♡Niwa♡

☆MALE! DOCTOR! READER! x BATFAM☆

Bruce finds out he has a son and works at the hospital, but his son doesn't want to live with him.

▪︎Part1

▪︎Part2

▪︎Part3

▪︎Part4

▪︎Part5

▪︎Part6

°DIFFERENT WORLD DIFFERENT FAMILY°

Y/N wakes up in a parallel universe where she is not crowned by Bruce, her eldest son is not Damian but Dick, and the person who died at the hands of the Joker is not Tim but Jason.

▪︎introduction

▪︎Part1

▪︎Part2

~♣︎LOST OMEGA♣︎~

The Joker takes Damian prisoner, and when Batman and Nightwing try to get him out of the Joker's grip, they discover that the Omega of the Flock did not escape, but was kidnapped a very long time ago.

▪︎part1

▪︎Part2

▪︎Part3

▪︎Part4

♠︎FAMILY WITHOUT LIGHT♠︎

Bruce and Y/N are getting divorced after over 10 years of marriage, but the family isn't happy about it.

▪︎Part1

▪︎Part2

▪︎Part3

▪︎Part4

▪︎Part5

♥︎♡SEE WHAT I CAN DO♡♥︎

After her mother's death, Y/N is forced to live with her father, the spoiled brat Bruce Wayne, and because of her hatred towards him, Y/N tries to make his life a living hell.

▪︎Part1

▪︎Part2

▪︎Part3

▪︎Part4

#I'm trying to survive in the academy#

Y/N tries to escape from the bullying of the princes and falling into the traps of her younger half-sister.

▪︎Part1

▪︎Part2

♥︎Secret of Shadows.♥︎

The Adventures of Constantine's son

▪︎Part1

▪︎Part2

☆The Forgotten Twin☆

Damian's weak and kind twin, who is ignored by everyone, tries to be useful to his family.

▪︎Part1

▪︎Part2

▪︎Part3

▪︎Part4

▪︎Part5

°*Bound by Silk and Shadows*°

How can a Y/N attract four princes without giving her name? Is she a witch? A ghost? Or something else?

▪︎Part1

OTHERS:

-when Bruce made BATMOM angry

-Queen Drama with Dick and BATMOM

-Uncle Y/N is Talia's brother who loves to spoil Damian

-omegaverse x Batfam

-the heart of the family is gone

-Jason Todd the wife

-side story of Family Without Light

-side story of Family Without Light 2

-Damian's twin

-From the series A Different World, A Different Family: What if Batmom found a way back to her world?

-Succubus!reader X Batfam (1)

-From the series Backward World: A Different Family: Y/N's reaction to Bruce, who is not married and is transported to a parallel world

-Reader from k-pop demon hunters x batfam

-TomieReader x Batfam

-From series, Family without light: after the divorce, Y/N meet Clark.

-Reader and batfam playing Inzoi

-possessive SisReader x Damian

-Succubus!reader X Batfam (2)

-Succubus!reader X Batfam (3)

-Succubus!reader X Jason Todd

A gruff voice cut his words off before they could form. "He's awake... Hurry, we must deliver him to the Leader."

The blood in Y/N's veins turned to ice. That voice... it wasn't Alfred. "The Leader?" he whispered inwardly, a feeling of dread wrapping around him like a shroud. He squeezed his eyes shut and then forced them open, trying to focus his sight. Black shapes, dark robes, masks hiding faces... Ninjas.The League of Assassins.

He jerked, trying to sit up, but his body was bound tightly with rough ropes. The pain in his arm flared like fire; the coarse rope was wound directly around the wound, every movement feeling like a knife slicing through his flesh anew. He had no strength to resist. The observers didn't move to stop him; they didn't need to. They knew full well he was the weaker prey, which was why Ra's al Ghul had sent only three ninjas to kidnap him.

The truck shook on rough terrain, and Y/N's body shook with it. He could no longer tell if he was trembling from fear or from the vehicle's vibrations. Then it came to him... his father. 'Will he come for me?' he wondered inside. 'What about Damian? Alfred?' He tried to cling to hope, but it quickly faded. Hadn't he lived with them long enough to know their time was precious? Their time was for saving people... for saving people... not for him.

A strange numbness spread through his being, even the pain in his arm began to recede before another, deeper pain in his chest. He closed his eyes and surrendered. What was coming would not be beautiful. He only wished his mother would call him "my son" this time.

In Gotham, in the top floor of Wayne Tower, Bruce Wayne sat behind his massive desk, papers scattered before him, but his eyes were on his phone. He had finished three consecutive meetings and was now trying to finish the paperwork at an uncharacteristic speed to return to where he needed to be: the Batcave. Every passing minute felt heavy as lead.

In the Cave, Tim Drake wasn't blinking, his eyes fixed on the giant screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard at a frantic pace, as if fighting an invisible monster. Dick Grayson was pacing behind him in tense circles, anxious energy charging the air around him like a magnetic field.

"Haven't you found anything yet?" Dick asked, his voice strained with impatience eating at his nerves.

"I told you for the tenth time, I'll tell you the second I find anything. So, shut up and let me focus!" Tim retorted with suppressed anger. He and Oracle had been searching all night to no avail. Dick had rushed from Bludhaven immediately after Alfred's call. And Jason Todd, sitting in a chair in the corner, watching the screen with a heavy silence, knew better than any of them what Y/N might be facing.

Dick tried to calm himself with empty words. "Ra's al Ghul... he won't hurt him, right? He's his grandson. Maybe he's just trying to convince him to return to the League... so he'll be okay, right?"

No one answered. But Jason turned and gave him a long look filled with what he knew and hadn't said. Jason had lived with the League once. The memories were fuzzy because of the Pit, but he remembered Y/N and Damian as infant children. He remembered how the heir had been chosen from day one. Damian, the strong, the promising. And Y/N, the weak, the sickly. He remembered how Talia would push Y/N towards the servants while embracing Damian. He remembered Ra's al Ghul screaming at Y/N in front of everyone, the brutal beatings. The idea that Ra's would try to "persuade" Y/N was a fatal naivety. Jason could imagine the kinds of torture the old man might inflict on his weak grandson. And perhaps the target wasn't Y/N himself, but using him as bait to force Damian to return... or something worse. With Ra's al Ghul, you had to expect the worst.

As for Damian, he was in the mansion's backyard, sitting on the ground next to Titus. The dog was looking at him with guilty, sad eyes. Alfred had banished Titus outside as punishment. Damian had never seen Alfred this angry before. He was trying to understand. Why all this concern for Y/N? His mother taught him that those without talent or skill were worthless. He remembered the countless times he saw his grandfather whip Y/N until he bled. He remembered his brother's screams, his pleas, his apologies. He remembered how he would crawl out of the room after his grandfather was done, how he would curl up on the rough wooden floor of his room and whisper that he was "okay." He remembered how Y/N's eyes had shone when he first heard about his father. A hero who doesn't kill, who saves people. His father's rule seemed like stupidity to Damian, but to Y/N, it was a dream. He was excited to meet the hero. He even dared to ask Ra's al Ghul about his father once and was brutally beaten for it. He never asked again.

And on the day Ra's disappeared, Talia decided to take Damian to his father for his safety. She took Y/N only to be Damian's servant, a sacrifice to be used when needed. Damian wasn't surprised by his father. But Y/N... his smile almost split his face. Damian had seen the tears in his eyes when Bruce patted his head gently. Damian didn't understand his joy.

He didn't understand what Y/N was to him. A brother? He didn't know.

He looked at Titus, who placed his head on his lap. "Don't worry, I'll try to convince Alfred to let you back in."

The truck stopped suddenly, jerking Y/N forward. The back doors swung open, and rough hands grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him out. The rough wound on his arm scraped against the dusty ground, and he let out a sharp cry of pain, but it was lost in the air. They dragged him across the ground towards the entrance of a dark cave. Y/N tried to lean on his good arm, but the dragging was violent and merciless.

Inside the cave, a green light, like an evil aurora, emanated from the walls, filling the place with a demonic aura. Y/N knew immediately. The Lazarus Pit. His heart froze with terror.

An old man approached him, his frame imposing despite his age, and stood before him with a smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. "Welcome back, my grandson."

Y/N wasn't surprised. Insults and hurt were nothing new. But the weapons lined up on a nearby table—scissors, hooks, knives—along with the terrifying green Lazarus Pit... He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. All he ever wanted was peace, to live without pain. But it seemed that was too much to ask.

Bruce returned to the manor, leaving his car in the garage at record speed. He rushed towards the main entrance, ignoring the usual greetings, heading straight for the hidden door leading to the Cave. But on the way, in the almost dark grand hall, he saw something that made him freeze in his tracks.

Alfred. He wasn't in the kitchen or the living room. He was sitting on one of the luxurious chairs in the corner, his back bent, his hands covering his face. Light tremors shook his shoulders. And he was whispering, in a voice broken by tears, words that Bruce caught like stab wounds to his chest.

"...I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I didn't protect you... my boy... Y/N... forgive me."

Bruce hadn't seen Alfred cry like this... perhaps since the death of his parents. The scene was more painful than any wound he had ever received in his life. The guilt, which had been weighing on him like a mountain, suddenly became unbearable. He moved away silently, unable to face the man who had been like a father to him in this state. He continued on his way to the Cave, every step heavy as if it were crushing his soul.

Inside the Cave, the atmosphere was thick with despair. Dick was still pacing, Tim was hunched over the screen, and Jason watched from the shadows.

"Any news?" Bruce asked, his voice hoarse.

