jungbae come back

wally west x batsis! reader

The Fourth of July party at Wayne Manor had been advertised as one thing:

“No adults. No missions. No responsibilities. Just teenagers. And Dick”

Bruce was away on Justice League business. Alfred had been convinced to spend the evening with Leslie and Lucius after Dick practically shoved him out the front door.

Which meant the manor—and the massive backyard—belonged entirely to the younger generation.

It took less than fifteen minutes for absolute chaos to begin.

Music blasted from speakers scattered around the yard while Duke and Steph argued over who was dominating cornhole. Cass somehow beat everyone at water balloon dodgeball without saying more than three words. Tim sat under an umbrella with an iced coffee, claiming he was “socializing” despite staring at his laptop.

You were curled up beside Wally on a picnic blanket, stealing fries from his plate.

“I know you’re eating my food.”

“I’m quality checking it.”

“…You’ve taken twelve fries.”

“They passed inspection.”

He laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as fireworks popped somewhere across Gotham.

Then—

“EVERYBODY MOVE!”

Jason stormed into the driveway carrying an entire crate of fireworks.

Dick immediately looked concerned.

“…Jay.”

“No.”

“Jay.”

“I already know what you’re gonna say.”

“You haven’t even heard me.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Jason ignored everyone and walked straight toward his motorcycle.

Your eyes widened.

“…Wally.”

“I know.”

“He’s not…”

“Oh, he’s absolutely doing what we think he’s doing.”

Jason pulled out enough zip ties to concern every person present.

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Jason.”

Zip.

“Jason.”

Zip.

“JASON.”

“I’m creating art.”

“YOU’RE CREATING A FELONY.”

Steph was already recording.

“This is going viral.”

Duke slowly backed away.

“I don’t think I should legally be here.”

Tim didn’t even look up.

“I’d like everyone to know I’ve already scheduled the emergency room in advance.”

Jason finished securing Roman candles along both sides of his motorcycle before stepping back proudly.

“There.”

“…Beautiful.”

Dick looked like he might cry.

“You strapped fireworks to your bike.”

“They’re aerodynamic.”

“They’re EXPLOSIVES.”

“They’re festive.”

Wally leaned over to whisper into your ear.

“I give him…thirty seconds.”

“Generous.”

Jason climbed onto the motorcycle like a cowboy preparing for battle.

“Who wants to witness greatness?”

“No one!” Dick shouted.

“I do!” Steph yelled.

Cass quietly gave him a thumbs up.

Damian crossed his arms.

“This is either the dumbest thing Todd has ever done…or the second dumbest.”

Jason started the engine.

The bike roared to life.

Everyone collectively took five giant steps backward.

Dick stood in front of him with both hands raised.

“You are not leaving this driveway.”

Jason revved the engine.

“Move.”

“No.”

“Move.”

“No.”

“…Chicken.”

Dick gasped dramatically.

“Did you just call Nightwing a chicken?”

“You heard me.”

Without warning—

FWOOOSH!

One Roman candle accidentally ignited.

A single green fireball shot harmlessly into the sky.

Everyone screamed.

Jason screamed.

Dick screamed louder.

Jason immediately slapped at the firework.

“THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN YET!”

Wally was laughing so hard he nearly rolled off the blanket.

You buried your face against his shoulder, unable to breathe from laughing.

Steph was doubled over.

“I GOT IT ON VIDEO!”

Tim finally looked away from his laptop.

“…I’m sending that to Barbara.”

Jason managed to rip the lit firework off before it could launch another shot.

He stared at the motorcycle.

“…Minor setback.”

Dick walked over, grabbed the remaining fireworks off the bike one by one, and handed them to Duke.

“No.”

Jason sighed dramatically.

“You people have no appreciation for innovation.”

“You almost turned yourself into a patriotic missile,” you said.

Jason pointed at you.

“…It would’ve been awesome.”

Wally snorted.

“I hate that he’s right.”

The rest of the night was significantly less explosive—mostly because Dick hid every remaining firework key, lighter, and zip tie he could find before Jason had another “brilliant” idea. Meanwhile, Steph’s video of Jason’s failed stunt became the highlight of the party, and every time someone replayed it, Jason insisted, “It would’ve worked if everyone had believed in me.”

happy 4th of July to those who celebrate, and i wanna address something

that can for tomorrow

wally west, roy harper, conner kent, jonathan kent x batsis! reader

Tim was the last person in the Manor to realize.

Cass knew.

Steph knew.

Duke knew.

Bruce somehow knew.

Even Alfred quietly started making enough coffee for an extra Kryptonian whenever Conner visited.

Tim?

Completely oblivious.

It wasn’t until Conner awkwardly approached him one afternoon that the pieces finally clicked.

“Hey, Tim?”

“Hm?”

“Is… your sister okay?”

Tim blinked.

“…Yeah?”

“I don’t know… she always leaves the room when I walk in.”

Tim frowned.

“Huh.”

“And then she comes back like… five minutes later.”

“…”

“…With different clothes.”

Tim slowly looked up.

“…Hold on.”

That evening he marched into Steph’s room.

“Does Name like Conner?”

Steph stared at him for a full ten seconds.

“…You’re kidding.”

“…No.”

“…Tim.”

“…What?”

“…We’ve literally had a betting pool on when you’d figure it out.”

“…You had a what?”

Tim was offended.

Not because they made a betting pool.

Because nobody invited him.

Once he accepted reality, Tim couldn’t resist teasing them.

Every time Conner visited—

“Oh, Name, Conner’s here.”

“I’m busy.”

“Really? Because you were walking toward the door two seconds ago.”

“…Shut up.”

Conner wasn’t much better.

The second he realized he liked Name, he became just as awkward.

The invincible Kryptonian suddenly couldn’t make eye contact.

Steph thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever witnessed.

wally west, roy harper, conner kent, jonathan kent x batsis! reader

Dick always prided himself on being observant. He could spot a liar from across a room, tell when Bruce was hiding an injury, and know which sibling had stolen Alfred’s cookies before they even confessed.

So realizing his little sister had a crush on his best friend took all of five minutes.

It happened during one of Wally’s usual visits to Wayne Manor. Dick had been talking to Bruce when Wally zipped into the kitchen, greeting everyone with his usual grin.

“Oh, hey, Wally! Didn’t know you were coming over today.”

Dick looked up from his phone as Name walked into the kitchen.

She’d been upstairs less than ten minutes ago in an oversized Wayne Enterprises T-shirt and a messy bun.

