is there to do… He spies your jacket on his bed.
There is a shameful thought and Damian’s heart skips a beat. It is… frankly, it’s humiliating as a concept. Yet he’s enticed. It’s your jacket, after all. He brings it to his face delicately and inhales, almost shyly. Once he catches the familiar scent of your body wash, however, he allows himself to breathe it in. After being lost in it for a few seconds, he rips it away.
Only to see his father standing in his doorframe.
He knows what this looks like. Damian knows what this looks like. After years of working with the man, Damian can hear his thoughts as if they were his own, as they happen.
Damian just smelled your clothes. Even if it was investigative in nature, he could’ve retrieved a sample some other way. Someone’s personal journal is open on the floor. A phone that he knows is not Damian’s is unlocked and displaying text messages. All these things are splayed out in a circle around him. It’s uncharacteristically messy of him, as well. Damian’s own phone is actively on his camera. Was he taking pictures? And most notable is the absence of you.
In summary? Damian must have some interest in you. And by this sloppy job, it’s quite emotionally charged. And at his age, it’s likely romantic.
Damian’s skin rises to what feels like a boiling heat. What is Father going to say? He can’t stop him – he can’t. Damian doesn’t even want to talk about it, let alone be reprimanded. A feral need to escape bubbles underneath his skin. Despite the panic, he channels years of League training and hardens himself.
Bruce watches his son’s expression morph from dazed, to fearful, to steel, in real time. From Damian’s seat on the floor he offers his father only silent defiance. Bruce knows his son, his darker needs that stem from his cruel childhood. And perhaps he should’ve expected this to happen someday. Bruce exhales, eyes closing. When they reopen, his slate-grey eyes are firm and hard.
“No one gets hurt.”
And by that, Bruce means no one dies. Because Bruce and Damian are Batman and Robin – they’re all in the business of hurting people. People who deserve it, yes, but it’s still hurt. Pain.
Damian feels immense relief. He wouldn’t have killed his father – he’s not that boy anymore. But a life without you seems similarly unbearable. Damian feels… shaken. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done. He also feels grateful, that it didn’t turn out any other way.
His eyes drop to the jacket he holds in a fist.
“... Yes. Thank you, Father.” Bruce’s gaze lingers, but he leaves wordlessly.
This encounter reminds Damian of who he is. He is a detective, vigilante, assassin, and creature of stealth. He can’t be this careless, even if he knows you won’t notice.
Damian returns your belongings to their place, exactly how you left it. Diary back in your bag, jacket to where you were lounging, your phone underneath a pillow, because you carelessly tossed it aside. You’ll inevitably begin to look for it and he’ll grin once he places it in your hand.
You finally return to his room, two pizza boxes of deluxe cheese (for him) and pepperoni (for you) in your arms. You laugh sheepishly.
“Sorry for the wait, Dami.” His heart skitters at the nickname.
“It’s fine.” Your eyes glitter with excitement and optimism and purity. He finds it hard to look away, you raining down a gaze like that upon him.
“I was waiting for you.”
#yandere damian wayne#damian wayne x reader#yandere batfam#damian wayne#yandere damian wayne x reader#wish this was better but idc#its fun to just write u know :)#mine
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Yandere batfam with a sick reader?
Yes but sick reader who is still defiant because hello, they kidnapped you?????
Reader is just glaring at them with tired eyes and a red nose as they once again tuck her under the covers, Dick is highly worried as he frets over you like a mama hen because he did have a heart attack when he caught you standing in front of your open window, where "harsh" gusts of cold air were "attacking your fragile form", so of course, he had to drag you in and wrap his arms around you, rub his cheek against you because he NEEDS to warm you immediately, lest you die of hypothermia.
Yes, Dick overreacts. And yes, Damian will accompany his brother in his delusions, or well, take any chance he gets to scold you.
"You should be in bed, Y/n." Damian said sternly, his eyes narrowed because how dare you worry his favourite brother like this. "Didn't Dick tell you to rest? Are you that incapable of following simple commands?"
You narrowed your eyes back at him, opening your mouth to say something mean but got cut off by your own coughing fit, making Dick rush to help you drink some water, rubbing your back along it. Your throat felt scractchy, and it hurt to speak, but you still wanted to convey your feelings so-
You flipped him off. For a nano second, because Dick immediately grabbed your hand and tucked it back under the covers while Damian's eyes widened at you disrespect, but before he could make any more gremlin noises, but Bruce walked in and Damian knew better than to complain to him about you when youre already sick, cause Bruce wouldve still favoured you.
"Y/n? How do you feel now?" Bruce asked, his voice gentle as he walked closer to where Dick was throwing away your mountain of tissues.