Tim shook his head without looking back, his eyes red from exhaustion. "Nothing. They've vanished like fog."

This was the straw that broke the camel's back. All the emotions he had been suppressing—guilt, anger at himself, fear—suddenly exploded. He staggered back and fell into the nearest chair, bending forward, his hands gripping his hair as if trying to pull the painful memories from his head.

"I should have asked him..." he whispered in a broken voice. "I should have asked him about the letter... about who was stalking him... I should have protected him... My god, I screamed at him... and he was bleeding..."

He saw the image again: Y/N, pale, trembling, blood pouring from his arm, the look of absolute terror in his eyes when Bruce had shaken him angrily. And he had been blind, blinded by anger and suspicion, to the wounded child bleeding at his feet.

Dick placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him, but his own hand was shaking. "Bruce... we'll find him."

But the words of comfort were empty. Because they all knew the truth. With Ra's al Ghul, every minute was an eternity.

And elsewhere, deep within that dreadful cave, hours of torture had passed. Y/N's screams, which had been high-pitched and full of terror at first, were now hoarse, weak, mere echoes of an unbearable pain. They cut him, broke his bones, flayed his skin. And every time he was on the verge of death or lost consciousness from the agony, the rough hands would grab him and throw him into the shimmering green Pit.

The Lazarus Pit would heal him, restore his body to its intact state, but it did not heal his mind or his spirit. It only reassembled his cells to enable the torture anew. He begged, cried, pleaded for death. "Kill me... please... just kill me." But Ra's al Ghul's eyes were cold, indifferent, as he supervised the operation with intense interest, like a scientist experimenting on an insect.

After sixteen hours of this repeated hell, something strange happened. Y/N's screams stopped. He no longer cried or begged. He was silent. His eyes, which had reflected pain and terror, became glassy, empty, like the eyes of a statue. Even his body began to change. The wounds they inflicted became narrower, slower. The skin they flayed became tougher, more resistant, defying the knives.

One ninja tried a powerful sword strike on his arm, but the blade glanced off with a strange metallic sound, leaving apenas a faint line.

Everyone stopped. Ra's al Ghul looked at his grandson, who lay still, his eyes empty, his body no longer bleeding. Then a wide, craving, triumphant smile spread across the old man's face.

"Finally..." he whispered, his voice trembling with excitement. "Finally, my weapon is complete."

He had broken him. He had killed everything human inside him and created something else in its place. Something stronger. Something more lethal. Something that belonged to him alone.

@c4xcocoa @rainschnael @sonyboos @quietplace26 @luvstodin @nxdxswolrd @bat1212 @nova916 @mwttw-lsk @celesteelysia @yhin-gg @jetblackw1ngs @lemonshark-leo @staarflowerr @burningkittenprince @rainbowstar @bunbunboysworld @kittzu @eyeless-kun @diamondnightsky23 @ekest @wisefuncherryblossom

The plan was for Damian to befriend the twins, which would bring him closer to Y/N. He left school early and waited for them to arrive. Of course, the first thing he saw was his mother, Y/N.

His attention had been distracted since Y/N was out of the house. All the training Talia had given him to maintain his sobriety had gone to waste.

But his mind returned as soon as he saw her concern for the twins. He was almost burning with anger, despite all the nurturing and kissing she placed on the twins, but he had to calm down. Today's mission was to be their friend. He tried to sit with them in the cafeteria and walk with them after school, but... what he didn't expect was for the twins to hate him.

They ignored him.

No one had ever ignored him when he was nice!

Then Damian realized that becoming friends with the twins was a failure, and he didn't know why....

Well, maybe he knew why they hated him.

Because he was mean to their aunt, Y/N.

He hurt her... a lot.

So Damian gave in, seeing his dear mother once again take the twins to the car after school with a gentle smile that was supposed to be his...

As for Tim, he still insisted on meeting with Y/N. He knew Y/N could call him out on his lie by saying, "More cooperation will improve both companies," but he didn't care. He just wanted to see his mother. To have her pity him like she always did, to ask him how he was and why he looked so tired, to gently stroke his cheek...

He was in a bad mood, and all he wanted was to sleep while she told him a story. He regretted not recording her voice earlier, and now? He was going to take advantage of every kind word she said to him and record it to listen to later. Because he knows...

He knows deep down that his attempts are a failure, and that she'll never return home...

After Damien's school day ended in failure, and Tim's meeting ended in another disappointment, Y/N took the twins home from school. Upon arriving, she was surprised to find Dick outside the door, muttering. Someone might think he was crazy.

Y/N walked over to him, the twins trailing behind her. "Richard? What are you doing here?"

Dick froze. Any words he had planned to say evaporated instantly.

He was about to lose his mind when he heard the name... She didn't call him Dick, she called him Richard... Didn't she love him anymore?

Dick collapsed to his knees, startling Y/N who tried to hold him. "Are you okay?! What happened?" Y/N hugged him tightly, trying to determine if he was hurt.

Dick was speechless. How could he speak when his mother, the thing he thought would never change in his life, now... hated him?

The feeling of her embrace and her warm words made him cry like a baby. He cried on her chest, clinging to her as if she would evaporate if he left her.

Y/N gave the twins the house key and asked them to enter the house. The twins were confused and scared, so they immediately listened to their aunt's words and entered the house.

Y/N tried to get Dick up and get him to stand and let him inside, but he thought she was going to leave him, so he cried even more and held her tightly.

"No... you can't, please..."

Dick begged, sobbing, his words barely comprehending Y/N's words. So after making sure he wasn't hurt, she tried to calm him down.

"Richard, Richard, look at me."

Y/N tried to get him to lift his head, but he cried even more, muttering, "Not Richard... Not Richard..."

Y/N didn't understand what was wrong or why he was crying. "Can you stand with me? Come on, I'll take you inside. It's not good to sit on the floor like that... Come on, try to stand up..."

When Y/N said she wanted to take him inside, he didn't refuse or resist. He stood up, still holding on to her as she led him into the house. She closed the door behind her, sat him down, and sat next to him.

"Try to calm down. Take a deep breath. Come on..."

Y/N patted his back gently, trying to calm him down. Then she took the tissues from the table and began wiping his tears.

Dick began to calm down a little, leaning into Y/N's touch. He'd missed this. Living in Blüdhaven, being self-sufficient wasn't easy.

Y/N motioned for one of the twins, Mark, to bring a glass of water, while the other twin, Kevin, watched Dick angrily. He hated the Wayne family. They made their aunt cry over and over again, and no one comforted her, while she always comforted them for nothing.

Y/N comforted Dick and gave him the time he needed to calm down and collect himself. She didn't force him to talk as long as he didn't. He was holding her arm, so Y/N couldn't get up, so she left him alone.

Mark brought the glass of water and then sat silently next to Kevin. Y/N took the glass and slowly made Dick drink the water. Dick had calmed down by now, but he was still in a state of complete delirium.

Half an hour passed and Dick was asleep on Y/N's shoulder. Y/N gently moved him to lie on the couch.

Then she led the twins to the second floor and said calmly, "Go to your rooms and change, then I'll help you with your homework, okay?"

Mark nodded, but Kevin was angry, so he tugged on Y/N's hand to get her attention.

"Hm? What's wrong, Kevin?"

"Is that guy leaving soon? I don't like him. He cries like a baby," Kevin grumbled, frowning.

Y/N sighed, then picked up the twins and led them to their room. "Well... he'll be leaving soon, so don't worry about him. Just don't cause any trouble, okay?"

The twins nodded, and she placed a kiss on their cheeks and set them down to change. She went to check on Dick.

Dick was sleeping peacefully on the couch. She placed the blanket over him and stroked his hair gently.

Seeing Dick like this made her yearn for when he was a child, losing his parents at a young age. He was fragile, seeking the attention and affection he'd lost. She had no experience with children at the time, so it was difficult. So she read a lot of books, listened to Alfred's advice, and asked some parents about good parenting. She didn't like the responses of some parents, so she had to test it herself. She tried to see what he liked, what made him happy. At first, Dick thought she was trying to be his mother, which he completely rejected, and he didn't cooperate with Y/N.

He was stubborn, screaming that she wasn't his mother. Y/N tried to tell him that she wasn't trying to be his mother, but rather to give him what he was missing. To be a substitute. Because she knew what it meant for a child to be alone, without love or affection.

Y/N sighed as she remembered all the memories with children... even the bad ones...

She placed a kiss on the top of Dick's head and went into the kitchen to prepare dinner. But Kevin was watching from the top of the stairs, looking angrily and sadly, whispering:

"Is my aunt going to leave us?"

As for Damian, he was sitting in front of the school, despairing. Not because Jason was late today, but because he refused to leave. Jason was sitting on his bike in front of the school, looking at Damian, waiting for him to give up and agree to go home. He knew Damian was waiting for Y/N to show up and take him home, which she wasn't going to do.

Jason lit a cigarette and decided to wait with him. He had nothing to lose.

In the Batcave, Alfred was looking at Bruce with concern. "Master Bruce, I think it's time you took care of yourself and the kids."

Bruce barely moved from his chair as he worked on a new case. "This isn't the time for this, Alfred. And I also don't know what you're talking about."

Alfred sighed angrily and immediately turned off the screen. "I beg your pardon, Master Bruce, but enough is enough. The children are suffering on their own. They need a father, someone to lean on. You need to get out of here. Take Damian from school. Try to see Tim and talk to him. Your relationship with Jason is worse than before, so fix it. I don't want to hear any excuses. This is your family." With that, Alfred turned and went back inside, leaving Bruce watching in astonishment.