Now she was wearing one of her favorite outfits, her hair was freshly brushed, and there was even a hint of lip gloss she definitely hadn’t been wearing earlier.

She froze for the briefest second when she saw Wally, quickly smoothing down her shirt as if she hadn’t just rushed downstairs.

“Hi,” she said, trying to sound casual.

“Hey, Name!” Wally grinned. “Nice shirt.”

“Thanks.”

Dick watched the interaction, then slowly looked back toward the staircase.

“…She changed.”

Barbara didn’t even glance up from her tablet.

“Mhm.”

“For Wally.”

“Mhm.”

Dick’s eyes narrowed as Wally continued happily chatting away, completely oblivious while Name smiled at everything he said.

“Oh…”

Barbara glanced up from her tablet. “What?”

Dick pointed between them.

“She likes Wally.”

Barbara followed his gaze before smiling knowingly.

“About time you noticed.”

Dick whipped around.

“You knew?”

“Dick, literally everyone knows.”

Everyone… except Wally.

The poor speedster was hopelessly oblivious.

He’d smile at Name, sling an arm around her shoulders while laughing, steal fries off her plate, and think absolutely nothing of it. Meanwhile, Name would spend the next ten minutes trying to remember how to breathe.

Dick quickly became the world’s biggest menace.

“Wally!”

“What?”

“Did you know Name said your eyes are pretty?”

“DICK!”

“I did not!” Wally exclaimed.

Dick ignored him.

“She also laughed at that terrible joke you told yesterday.”

“It wasn’t terrible.”

“It was about microwave burritos.”

“It was hilarious.”

“It wasn’t.”

By the end of the week, Name refused to speak to Dick, Wally was incredibly confused, and Barbara had laughed so hard she nearly fell off the couch.

Ironically, Dick’s constant teasing was what finally made Wally stop and think.

“…Wait.”

“…Does Name actually like me?”

Dick groaned dramatically.

“It only took you six months.”

life knowing that ik the difference between Kon-El and Conner Kent

there is none I think, pls correct me if I’m wrong Kon-el is the one in young justice and hear me out…conner kent is the one who seen with tim the most

wally west, roy harper, conner kent, jonathan kent x batsis! reader

Jason found out because Roy couldn’t stop talking about his “new favorite person.”

“Dude, your sister’s hilarious.”

“Mhm.”

“And she beat me in Mario Kart.”

“Mhm.”

“And she stole my hoodie.”

“Mhm.”

“…I kinda want it back but she looks cute in it.”

Jason froze.

“…Repeat that.”

Roy blinked.

“…What?”

“My hoodie.”

“No. The part after that.”

“…She looks cute?”

Jason slowly pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, this is gonna be a problem.”

The worst part?

He already knew Name had a crush on Roy.

She’d denied it approximately forty-three times.

“I don’t like Roy.”

Jason raised an eyebrow.

“You drew little arrows around his name in your notebook.”

“…That was artistic.”

“You made him cookies.”

“I was hungry.”

“You don’t even like baking.”

“…”

“…Shut up.”

Jason loved watching them embarrass themselves.

Roy would walk into the Manor.

“Hey, Name.”

“Hi.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Jason loudly whispered,

“Just kiss already.”

Both of them immediately yelled,

“JASON!”

wally west, roy harper, conner kent, jonathan kent x batsis! reader

Damian reacted exactly how everyone expected.

Poorly.

“You have feelings for Kent.”

“…Yes.”

Damian looked genuinely disappointed.

“Explain yourself.”

“I don’t have an explanation.”

“There must be one.”

“I think he’s kind.”

“Hm.”

“Funny.”

“Hm.”

“Caring.”

“Hm.”

“…Cute.”

Damian physically looked offended.

“Cute?”

“Yes.”

“…Kent?”

She nodded.

Damian sighed like the weight of the world had been placed upon his shoulders.

“This family has suffered enough.”

Jon had absolutely no clue.

He assumed Name was simply friendly.

Until Kara casually walked into the kitchen one day.

“So… when are you asking Bruce’s daughter out?”

Jon almost inhaled his drink.

“…WHAT?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what?!”

Kara blinked.

“…Oops.”

Jon spent the next several days in complete panic because, truthfully…

He liked Name, too.

The problem wasn’t confessing.

The problem was Damian.

Jon walked into the Batcave looking like he was approaching his own execution.

“So…”

“No.”

“…You don’t even know what I’m asking.”

“I do.”

“…”

“…No.”

Jon sighed.

“I really like her.”

“I am aware.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

“If you do…”

Damian calmly sharpened one of his swords.

“…You’ll wish Kryptonite was your biggest problem.”

Jon swallowed.

“…Understood.”

After weeks of convincing, Damian reluctantly allowed it.

Not because he trusted Jon.

Because he trusted Name.

If anyone could handle a Kent, it was his sister.

Months later, the family noticed something strange.

Damian had stopped threatening Jon.

Dick raised an eyebrow.

“So… does that mean you approve?”

Damian looked away.

“I merely tolerate his continued existence.”

Jon grinned.

“I’ll take it.”

“…Do not push your luck, Kent.”

“Yes, sir.”

“…I am not your superior.”

“You kinda are.”

“…Father, may I hit him?”

Bruce didn’t even look up from his paperwork.

“No.”

“…Unfortunate.”

i feel embarrassed I had to search the weird kid phase up bro😭

batfam x batsib! reader

Bruce learned very quickly not to comment on Name’s phases anymore.

Because every single time he did, it backfired.

It started small.

The “emo phase” lasted three months. Graphic band tees, form-fitting skinny jeans, studded accessories, and layered tops. Name barely talked at breakfast anymore, just shrugged and disappeared into school or patrol.

Bruce thought maybe it was normal teenage stuff.

Dick said it was.

Jason said, “At least they’re not committing crimes.”

Tim honestly didn’t notice for a week because he looked the exact same.

Damian said, “Their music sounds like a dying washing machine.”

Then came the pastel phase.

Name suddenly started dressing softer. Pink sweaters. Rings shaped like stars. Tiny charms hanging from their bag. They smiled more, laughed easier.

The entire family got whiplash.

Jason nearly dropped his coffee.

“Hold on. Didn’t you threaten somebody in combat boots yesterday?”

“And today I threaten them in pink.”

Dick was obsessed with every outfit immediately.

Cass started trading accessories with Name without even asking.

Steph spammed Name with outfit inspo at 3AM.

