#rumi reader

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Rumi!reader

Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

The only memories you had of your mother were the ones Celine told you.

It was the same with your father, but… different.

You used to live with him for a short period before Celine petitioned the courts to change the arrangement due to him being an unfit parent. Not that you could even remember any of it. Most of your memories seemed to come in the form of pictures.

Pictures were nice because they captured moments—happy ones, sad ones, others… just something you otherwise held as a perpetual blankness in your head. But the only ones you could find from that time were of you with an older white haired man with a mustache and a small boy who glared at the camera. None of him.

He didn’t want you. You or your mother. And some part of you was grateful you couldn’t remember him because that was the very reason why she had…

Celine had never once tried to hide the truth about him from you. She never lied or sugar coated his absence in your life, always telling you it was a choice. His choice. Which he had never once regretted from what you could tell. If he did regret it, he never made any attempts to reach out or acknowledge the mistake he had made.

The patterns were a mistake. She’d always told you they could be fixed and then you wouldn’t feel so scared anymore.

When you were younger, they were thin magenta lines that only covered a small part of your forearms and chest. One time, you’d tried coloring over them with a series of markers. Digging them into your skin until it bled, and yet they were still there. Why were they still there?

Patterns were the tell for Gwi-ma, both a metaphorical and physical symbol of his control over those who had them.

And you had them from the minute you were born.

It’s not like you hadn’t tried to reach out. To at least have a conversation. You had succeeded once, having nabbed Celine’s phone and gone through her list of blocked contacts till you found him. Though it was under a name you weren’t allowed to repeat or even know at the time.

The phone buzzed in your hands for an impossible amount of time until it finally picked up and you could hear the silent breathing of him on the other end. Swallowing back, you hesitatingly spoke “Dad? Is that you?”

There was a long silence, a heavy, thick thing that filled the air and made your heart hammer against your ribs. You could hear a faint exhale, almost imperceptible. For a second, a fleeting moment of hope sparked in your chest.

“Dad?” you asked again, a little softer this time. A fragile, unsure tone. You heard a sharp intake of breath, a sudden rustle of fabric on the other end. Then, the line went dead. The beep was a sharp, final sound.

He hung up.

This was a mistake. You were a mistake, and the only clear path away from all of this pain and shame was the one she had shown you.

Pictures captured moments. Moments you had only occasionally dared to look at—though most times it felt unavoidable. All of happy smiling faces, a family that so clearly wasn’t lacking in empty spaces. That so clearly didn’t need or want you. Not like Celine did. Not like the emptiness you had filled inside of you by devoting yourself to it.

“You’re a hunter, just like your mother used to be before he came.” 

A hunter. That was the only path, the only atonement that could help you finally live a normal life. 

Your job was to protect and seal the Honmoon. You were there to be a voice for those who couldn't speak, and a shield for those who couldn’t protect themselves. You were there to put your own life at risk so the rest could be safe and free and then maybe you would too. Your patterns would finally be gone, almost like they were never there.

And you wouldn’t be… a monster anymore.

It was the only thing that made sense. The only assurance that could help you sleep at night. Because the darkened corners where most children’s fears lurked were the same lines that marked you, and all you could do was pray nobody would ever see.

Header from Pinterest, Divider from @saradika-graphics

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Rumi!reader

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

“It’s weird…” Barry mumbled out, his voice a low hum in the hushed quiet of the Justice League’s main conference room. The large, holographic display in the center of the table flickered with a series of complex data graphs and reports. For the last ten minutes, the league had been poring over the anomalous activity reports from the past decade.

Arthur leaned forward, his elbows on the table, a frown etched into his brow. "How much weirder could this get? We've already established just how confused we are."

Barry gestured to a series of escalating spikes on one of the graphs, a record of demonic energy signatures across the globe. "No, no, not that. Look closer. The uptick in activity over the last ten years? It's been pretty steady, getting worse and worse. But look at this." His finger hovered over a distinct drop, a sudden, sharp decline in the last three years that continued to hold. "It's like someone just… turned off the tap."

Diana, whose gaze hadn’t broken away from the data, finally spoke. "It is not a tap, Barry. It is a source of immense evil that, for some unknown reason, has been suppressed."

“Suppressed?” Clark asked, his brow furrowed. “By what? We haven’t faced anything like this on a global scale. Whatever it is, it's not something we've encountered before, the timelines shown are suggesting it’s ancient.”

“That is because it is a different kind of evil,” Diana clarified almost hesitatingly after some thought, her tone serious. "One that has been fought for centuries, not by us, but by a hidden society of warriors. They are known as the Demon Hunters."

Bruce remained silent, observing the reports. The data was meticulous, far more detailed than anything he would have expected. It showed not only a decrease in demonic activity but also a series of localized events, a cluster of successes in specific regions of the world. He ran a quick, silent query on the data, cross-referencing it with recent pop culture phenomena. The correlation was undeniable.

"I have had limited contact with them in recent times," Diana continued, her expression still thoughtful, but becoming more sure. "They are secretive and have long maintained an alliance with the Amazons. They've been quiet for some time, but this… this recent shift makes sense given the circumstances..."