"Im fine. I wanna go out-" "No." "And why not?" "Because youre sick." "You may be Batman, but youre not a doctor!" "I am your father though."
No, youre not. You wanted to say, but knew that would only piss him off and you need to be on his good side if you want Dick and the others to be off your back so that you can escape.
"Whats her temperature?" Bruce asked Dick, who put a thermometer in your mouth quickly. Dick sighed as he told Bruce how you were out of bed and standing in your balcony in the cold just moments ago.
Bruce placed a palm over your forehead, and you tried to move away but there wasnt really any space or energy for you to do that. Bruce's eyes shifted the slightest bit at your burning forehead. "Why do you insist on getting out of bed and sleeping on the floor? Ive already had to pick you up 3 times in the past 2 days."
You pulled out the thermometer and glared at him. "Im fine. Its just sniffles." Bruce's lip quirked a little. You looked absolutely adorable in your delirious state, like an angry kitten.
"I dont think its just sniffles this time. And-" Bruce pulled the thermometer from your hands that you were hiding under the covers. "-dont hide the thermometer from me." His eyes scanned it and the twitch in his brow was enough for Dick to know that the number was too high.
Bruce then eyed the cough syrup next to your side table- its still full.
"Why havent you been taking your medicine?"
"Im not sick-"
"White paint has more color than you do right now. So why havent you been taking the medicine?" Bruce asked and even though he was a little annoyed, he had enough practice dealing with the other kid's rebellious phases to have the patience of a saint.
You shrugged. "How do I know its just cough syrup and not a sedative?" "It is a sedative too. Its supposed to make you sleepy." "Well, I dont wanna sleep and let my guard down in a house full of 5 strange men." You obviously never counted Alfred- hes the only normal one here- except for the part that he wont call the cops for you, but oh well.
Bruce just casted a look to Dick and before you knew it, Dick was pinching your nostrils close and titling your head up while Bruce grabbed the syrup and poured some in your mouth before clamping his hand over it. You struggled to break free, but you were obviously no match to them. Still, tears of frustration pricked your eyes as you looked at them in betrayal and hatred.
"Drink this and dont argue with me, please." Bruce said- well, he genuinely requested at this point.
You didnt have much of a choice other than swallowing it.
With a defiant glare, you begin closing your eyes as your body gave into the effects of the drug, the last thing that you felt were Bruce kissing your forehead while Dick pecked your cheek.
Jason finally decides to drop by the Wayne manor, only to be greeted with the sight of reader lying on the kitchen floor. His heart stopped for a moment- you werent breathing-
"Y/n!" He rushed to your side, only to be smacked in the face by you.
"Shush. Dont be too loud." Your voice sounded like sandpaper against rocks.
Jason huffed. "Well, sorry for freaking out. I thought you were dead-"
"From a cough? Im not weak."
"Yeah? So, what exactly are you doing on the cold floor in the middle of the night?"
"..."
"Well?"
"What? So I cant even take a nap in this house? Jesus Christ, am I allowed to have any autonomy here?"
"Y/n." Jason called, clearly unamused by your sarcasm.
"Fine. I may have fallen and then didnt have the energy to get up, so im just catching my breath here."
"Why are you even out of bed?"
"I was hungry and Im not gonna drink another spoon of Alfred's bland soup again." Alfred made it bland on purpose so that your throat wouldnt be irritated.
"Please stop wasting whats left of your voice on complaints of the soup that you cant even taste." Jason chuckled as he picked you up, only for you to push at his chest weakly.
"I dont need your help. I can walk on my own."
Jason quirked a brow. "If you can make it to the front door without fainting or throwing up, I'll help you escape." You stared at the front door- it wasnt too far, but judging by the fact that its even hard for you to breathe properly and that youve fainted way too many times by just standing for more than a couple of minutes.
But youre stubborn. With great effort, you pushed yourself off Jason and used the kitchen island to pull yourself up. Jason decided to walk in front of you and stand near the kitchen exit because he really wanted to see your struggling face.
You took a trembling step, then another, one hand still using the support of the island until it ended and you were only a couple of feet away from Jason. At this point, you were already out of breath and when you took another step, your legs gave out and the room began spinning.
Luckily, Jason was quick to react. "Alright, just place your arm around mine- or just fall on me, that works too." He teased when you couldnt hold your body weight.
You slumped in his arms. "Just take me to my room." You huffed.
"Alright." Jason lifted your legs up and carried you back up the stairs. "You know you'd get better a lot faster if you just stayed in bed and took your medicine on time. Wouldnt that make your chances of escaping the manor better?"
You stared at him blankly. "Wow. The world must be ending for Jason Todd to be making logical suggestions."