Damian, meanwhile, stared for a long moment before saying:

“You change clothes the way the moon changes phases.”

The room went silent.

Name narrowed their eyes.

“Was that supposed to be deep or insulting?”

“Yes.”

“That literally answered nothing.”

Damian took a sip of tea like he was the smartest person alive.

“One week you resemble a vampire. The next, a children’s toy aisle.”

Jason started laughing so hard he choked.

But the thing was… Bruce started noticing the changes weren’t random.

The darker clothes showed up after rough weeks.

The oversized hoodies came when Name stopped sleeping well.

The “weird kid” outfits appeared after someone online mocked the way they dressed and Name decided.

“If people are gonna stare anyway, I might as well commit to the bit.”

Every style was armor somehow.

And Bruce noticed more than Name realized.

The way they stood in front of mirrors too long before leaving.

How they tugged sleeves over their hands when nervous.

How they went quiet after certain comments at school.

So one evening, when Name paused halfway down the stairs wearing layered jewelry, platform boots, and a jacket covered in pins, Bruce spoke before they could retreat upstairs.

“You look comfortable.”

Name blinked.

“…Really?”

Bruce nodded once. “That matters more than whether I understand it.”

For a second Name just stared at him.

“Did Alfred helped you with that?”

“…Partially.”

Name laughed under their breath.

After that, things got easier.

Dick hyped every outfit like Name was walking Fashion Week.

Steph defended their style choices like it was a full-time job.

Jason acted annoyed but absolutely threatened a kid for insulting Name’s makeup.

Tim started sending Name obscure fashion accounts at 2AM.

Cass silently left handmade bracelets on their desk.

And Damian?

Damian still roasted them constantly.

Name walked into breakfast once wearing an oversized sweater, striped arm warmers, chains, and glitter under their eyes.

Damian looked up from his book.

“You appear to have lost a fight with a craft store.”

“…You literally wear the same black turtleneck every day.”

“Because unlike you, I possess consistency.”

“Bro dresses like an evil art teacher and wants to talk about ME.”

Dick had to leave the room from laughing 

They were trying to figure out who they were.

batfam x batsis!reader

Name was born tiny.

Too tiny.

The doctors called Name a NICU miracle because for the first few months of her life, machines practically breathed alongside her. Tubes, monitors, soft beeping sounds filling hospital rooms before she was even old enough to understand fear.

Bruce still remembered the first time he held her properly without wires in the way.

She fit against his chest so easily it terrified him.

At first, the weakness in her legs didn’t seem unusual. Physical therapy became normal before preschool did. Some days Name could run a little. Some days she couldn’t stand long without falling.

Bruce told himself things would improve with time.

Then Name turned six.

And one morning, she tried to get out of bed and collapsed.

Bruce heard the thud from halfway across the manor.

At first Name laughed because she thought it was clumsy little-kid stuff.

Then she tried again.

And again.

And her legs just… didn’t work the same anymore.

The hospital visits after that felt endless.

Tests. Specialists. Long words Name couldn’t pronounce.

Bruce barely slept those weeks.

Dick tried keeping Name distracted with movies and games while doctors talked quietly outside the room. Jason snuck candy into the hospital even after being told not to. Tim researched every treatment option possible until Alfred physically took the laptop away from him.

Barbara was the only one who understood immediately.

Not completely — nobody’s situation was exactly the same — but enough.

Enough to notice the fear Name tried hiding.

Enough to roll beside her one afternoon while she stared silently out the manor window after getting her wheelchair.

“You don’t have to like it yet,” Barbara said gently.

Name looked down at her hands.

“Everyone keeps acting like I’m gonna break.”

Barbara nodded once.

“Yeah. They do that at first.”

That made Name laugh a little.

The adjustment wasn’t easy.

Sometimes Name got frustrated because she still reached for things automatically before remembering she couldn’t stand long enough anymore.

Sometimes she hated needing help.

Sometimes she cried after physical therapy because she was exhausted and angry and six years old.

And the Batfamily learned alongside her.

Bruce redesigned parts of the manor almost immediately. Elevators, ramps, wider doorways — anything Name needed appeared before she even had to ask.

Dick learned how to make games out of difficult days.

“If you beat me to the kitchen, Alfred gives us extra cookies.”

“You’re literally faster than me.”

“Am I? Or am I dramatic?”

Jason carried Name without hesitation when she was younger, especially after rough appointments.

“C’mon, gremlin.”

“I can move myself.”

“Yeah, yeah, and I can emotionally communicate.”

Tim modified gadgets and chairs whenever something annoyed Name.

Cup holders. Better wheels. Hidden charging ports. Little things nobody else thought about.

Alfred was the steady one. The “nothing is ever too much trouble” type.

When Name had bad days, he noticed before she said anything. A warm drink would suddenly appear beside her. Her chair was always charged. The house adjusted itself in small ways she didn’t even realize she needed yet.

One night Name mumbled quietly,

“I feel like I’m slowing everyone down.”

Alfred looked at her over his glasses.

“I have served this family for many years, Miss. If anything, you are the first one who has ever asked me to slow down with them.”

That shut her up quick.

Stephanie was chaos support in the best way.

She never treated Name like she was fragile. Half the time she forgot the wheelchair existed because she was too busy dragging her into gossip.

“You’re coming with me. I need emotional backup.”

“I can’t walk that fast.”

“Good thing you have wheels and I have no patience.”

She also decorated the chair constantly. Stickers, ribbons, little charms.

Name once came back from patrol and stared.

“Did you hot glue rhinestones to my armrest?”

Steph looked proud of herself.

“It was ugly before. I fixed it.”

Cass was the quiet comfort.

She never rushed Name. Never hovered. Just matched her pace perfectly without making it obvious.

Sometimes she simply sat beside her during hard days without speaking.

Other times she’d silently tighten a wheel or fix a loose strap before Name even noticed.

And if someone stared too long?

Cass stared back harder.

Immediate shutdown.

One afternoon Name asked softly,

“You don’t treat me different at all, do you?”

Cass tilted her head slightly.

“You are still you.”

Duke was sunlight on difficult days.

If appointments exhausted Name, Duke would immediately drag her outside afterward just to clear her head.

“Wanna race?”

“I literally cannot run.”

“Yeah, but I can push you and we can absolutely still lose to Alfred walking casually.”

He also advocated HARD for accessibility without making it weird.

“Why does this building still not have a ramp in 2026? Be serious.”

And somehow he always made it everyone else’s problem too.