"So they're back, but they're not asking for help?" Hal Jordan interjected, a skeptical glint in his eye. "Why are they hiding?"

"They are not hiding, Hal," Diana said, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "They are simply operating in a way we do not recognize and maintaining that aspect of privacy is a necessity.”

“So… as Kpop idols?” Barry asked hesitantly, looking simultaneously amused and regretful.

Diana nodded. "As Kpop idols they create a feeling of hope and community which is vital for the barrier. I have a list of their names if you'd like."

A silence fell over the group, each member lost in their own thoughts. After a few moments, Oliver cleared his throat.

"Well," he said, his voice slightly strained. "That's not something you hear every day."

Bruce felt the familiar cold dread settle in his gut. The data was right there. He’d seen the name of the group a dozen times in the last three years, in the news, on billboards, on the radio. HUNTR/X. The name, now paired with the term "Demon Hunters," felt like a punch to the chest. He thought back to that night years ago—a woman, a child, the guilt he’d felt when he learned of the tragedy. He had pushed it all away, lost in his own grief and the chaos of his dual life.

He excused himself from the room, the other League members’ contemplative whispers fading behind him. He needed to get to the Batcave, to the one person who would have the answers. When he got back to the Manor, the air was heavy with an unnameable tension. He found Alfred polishing the glass cases that held the suits, his movements precise and methodical.

"Alfred," Bruce said, his voice a low rumble. "I need you to pull up all the files on the adoption case from... twenty years ago."

Alfred’s hand stopped. He didn’t look at Bruce, but his shoulders tensed. "Sir, I already told you, there's nothing left. They took all the documents with them."

"No, not those files," Bruce clarified, his mind racing. "The initial paperwork. The files from child services... and the ones from the hospital."

Alfred turned slowly, his face a mask of concern, though beneath that was suspicion. "What is this about, sir?"

"Mi-yeong Ryu," Bruce said, the name feeling foreign on his tongue after so long. "Did her name ever appear on any of the paperwork?"

Alfred's gaze hardened, his expression unreadable for a moment before the realization dawned on him. "Why... why are you asking me this?"

Bruce ignored the question. He needed to see it, to confirm what he suspected. He was a detective first and foremost. He needed proof. Alfred, sensing the urgency in his tone, moved to the main computer. With a few keystrokes, a file appeared on the screen, a digital copy of the documents from two decades ago. Bruce’s eyes scanned the pages, his breath catching in his throat as he saw the names.

No… it couldn’t be.

Scrolling past all the legal jargon until he found her name listed in black and white as the mother. And then, a single line, an empty box next to it.

Bruce stared at the screen, his heart pounding in his chest.

He wasn’t sure what to make of any of this. He knew Mi-Yeong passed, he could remember the date and time, and could still remember the exact moment he learned about it. But if Diana was telling the truth, did that really mean that Mi-Yeong was—had been—a hunter? He wasn’t even entirely sure what that was, but he knew you—her daughter, his daughter—were.

It felt like his thoughts were going faster than what he could keep up with.

Celine had been the one to take you in? That explained that one phone call he received years ago. He remembered hearing your voice, small and unsure, over the phone. It was you, calling him. And he had hung up.

He’d held onto the fragile hope that you leaving all those years ago would separate you from the life he had devoted himself to. He wanted you to have normal life. A chance to live and breathe without being trapped or chained to a purpose that seemed to just take away a person’s sense of self. How could it be that he failed in spite of separating you from everything he didn’t want you to be apart of?

If he had been there, could he have even steered you away from this?

Bruce's stomach churned with nausea. He felt sick, the guilt and shame weighing heavily on his heart. He couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if he had picked up the phone, if he had taken you in. Would you be with him? Would he have had the chance to get to know you?

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath.

If Celine had been the one who had raised you, that meant she was a hunter too. But why did she never say anything? Why didn't she tell him the truth?

He didn’t want to believe it, but he knew there was only one way to find out. He needed to ask you.

He would go see you. He would find you.

But first, he needed to talk to Diana.

He knew she had a connection with the Demon Hunters, a connection he didn’t have. And if there was anyone who could help him find you, it was her.

Pinterest for the header

@saradika-graphics for the divider, they have some amazing stuff!

I really appreciate all the support I’ve gotten for not just this series, but others. It’s been really helpful and motivating! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series!! :D

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Rumi!reader

Ch.1 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

The halls of the Wayne Manor had always held a sort of grim emptiness to them. They had always been that way, having retained it long before Alfred came under the employment of Thomas and Martha Wayne. But it seemed to get especially worse in the past few years. He couldn’t fault Bruce for his lack of presence within his own home, after all, it had been his parents home too. Just like he couldn’t fault Dick either for being gone most of the time, though when he was, he brought a certain liveliness that the old estate hadn’t seen in over a decade—swinging from the stair railings to the chandelier in the entrance had a way of making things exciting.

But it wasn’t so very clear until you showed up.