Jason rolled his eyes as he tucked you in bed. "Im just saying, if you get better faster, you'll get to try running from us quicker too."
How do you explain to him that you just dont want to comply to them, even when they're helping you. How do you explain that you dont wanna listen to them because the soft pitiful, patronising look they get in their eyes when they look at you makes you wanna scream and carve your skin out. These are strangers, rich men who just kidnapped you to be a part of their family. No one is that kind. And nothing ever comes for free. Nothing.
"Do you need something? Food, perhaps?" Jason asked. You shook your head. "No, I think Im gonna throw up."
"Oh shit." Jason was hauling his ass out of the room t get you a bucket, only to return with a backpack.
You barely held your puke as you asked. "Wait- whose is this?"
"I dont know!? Damian's?!"
You grinned. "Oh, perfect." You proceeded to throw up into Damian's bag. That little shit just got on your nerves.
BONUS:
"I know you have attachment issues with your blanket but its been a couple of days now and you need to let me wash it." Dick said, trying to tug it out of your grip.
You sniffled and glared. "Im not a child who needs their blankie, Dick. Im just too cold without it and no other blanket can warm me up the same way it does."
"Give the blankie, Y/n." Dick said seriously.
"Its not a blankie." You retorted, but before you could react, Tim suddenly grabbed you while Dick ripped away the blanket. And even though he immediately replaces it with a clean blanket, you still let out a gut wrenching cry
"You'll have it back tomorrow-" Tim starts saying, only for you to sneeze directly in his face, making him freeze.
"And that's why we use tissues." Dick says, wiping both your nose and Tim's face with tissues, while you're not making any effort to suppress the grin that comes on your lips.
#yandere batfamily#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batfam#yandere bruce wayne#yandere jason todd x reader#yandere jason todd#yandere dick grayson#yandere damian wayne#yandere tim drake
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Could you do a snippet for yandere platonic Batfam where reader accidentally gets hurt and is able to hide it for a few days until someone (May be Dick?) finds it and asks / gets upset about it? Love your writing!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️
Hi there!!!
First of all: Thank you sweetie!
It's been a while since I've written, mostly because of the university, I'm about to graduate and I'm crazy because I'm approaching my final exams (I even have to defend my research work to be able to get my bachelor's degree)!
But, I got to thinking a bit about what you have written above… and even more so because I myself am a little bit crashed after my last film shoot for my final year of my degree. And can I just say that being in a bad way and having to hide it is terrible.
So… here goes!
(I'm sorry if I sound a bit comical in this writing, but I think the best way to get over something is to laugh at yourself a bit so you don't think about the pain too much; I hope you enjoy it anyway.)
Disclaimer: I don't know if you've noticed, but English is not my native/mother tongue. Occasionally, when I think too much, I write them in my language and then translate it in a trusted translator. So, if there's a grammatical problem or a strange term, it's the translator's fault.
Let's face it… having a large family is terribly exhausting.
It's never quiet enough, everyone is in everyone else's business, you can't leave your favorite mermelade in the fridge for less than a day. Someone is always occupying the bathroom or using your favorite shampoo or watching something on TV at too much volume and someone is probably occupying your bed at nap time.
Did I mention about meddling too much in other people's business? Yes? Well… triple it.
Having multiple siblings was new.
Having multiple siblings, a father and a butler/grandfather isn't exactly bread and butter either.
It wouldn't be so bad to belong to a large and numerous one if it was your blood family and you had lived with them all your life. I mean, sometimes blood is too thick and you have no choice but to learn to love them or just be nice to each other.
Like I said, it wouldn't be so bad if they were really your family.
But the Waynes were not your family. Not distant relatives or anything like that.
You were just living your life, as quietly as possible… and poof!
New room, new butler/grandfather, pets beyond belief, 4 new male siblings and a father with serious emotional constipation issues. And, to add more salt to your wound…. all have serious abandonment issues and death-related trauma.
After several escape attempts, sleep strikes, hunger strikes and any other kind of protest that an anarchist could be proud of… you realized that it was simply impossible to get out of this without risking the path of death.
Which, to top it all off, was also unreliable because apparently your older brother Jason had revived as well as another of your siblings. So no, dying was also not a viable option to which one could resort in the worst case scenario.
What to do?
Well, not much. Trying not to die of suffocation of affection or finding a way to have privacy while going to the bathroom just seemed to be the best survival tools you could resort to.
What does that entail?
It implies that Tim was going to give you hours and hours of lectures on his latest discovery of a case, even if you don't understand half the things he's told you or mentioned at all.
Richard and Damian trying to teach you new tricks almost every second, taking you to the Zoo or not leaving you alone to go to the bathroom.