Damian struggled the most at first.

Not because he was cruel — because he didn’t know how to help without sounding pitying.

And Name hated pity.

One afternoon during training, Name snapped after Damian tried taking over something for her.

“I don’t need you doing everything for me!”

Damian froze.

Then quietly:

“I know.”

Name looked away immediately, embarrassed.

But Damian sat beside her on the training mats anyway.

“My mother taught me that helping someone does not mean treating them as fragile,” he said after a moment. “You are still you.”

After that, things got easier between them.

Damian stopped hovering.

Instead, he adapted.

If Name couldn’t access something during patrol planning, he moved the setup without comment.

If stairs blocked a route, he found another one.

No pity. No babying.

Just adjustment.

And honestly? Name appreciated that more than inspirational speeches.

Barbara became the person Name went to during the hardest days.

Especially the nights when frustration hit out of nowhere.

“Does it ever stop being annoying?” Name asked once while sitting beside Barbara in the Clocktower.

Barbara snorted.

“No.”

Name blinked.

“No motivational speech?”

“Oh, I’ve got one,” Barbara said. “Life’s unfair, people are stupid, and accessibility should not be this difficult.”

That earned an actual laugh.

Then Barbara softened a little.

“But you learn that needing a wheelchair doesn’t make your world smaller. People just underestimate how big your world still is.”

And slowly, the manor adapted around Name the same way the family did.

Not with sadness.

Not with pity.

Just love.

Jason arguing with people who parked in accessible spots.

Dick decorating Name’s chair during holidays.

Tim building ridiculous upgrades nobody asked for.

Steph adding stickers every chance she got.

Cass silently waiting whenever crowds became overwhelming.

Duke making bad days feel lighter.

Damian walking beside her at galas so crowds wouldn’t shove into her.

Barbara reminding her frustration didn’t make her weak.

Alfred always, always noticing.

Bruce kneeling automatically whenever Name talked so she never had to strain her neck looking up at him.

Little things.

The kind that mattered most.

my baby sister inspired the start with her being born a the NICU and she is a happy healthy rude little 13 year old 😔

got like 5 more requests to finish before I work a cute series🥹

batfam x batsis reader

They had always been good at fighting impossible odds.

They just weren’t very good at remembering the little things.

At first, it was easy for Name to brush it off. They were heroes. Gotham needed them. Emergencies happened.

But eventually, “maybe next time” stopped sounding like an excuse and started sounding like a promise nobody intended to keep.

Bruce had promised—promised—he would make it to the father-daughter dance at school.

Name had spent an hour picking out a dress because Alfred said Bruce had secretly asked what color would make her smile the most. She even practiced dancing in the manor ballroom while Alfred pretended to step on her toes.

She kept looking at the gym doors every few minutes.

Every time they opened, her face lit up.

Every time it wasn’t Bruce, that smile faded a little more.

The dance ended with Name slow dancing with one of her friends dads because they felt bad for her standing alone.

Bruce arrived home just after midnight, still in the Batsuit.

“I got caught up.”

Name only nodded.

“It’s okay.”

It wasn’t.

Dick had volunteered to take Titus, Ace, Alfred the cat…

“…and Tiger too,” Name had reminded him while handing over the cat carrier. “She has her annual checkup at two.”

“Already got it handled, kid.”

He’d come home three hours later.

Titus had a clean bill of health.

Ace got new treats.

Alfred the cat had somehow charmed every employee into giving him free toys.

Dick walked inside smiling.

Name looked behind him.

“…Where’s Tiger?”

Dick froze.

“…”

“…Dick.”

He’d forgotten.

Not delayed.

Not rescheduled.

Forgotten.

Her cat had sat at the vet’s office for over an hour before they finally called Wayne Manor asking if someone was coming.

Dick had never felt guilt hit him so fast.

Jason promised he’d read the first chapter of the mystery novel Name had spent six months writing.

She left it on his nightstand.

A week later it hadn’t moved.

When she asked what he thought of the twist…

“…There was a twist?”

She quietly picked the notebook up and left his room.

Jason didn’t even realize what he’d admitted until the door shut.

Tim constantly borrowed things from Name’s room.

Phone chargers.

Headphones.

Hoodies.

Pens.

Books.

He always meant to give them back.

Eventually.

Name stopped asking.

One day Tim walked into her room looking for a charger.

Everything was gone.

Every single thing she’d ever lent him had been returned overnight.

A sticky note sat on the empty shelf.

“Now you don’t have to remember.”

Steph accidentally spoiled the ending to Name’s favorite TV show because she’d forgotten Name hadn’t watched the finale yet.

Cass missed Name’s art showcase because she’d mixed up the dates.

Duke forgot Name’s birthday breakfast because he’d been up all night on patrol.

Damian criticized one of Name’s paintings without realizing she’d entered it into a city-wide competition.

Each mistake was small.

Each apology was sincere. (gtfo my villa)

Each hurt stacked on top of another.

Then came the plays.

Name loved acting.

It wasn’t a hobby.

It wasn’t something she was “trying out.”

It was her thing.

Every semester.

Every musical.

Every lead role.

Every supporting role.

Every curtain call.

She always saved seats.

One for Bruce.

One for Dick.

One for Jason.

One for Tim.

One for Cass.

One for Duke.

One for Steph.

One for Damian.

Sometimes even one for Alfred.

Every program had their names written neatly across the top.

Reserved.

Reserved.

Reserved.

Reserved.

Reserved.

Reserved.

Reserved.

Reserved.

The seats stayed empty.

Every.

Single.

Time.

There was always a reason.

Joker escaped.

League mission.

Justice League emergency.

A robbery.

A patrol.

A meeting.

Traffic.

“I thought someone else was going.”

“I completely lost track of time.”

“We’ll definitely make the next one.”

Name stopped saving seats after the fifth play.

No one noticed.

That was freshman year.

The breaking point came after opening night of the school production of her senior year.

Name had landed the lead.

Months of rehearsals.

Late nights.

Missed sleep.

Costume fittings.

Lines memorized until two in the morning.

She never asked them to come.

Not this time.

Because she already knew.

Still…

A tiny part of her hoped.

When the curtain rose, she glanced toward the audience.

The entire Wayne family section…

Was empty.

Not one familiar face.

After the show, everyone crowded around congratulating her.

Flowers.

Teachers.

Friends.

Parents taking pictures.

Name stood alone backstage, holding the bouquet the drama club had given her.

Alfred arrived nearly forty minutes later.