There had been a storm that had caused the power to go out for a few seconds. And about an hour later, he could hear the crackle of the gravel outside as a car came into the driveway. A few seconds later, the doorbell went off just as he had made his way to the entrance. When he opened the door, a woman wearing a pair of glasses greeted him politely before practically shoving the carrier into his arms with some paperwork, “Just make sure Mr. Wayne signs the papers. Any further decisions or questions can be resolved at a later date.”

Then she left.

It didn’t really sink in, until he heard the soft cooing from the carrier and a small hand had reached out to touch his sleeve. He had taken a look inside, finding the infant wrapped in a blanket with a tiny hat. It was you. And in that moment something changed and he became so very aware how lonely the manor had felt up until now. Alfred was so used to having a degree of control over himself, he prided himself on it. Yet, here was this tiny being who was so completely innocent. And he feel that bit of control he’d maintained fall apart as he realized that his life would now revolve around making sure that nothing bad ever happened to you.

That was how the last week had gone, and every day had felt more surreal than the last. It was hard, but rewarding, and if he were being honest, he would rather be doing this than anything else in the world.

The only issue was Bruce. He knew it wasn’t purposeful, just forgetful, but every time he would approach him to get him to look over the papers or even come see you, he would give him a vague and distant answer.

Alfred tried to be understanding of the recent unreliability. But even he with all his years of carefully mastered patience and resolve, was starting to get tired. The phone calls from child services kept getting more insistent that Bruce sign the papers starting off with, “They’re nothing bad, just legal documents that are meant for records and safety concerns.” And transitioning overtime to “If they don't get signed soon, they might decide that he can't take care of her properly and remove her from the home. Which means she will probably be adopted by someone else, or worse, go into foster care."

He could only hope Bruce would sign them soon.

That hope died about a month later. The same woman as before showed up, this time with another that looked vaguely familiar—though he wouldn’t be sure why until later. They stood stiffly on the porch, looking slightly uncomfortable.

When he answered, the first one, Ms. Hastings, stepped forward, her mouth pressed into a thin line. The second stayed behind her, her eyes glancing to the ground, her shoulders tense.

Ms. Hastings cleared her throat, her gaze flitting to the second lady for a moment before meeting Alfred's. "I'm sorry to come on such short notice, but there have been some… circumstances that have occurred, and we'll need to see the child."

His face immediately paled, his throat going dry. He took a step back, his hands beginning to tremble. "May I ask what for?"

She bit her lip, and the woman behind her flinched, her hands tightening around the strap of her bag. She seemed to have the same expression as Alfred, her eyebrows knit together, her body rigid.

"We'll need to take her into custody."

The air seemed to have gone cold. The room was suddenly filled with the heavy presence of the words, like a thick smog. Alfred's throat tightened. “That can’t be right. I could’ve sworn the papers were supposed to be signed by November. It hasn't even been a month."

"Mr. Pennyworth, we know. This case has been a unique one to say the least, given the situation and the circumstances that surrounded her birth. Mr. Wayne’s continued inability to get the papers signed, the fact that we haven’t heard a word from him, and for the sake of the child’s safety. It was decided that the best course of action would be for her to be placed under the care of another.”

He could barely hear her. Everything was drowned out by the panic that was growing inside his mind.

"Please, there has to be some other solution." His voice was hoarse. He could barely get the words out.

"We are truly sorry, Mr. Pennyworth."

He watched helplessly as the two women stepped inside, heading down the hallway. The other woman hesitated, her hand lingering on the doorway. Her face was blank, her lips pursed. Her eyes met his for a moment.

"I’m sorry… it’s all I have left of her.” Her voice was hushed. There was a slight tremble to her hands, and he could see the tears welling up. Then, she turned and disappeared down the hall.

Then you disappeared with them out of the house.

Everything after that was a blur. He had spent hours upon hours calling, trying to get Bruce to answer. He didn’t. Not for a few days. And when he finally did, he couldn't even remember what was said. Just that his throat had been raw and his head throbbing.

Then came the guilt.

Alfred couldn’t help but think it was his fault. He should have been more persistent. More stern. He shouldn't have waited for so long. It had only been a few weeks and now...

Bruce was devastated, having holed himself in his work. He was silent for a few days after.

The faint smell of grass stung your nose as a soft wind brushed through it and the seonangdang tree. The pieces of paper tied to its large outstretching branches danced gently against the wind. The faint sound of bells almost drowning out the familiar sound of Celine humming behind you as she brushed your hair. In front of you was the well-kept grave of your mother, a fresh bundle of flowers sat in the vase, and the small smoking trails of incense sticks wove together in a hazy cloud above.

All of the hunters graves were well-looked after by the current and retired one’s. It was a way of remembering each one and what they had done to guarantee the safety of not just the Honmoon, but the protection of the people.

The cemetery had always felt like a second home, and the people within it were a strange combination of a family and friends. The air feeling clearer, and brighter in ways that couldn’t be described other times because for you, it was just an aspect that it held. A lot of times, Celine would bring you here on weekends and holidays. She always liked to come alone. And sometimes, she would talk. Though most times, she wouldn't.