Bruce pulled back his mask as he looked at Alfred's back... confused. What did he mean by 'talking to Tim'? Wasn't Jason supposed to pick Damian up from school?

And what did Alfred mean by 'they're suffering'?

Alfred's words and his anger at him made him wonder... Was he missing something?

No, the question was, was this more important than saving Gotham? Because Damian is doing a good job as Robin, Tim is still a master tactician, and Jason still leads Crime Alley and hasn't killed anyone in a while. Dick is doing well in Blüdhaven, so why does Alfred say they need help? They're fine as long as they can save people, Bruce thought, then went back to work.

But he still wondered, was there something he didn't see in his sons?

Y/N was never meant to be part of the family — not really. She was a charity case. A favor to a dying agent overseas. Bruce had accepted her into the manor with the same grim obligation he gave to most things.

“She’s quiet,” Alfred had noted, trying to find the good.

“She’s weak,” Damian had said.

“She tries hard,” Dick had offered with a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

“She’s not one of us,” Tim muttered. Jason didn’t even bother commenting.

And so, Y/N became the shadow in the corner of the Batcave. Watching. Listening. Learning.

She trained every day. Got up before dawn. Practiced after patrol. She bandaged her own bruises, cleaned up her own blood, and smiled when they told her she wasn’t cut out for Gotham.

“You’re better off doing something else, Y/N,” Bruce said once, almost kindly.

She nodded. She always nodded.

But no matter what she did — no matter how perfect her form, how silent her steps — they never saw her.

She was invisible in a house full of the world’s greatest detectives.

So she left.

No one stopped her.

No one asked why.

No one even noticed the spare room was empty for three days.

She told herself she’d just go train harder. Get stronger. Become someone they couldn’t ignore.

She ended up in Seoul.

At first, it was just dance. Just movement. Just freedom.

Then came the music. The company. The contracts.

Then came the whispers of demons in the dark. Of corrupted idols and soul-hungry entities drawn to the flashing lights and worship of crowds.

Then came the invitation: "You want to protect people? Do it for real. Join us."

She did.

Because Gotham never wanted her.

But the world? The world needed her.

Years passed.

She rose like starlight.

Y/N became a name on everyone’s lips. The perfect idol. The flawless voice. The breathtaking choreography. Fans adored her. Critics praised her.

And no one — no one — knew the truth.

Not that she came off stage and collapsed from injuries sustained in battle.

Not that her members stitched wounds while the audience cheered for an encore.

Not that she broke demons with the same grace she broke hearts.

She protected millions.

And still, she wasn’t enough for the family she left behind.

They only noticed when she almost died.

A broadcast — corrupted. A stage — sabotaged. A demon, too strong, slipped through her defenses.

She smiled through the bleeding.

Collapsed backstage with a cracked rib, a punctured lung, and fingers shaking from exhaustion.

She sent no call for help.

She hadn’t called them in years.

Why would she?

But fate is cruel.

Tim saw a photo on a tabloid site: Y/N being rushed to an ambulance. Blood on her designer outfit.

“She looks… familiar,” he muttered.

Jason, passing by, paused. “Is that…?”

The Batcave filled with silence as faces turned to a screen they hadn’t looked at in half a decade.

Bruce said nothing.

Damian’s jaw clenched. “She’s not one of us anymore.”

“Maybe she never was,” Tim added.

But the silence said otherwise.

Because now they were looking.

And for the first time, they saw her.

They tried to visit.

Her manager turned them away.

“She doesn’t want to see you,” he said softly. “She asked that no one from Gotham be let in.”

“She needs us,” Dick protested.

“She needed you years ago,” the manager said, voice calm but sharp.

Jason punched a wall.

But the damage had been done long before the demon ever touched her.

The real wounds were older. Deeper. Inflicted by cold shoulders, and forgotten birthdays, and praise that was never given.

She read their messages. Never replied.

She saw their attempts. Ignored them.

Because love given too late was just guilt in a prettier box.

The last performance came six months later.

Y/N smiled brighter than ever. She danced like fire. She sang like heaven.

No one noticed the limp. The fading color. The way her eyes didn’t quite shine.

She collapsed in the dressing room.

No demon this time.

Just a heart too tired to keep pretending.

When the Batfamily arrived, Seoul was quiet.

The hospital was quieter.

They weren’t allowed in.

Not at first.

Until someone handed them a letter — written in her hand. Clean. Elegant. Cold.

“You taught me how to survive.

But you never taught me how to feel safe.

I fought every battle praying someone would see me.

But you were always too busy looking past me.

Don’t mourn me now.

I’ve always been gone.

— Y/N ”

Jason didn’t stop crying for hours.

Tim shut down the cave’s comms.

Dick deleted every video of her they had saved too late.

Damian went to the training room and broke three walls before collapsing in silence.

Bruce stood in the dark hallway outside her old room, door cracked open, untouched for years.

He whispered the words he should have said when she was 15:

“I’m proud of you.”

But the walls didn’t answer.

And she never heard it.

She died a hero.

She died alone.

She died never knowing what it felt like to be loved.

Too quiet. Too artistic. Too soft.

They trained her, sure. Gave her the basics. But when the real missions happened? She was always left behind. Forgotten in the shadows of Gotham while they suited up and saved the world.

It was subtle at first. A missed dinner. A forgotten birthday. "Next time," Bruce would say. "Too dangerous," Dick would mumble. "Just not your thing," Jason scoffed. Damian didn’t even try to hide his sneer.

They said she was sensitive.

Too emotional.

Not made for their world.

She believed them.

Until someone else didn’t.

2012.

A random audition.

A joke, almost.

She had been posting lyrics anonymously online, late at night, when her hands shook too much to hold a batarang. The words came out angry. Sad. Fierce. Someone noticed.

BigHit reached out.

And Y/N—still hurting, still invisible—left.

No one stopped her.

Not a call. Not a message.

They let her go like she was nothing.

2013.

She debuted.

Bright lights. Harsh stages. Brutal rehearsals. Blood, sweat, too many tears. But she made it.

Lead rapper. Lyrics like gunfire. Movements like steel. Voice like a knife.

And still, not a word from Gotham.

She stopped checking her inbox after the third comeback.

Stopped waiting for their names to show up in the crowd.

They never came.

Years later.

BTS blew up.

Gotham was no exception.

Songs in every cafe. Posters on street corners. Choreography on rooftops. Gothamites fell in love with the group—and slowly, the Batfam started to hear things.

"Have you heard of BTS?"

"They're performing at Gotham Stadium!"

"That lead rapper—insane stage presence. Total beast."

It wasn’t until Tim saw the tour trailer that it hit him.

The face. The voice. The name.

Y/N.

The one they forgot.

The one they left.

Now she was everywhere.

Backstage – Gotham Stadium, 2023.

The screams outside were deafening.

Y/N stood alone in the wings, mic in hand, breathing slow. Steady. She had performed this set hundreds of times.

But this one was different.

Tonight, she knew they were watching.

The Batfam had seats. Not invited, not welcomed. But present.

She didn’t flinch.

The intro started. The stage went dark. Lights flared red and white.

And then—

The crowd roared.

She stepped into the spotlight.

Every line, a bullet. Every word, a wound she refused to hide.

> “Did you see my bag?

Did you see my bag?

It’s hella trophies and it’s hella thick!”<

Camera lights flashed. Flames danced.

> “What you think ‘bout that?

What you think ‘bout that?

I bet it got my haters hella sick!” <

She didn’t look toward the Batfam’s seats.

But she didn’t have to.

They heard every word.

> “Bright lights, going forward.

You thought I was gonna fall but I’m fine, sorry—

Sorry, Billboard, sorry, worldwide—

Sorry, family, your kid doing too well.” <

mic drop

Her voice didn’t shake.

But something inside Bruce did.

Tim sat frozen.

Dick had his hands clasped like in prayer.

Jason looked like he’d been shot.

Damian stared with something close to guilt.

But none of them moved.

Because how do you cheer for someone you’ve broken?

After the final bow, Y/N didn’t look back.

She walked off stage, sweat slick down her spine, heart steady.

They forgot her once.

Now the world remembered.

And that would have to be enough.

She didn’t even pack like someone who was leaving forever.

A small duffel bag. A hoodie. One change of shoes. A laptop.

She wasn’t fleeing. She was breathing—for the first time in months.

It wasn’t hate that drove her away from Wayne Manor. It was the quiet kind of heartbreak, the kind that settles deep in the chest when love becomes a leash, and kindness starts feeling like control. Always watched. Always touched. Always reminded how unsafe the world was.

They meant well. That made it worse.

So she slipped away.

The university was far—miles and miles away from Gotham, in a town no villain cared about, in a place where the sky wasn’t choked by smog and bats didn’t fly overhead.

She didn’t tell anyone.

Not Bruce.

Not Alfred.

If she told one, they’d all know. And if they knew… she’d never leave.

She found the apartment online—cheap, crumbling, quiet. She moved in the same night she got the acceptance letter.

For the first time in what felt like years, the silence didn’t scare her. It comforted her.

She woke up without needing to lie. She breathed without someone checking her vitals. She opened her laptop without Tim’s pop-up messages interrupting her. Ate breakfast without Alfred knocking. Sat still without Dick’s hovering concern. Took a walk without Jason shadowing her. Spoke freely without Bruce reminding her how dangerous that was.

She was alone. Not lonely.

She was free.

But freedom, it turned out, had a time limit.

It was Alfred who noticed first.

The tea tray sat untouched outside her door.

For two days.

Then three.

No light. No sound. No answer.