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss.”

She smiled softly.

“It’s okay.”

Alfred knew that smile.

It wasn’t okay.

The next morning…

Name wasn’t angry.

She wasn’t yelling.

She wasn’t crying.

She simply…

Stopped.

No more waiting in the cave after patrol.

No more asking about everyone’s day.

No more movie nights.

No more leaving snacks in the fridge with names written on them.

No more sitting beside Bruce during breakfast.

No more hugs.

No more teasing Damian.

No more reading with Cass.

No more helping Tim organize evidence.

No more sparring with Dick.

No more listening to Jason ramble about books.

No more late-night rooftop talks with Duke and Steph.

She was polite.

Kind.

Respectful.

But distant.

Like speaking to coworkers.

Bruce noticed first.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.”

“…Sleep well?”

“Mhm.”

No conversation followed.

Dick knocked on Name’s bedroom door.

“Movie night?”

“I’ve got homework.”

“You always make time for movie night.”

“Not tonight.”

The words weren’t cold.

That somehow hurt more.

Jason held out her favorite candy bar.

“Peace offering?”

“You can keep it.”

“…You sure?”

“I’m not really hungry.”

She walked away before he could answer.

Tim discovered she no longer texted him reminders to eat.

Or sleep.

Or drink water.

He hadn’t realized how much she quietly took care of everyone…

Until she stopped.

Damian found Titus curled up outside Name’s room.

Usually Name let him sleep in her bed.

Now the door stayed shut.

Cass hugged Name from behind.

Normally Name melted into every hug.

This time…

She gently pulled away.

“I’m studying.”

Cass watched her leave.

Something inside her cracked.

Eventually Alfred gathered everyone.

The dining room was silent.

Alfred placed something on the table.

Eight play programs.

Every one of them.

Each with reserved names written neatly across the top.

Bruce.

Dick.

Jason.

Tim.

Cass.

Duke.

Steph.

Damian.

Untouched.

Unused.

Then he placed one final item down.

A small stack of father-daughter dance photos.

Every picture showed Name smiling beside teachers…

Friends’ dads…

Or standing alone.

Never Bruce.

Alfred looked around the table.

“I believe Miss Name stopped expecting your attendance long before any of you noticed.”

No one spoke.

Because there wasn’t a single excuse left.

Only regret.

For the first time, they realized Name hadn’t given them the cold shoulder to punish them.

She’d simply stopped expecting the people she loved to show up.

And somehow…

That hurt far more than if she’d screamed at them.

batfam x batsis! reader

part 1, 2, 3

The Family’s Reactions

Bruce Wayne

Bruce had seen his children accomplish incredible things.

Dick became a hero.

Jason survived the impossible.

Tim was one of the smartest people he’d ever met.

Cass became one of the greatest fighters alive.

Every one of his children amazed him.

But watching you succeed in a world completely separate from vigilantism…

It filled him with a different kind of pride.

He admired your discipline.

People assumed modeling was easy.

Bruce knew better.

He saw the 5 a.m. flights.

The late-night fittings.

The blisters.

The rehearsals.

The endless interviews.

The pressure of representing billion-dollar brands.

Whenever anyone dismissed your career, Bruce quietly corrected them.

“My daughter works harder than most CEOs.”

When he traveled for Wayne Enterprises and spotted your face on a billboard…

He always stopped for a moment.

Not because he was surprised anymore.

But because he was proud.

His little girl had built something entirely on her own.

Not because of the Wayne name.

Because of herself.

Dick Grayson

Dick was your biggest cheerleader.

No competition.

He watched every runway livestream.

Bought magazines.

Saved every campaign photo.

Liked every social media post within seconds.

He had notifications turned on.

He denied it.

Everyone knew.

Whenever someone complimented your work—

Dick immediately jumped into the conversation.

“Yeah, that’s my sister.”

“…Did I tell you she walked Paris Fashion Week?”

“…Have you seen her Marc Jacobs campaign?”

“…Look, here’s another picture.”

He became the most annoying proud brother imaginable.

If anyone criticized fashion—

“Oh really?”

“Walk in six-inch heels for twenty minutes while cameras flash in your face.”

“I’ll wait.”

Jason Todd

Jason thought the entire fashion industry was ridiculous.

At first.

Then he attended one show.

Backstage was chaos.

Designers shouting.

Hair stylists running.

Photographers everywhere.

Models changing in under a minute.

You hadn’t sat down in almost nine hours.

Jason slowly realized…

This wasn’t glamorous.

This was exhausting.

He never mocked your career again.

Also he’d keep every magazine you were in.

He’d deny it forever.

Cassandra Cain

Cass loved seeing how happy modeling made you.

She didn’t really care about brands or designers.

She cared about you.

She loved watching your confidence grow.

Your posture.

Your smile.

The way you lit up after successful shows.

She always hugged you before every runway.

No words.

Just reassurance.

Afterward…

Another hug.

Every single time.

Tim Drake

Tim turned your career into research.

He somehow knew every fashion week schedule.

Every campaign release.

Every magazine publication date.

He had spreadsheets.

Literal spreadsheets.

Tracking your flights so he knew when to call.

Making sure you were sleeping enough.

Ordering food to your hotel if he knew you’d forgotten to eat.

He’d never admit how much he worried.

But everyone knew.

Duke Thomas

Duke thought it was the coolest thing ever.

“You mean my sister is on a billboard?”

He took selfies with every advertisement.

Every.

Single.

One.

Even while traveling.

His camera roll became fifty percent pictures of you.

Stephanie Brown

Steph lived for the fashion.

Whenever you came home—

Fashion show.

Immediately.

“No.”

“YES.”

She wanted every outfit.

Every shoe.

Every story.

She loved hearing about celebrities you’d met.

She screamed louder than anyone whenever a new campaign dropped.

Damian Wayne

Damian initially considered fashion beneath him.

Then he attended one of your rehearsals.

He watched you repeat the same walk nearly fifty times.

Perfecting every movement.

Every turn.

Every expression.

He quietly respected the dedication.

After that…

Whenever anyone insulted modeling…

“They lack understanding.”

The first time you walked for Victoria’s Secret, the family treated it like the Super Bowl.

Dick hosted a watch party.

Steph made themed cupcakes with little pink frosting wings.

Duke decorated the living room.

Tim somehow found the highest-quality livestream possible.

Jason insisted he wasn’t watching, only to end up sitting on the couch before it even started.

Bruce claimed he had paperwork.