Celine hummed softly as she ran her fingers through your hair, gently brushing through the tangled knots. It was quiet, a peaceful, calming kind of quiet. You leaned back into her touch, relishing the sensation.

“Celine?” You started and waited for her to stop humming before continuing, “Why did my mom become a demon?”

There was a pause. The wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves.

Her voice was soft. “Your mom loved your dad a lot, so much so that she would’ve done anything for him. But, he couldn’t do the same. And that… broke her.”

You shifted, turning towards her. Your eyes scanned her face. There was something there, hidden under the surface. A pain and sorrow she rarely showed.

She swallowed and gave you a small smile. It was a forced, fragile thing.

Celine took a deep breath, her eyes focusing on the sky, a small crease forming between her brows. After a while, she spoke again.

“Demons are born the faults and fears that we show. Gwi-ma and all the other demons take our weaknesses and twist them against us, feeding on the pain and misery and turning them into patterns. They prey on the weak, the ones who have fallen, and the ones who will fall. Those are the people who end up becoming their prey. Your mom… she was one of those people. She fell for your dad, and because of him, she lost herself.”

“So… everything with patterns is a demon?” You rolled up the sleeve of your sweater to look at the lines of purple that streaked across your arm.

She hurriedly pulled the fabric down over the marks.

“Cover those up. You’re a hunter, just like your mother before he showed up. Once the Honmoon is sealed, all the demons will be gone from this world, and so will your patterns.”

You nodded.

So… once the Honmoon was sealed, you could finally be free.

That made sense.

Header from Pinterest

Dividers by @saradika-graphics and @cursed-carmine <3 <3

Thank you all for your patience and support! If you want to be added to the taglist for this or any other story, just let me know! Have a great night!

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Rumi!reader

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8

All it took was a split second. Just one second for the once bright, glowing haze of the awards show to blink into an unfamiliar and suffocating darkness. Darkness which was only illuminated by the magenta lights hanging overhead. And any assurance you could hold onto was just as quickly stripped away just the same as your jacket, torn off by Mira and Zoey.

It felt like you couldn’t breathe. And with your nails digging into your arms, the warm trickles of blood didn’t look too different from the constricting and ugly patterns that felt like they were choking you.

Your voice was rough and weak.

"Don't."

The word came out, but no one was listening.

"Stop. Please."

Their eyes, shadowed by the dim lighting, didn't hold any of the mercy you had foolishly thought maybe they would. It felt so stupid. Especially in the face of their mocking smiles which seemed to widen at each passing second. Mira hissed out, “We see what you are.”

Zoey closed the distance, getting into your face, “You’re a demon.”

Jolting away from their touch, the patterns seemed to move of their own accord, tightening and coiling around your arms and wrists. Your heart pounded in your ears, the sound was deafening, and the world felt like it was spinning around you.

"No. Please stop!—"

"You’re a mistake. You have been since the moment you were born.” They continued, their voices sounding distorted and cruel.

It felt like something had ripped the air from your lungs, a painful and burning feeling that made your eyes water as the patterns burned tighter and tighter around you, snaking over your throat before reaching your face. The world around you spun and tilted as everything faded away into a grotesque swirl of colors and sounds.

The sound of your own voice yelling out felt unfamiliar until you registered it as your own. Piercing in sheer volume as the lights above the stage shattered into a shower of glass that veiled your rushed steps to disappear.

To escape from something that felt like your worst nightmare.

Your voice felt rough, strained, and your breath hitched. You had to keep running, despite the aching in your chest.

The sound of the stage behind you fell into a muffled and indecipherable hum as you kept moving forward, your eyes squeezed shut. The patterns on your arm seared, but the pain felt secondary to the panic and dread that flooded your veins.She was right. Celine was right. About everything. You were a mistake, and for as long as you could remember, the only clear path away from all of this pain and shame was the one she had shown you.

“You’re a hunter, just like your mother used to be before he came.” 

A hunter. That was the only path, the only atonement that could help you finally live a normal life.

The only path to turning the Honmoon gold and making the patterns disappear.

You just wanted to live a normal life.

Mira and Zoey had been your everything, the one constant you had had in a world that didn't seem to understand. But they did. They understood, and still you had lied and shut them out. It felt impossible to blame them when all you could do was blame yourself for something that felt so very justifiable.

Skidding to a stop at the foot of the stairs, you braced yourself on the railing to try and catch your breath. You only paused at the sight of Mira and Zoey standing a few feet away. What? But they were just out there on stage with you, how did they—“What? How are you here? You were just on stage. That wasn’t you? That’s good.”

They backed away the closer you walked towards them, the picture of fear and uncertainty. Why were they looking at you like that? Like you were—“How do you have patterns?”

Zoey whispered, eyes glued to the very same lines that were supposed to be gone. Why weren’t they gone? The gold was there. It was there. So why was everything you had been working to erase still there? Still on you.

“You were hiding this from us? This whole time?” Mira asked, the sound a whisper that echoed in the empty space the three of you filled.

"No, I have a plan to erase them. Jinu was supposed to—I—He was—”

“Jinu? You’re working with him? All this time?” Zoey’s voice broke, eyes finally breaking away from the lines but now meeting your gaze with a look of such deep betrayal. It felt like a physical blow.