"Perhaps she’s staying elsewhere," Bruce offered, distracted. "She mentioned the library."

But Alfred’s silence was heavy. He knew. She was gone. And Bruce… Bruce checked the security cameras.

At first, nothing seemed strange.

Then Tim found it.

The timestamp was 2:12 a.m. Y/N walked out through the east gate. Alone. Backpack slung over one shoulder. No expression on her face. No note. No hesitation.

The footage ended there.

Panic wasn’t loud. It was quiet. Calculating.

Within two hours, Bruce had called in favors from three government surveillance branches. Tim backtracked online purchases and tracked internet cafés near the apartment listing. Jason was already on a bike, searching bus stations. Dick checked hospitals. Damian hacked university databases.

She wasn’t lost.

She was taken.

That’s what they told themselves. It was easier than admitting the truth.

She left them.

Three days later, Y/N woke up in her bed, half-asleep, sunlight cutting across the floor in lazy slants.

She stretched, bones aching pleasantly from a peaceful night.

Then she noticed the smell.

Something… burnt.

Coffee?

No. Eggs. Maybe toast.

Her brows furrowed.

She hadn’t made breakfast yet.

She sat up—and froze.

There was someone lying next to her.

Dick.

He was breathing slowly, peacefully, like this was his bed, his space.

Her heart stopped.

She bolted upright—but the sound of typing made her whip around.

Tim was at her desk. Her laptop open. Blue light casting harsh shadows over his face. Her files open. Private messages, applications, notes. All open.

“Password was too easy,” he said without looking up.

She didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

She stumbled toward the kitchen, vision narrowing.

Jason was at her counter. Unloading groceries she didn’t buy. Replacing expired cans. Tucking away painkillers. Her drawers—her drawers—were being rearranged.

"Don't worry," he said without turning around. "I threw out the cheap stuff."

The bathroom door creaked open.

Damian walked out, wiping his hands on a towel. “Titus is shedding. You should brush him daily.”

Behind him, two pet beds. One for Titus. One for Alfred—the cat. Scratching posts already nailed to the wall.

And in the kitchen—

Bruce.

Holding a scorched frying pan. Smoke curling from the blackened remains of an omelet.

He turned slowly.

The silence was unbearable.

"You left," he said, voice low.

Y/N couldn’t move.

Her lips parted—but no sound came.

“You left without telling us.”

Like a crime. Like a betrayal.

“You thought we wouldn’t come for you?” Dick’s voice, behind her now. “That we’d just forget?”

Tim stood, closing her laptop. “We taught you everything. Every way to hide. Every way to disappear.”

“We warned you,” Jason said, shaking his head. “Out there? Alone? You think anyone would protect you better than us?”

Damian’s glare was sharp. “You could’ve died.”

Bruce stepped forward, slowly.

“You chose to be alone.”

That wasn’t true.

She chose peace. She chose quiet. She chose a breath.

But standing in that apartment—her apartment—now filled with shadows from the manor, she realized something else:

She wasn’t allowed to choose.

Not anymore.

Jason Todd stood on a cracked rooftop, watching a shady dealer hand off unmarked baggies to a twitchy 13-year-old kid. His jaw clenched. He raised his gun.

“Disgusting,” he muttered, ready to jump down—

POP.

Sultry perfume. Vanilla. Fire. And a voice like velvet sin.

“Aw, my favorite bad boy in a leather jacket. Miss me, Red?”

Jason’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t turn.

“Y/N... This is Crime Alley, not a damn sex club.”

You appeared next to him, licking your fang and stretching like a cat in heels. “Exactly. And I love dirty work.”

First target: The drug dealer.

Jason kicked the guy down, broke his wrist, and slammed his face into a dumpster.

You? You strutted over, heels echoing.

The guy groaned. “Get away—”

You squatted next to him, gently tapped his forehead with one glowing finger. “Name?”

“J-Jerry...”

“Jerry, the stuff you’re selling—fake?”

“No, I swear—”

You kissed his temple. Lightly. Sweetly.

He broke.

“I—I cut the coke with baby powder! I lost a bet on underground kangaroo racing, I needed the cash!”

Jason blinked. “...Kangaroo what now?”

You smirked. “Side effect of my kiss. They confess everything.”

Second mission: Child predator.

The guy ran, dragging a crying girl down a back alley.

Jason chased with fury in his blood.

You? You teleported. Appeared right in front of the man with a devilish grin.

“Where ya goin’, sugarplum?”

He screamed, pulled a knife—you caught his wrist mid-swing. Leaned close.

“Let’s talk.”

One minute later, he was bound in chains of hellfire, sobbing and confessing every victim, every crime. Begging his dead grandmother for forgiveness.

Jason stood beside you, wide-eyed.

“You didn’t even hit him.”

You smoothed your hair. “I’m temptation incarnate, darling. Not a cop.”

Third target: Kidnapping ring.

Five armed men inside a white van, watching the neighborhood like creeps.

Jason prepped his grenades.

You appeared inside the van with a flick, sipping a mojito.

“Wow. No music? No lights? Not even a snack bar? Boys. This is sad.”

One guy screamed. “Who the hell are you?! How’d you get in?!”

You smiled. “Name’s Y/N. Think of me as... a sexy truth serum.”

Within seconds, the van was full of panicked screams and confessions.

One guy cried about a body he hid in his freezer since 2007.

Jason stood on the curb like, “…I’m obsolete.”

You reappeared behind him, tail curling around his waist.

“You’re not obsolete, baby. You’re the guns, the muscles, the broody. I’m just the fun.”

Later that night...

Jason sat on a rooftop, sipping cold coffee and looking stunned.

“I used to think I was Gotham’s necessary monster. But you? You’re like Batman... if he had a bigger chest and zero moral restraint.”

You climbed into his lap, purring.

“Everyone has their way of punishing evil. I just prefer... charm and sin.”

Jason looked into your eyes and sighed.

“You and Batman are gonna fight someday.”

You giggled. “Please. I once wrestled Loki in a volcano hot tub. Batman’s welcome to try.”

"Y/N, put me down! I can run too!" Tim was struggling, being carried like a sack of potatoes.

"Sorry, Timmy, but I can't stop now!" Y/N yelled as he headed straight for the harbor.

So... what? Why are the rats chasing them?

In the Batcave three hours earlier:

"Constantine, I want your son out of my city right now!" Batman said angrily and impatiently.

"It's not your city if you don't have a contract stating that it's under your jurisdiction!" Y/N responded immediately, as Tim tried to calm him down.

"I protect this city!" Batman replied.

"But it's not in your name!" Y/N replied.

And so the argument continued, as everyone watched the scene and Tim tried to calm both sides. Constantine lit his second cigarette and said, "Batman, I know my son can be stubborn sometimes... well, always stubborn, but he's not the type to stay in one city for long, so I'm sure he's looking for something or maybe he was sent here by force."

Batman turned to Constantine and then to Y/N. Y/N sighed and said, "Yeah, well... Fate sent me here. I didn't come by choice. After all, who wants to live in a city full of pollution more than people?"

Constantine smiled smugly at Batman, "See?"

Batman calmed down a bit and asked Y/N, "And why did Fate send you?"

Y/N looked at Batman, considering: Should he tell him that he's chasing a dragon ghost? Or that there's a house haunted by ghosts resembling the Joker? Or that the ghosts of his parents are above their graves, biding their time? "Uh... I can't tell you anything except that I'm here because... there are ghosts I need to catch..."

Jason immediately scoffed. "Ghosts? Really?"

Y/N ignored him and pointed at Tim. "Come on, Timmy, you'll help me catch some ghost clowns in the abandoned hospital on the other side of town."

Jason was shocked. "Clowns?"

"Wait! You still have to be punished for your past actions!" Batman stopped him angrily. "And also, the use of magic is forbidden in my city!"

"Okay, I've had enough of you, you useless, filthy old city freak! First, you can't own a city and name it after yourself without an official order and the approval of the people! Second, I can use magic whenever and however I want! Even my father couldn't stop me, so shut up! Third, try to stop me one more time and I'll make sure you and your family suffer again! This is your last warning, you bastard!" With that, Y/N grabbed Tim's hand and immediately moved out of the cave.

There was a minute of silence after Y/N and Tim left, then Jason burst out laughing. "Oh, I can't believe this guy's totally done you in, B!" Dick slapped Jason's shoulder, while Damian said, "Shut up, Todd."

"Well, I wanted to warn you earlier, but I don't think a warning is any good now," Constantine said, putting out his cigarette.

"What do you mean? Temper tantrum?" Batman said, sitting back in his chair to follow Tim on the computer.

"No, worse. You're in a dangerous situation now. I know when my son is serious. His threat wasn't a joke. If you want to know what could really happen, you should ask Fate. After all, he's Y/N's mentor and his worst enemy. Fate can't stand up to Y/N when he's angry, so I advise you to stay as far away from him as possible."

Batman and everyone else were surprised by Constantine's words. "Fate is Y/N's mentor? And afraid of him? Didn't he just say he was sent by Fate?" Dick said.

Constantine replied, "That's true. It's like a trade-off. Y/N can tame ghosts and raging spirits, so Fate always sends Y/N to resolve such matters. But once Y/N tames a demon, that spirit becomes one of Y/N's minions. If you asked Fate how many demons Y/N has now, you might not believe the number it would give you. You might say that spirits can't harm humans, but that's not true. They can kill you, or even force you to kill yourself or others. The negative energy around spirits can make human skin rot like food."

Everyone was shocked. Then Dick spoke, "Does... does he use demons?"

"No... unless you're on his bad side." Constantine shrugged. "My son isn't a bad person, but he can kill if he wants."