Five minutes before the show, he quietly walked into the room and took a seat.

When your name was announced and you stepped onto the runway wearing the iconic wings, the entire room went silent.

The confidence.

The smile.

The way you carried yourself under thousands of flashing cameras.

When you reached the end of the runway, struck your pose, and turned effortlessly…

Dick shot to his feet.

“THAT’S MY SISTER!”

Steph was already crying.

Duke was clapping so hard his hands hurt.

Jason tried to hide the smile tugging at his lips.

Bruce didn’t say anything.

He simply couldn’t take his eyes off the screen.

Alfred, standing in the doorway with a tray of tea, smiled proudly.

“I always knew Lady Name would soar.”

The room erupted into cheers the second you disappeared backstage, and before the broadcast had even ended, Dick was already planning the biggest family dinner imaginable to celebrate—because, to them, no matter how many magazines you covered, how many billboards you appeared on, or how many legendary runways you walked, you’d always be their sister first, and every success felt like a victory the whole family shared.

love island bro😭 “my name is Titi” not the “you a lil girl” Tierra GET ON BRO😔

batfam x batsis! reader

part 1, 2, 3

A week later, after Bruce and Barbara thoroughly checked the company, met with the agency, reviewed every contract, and had the League run background checks on practically every employee…

You went to the audition.

The agency only planned to take a few simple photos.

Instead…

They spent nearly three hours photographing you.

Different lighting.

Different outfits.

Different hairstyles.

No one gave you complicated directions.

They just kept saying,

“Look here.”

“Turn slightly.”

“Perfect.”

“Again.”

By the end of the day, they offered you a contract.

You quickly learned that modeling wasn’t just “standing there looking pretty.”

It was hard work.

You trained almost every day.

You learned runway walking from professional coaches who balanced books on your head, corrected every inch of your posture, and made you walk in six-inch heels until it felt natural.

You practiced turning at the end of the runway hundreds of times until every pivot looked effortless.

You learned how different fabrics moved, how to pose depending on the clothing, and how to create completely different emotions with only your eyes.

Editorial shoots taught you how to hold uncomfortable poses for minutes without moving a muscle.

Commercial shoots taught you how to smile naturally after hearing the same joke from photographers fifty times.

Media training prepared you for interviews, press conferences, fan interactions, and red carpets.

You learned how to sit gracefully in couture gowns that cost more than sports cars.

How to walk without wrinkling silk.

How to wear fifteen-inch wings.

How to keep smiling after twelve-hour shoots.

How to survive jet lag while flying between Gotham, New York, Milan, Paris, London, and Tokyo.

People only saw the glamorous pictures.

They never saw the bruised feet, aching back, early mornings, delayed flights, endless castings, rehearsals, fittings, and the pressure of knowing that hundreds of people were counting on you to perform perfectly.

It was exhausting.

But you genuinely loved it.

Over the next few years…

One campaign became two.

Two became five.

Soon your face appeared everywhere.

Beauty campaigns.

Perfume advertisements.

Luxury fashion.

Magazine covers.

Billboards.

Television commercials.

Runways.

People began recognizing you before they recognized Bruce Wayne.

Even Gotham tabloids started calling you “Gotham’s Golden Girl.”

hold on I’m getting part 3 post before 1 am it’s currently 11:54 pm when I’m posting this.

batfam x batsis! reader

part 1, 2, 3

You were the third oldest Wayne, and the first biological one.

Dick. Jason. You. Cassandra. Tim. Duke. Stephanie. Damian.

Which meant you were old enough that everyone expected you to eventually join Wayne Enterprises, become a full-time vigilante, or take over one of Bruce’s many businesses.

No one—not even Alfred—had “international supermodel” on their bingo card.

It all started because Alfred had asked you to stop by the grocery store after patrol.

You were wearing one of Jason’s hoodies, leggings, messy hair, glasses, and sneakers. Absolutely nothing glamorous.

You had a basket hooked over your arm while debating whether Alfred would notice if you bought the expensive pasta instead of the cheap one.

While you were reading labels, someone stopped beside you.

“Excuse me.”

You looked over.

Standing there was a man in a navy suit, holding a leather portfolio.

You immediately assumed he’d mistaken you for an employee.

“Sorry, I don’t work here.”

He smiled.

“No, I know.”

He reached into his pocket and handed you a sleek black business card.

“I’m a talent scout.”

“…”

“…For what?”

“Modeling.”

Silence.

You looked at the card.

Then back at him.

Then back at the card.

“I’m in sweatpants.”

“I know.”

“My hair looks a mess.”

“I know.”

“I have dark circles.”

“I know.”

“…Are you sure?”

He laughed.

“Very.”

He explained that agencies were constantly looking for unique faces—not just people who were already dressed up.

He told you that your facial structure, height, posture, and the way you naturally carried yourself immediately stood out.

“If you’re interested, come in for a test shoot.”

Then…

He simply walked away.

You got home that afternoon, tossed the grocery bags onto the kitchen island, and casually slid the card across the counter.

“Some random guy gave me this.”

Jason picked it up.

“…Congratulations.”

Everyone looked at him.

“You’ve either been recruited into modeling…”

He flipped the card over.

“…or a cult.”

Dick smacked the back of his head.

“JASON!”

“What? You have to consider all possibilities.”

Tim was already typing on his laptop.

“It’s a real agency.”

Everyone turned.

“It’s one of the biggest modeling agencies in the country.”

Bruce looked over his newspaper.

“…It is.”

Stephanie blinked.

“…Wait.”

Cass tilted her head.

“…Seriously?”

Bruce took the card, studied it for a moment, and quietly said,

“They don’t hand these out often.”

“Fuck! I’m special.”

“Language, Lady Name.” Alfred said sternly at the stovetop.

jungbaes note: the age order is how I think it is, after Jason I start eye balling it.

another note: im begging someone send me some requests, the worst thing i can say is ‘no.’ PLEASE THE ONLY THING I DONTS WRITES IS SMUT

batfam x runaway reader

The rain in Gotham came down hard enough to sting.

You pulled your hood tighter as you walked down the empty street, backpack hanging from one shoulder. Your foster parents’ words still echoed in your head.

“You care more about that rabbit than this family.”

“She’s not just a rabbit!”

“Then maybe you should leave with it.”

Except you couldn’t.

Because they had already gotten rid of Amari weeks ago.

You wiped your eyes angrily and kept walking. You didn’t know where you were going anymore. You just knew you couldn’t go back.