“No! No! I was using him to fix all this! To fix me! So we could all keep fulfilling our duty! So we could all be strong! Together!”

“How could we be together if we can’t tell your lies from your truths? What else have you been hiding?” Zoey whispered.

“I knew it.” Mira’s voice cut in, quiet but laced with a brokenness that felt like a slap in the face. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“Mira, no! Didn’t you see? The gold? We’re so close!” You moved to close the distance, but they backed away, eyes wide with terror. "No! Please! Don’t leave! I can still fix it!”

The last few words were like a knife against your throat, coming out louder and causing the Honmoon’s strings to pulse with the same horrifyingly familiar magenta as the patterns. For a moment the patterns burned like something else entirely, searing painfully around your arms and neck, like the chains you felt had been there since the day you were born.

Mira breathed in and when she released the air she was holding, her fingers tightened around the grip of her weapon. Raised and pointed at you.

Zoey stared at the ground, her eyes watery, the sight was a stab to the chest as she raised her shin-kal towards you as well.

It felt like the world was tilting, and the room was spinning.

No. Not them. Not when you were so close. They were never supposed to find out this way.

Backing away, your legs were shaking and unsteady as you turned and disappeared, the world blurred around you as tears welled up in your eyes.

Your job was supposed to be to protect and seal the Honmoon. You were supposed to be there. To be a voice for those who couldn't speak, and a shield for those who couldn’t protect themselves. Putting your own life was supposed to mean nothing when it was supposed to guarantee that others would be safe and free. Something you weren’t even sure you knew the feeling of anymore. Your patterns were supposed to be gone, almost like they were never there.

And as much as it hurt, you wanted to hate him for it. You wanted to hate Jinu for making you think that maybe he could be different. For letting him get close enough for this to even matter.

Because the truth was, even if he wasn’t there, the real reason for the pain and the fear and the guilt was all still the same.

The reason you felt this way was because you were a demon.

The patterns.

That was the real truth.

It felt like a slap in the face after everything you’d done to try and help him. To try and help yourself.

The hallways were labyrinthine and in that moment felt nothing short of endless. It was almost as if it was shifting and changing with each step, the lights flickering overhead and casting shadows that loomed and stretched. Until you saw him.

Jinu was standing still as a statue, his eyes trained on the ground and his shoulders hunched over. Beside him were the very same demons that had tricked you on the stage, still disguised as Mira and Zoey. "Say you didn’t do this.”

He snapped his fingers and their disguises misted away before they did as well.

“How could you do this? It was real! What we had was real. I know it was!”

His head snapped up and the expression on his face was cold, almost emotionless.

"Everything I said—I just needed you to trust me. It was a lie.”

He moved to turn around, and you grabbed his shoulder in desperation. “No! No, I know your story. You wanted to protect your family! You couldn’t have been lying. Because if that was all a lie, then it means that everything I believed about myself was too. Everything I was willing to fight and sacrifice for was all a lie. Tell me that wasn't a lie, Jinu."

Jinu turned so swiftly it caused you to retract your hand at the movement, and all you could do was stare in shock as he cried out. “I left them!”

Backing away, your feet felt almost stuck to the ground.

"What?"

"That’s right. I lied. I only ever made a deal with Gwi-Ma to get myself out of that miserable life. I left my sister, and my mother, alone while I slept on silk sheets in the palace and with my belly full every night! I left them!”

His voice softened into a strained and almost painful whisper as tears trailed down his cheeks. “I left them…”

“But I know that’s not all you are. I know you. And this—this is just your demon talking. You have to fight it!”

“That’s not how it works!” He yelled and caused a fresh wave of shame, and anger to burn in your chest.

"Yes it is!” The lines of the Honmoon pulsed again, the glow was blinding and looked angry as the light filled the hallway and made the shadows stretch and contort monstrously.

Your hands were shaking. Was that—no—that was you. And you hated it.

Jinu scoffed in disbelief. “Listen to yourself. Has fighting it really been working? Because in case this wasn’t the sign you were looking for. You’re a demon. Just like me. And all we get to do is live with our pain, and our misery. That’s all we deserve.”

A powdery mist shielded his exit, leaving you with only the suffocating darkness.

Everything you had worked towards, everything you’d ever wanted was to be free from the patterns.

It would mean you wouldn’t be… a monster anymore.

But… you were a demon.

Just like Gwi-ma.

Just like Jinu.

And just like your mother. 

It was the only thing that made sense.

But you didn’t want to hurt Mira or Zoey.

You never wanted to do that.

Even though the only thing you could feel was the shame, and guilt, and anger.

All the emotions that were bubbling up, felt like they were eating away at your skin.

Making the patterns on your arms and face glow brighter.

The faint smell of grass stung your nose as a soft wind brushed through it and the seonangdang tree. The pieces of paper tied to its large outstretching branches were jerked by the strong currents of wind. The faint sound of bells were drowned out by the overwhelming sound of the rustling leaves, and the wind that whistled and blew through the tree, the branches, and the strands of paper.