"He's dangerous!" Batman growled. "We need to get him out of Gotham once and for all."

Constantine sighed in resignation, "You'll die by my son, just don't blame me if you do. Bye." Constantine hung up.

Batman immediately found Tim's location, just as Y/N had said before, an abandoned hospital on the other side of town. He got up to drive there, but Dick stopped him. "B, I know you want him out of town, but I don't recommend you go there now."

"I won't let a little wizard do whatever he wants in my town, as you've just heard. He's dangerous, and we need to get him out!"

"I know that, but you're only going to make things worse. You could cause a lot of damage. He's already mad at you. If you show up in his face again, he might do something you'll regret." Dick insisted.

Batman wanted to protest, but Jason interrupted. "Big Bird's right. You're just going to cause trouble, so I'll go instead."

"Tt, you just want to see the clowns that Constantine's son was talking about." Damian looked at Jason with a frown.

"You're right, lil goblin." Jason smiled smugly.

On the other side of town, Y/N stood in front of an abandoned hospital building, next to Tim, who was sick from the sudden move.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asked worriedly.

"At least warn me next time." Tim looked angrily at Y/N. "Good thing I'm wearing the Red Robin outfit."

"Hehe... Sorry, Tim. I was really angry. But really, how can you live with that old man?" Y/N frowned at the memory of Bruce.

"He's Red Robin, and Bruce isn't who you think he is. He's kind... but in his own way." Tim said, trying to find an excuse for Bruce.

"Okay, my ass. Tell him his kindness got him on my blacklist." Y/N grumbled.

"Y/N, you're not doing all this because of me, are you?" Tim asked seriously. "You're not mad at Bruce for what happened earlier... are you?"

Y/N remained silent for a moment before answering, "He didn't even try to apologize to you."

Tim sighed, "I'm used to it. It's no big deal."

"If you're used to it, then I'm not. It won't be easy." Y/N turned to the hospital. "Okay, now let's come up with a plan to get rid of the evil ghosts."

Tim looked at the hospital as well. "How so? I've never helped you get rid of ghosts before..."

"Oh no no no, not get rid of them, tame them."

Tim looked curiously and confused at Y/N. "Tame them? Like... pets?"

"Yeah, the ghosts will become my followers... just like I did with the other ghosts." Y/N said smugly as Tim rolled his eyes.

"Okay, how do we do that?" Tim asked.

"It's simple. I draw a magic circle around the hospital, then I say the spell, and boom, the ghosts come out to negotiate." Y/N said, miming the scene with his hands.

"Wait a minute... did you say negotiate?" Tim looked at Y/N in confusion. “Didn’t you say taming before?”

“Well… taming takes physical effort, but negotiating is easier.” Y/N said, raising his head high, as Tim slapped his face.

Y/N began drawing a magic circle around the hospital while Red Robin followed, making sure no bandits were around. Then they heard the roar of a bike behind them. Red Robin turned to find Red Hood following them.

“What is Ketchup Head doing here?” Y/N asked with a frown, as Red Robin readied his bo staff.

“Hey, I come in peace. I’m here to help, nothing more.” Red Hood raised his hand in surrender.

“Help with what? Trying to annoy Timmy… I mean Red Robin, or trying to annoy me?” Y/N said doubtfully.

“No, I’m here to help get rid of the clowns. I love this job.” Red Hood was clearly smiling behind his helmet.

Y/N doubted his words. "I don't trust you, but if you try to stand in my way or do anything stupid, I won't hesitate to throw you into the ocean."

"Okay, Chief."

With that, Y/N completed his work drawing the magic circle around the entire hospital. After he finished, he stood in front of the hospital again, and then Y/N began reciting the summoning spell. "By the power of Drama, I command you, ghosts, to come out!"

Tim and Jason looked at each other in confusion. The power of Drama?

Seconds later, the magic circle began to glow, and then a sewer rat emerged from it.

"...That's a rat," Tim said, pinching his nose.

"No, look at his wild eyes! It's a ghost in rat form!" Y/N hid behind Red Robin.

"And why are you behind me? Aren't you supposed to be negotiating with the rat?" Tim looked behind him.

"Oh hehehe... It's not as easy as you think." Y/N replied nervously.

As for me, Jason cried out in frustration, "Isn't it supposed to be a clown ghost? Why is it a dirty rat? This is a waste of time!"

"You only came to see the clown ghost, not to help, right?" Tim looked at Jason coldly.

"Well, maybe..." Before Jason could finish, the rat leaped up to Jason, snatched his wallet, and ran away. Jason immediately screamed and rushed after the rat.

Tim looked in shock at what had happened, "Y/N, answer me honestly. Did you order the rat to steal Jason?...Y/N?" Tim turned to Y/N, who didn't answer, and found him staring at the magic circle with disgust. So Tim turned back to the magic circle to find a lot of rats there. "What..."

Before Tim could speak or move, he found his banished body being carried over Y/N's shoulder, as Y/N ran madly. "Damn it!"

"Y/N! Put me down! What are those rats!" Tim shouted.

"Calm down! First, we need to escape to a place where they have a weak point, then we can threaten and negotiate. I told you, authorization is a difficult task!" Y/N began running quickly to the port.

"And what's the weak point?!"

"Water!"

"I hate you and your ideas, Y/N!!"

As soon as Y/N reached the Gotham Sea, he immediately jumped in, still carrying Tim.

Since the ghosts didn't know that a rat's body couldn't swim, all the rats jumped into the sea as well. This caused them to emerge from the rat's body as the body they were in sank.

Tim and Y/N swam back to the harbor. "Damn, I forgot that the water in this city is dirtier than my father's jacket that hasn't been washed in years." Y/N grumbled at the stench clinging to him.

"Uh... Y/N? I guess it's time to negotiate..." Tim said, pointing at the clown-shaped ghosts hovering over the sea.

"Oh, right. Okay." Y/N cleared his throat, then stood up and spoke to the ghosts. "Okay, ghosts, playtime is over. It's time to be useful. I can promise you several things if you join me quietly. First, you will be free from the shackles that bind you in Gotham City. You can leave them. Second, I will become your leader, which means you must do exactly what I say. Third, it is strictly forbidden to enter a human body without my permission. If you refuse, I will have to burn you and destroy you forever. So what's your decision?"

All the ghosts looked at Y/N angrily. "Why should we? We were killed in that hospital. We were burned for trying to cheer up the children in the hospital, and a ghost thanked us? By burning us alive!"

Y/N sighed and said, "The hospital was accidentally burned down. All the nurses, doctors, and children died there, and you too. But I have a question: Do you regret making the children happy back then? Was the children's smiles something cheap to you? What about the nurses who laughed too? What about the elderly who felt their loneliness disappear when you arrived?"

Y/N's words had an effect on the ghosts, as several approached Y/N. "I loved making people happy. It made me happy." One of the ghosts spoke, bowing before Y/N. "I never regretted making them happy."

With that, all the ghosts bowed before Y/N in agreement, becoming his followers. Y/N nodded and then recited a spell that sucked all the ghosts into Y/N's body, and they disappeared peacefully.

As soon as Y/N turned to Tim, Tim jumped on Y/N and hugged his tightly. "Woah, woof... Are you okay?" Y/N wrapped his arms around Tim worriedly.

"I feel sorry for them..." Tim said, his voice muffled by his face buried in Y/N's shoulder.

"I know. That's why I keep the good ghosts, unlike Fate." Y/N's hand patted Tim's back gently. "It'll be okay, Timmy. They're in a good place now."

Tim smiled and immediately pulled away from Y/N. "Jason! Wasn't he being haunted by a ghost too?!"

Y/N laughed loudly. "No, he's just a rat."

Somewhere, Jason's scream of "MY CREDIT CAAAAARD" echoed through Gotham.

Then she saw where she’d landed.

Gotham City.

Dirty. Dramatic. Delicious.

It didn’t take long to catch the attention of the Bat.

She’d just seduced a minor crime boss into handing over his penthouse when Batman crashed through the window like a brooding gargoyle in a cape.

"Who are you?" he growled.

Y/N blinked, licked her fangs, and gave him her best slow-burn smile.

"Awww, Batsy. You came to check on me?"

He aimed a Batarang at your heart. It melted midair.

Y/N blew on her claws. "Oops. You’re not immune, are you?"

"I don’t get seduced," he snarled.

Fifteen minutes later, he was backing out of her room red-faced, muttering something about "mental training" and "inhuman pheromones" while his cape flapped awkwardly to hide a very obvious... situation.

Y/N stretched out across the windowsill in a silk robe, tail flicking. Gotham was going to be fun.

The next week was like being dropped into a hot man buffet.

Nightwing was the first to show up.

He’d been doing his rounds in Blüdhaven, then came rushing when Bruce mentioned “a sex demon seducing criminals.” Big mistake.

"Hi! You must be the flying one," Y/N purred, materializing behind him mid-patrol.

He did a backflip out of pure instinct and landed in a defensive crouch. "Holy— What the— Okay, no offense, but you are way too attractive."

"Flatterer."

Y/N stalked toward him slowly. His escrima sticks shook.

"I have a very healthy sex life, lady," he stammered.

"Noted," Y/N grinned, right before she whispered something unholy in his ear.

He fainted. Straight up. Just face-planted on the rooftop.

Y/N turned to a gargoyle.

"Is this the Bat-standard?"

Red Hood found her next.

He was, as the humans say, built different.

He kicked open her door like an action movie hero, dual pistols aimed at her chest.

"Succubus, right? Demon, lust, and bad decisions?"