Thunder cracked overhead as you spotted an abandoned warehouse near the docks. The windows were broken, but at least it was dry.

You stepped inside carefully.

Big mistake.

Men stood around stacks of crates filled with guns and stolen money. Conversations stopped the second they noticed you.

“Well,” a smooth voice said, “this is unexpected.”

A short man in a top hat stepped forward, twirling an umbrella in his hand.

Penguin smiled coldly.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?”

Your stomach twisted.

One of the goons grabbed your arm before you could run.

“Let go of me!”

The man tightened his grip—

Then the lights exploded.

Glass rained from the ceiling.

A figure in black and blue dropped from above, landing between you and the goons.

“Seriously?” he said. “Can nobody in Gotham mind their business for one night?”

Another smaller figure landed beside him with a sword already drawn.

Robin looked unimpressed. “The child clearly stumbled into a weapons deal, Nightwing.”

Nightwing sighed dramatically. “And here I was hoping for a normal patrol.”

The fight ended quickly.

Nightwing moved like it was effortless, flipping over crates and knocking men unconscious before they could even react. Robin was worse. Fast, sharp, terrifyingly efficient.

You stayed frozen near the wall until the police sirens finally echoed outside.

Nightwing crouched in front of you once things settled.

“You hurt?”

You shook your head slowly.

Robin crossed his arms. “Why were you wandering near the docks alone?”

“Robin,” Nightwing warned.

“What? It’s a reasonable question.”

You looked down at the floor.

“I ran away.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than the storm outside.

Nightwing’s expression softened immediately.

“You got somewhere safe to stay?”

“…No.”

Robin looked toward Nightwing knowingly.

Nightwing sighed. “Robin, make a call.”

Robin already had his phone out. “I knew you were going to say that.”

—

The orphanage took you back the next morning, though nobody looked particularly happy about it.

You sat in the common room quietly, knees pulled to your chest.

Part of you wished you had just stayed hidden.

Then one of the workers rushed into the room.

“You have a visitor.”

You frowned. “Who?”

“Bruce Wayne.”

You blinked.

“…What?”

A few minutes later, you walked into the office and nearly stopped breathing.

Bruce Wayne stood near the window holding a cup of coffee.

And beside him was a happy Dick Grayson.

Bruce offered a small smile. “Hi.”

You stared at him for several seconds.

“You’re a billionaire.”

Dick laughed so hard he had to turn away.

Bruce looked deeply tired already. “Yes. I am.”

—

The drive to Wayne Manor was awkward at first.

Bruce tried making conversation.

“What kind of books do you like?”

You shrugged.

“Do you play sports?”

“Not really.”

Dick leaned over from the front seat. “They threatened a grown man with a broken pipe last night.”

“I panicked.”

“You were kind of awesome.”

Your face burned while Bruce gave Dick a look through the mirror.

Halfway to the manor, you suddenly sat up.

“Can we stop somewhere first?”

Bruce glanced over. “Of course.”

He followed your directions to a small apartment building downtown. You hurried inside while they waited in the car.

When you came back out, you were holding a white rabbit wrapped carefully in a blanket.

You climbed back into the car quietly, holding the bunny close to your chest.

Bruce looked over.

“Friend’s house?”

You nodded.

“She kept Amari for me after my foster parents gave her away.” You swallowed hard. “I’ve had her since I was little.”

For a moment, Bruce didn’t say anything.

Then his expression softened.

“You won’t have to lose her again.”

—

Wayne Manor was overwhelming.

The second you walked through the doors, voices echoed from somewhere upstairs.

“THERES A NEW KID IN THE HOUSE?”

Footsteps thundered down the stairs.

Suddenly you were surrounded.

Stephanie immediately hugged you before you could react. “Hi. I’m your favorite now.”

“You literally just met them,” Tim said from behind a coffee mug.

Jason leaned against the doorway with a smirk. “Tiny’s got good survival instincts if they already ran away once.”

“I was not—”

“They absolutely were,” Dick interrupted.

Cassandra stepped closer silently and gently held out her hands toward Amari.

The rabbit immediately climbed into her arms.

You stared in betrayal.

Cass smiled slightly.

Barbara helped you unpack your things while Duke showed you around the manor.

Damian remained across the room with crossed arms.

“You are all behaving strangely.”

“You brought them home too,” Stephanie pointed out.

“That was Grayson’s decision.”

“But you cared.”

“I did not.”

Amari hopped directly into Damian’s lap.

The entire room went silent.

Damian looked horrified.

Jason immediately pulled out his phone. “Nobody move. I need photographic evidence.”

—

The weeks passed easier than you expected.

Dick taught you gymnastics in the cave when Bruce wasn’t around.

Jason let you borrow books from his room and acted annoyed every time you thanked him.

Tim accidentally fell asleep beside you during movie nights more than once.

Stephanie dragged you shopping and insisted your wardrobe was “a cry for help.”

Barbara helped you with schoolwork late at night when you couldn’t sleep.

Duke walked with you through Gotham when things felt overwhelming.

Cass taught you how to defend yourself quietly and patiently, guiding your movements without needing many words.

And Damian—

Damian pretended he disliked everyone equally.

You caught him petting her ONE time.

“One word,” he threatened.

“Got it.”

—

Becoming a vigilante happened slowly.

At first, you only watched patrols from the Batcave monitors.

Then you started training.

Bruce said it was for self-defense.

Jason called that “the first stage of denial.”

Eventually, you began sneaking out with the others.

The first time you stopped a mugging, your hands shook afterward.

Not from fear.

From adrenaline.

Batman found out quickly.

“You followed Jason on patrol.”

You glanced toward Jason, who immediately looked away.

“Traitor,” you muttered.

“I heard that,” Bruce replied.

You expected him to be angry.

Instead, he looked tired.

“Why do you want to do this?”

You thought about the warehouse.

About being alone.

About how helpless you felt that night.

“Because I know what it’s like when nobody comes to help.”

Bruce was quiet for a long moment.

Then he rested a hand gently on your shoulder.

“You won’t be alone out there.”

dividers - me

PEOPLE PLEASE SEND REQUESTS THE ONLY THING I DONT DO IS SMUT SOMEONE PLEASE SEND THINGS IN

batfam x neglected batsis! reader

Nobody noticed at first.

That was the funny part.

For years, Name Wayne had been the backbone of the family. The one who remembered birthdays. The one who made sure Alfred rested. The one who stitched torn uniforms after patrols. The one who quietly handled emergencies before they became disasters.