Celine stood at the base of the large tree, staring up into the branches which stretched across the early morning sky. It was still dark, and it would be for a long time.

You couldn't bring yourself to look up or even speak.

Not even when she froze for a split second before swiftly turning to face you with her weapon in-hand. Her movement halted at the sight of you.

"I thought I could fix everything. Fix myself. But I ran out of time and now it’s too late.”

Her weapon fell to the ground with a dull metallic thunk. Walking towards her, your saingeom materialized loosely in your grip. “They saw. They know. And there’s no denying it anymore. This is what I am.”

“No. That’s not—”

“You knew that I was a mistake from the very start.” Collapsing to your knees, you cradled the weight of your sword above you and towards her. wind whistled around you and the only other sound was the soft and broken gasps of air. “Do what you should’ve done from the very beginning. Before I destroy everything I’ve sworn to protect… please.”

Tears streaked down your face, the salty taste on your lips as you gasped out, a sob.

“Do it.”

The Honmoon pulsed violently and the branches of the tree shuddered with the force, the bells sounding like a chorus of screams.

Celine moved to stand in front of you, hands gently gripping yours, and pulling the saingeom towards her. She kneeled down and wrapped her arms around your shaking form.

You didn’t remember moving or letting go of the weapon, but it was now lying a small distance away..

“I can’t.” Celine moved to cup your face, the action was gentle, her thumbs brushing the tears off your face. "I can't. After losing your mother I always swore I would protect and take care of everything that was left of her. I can’t—I can’t do that again. I don’t think I’d be able to because you're all I have left."

It felt like your lungs were burning.

You couldn’t breathe, and choking the thought out felt like ripping a bandage off a fresh wound. “A—Again. What are you saying? What do you mean by again?"

"I’d hoped that things would turn out different this time. I—I wasn’t able to save her… but, I thought that there was still a chance to save you. And—and there still is—”

The tears were hot on your face, as the words sunk in.

"Save her? My mother turned into a demon. You told me so yourself—What aren’t you telling me? Tell me what happened! How could you—I don't understand—"

Celine looked up, the tears falling from her eyes and onto her face, her voice cracking.

"I know. I’m sorry—I’m so sorry. I didn't tell you the whole truth, because I was scared. That if I did, that you would leave too. That you would hate me just the same. And ask me to do the same thing that she did. I can’t do that again.” She gulped down air, her voice hoarse and breaking as she softly pulled you to your feet with her.

“I made a promise. So I did my best to accept you and help you.”

“Accept me? You told me to cover up, to hide.”

“Yes, just until we can fix everything. And we still can.” Pulling her sweater off, she loosely pulled it around your shoulders. “We can cover those up and put everything right again. I’ll tell Mira and Zoey that it was all a lie—an illusion by Gwi-Ma to break us apart.”

Pushing yourself away from her, the sweater fell off your shoulders, and onto the ground. You couldn’t do that again. Not if it meant it would cause the people you loved the same pain all over agin. Mira and Zoey didn’t deserve to be blindsided, not after all they had done to stay by you and help you. “No. I’m not doing that. No more hiding! And no more lies!”

Celine backed away, but raised her hands in attempted mediation. “Hold on. We can still fix this.”

“Don’t you get it?” You cried out, the tears running down your face and falling from your chin. "There is no fixing this! This is what I am!”

Her eyes were stuck on the ground, and she was silent.

For a split second, the wind picked up and the tree groaned as the leaves shook violently, the strings of bells chiming loudly.

“Why… Why did you do it? Why did you kill her?”

Celine closed her eyes, a tear traced its way down her face, and her voice was quiet and hoarse.

"I didn’t want to. I never wanted to hurt her. But by the time she told me… it was too late. If I could go back, I would’ve never gone through with what she asked me to do…”

Her words cut off as a sob escaped, before continuing.

"But I had no choice. She begged me. She asked me to make sure that she never hurt anyone. And that you would be safe. And I promised. But I never thought that it would end up this way. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this."

“Then how was it supposed to happen? Why…why can’t you love me?”

"I do—”

“All of me!”

The Honmoon glowed violently behind you, and the sound of the bells being blown by the wind was deafening. It had always looked and felt alive in every aspect, but now it looked volatile. Magenta and other shades of pink and purple appearing up and down the strings. The patterns on your arms matched the violent and unstable light, pulsing with each beat. But it didn’t hurt the same way it had, now it was just a burning ache that spread all the way down your body.

Celine didn't move, her gaze trained solely on the beating magenta lines. “This is why we have to hide it. Our faults and fears must never be seen. It’s the only way to protect the Honmoon.”

The air was still, and it felt hard to even breathe. But the panic was no longer a constant, rather it had been replaced by something much deeper, and more painful. A sense of clarity and understanding.

For all your life you had practiced those exact teachings and followed through with them, but now, they just felt wrong. Hiding your patterns was supposed to be the only way to turn the Honmoon gold and erase them, and the fear and shame.

But hiding those things had only made it worse.

Reaching for the same consistently out of reach perfection had only isolated you from those you really cared about.