"Hi, Daddy."

Jason blinked.

"Okay, yeah. That’s not fair."

Y/N smiled slowly. "You’ve got rage. Trauma. Deep-rooted lust layered in guilt and defiance. I love that in a man."

Jason didn’t drop the guns. But he didn’t leave either. In fact, he sat down on her couch, threw his boots up on the table, and said:

"Alright. Seduce me. Let’s see what happens."

Y/N gasped. "Finally, a challenge."

Three hours later, Alfred had to call Jason’s phone six times to remind him to go home.

He left with his jacket half off and a glazed look in his eyes.

Tim found a lipstick mark on his neck the next day. Jason denied everything.

Tim tried to resist her with logic.

"I’m immune," he declared. "Demonology says succubi can’t affect people under high mental strain and with caffeine in their bloodstream."

"Is that a fact?" Y/N cooed, sitting cross-legged on the edge of his desk.

He nodded. "I drank four Red Bulls before coming here."

Y/N leaned in close, her breath like honey and heat. "Then let’s test that theory, genius."

Five minutes later, Tim was lying face-down in the Batcomputer keyboard mumbling, “We’re all going to hell.”

Damian was suspicious from the start.

"You will not corrupt me, temptress."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I like you. Very Shakespearean.”

He crossed his arms. "I have trained in the League of Assassins. My mind is sharp. My body, pure."

Y/N blinked. "I’m not interested in jailbait, demon-slayer."

He stared. "You... you what?"

"You heard me, baby bat. Come back when you grow a little more... testosterone."

Damian looked both insulted and vaguely relieved.

He stormed off shouting, "Grayson said you flirted with him too!"

Y/N sighed. “Oh, I flirted with everyone.”

Later that night, the Batcave held an emergency meeting.

Bruce: “She’s a demon. We can’t keep letting her... exist.”

Dick: “It’s not letting, she just does.”

Jason: “Don’t look at me like that. She’s hot and possibly immortal.”

Tim: “I have regrets. I also have a hickey in the shape of an ancient rune.”

Damian: "You are all weak. This is why she mocks us."

Bruce groaned into his cowl.

Y/N, meanwhile, were curled up in Wayne Manor’s guest room (which you definitely broke into), sipping wine and watching Gotham’s skyline.

A succubus loose in Gotham, living rent-free in the minds of every member of the Batfamily?

Delicious.

Y/N blew a kiss to the moon.

“Nighty night, Bats.”

After school, he also goes to the park to swing. He feels amazing when the air hits his face, like flying high. But he doesn't stay on the swing for long.

Last week, while exploring the mansion because he was bored and no one was giving him a chance to talk, he found an opening behind one of the huge paintings hanging on the wall. He was afraid to go inside at first, because it looked dirty and full of insects and spiders, but he gathered his courage and took a flashlight and a mask to cover the lower part of his face to prevent him from getting a dust allergy.

He was careful entering the opening; it was small, but not for him, but for people the size of his father. He closed the hole with the board again so no one would scold him if they saw him like this. After walking a distance, the hole inside began to get larger, allowing him to stand and not crawl, until he reached a wall with a ladder leading up. Y/N pointed the flashlight upwards and realized that the distance seemed long, so he hung the flashlight above his head and began climbing the ladder up. The wall was dirty and the place was full of spider webs. It seemed that Alfred hadn't come or hadn't cleaned this place before.

Once Y/N reached the top, the place was very spacious, filled with boxes and furniture. There was a very small window through which light came. Since the sun was about to set, Y/N decided to look for a flashlight for this place, if there was one. He found small LED lights wrapped around the room, but they weren't working because the battery had died. So he turned off his flashlight, took the battery, and put it in the LED lights. Once the place was lit, it was even larger than Y/N had seen with the flashlight. Y/N was fascinated by the place and curious to explore the boxes, but he was worried. Would his father be angry if he found out? Had his father hidden this place for a reason? What if his father didn't know about it?

After thinking for a few minutes, Y/N decided that he would explore the place first. If he found anything that might cause trouble or something dangerous, he would leave and forget about this place. So he started exploring, and surprisingly, Y/N found a lot of things, all of them damaged. Like his father's weapons and equipment, but they were all damaged. There were some antiques and paintings that looked very old. Hhe also found a bed, but it was broken and dirty. Suddenly, a great idea came to Y/N. What if... What if he cleaned this place so it could be his secret place? What if he fixed the bed and added more lights so this place could be his room? Y/N trembled with excitement. He wanted to do this. He wanted this place to be his, his property, something that belonged to him.

And that's what happened. Y/N came to own that room, which he later discovered was the mansion's attic. He started going there every time he came home, and he even found passages leading to the kitchen, the cave, and even the garage. There were a lot of passages leading to random rooms, so Y/N made a map of the passages. And hung it in the attic. His room.

Now he's walking home. It's a long way, but he doesn't want to call Alfred. The last time he called Alfred, his father got angry at him because he needed Alfred for an errand. So he started walking home. He wanted to quickly get back to his attic. Today he'd be disassembling appliances. He's not a mechanical expert, but he loves taking things apart, so he'll take them apart and reassemble them, of course. He doesn't want his father to get angry if he finds out he's disassembling his appliances. But there's a problem that's bothering Y/N right now. Someone has been following him for five days. He may not be an expert in combat, but the League of Assassins has trained his senses to observe. He's not sure what to do. He's tried to tell his father, but he refuses to give him time to talk. He's tried to tell Alfred, but he's afraid his father will get angry if he keeps Alfred busy. And he definitely won't tell Damian; he'll make fun of him and won't help him. Dick's busy in Bludhaven, Tim doesn't talk or look at him, and Jason's scary, so no, he just has to deal with it on his own. The thing is, he doesn't know who or why. Maybe it's one of the ninja from the League of Assassins, maybe it's not. The strange thing is, they haven't attacked yet, or even tried to get close; they're keeping their distance. But as soon as he reaches the edge of Wayne's mansion, the person watching him disappears, as if he just evaporated. Y/N doesn't care as long as he's okay, but he still has to find a solution without hurting or upsetting anyone. He wants to resolve this peacefully. Maybe... tell the police? From what he'd heard from his father and brother Damian when they'd spoken before, the police in Gotham were just a name, and they all worked for the villains... so maybe not. He wouldn't tell the police... so who would he tell? Who would he seek safety from?...

Y/N reached the attic from the parking garage so as not to run into his father, not wanting to upset his father. As he sat on his bed in the attic and looked out the window, a thought came to him... maybe a thought that would anger his father and his brother Damian, or perhaps the entire family, but... he couldn't deal with the unknown person stalking him alone... so he grabbed his bag and took out a notebook. Then he took out a pair of gloves he'd put in the attic while cleaning. He grabbed the pen and began writing on the paper:

"Mr. Batman, please read my letter seriously. This isn't a prank or even a trap. If it were, I would have put a line in my letter. So, please help me with my problem. Someone is stalking me, and I'm worried about this. I have no desire to fight or hurt anyone, and I'm unable to even defend myself. I don't have any enemies, but my family does, and they may be planning to kidnap or even kill me. I haven't seen this person's identity or even their features, but I have a strong feeling. This stalker has been stalking me every morning, and as soon as I return to my family's home, they disappear completely. This has been happening for five days and is still happening. If you can help me, please write "yes" in this same letter and write some questions, if you have any. Return the paper to its place when you're finished."

Y/N tore the paper from the notebook and folded the letter. It was impossible for him to write his name; he knew how his father would react if it was him. Then he thought... where should he put it? Maybe on a bat signal? No, maybe he'd see it, and maybe the paper might get damaged by the wind and rain... As he thought, a thought flashed through his mind... His father's cars... Maybe if he put them there... If he put them there, someone would see them, Alfred or his father, and then he'd have to deal with it! Yes... The garage doesn't have many cameras, especially the secret passage he'd discovered, and even if his father put a camera after he discovered the message, there were other passages where he could place other messages.

With hope and determination, Y/N immediately got up, went to the secret passage leading to the garage, and then got out. As soon as he arrived, he looked at the cars and chose one his father would use soon. He then placed the message on the windshield and returned to the attic from the passage. He would then go down to his room, see what happened, and try to hear his father's reaction. Indeed, he went down to his room and then came out pretending to go to the kitchen to get water. Tim and Damian were in the cave, and his father was talking to Alfred in front of the door, ready to leave for the company... Y/N looked expectantly as he saw his father and Alfred go out to the garage. Y/N waited on one of the chairs in the kitchen holding a glass of water and drank slowly. Not ten minutes passed until his father came back quickly with Alfred and went to the bat cave. Then he knew that his plan had succeeded. He immediately rushed to his room, then to the attic, then to the secret passage to the bat cave. The passage in the bat cave was blocked by a huge stone hiding the passage. He could roll it but they might hear him. So he would stay put and listen to what they said.

"Tim, I want you to scan this paper immediately for fingerprints, right now!" Bruce said with a tense jaw.

Tim turned to Bruce curiously, and Damian stopped training upon seeing his father's expression. "Aren't you supposed to leave for the company with Pennyworth?" He took the paper from Bruce and, as soon as he read it, looked back at Bruce. "I don't understand. It's a letter. What's wrong with it?"

This time, Alfred spoke. "We found it in the garage in one of Mr. Bruce's cars." Bruce continued. "This person knows my identity as Batman... Scan the paper and find any fingerprints you can find."

Tim was shocked. "Oh my God!" He immediately took the paper from Damian to scan it and find any fingerprints.