When Bruce forgot. When Dick was away. When Jason was angry. When Tim was buried in work. When Damian refused help.

Name was there.

Always.

Nobody thanked her.

Nobody noticed.

Because she was just expected to be there.

Then one day, she wasn’t.

It happened after another disastrous family meeting. Bruce was discussing patrol schedules. Dick was talking about Blüdhaven. Tim was typing away on his laptop. Jason was arguing with Damian. Stephanie and Duke were trying to keep the peace.

And name?

Name sat there with a fractured rib hidden beneath her hoodie, exhaustion weighing on her shoulders after handling three separate missions that week.

Not one person asked if she was okay.

Not one.

Then Bruce assigned a case she’d already solved.

A case she’d spent weeks gathering evidence for.

And he gave all the credit to Tim.

Again.

Something inside her snapped.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just quietly.

The same way she’d been breaking for years.

So that night she left.

No goodbye.

No note.

No dramatic confrontation.

She simply packed her things and disappeared.

By morning, her room was empty.

Bruce assumed she was on patrol. Dick thought she was with Steph. Steph thought she was with Cass. Cass thought she was training.

It took almost twenty-four hours before anyone realized nobody knew where Name was.

By then she was already halfway across the country.

She dropped the name Wayne completely.

Instead, she took her mother’s surname.

Name Light.

The name she should’ve carried all along.

The name that belonged to someone who had loved her unconditionally.

Someone who had actually seen her.

Months passed.

Then a year.

The Batfamily searched.

But Name didn’t want to be found.

Not yet.

Meanwhile, the music industry gained a new star.

A young singer whose voice seemed capable of making entire stadiums cry. Someone whose songs spoke of loneliness, abandonment, and finding your own worth. Fans connected instantly.

Her first album shattered records.

Every song carried pieces of her story.

Pieces nobody in Gotham recognized.

At first.

Then came the interviews. The sold-out tours. The award shows. The magazine covers.

Soon, Name Light became one of the biggest names in the world.

And somehow…

The Batfamily still didn’t realize who she was.

What they did know was that a new vigilante had appeared.

A ghost-like hero operating across multiple cities.

She protected runaways.

Helped abuse victims.

Exposed corrupt officials.

Took down trafficking rings.

And disappeared before anyone could thank her.

People called her Songbird.

A hero who always seemed to appear when hope was running out.

Nobody knew her identity.

Nobody except Alfred.

Because Alfred knew the moment he heard her voice on the radio.

Recognized it immediately.

And when he saw the small bird symbol left behind after her missions—the same bird she’d doodled endlessly as a child—he knew without a doubt.

But Alfred kept her secret.

Because for the first time in her life, Name had chosen herself.

And he couldn’t take that away from her.

Bruce found out two years later.

At an awards show.

The family had only attended because the singer receiving Artist of the Year had become impossible to ignore.

The lights dimmed.

The winner was announced.

And Bruce froze.

Name stepped onto the stage.

His daughter.

His little girl.

The same girl who used to sit on the kitchen counter while Alfred baked cookies.

The same girl who waited up late hoping he’d come home before she fell asleep.

The same girl who would excitedly run to show him every accomplishment.

The same girl he’d somehow stopped seeing.

The crowd erupted into applause as she accepted the award.

Then she smiled and adjusted the microphone.

“To anyone who’s spent their life feeling invisible…” she began softly.

The arena fell silent.

“Stop waiting for people to see you. Go where you’re appreciated instead.”

The crowd cheered.

Bruce felt his heart shatter.

Because he knew exactly who that message was for.

And for the first time in years, he truly looked at her.

Not as another vigilante.

Not as another Wayne.

Not as someone who would always be there.

But as his daughter.

A daughter who had built an entire life without him.

A daughter who looked happier than she’d ever looked in Gotham.

A daughter who no longer needed him.

After the award show ended, Bruce sat alone in the Batcave for hours, staring at the paused image of Name on the screen.

He couldn’t stop thinking.

Couldn’t stop remembering.

All the moments he’d missed.

The moment she stopped asking him to come to school events.

The moment she stopped waiting for him after patrol.

The moment her smiles became forced.

The moment she gave up hoping someone would notice she was hurting.

And somehow…

He’d missed all of it.

Dick took the news the second hardest.

The hardest was Alfred.

When Dick learned the truth, he locked himself in his apartment for an entire day.

Because suddenly every unanswered text made sense.

Every birthday she left early.

Every family gathering where she seemed distant.

She hadn’t been busy.

She’d been exhausted.

Exhausted from carrying everyone else’s problems while nobody bothered to ask about hers.

Jason took it personally.

Not because she left.

Because she felt like she had to.

He remembered all the times she’d patched him up after rough patrols.

The times she’d sat beside him during his worst nights.

The times she’d helped him without ever asking for anything in return.

And he couldn’t remember a single time he’d done the same for her.

Tim’s guilt came from the files.

As he dug through old case reports, mission logs, and medical records, he discovered something horrifying.

Name had been covering for everyone.

For years.

Taking extra patrols.

Solving investigations.

Completing missions.

Handing over evidence.

And letting others receive the credit.

There were dozens of successful cases credited to different family members that she’d actually solved herself.

Tim stared at the evidence until sunrise.

Then realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d thanked her.

Meanwhile, halfway across the country, Name was happy.

Actually happy.

Not Gotham happy.

Not surviving happy.

Genuinely happy.

For the first time in her life, people saw her.

Fans waited hours just to hear her sing.

Crowds screamed her name.

Children dressed as Songbird for Halloween.

Entire arenas lit up with thousands of lights every time she stepped on stage.

People appreciated her.

People loved her.

Not because she was useful.

Not because she was needed.

Not because she was a Wayne.

Just because she was Name.

And that was enough.

The hardest part for the Batfamily wasn’t that she’d left.

It wasn’t the new last name.

It wasn’t even discovering she’d become one of the most famous singers in the world.

It was realizing she never looked back.

She never mentioned Gotham.

Never mentioned Wayne Manor.

Never mentioned Batman.

Never mentioned any of them.

Not out of anger.

Not out of spite.

But because she had moved on.

While they were still mourning the loss of her, Name had already built a future.

One that didn’t need them to survive.

And every time Bruce saw her laughing during interviews, smiling on stage beneath thousands of lights, or saving lives as Songbird across the country, one thought echoed through his mind.

She looks happier without us.

And somehow…

That hurt more than if she had hated them.