Gold was supposed to be everything, but maybe it wasn’t.

Reaching down, you picked up the handle of the saingeom. “If this is the Honmoon I’m supposed to protect, I’m glad to see it destroyed.”

The almost pitch black, and crowded entirety of Namsan Tower was only lit up by the almost all-consuming light of Gwi-Ma. It was impossible not to see him, a vibrant mixture of red, bright pinks, and hints of shadowed purples that quickly became consumed by the rest. Just like the large crowd of people walking in an almost dazed, zombie-like manner into the flickering fire before disappearing.

It was like watching a horror movie play out before you, as the demons seemed to take on a life of their own. The way the magenta lights cast dark shadows and illuminated them in that very same color, making them look like they were one with the shadows. The shadows were a part of them.

It was terrifying, but it also set a hot feeling of anger in your chest.

The Honmoon had failed.

Not just because of you, but because it had been built on an entire fault-line of lies and false promises.

And it would’ve failed with or without you. But it was undeniable that the strain it had undergone and all of this was your fault.

It was time to fix it.

The patterns were glowing and burning, and the weight of peoples stares was almost suffocating. Pulling your gaze off the floor and meeting anyone’s eye was an impossible feat that you didn’t even try. Instead, you kept your eyes trained on the ground until Gwi-Ma’s voice broke the silence.

"You show up like this? Thinking you can fix the world? You can’t even fix yourself.”

“I can’t.”

“And now everyone finally sees you for what you really are.”

“They do.”

“And the Honmoon is gone.”

“It is.” Finally, you look up into the fires. Stretched open like the mouth of a beast behind the stage, a gaping wound of magenta light. “So, we can make a new one.”

The light of the saingeom pierced through the thick fog of darkness, shining a brilliant white-gold that momentarily pushed back the magenta shadows. The new Honmoon would not be built on silence, but on the truth.

Large, shadowy demons emerged from the embers of him and lunged.

You didn't flinch. The pain of the patterns still burned, but the clarity you found at the seonangdang tree was a cold, hard anchor. Hiding had failed. Shame had broken you. Now, you fought with the truth: this is what you were, and this is what you would use to save the world.

Your saingeom whistled, leaving a searing trail of white light.

The first strike sliced through an oncoming demon with the familiar hiss of dissolving essence with three more taking its place. But without that heavy weight within your chest, your burden that you’d never realized you’d been carrying was gone.

The hoard was easy to break through, and when the dust cleared away, you could see  them. The weight of the weapon momentarily disappeared.

Emerging from their own flocks of demons and running towards you were Mira and Zoey. The warmth of their embrace settled any remaining uncertainty.

“I’m sorry—”

“No. Don’t say that. We should’ve, I should’ve—” Zoey stopped Mira from continuing, placing her hand lightly on her shoulder.

“We missed you.”

Replacing the dusted away hoard of demons came more, crawling out of the magenta flames which had started to develop a darker hue to them. The previous performance of the Saja Boys had stopped quite awhile ago as they lunged off the stage, teeth barred and claws outstretched. Jinu stood still on the platform, face shadowed by his hat, but what you could make out was a frown settled almost frozen.

Just as the three of you drew your weapons, the demons that were quickly approaching were dusted. Anxiety washed over you, freezing you and the others in anticipation as what emerged behind them wasn’t more demons or even Gwi-Ma.

No, it was them.

They were here, despite everything.

He moved forward with an awkwardness that was almost hidden by the costume—intimidating as he may be, it was impossible not to perceive it. His hand settled lightly on your shoulder, squeezing it just slightly, “I’m—I’m glad you’re okay. If we can help, please let us.”

Warmth filled you up from the inside, the words gushing out without much thought, “I’m glad you guys are here, I—thank you—”

Your focus drifted to the demons around you as Gwi-Ma forced them to pull back in puffs of vibrant violet smoke. The bright flames glowed brighter, looming larger over the horizon of the tower. The pink curled inwards, with silhouettes of eyes peering down from the inferno. Sweat cooled to an almost freezing degree that made you feel slightly nauseous.

A tidal wave of the formless and faceless demons came from both sides, but that wasn’t what distracted you. 

No.

In a split second, the platform was lit up and almost entirely engulfed by the same inferno, coming into the direct pathway of all of them.

The blue light of the saingeom blocked it, but the sudden appearance and weight of the weapon strained you.

Normal demons dusted away from simply slashed through, but Gwi-ma was like an immovable wall—one that’s unbearable heat and constricting force made it hard to think, no less breathe.

Your feet skidded back, the muscles in your hands and arms tensing uncomfortably in an effort to stay still and not falter for even a moment.

Then it stopped.

Your eyes, which had closed from the effort, opened and saw Jinu. Blocking the light of the fire, and though he refused to show it, you could make out the undeniable pain in his expression.

“No—I, don’t do this.” You whispered, trying to tug him away from the impact of it.

He didn’t move, the edges of his existence frayed into the familiar smoke, but the rest of him stayed. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“I wanted to set you free.”