That Jason, oh holy cow he is the only one more relaxed, takes you with him on his motorcycle to eat ice cream and to the public library. Without being able to scape, because it seems that you have a kind of GPS inserted in the bone marrow.
(Sometimes you don't know if it's true or not, but sometimes you also felt pain between your bones, almost during the cold seasons, and you didn't want to burst your poor little head thinking of different viable possibilities knowing them. No scars, no remembering anythins about any surgery).
Have a grandfather who will not hesitate to make you cookies, your favorite foods whenever you want … without leaving you aside at any time.
Plus a terribly quiet father, who if he can will carry you for as long as you spend time together, won't let you near the secret basement and enjoys being in the same room with you.
Do you see any privacy in this?
No, because even at the bathroom door would be the pets trying to get in and see you for themselves while you want to do your business.
The worst of that? Titus always judge you when you close the curtains.
As I mentioned and it was clear: Having a large family implies little privacy… Having a large, obsessive family means NO privacy.
So, knowing that you have over 50 nanochips tracking in all your clothes, two security monitors embedded - God knows how - in your body (monitors that only tell you if you are in designated safe place), 20 high definition surveillance cameras in every room and a Great Dane chasing you like a chick …. How the heck do you fall down the stairs and hit your pelvic bone without anyone noticing?
No kidding, how?
And if you had to blame someone for your fall… you'd totally blame Damian for it.
It's not that the kid pushed you down the stairs, but over time he had tamed himself into various things and relaxed into looking his age. You know!!! He started acting like a normal teenager!
What do Damian's kids do at his age? Well, they leave things lying around and have messing around them when they can, of course they do!
You just wanted some yogurt with orange marmalade. Maybe some oatmeal cookies. Alfred had left it for you in the fridge when he noticed you'd been watching video tutorials on homemade marmalade for hours. Who were you to deny such a gesture of generosity?
I mean, Alfred was the one who allowed you to hide in the attic for hours on end so you could have some time to yourself.
And how did it end? You, slipping down the main stairs of the old Wayne mansion, down a nicely polished wooden staircase, rolling all the way down (which is no small flight of stairs, it should be noted) to the bottom of the first floor.
Now, lying on the ground is not so bad in itself. What is bad is not being able to feel your legs and still not being able to understand how you manage to tidy up your neural wiring so that your legs can still move on their own and go to the kitchen to rescue all the delicacies Alfred left you in time.
And it's a good thing you managed to do it… because within seconds Bart had rushed in to ransack the fridge and the fruit basket.
But that's not the point.
The important thing is that this time you managed, I insist a little on the feat of action, to climb up to your room and not notice how you couldn't really feel your legs.
You ate, you lay down… and to your bad or good luck, you couldn't get up …. and without anyone noticing there was an emergency and everyone went out to sort it out.
Weak limbs, limited movement and you don't want to mention the embarrassing actions you did in order to go to the toilet.
It's not like you hid it either, I mean, there was no one who could even notice because they weren't entirely available to watch you. Nor is it that you would have run away, otherwise they would have been at your side in less than a second.
The detail, as they insist, is that you had probably bruised your back badly and your body was now taxing you extra for your food craving.
I insist, you did not hide anything.
But still, when you're found completely itchy on the floor, ridiculously trying to run away in the direction of the bathroom… that's when everyone really goes crazy.
First, having to carry you and not dying of embarrassment when you notice that Bruce definitely doesn't give a damn about having to carry you to the bathroom and do almost everything for you.
Or having Dick and Jason carry you and fit you into some kind of weird medical scanner they have in the cave.
Or that Tim keeps track of your periods, types of meds you take and, for fuck's sake, knows how the fuck to inject something into your spine.
Or that Damian had the gall to look a little embarrassed when he heard that a pair of boxers lying outside the laundry basket was to blame for all this.
NO matter.
At the end of the day they heal you, pamper you, leave you alone when you need to take a nap and figure out a way to fix it without looking like complete maniacs who built some kind of internal plumbing that sucks up the dirty laundry and throws it straight into the washing machine.
Like the time they didn't look like maniacs by sanding all the edges of the tables and nightstands.
Or the time they bought a whole brand of sanitary towels when they realised that not all women use tampons.
Don't worry, they're looking out for you… even if they look like deranged Arkhan freaks in the process.
#batman#batfamily#dick grayson#jason todd#batfam#tim drake#batboys#batfamily fic#yandere male#yandere batman#yandere batfam#yandere#tw yandere#red hood#yandere batfamily#yandere batboys#yandere batfam x reader#yandere dick grayson#yandere damian wayne#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere bruce wayne
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