"How so? Maybe it's a prank!" Damian said, but Bruce shook his head. "No... because this person placed the letter so that the cameras would sound the alarm, which means they know where the cameras are in the garage. And of all the cars, they placed it in front of the car I'm going to leave in. So it might not be a prank."

"But... the letter said he needed help. Does that mean this person is in danger?" Tim spoke.

Bruce sat back in his chair, thinking, "Yes, it's possible. The letter said his family has a lot of enemies, so it could be one of two things: his family is very influential, or maybe his family is heavily in debt and could be in danger. And most likely he's from a wealthy family, because he'd have to have a skilled hacker to hide his escape from the cameras, or maybe he paid someone skilled at disguise to place the letter."

"There are no fingerprints, there's some dust, but... the ink used... you might be right, Bruce, that ink isn't cheap. A family in debt might use it..." Tim said, reading the results on the screen.

"So what do we do?" Damian looked at his father.

"There's no other solution but to answer this person and see what happens, but we have to search the place first. I want to make sure he's not watching us."

Y/N’s heart pounded as he pressed his ear against the cold stone of the hidden passage, listening to every word. His father’s voice was sharp, urgent—nothing like the dismissive tone he used with him.

"Tim, I need you to cross-reference any recent threats against prominent families in Gotham. If this person is being targeted, it might connect to one of our cases."

"On it," Tim replied, fingers flying across the keyboard.

Damian crossed his arms. "This could still be a trap. The League has used similar tactics before."

Bruce’s jaw tightened. "Maybe. But if there’s even a chance someone innocent is in danger, we can’t ignore it."

Y/N’s breath hitched. Innocent. The word stung. They didn’t know it was him. They wouldn’t care if it was him.

"Tt. But if this fool is being followed, they clearly lack the skill to handle it themselves."

Y/N clenched his fists. Of course Damian would say that.

Tim frowned at the note again. "Whoever wrote this sounds scared. They’re not asking for Batman to fight for them—just for help. That’s… not how most villains operate."

Bruce nodded slowly. "We’ll leave a response. If they’re telling the truth, we’ll find them. If it’s a trap, we’ll be ready."

Y/N’s stomach twisted. They’re actually taking this seriously.

Because it wasn’t him.

Because to them, a stranger’s plea mattered more than their own son’s existence.

The Next Morning Y/N forced himself to act normal. He dressed for school, smiled at Alfred’s breakfast offer, and ignored the way his hands shook.

Damian wasn’t at the table—probably already in the Cave, discussing the mysterious letter.

Tim barely glanced up from his coffee.

Bruce was gone.

Same as always.

But today, Y/N couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt.

The moment he stepped into Gotham Academy, the weight lifted.

"Y/N! Over here!"

His friend, Lucas, waved from their usual spot. Y/N forced a grin and joined him, letting the chatter about video games and weekend plans wash over him.

This is what normal feels like.

But even here, the fear lingered.

Because they was still out there.

The stalker.

The shadow that followed him every afternoon, vanishing like smoke at the manor’s gates.

After school, Y/N didn’t go straight home.

He went to the park.

The swings were his secret escape—the closest thing to flying.

He kicked off, soaring higher, the wind whipping through his hair.

For a few seconds, he could pretend he wasn’t Y/N the Forgotten

Just a boy.

Just free

But then—

A flicker of movement in the trees.

His blood ran cold.

He’s here.

The stalker.

Watching.

Waiting.

Y/N’s grip tightened on the chains. He didn’t run. Not yet.

Because for the first time, a dark thought crept in:

What if I let them take me?

Would anyone even come looking?

Y/N shake his head.

no, i shouldn't think like that...

He stood up and walked back home.

That night, Y/N didn’t sleep.

He worked in the attic, dismantling an old Bat-computer component with trembling hands.

If I fix this… if I make myself useful…

But the wires blurred.

Tears fell onto the circuitry.

Why am I even trying?

Bruce had never cared about his skills.

Only Damian’s.

Always Damian’s.

The next morning, Y/N almost dropped her bag when he saw it. The letter. In his father's hand.

His father was heading to the garage. Y/N immediately walked after Alfred And Bruce, and...

YES

he saw the word YES on the letter.

That was all.

No questions.

No demands.

Just… YES.

Batman was going to help.

But Batman didn’t know it was him.

And when he found out?

Y/N’s breath came in short, panicked gasps.

He’ll be furious.

They all will.

Because he’d dared to waste their time.

Because he’d dared to ask for help.

Y/N’s heart pounded violently as he walked to school, his mind racing with what to write next. Details… but not too many. His father is a detective, after all. He couldn’t risk giving himself away.

At school, hidden in the back of the library, he pulled on his winter gloves, took out a fresh sheet of paper, and began writing in careful, measured strokes:

"Thank you for accepting my request, Mr. Batman. The person stalking me is usually at Gotham Park, and sometimes hides on the rooftop of ‘Hello’ Café. They appear in the afternoon and follow me until I reach home. Please, just stop them. There’s no need to hurt them."

He paused, rereading the words. Too vague? Too obvious? No—it had to be enough.

Now, where to leave it?

The garage was no longer safe. Bruce would have added cameras after the first note.

His father’s room.

That was the only place that had no cameras

After school, Y/N didn’t go to the park. He went straight home, slipping inside unnoticed.

Up to the attic.

Through the hidden passage.

Into Bruce’s bedroom.

The room was empty, untouched—just like always.

Y/N placed the note on the pillow, then hesitated.

Proof.

He needed proof someone had been here.

Carefully, he cracked open the window—just enough to suggest an intruder.

Then he vanished back into the walls, leaving no trace but the whisper of paper against silk.

Y/N sat in the living room, pretending to read.

Waiting.

Watching.

Will he notice?

Will he even care?*

The front door opened.

Bruce walked in, Alfred behind him.

Y/N’s breath caught.

But Bruce didn’t even glance his way.

He just headed upstairs.

To his room.

To the note.

She was the succubus in the shadows, the woman no one could catch.

But Batman had made it personal.

“She’s feeding off civilians,” Bruce growled, the glow of the Batcomputer reflecting in his cold eyes. “This city’s barely holding itself together. She doesn’t belong here.”

“You say that like we can actually catch her,” Tim muttered, arms folded. “She’s... fast. And she knows we’re watching.”

Dick leaned against the wall with a lopsided grin. “Fast? Try intoxicating. I ran into her two nights ago in the East End. Thought I had her cornered. Then she—” He cleared his throat, cheeks pink. “Never mind.”

Jason snorted. “She kissed you, didn’t she?”

“Shut up.”

Damian, ever sour and sharp, narrowed his eyes. “She won’t seduce me. I have discipline.”

“Sure, demon spawn,” Jason teased. “Let’s see how long you last.”

She knew they were coming. She always knew.

The moment she stepped into the moonlight, dressed in crimson silk that clung to every line of her wicked grace, they were already there. Eyes from rooftops, from shadows. She could feel them, each heartbeat like a different flavor on her tongue—Bruce’s grim resolve, Dick’s smirking confidence, Tim’s curiosity, Jason’s barely restrained rage, Damian’s fire.

And she craved every one of them.

Dick cornered her near Crime Alley, acrobat’s grace bringing him down just behind her.

“You don’t belong here,” he said. His voice was steady, but his heart stuttered.

She turned, slow and languid, lips curled in amusement. “Neither do you, Nightwing.”

Her eyes glowed like embers. Her hand reached out—not grabbing, not attacking, just brushing his jaw with fingers like silk and sin.

His breath hitched.

She leaned in, her voice a whisper against his neck. “You should smile more, pretty boy.”

Then she was gone. He was left breathless, flushed, and empty-handed. "not again! damn it!"

Jason tracked her through the Narrows, Red Hood’s guns holstered but ready. She stood in a ruined cathedral, framed by shattered glass and silver moonlight.

“End of the road,” he said, voice rough.

She smiled, stepping into his space. “You like chasing monsters, don’t you?”

Jason didn’t move when her hand slid over his chestplate. His body betrayed him. Muscles locked. Heat pooled in his core. Her eyes held his like a vice, voice curling around his mind like smoke.

“I like the broken ones,” she whispered.

His breath caught.

She vanished.

He swore and punched the wall.

Tim used logic, algorithms, heat signatures. He almost had her.

Then she showed up in his safehouse.

“You’re clever,” she said, circling him like a dream, “but tired.”

“I’m not tired,” he snapped, stepping back.

She pressed a hand to his chest. “Liar.”

He blinked—and her lips were inches from his. The warmth of her touch sapped the will from his limbs. Her eyes shimmered with something unearthly, and the part of his mind screaming ‘danger’ was smothered under desire.

He closed his eyes—

—and opened them to an empty room.

She caught Damian off guard. No seduction. Just standing on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, waiting.

“You're not immune,” she said when he drew his blade.

He advanced. “I am focused.”

But when she touched his arm, fire licked up his spine.

“You wear rage like a crown,” she purred. “But you’re still just a boy.”

“I am not—” His voice cracked.

She kissed his cheek with a phantom’s softness. “I’ll let you grow into something lovely.”

He stood frozen as she vanished like mist.

Bruce didn’t come for her. She came to him.

The Batcave was dark, lit only by the blue glow of screens. She walked through it like it was her throne room.

“You’ve been watching me,” she said, voice low.

“I know what you are,” he replied, standing firm. “And I won’t let you win.”

She smiled. “You already did. Every time I touch them... every time their hearts race... you're the one who feels it most. You want me gone because I tempt you.”

Bruce said nothing.

She walked to him, closer than anyone should. He didn’t move.

“You can’t stop desire, Batman,” she whispered. “You only cage it. And cages rust.”

He blinked—and she was gone.

They never caught her.

Every time they came close, she slipped away with a kiss or a whisper. And Gotham, dark and desperate, welcomed her like an old lover.

She wasn’t a villain. Not really.

She was temptation incarnate.

And she wasn’t leaving.

“Go away,” she said. No fear. Just warning.

He didn’t.

Damian stood beside her in the soft rustle of his cape, arms crossed. “You’re in my patrol zone.”

She turned her head, narrowing her eyes at him like she was calculating whether she could take him in a fight. Spoiler: she couldn’t. But Damian respected the fact that she looked like she might try.

“I was here first,” she said.

Damian didn’t respond. He just sat beside her. Quiet. Still. Watching.

It didn’t take long for her to follow him home. Not because he asked—Damian Wayne didn’t ask. But because he left the window open, just once, and she slipped in like a shadow, looking for food, maybe shelter.

She found a brother.

They didn’t speak of it—not at first. But from the moment she walked into Wayne Manor, Damian stalked behind her like an overprotective hound. Alfred noticed first. Then Dick. Bruce didn’t say a word—just watched with that unreadable bat-stare that saw everything.

She was quiet, sweet in a way that surprised them all, but if anyone got too close—especially anyone who dared to make Damian flinch—she’d snap.

“I’m his,” she once said to Jason, when he ruffled Damian’s hair and got a snarl for it.

Jason had blinked, laughed, and muttered, “Okay, yandere-sis. Chill.”

But Damian hadn’t corrected her.

Because it was true.

She was his.

Damian had never felt it before. The need to protect something that wasn’t a mission or a legacy. She wasn’t a soldier. She was small and kind and wore Batman socks around the manor like it was the only armor she had.

And if anyone hurt her?

He would burn the world down.

So he went to Bruce, standing stiff and proud with his fists clenched at his sides. “I want to adopt her.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You’re fifteen.”

“I didn’t ask if I could. I said I want to.”

There was a long silence. Then Bruce exhaled, rubbed his temple, and said, “We’ll work on it together.”

That night, he told her. Quietly. In the moonlit shadows of the garden. “You’re mine. I don’t care what the law says. I picked you.”

She smiled and whispered, “I picked you first.”

Dick (sniffing the air): Why do they smell like burning rubber?

Y/N: I used mystery oil from the garage. For flavor.

Jason (bursting in, horrified): THAT WAS MY MOTORCYCLE ENGINE GREASE! YOU MONSTER!

Damian: (already dialing 911) "Tt. I am not dying for your cooking."

'No... Did the prince come to kill me? Or maybe he brought his soldiers to finish me off in secret!'

But the person who entered wasn't the prince, nor a soldier who came to take her to court... it was her. Her sister.

"Ah, the room is really small, but it's okay... I'll put up with you being in it." The sister said with a fake smile, dragging her bag inside like a princess on a red carpet.

"The room is mine alone," Y/N muttered, getting up from under the bed and trying to hide the tension in her voice.

"Oh? Didn't you hear? I asked Dad to let me be with you, just to keep an eye on you... I know you need supervision after everything you did to me..." She said it deliberately loudly, so that the people in the hallway, where some students had woken up, could hear. Then she sat on the other bed and started pretending to cry.

"Please don't hurt me, sis. I just want to stay in the same room as my big sister... Don't hit me, sis!..." she said, burying her face in her hands and letting out a dramatic gasp.

Y/N stood there, her eyes widening...

'Is she trying to accuse me of hitting her in front of everyone?!'

Outside the room, Y/N heard whispers, whispers that would turn into rumors... rumors that wouldn't die here.

Y/N decided to get ready quickly and leave before the situation got any worse. As Y/N walked through the garden toward the lecture hall, the whispers followed her, and the students' eyes watched her.

"That's... the one her sister's afraid of..."

"She says she was tormenting her at the palace..."

"They must have sent her to the academy to be rid of the family..."

Every step felt like a stab in her chest, but Y/N held her head up; she couldn't break now.

She entered the first lecture hall... It was a huge room, reserved for public lectures, and filled with students from various buildings, including nobles, warriors, and mages.

She sat in the back, trying not to draw attention, until someone sat in the seat right next to her.

He was wearing an elegant outfit, simple but distinctly sophisticated... His hair was dark, and his intelligent eyes scanned the hall, then stopped on her.

Tim Drake.

The fourth prince of Gotham... intelligent, terrifying in his own way, capable of destroying an entire life with a single piece of information.

He didn't speak, just looked at her for a few seconds before smiling softly and returning to his notebook. But the smile wasn't kind... it was more like the smile of a thinker starting to tie strings in his head.

As soon as the class ended, Y/N stood up to leave as quickly as she could, as staying by a prince's side was considered a bad omen. On her way back, she found her sister talking to a group of students in front of the dormitory. She was crying, like a war victim.

"I'm just scared she'll repeat what she did to me when I was little... She'd lock the door and turn off the lights... She'd say she'd suck my soul out if I spoke..."

Y/N stood and watched silently, her heart aching... None of this happened. Her sister was spoiled, even when she cried.

But one of the students noticed Y/N and said loudly, "She's here..."

The group turned to her, their looks of accusation, pity, and horror.

Before she could say a word, a magical piece of paper flew by, stopped in front of her face, and opened.

It was a summons to appear before the Student Ethics Preliminary Investigation Board... under the direct supervision of a prince.

The name at the bottom of the paper was written in clear gold:

Timothy Drake.

Y/N sighed, then walked to the board, standing in front of the large door of the investigation room in the Behavioral Affairs building. This was still her first day at the academy, and here she was, caught in one of her sister's traps and deceptions.

The door to the room was surrounded by a cold aura... not climatic, but moral. A door through which everyone walks knowing they are leaving a part of their dignity outside, even if they are innocent.

Y/N looked at the magical paper again, even though she had memorized the words well.

"Official summons to attend a preliminary investigation under the auspices of Prince Timothy Drake. Attendance is mandatory. Absence is considered an admission."

Y/N took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The hall was larger than she expected. Its walls were made of black stone, decorated with the kingdom's crests. At the head of the hall was a long table, behind which sat a small council of five people wearing dark robes. A central chair was raised slightly above the rest. Prince Tim Drake sat there, completely calm, his face emotionless, as if this were just another simple task for him.

But his eyes? They seemed to pierce her chest, searching for something... perhaps a loophole, a hesitation, or a small lie.

In the corner of the hall, it wasn't difficult to notice the figure standing wordlessly, not sitting, just watching with deadly calm.

Dick Grayson.

The elder prince, his hands behind his back, his eyes fixed on Y/N from the moment she entered.

'Why is he here? Did he come to watch me get crushed?' Did he come to smile as he saw me collapse, avenging the slap?'

The sound of knocking on the table brought her back to reality.

"Y/N, the new recruit, from Building Nine, Room Fifty-Five," one of the detectives said loudly.

"Do you know why you're here?" Tim finally asked.

"Yes, because of false allegations against me..." Y/N answered firmly.

Tim raised his eyebrow slightly, then gestured. Suddenly, her sister entered, clutching a tissue, pretending to be broken.

"I'm sorry... I didn't want it to come to this, but... she was always hurting me. No one knows what she did to me behind closed doors..." she said, wiping away nonexistent tears.

"Are there any witnesses?" one of the members asked.

"Yes," Tim said. Then he gestured, and three girls entered, all of whom confirmed that they had heard Y/N scream at her sister and even seen bruises on her sister's arm.

"Do you have anything to say?" Tim asked, leafing through some papers.

"Everyone here is basing their judgments on what they've heard... No one saw me hit her. No one saw anything but the charades my sister cunningly concocts. Where's the evidence? Where's the real evidence?"

Everyone was silent for a few seconds.

Tim didn't answer directly, but closed the file and said, "Since there's no concrete evidence, the verdict will be postponed until clear proof is presented. But... that doesn't mean you're innocent. The case will remain open."

Y/N felt as if a table had fallen on her heart. The verdict had been postponed, yes, but now she was stigmatized, and the rumors would devour her endlessly.

She left the hall silently. She didn't look at Dick, even though she could feel his gaze still burning her back. She knew he hadn't forgotten the slap.

She sat alone in the back garden behind the lecture hall, where almost no one came.

Her head rested between her knees, and tears finally escaped her eyes.

'I didn't do anything... Why doesn't anyone believe me? Why does everyone see me as a demon?'

"Are you okay?"

She quickly lifted her head, startled, and immediately wiped away her tears.

Standing before her was a tall young man with black-brown hair and an uncommonly warm expression.

"Don't worry, I... I saw you leave the interrogation room, and I thought a session like this never ended well." He said with a small smile.

She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Who are you?"

"Conner. Conner Kent."

Her eyes widened. 'Conner? The son of the Emperor of Metropolis?'

"I don't believe rumors easily," he said, sitting down on the grass beside her, without asking permission.

"And I don't trust smiles easily." Y/N replied cautiously as she moved away from him. Enough trouble for one day.

He laughed lightly. "Fair enough... But sometimes, we just need one person to believe us, to survive." His words were simple... but they broke something inside her.

"I'm tired..." Y/N muttered softly, putting her face in her hands.

"I know," Connor said, then stood. "I won't pressure you, just... if you need an honest talk, I'm a good listener."

He walked off, leaving her behind, breathing slowly, as if she were drowning, and gave her one breath to last the day.

But far away, beyond the trees, Dick Grayson was still watching... his eyes reflecting neither mockery nor anger.

Only surprise.

'Is she really... not who they say she is?'