“You did.” He assured. “You gave me my soul back… and now I want to give it to you.”

The rest of him disappeared as a circle of light drifted forward and moved to circle you. Wetness burned the corners of your eyes.

He was gone.

It felt like you failed him.

The light moved to rest in the palm of one of your hands, the warmth not burning, but rather being like a hug.

Maybe he wasn’t here anymore.

But he wasn’t gone, that much was certain.

The weight of the saingeom—which had previously been resting loosely in your hand—seemed to increase the more you moved to swing it forward. But being able to carry it wasn’t the issue, the issue was redirecting that weight of it towards Gwi-ma.

He screamed out in pain as the blade slashed right down the middle of the mountainous inferno, the sound of it almost shaking the tower.

The relief of having injured him was short lived though as the flames quickly merged back together, looming larger in his anger.

Running forward, Mira and Zoey quickly joined you while the rest focused on getting rid of the remainder of the demons. The weight of the ground seemed to disappear the closer the three of you got to him before delivering the final blow.

Iridescent light washed over the entirety of the tower, almost blinding you as the three of you met the floor of the platform. The darkness that had previously hung over like a thick smog, was now gone and in its place was one of the clearest days you’d ever seen.

The crowd of people felt like almost a new sight, even though you had seen similar crowds for years.

But this was different.

Your family was here.

Everyone you knew and loved. Everyone you knew that loved you, were here.

Not despite everything, but because they cared.

Header from Pinterest

Beautiful dividers by @saradika-graphics and @cursed-carmine

I’m sorry I haven’t posted anything for this story in so long. I wish I had a great excuse, but to be honest, I’ve just been having a lot of trouble writing these past few months. This probably isn’t the best way to end this story, but I am probably gonna work on an epilogue scene with Rumi!reader meeting the rest of the batfam.

I hope everyone has a great week, and thank you so much for the endless amount of patience!!! <3 <3 <3

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Rumi!reader

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

The plane ride was awkward and silent.

Dick sat across from Bruce in the console, his expression tense. Stephanie and Duke in the back, holding a much easier conversation which was drowned out by the faint whir of air passing. After a moment, he spoke.

"How did she die?" His voice was soft, but his words held a sharpness that he had tried to get rid of for so long. But was coming back with vengeance, just like his ever building anger. Don’t react. Not yet. Not until you know the full truth, was a reminder he had to keep repeating in his head.

Bruce didn’t turn around, or even flinch, instead remaining focused on the console. "Dick, this isn’t the time. We have to—"

"Bruce." Dick snapped.

Silence.

Then, "She was killed by Celine."

"Wait… the same Celine that raised them?”

Bruce nodded, “Diana told me when I went to visit, everything she could at least...” The grip on the controls tightened, his knuckles turning white. “Patterns are like infections, formed from shame, guilt, and insecurities. If they overtake the person, they’re turned into a demon.”

"That doesn’t explain why Celine killed her. Unless, did she—”

“Yes.”

The silence felt even louder than before, and it took Dick a second to process what he had just heard. It was hard to believe, but everything in him, every part of his being knew it was true. Mi-Yeong had turned into a demon and had been killed, put down, by her former friend. Maybe he didn’t know everything, but he did know that everything that was boiling inside of him was a mixture of anger, guilt, and grief. He held it back, not wanting to lose control or even acknowledge that he was upset. 

He didn’t like being angry, even when the feeling felt like the only thing he could latch onto. That he could keep. But this wasn’t about him. This wasn't his grief to acknowledge. He needed to stay strong and not fall apart, and so he stayed silent, letting his mind process the new information.

Because he could tell that Bruce felt guilty. He always did.

And for a moment, he wondered if you were going to be okay.

You could see him on the rooftop, illuminated only by the darkness that surrounded him and was him. It was him. Jinu, who had gotten away so many times. Who had stolen not only the fans, but who you had let get away the last time even after he saw them. Your patterns.

But this time, he wasn't going to get away.

Not when you were this close. So close it hurt because now you were further than ever before. Because of the patterns. Because of him. 

The wind whistled past, as you swung and landed on the rooftop, your eyes narrowing.

He stood facing away from you, completely at ease and unaware.

Good.

The saingeom was drawn and brought back in a single smooth arc.

You lunged.

The air whistled past as the tip of the blade sliced through the air.

A dull thud filled the silence as his head hit the tiles of the roof, rolling over to reveal the featureless face of a store mannequin.

“What.”

All you could do was stare at the head in a mixture of anger and disbelief

And then his stupid voice sounded from behind, and you immediately spun around, sword raised and ready to swing. He was there, now standing behind the rest of the mannequin which fell off the roof to reveal him completely.

"Wow. I wasn’t expecting a hug, but—”

Spinning around, the edge of the blade sliced through the air, aimed straight at his throat.

He ducked and moved backwards, "Woah, chill. I thought the mannequin would be a fun icebreaker.” He leaned over to look at his fallen comrades head and clicked his tongue. “Obviously not.”

Your grip tightened on the handle of the saingeom. "What do you want?”

“To talk about your patterns, and if I’m guessing correctly, they don’t know.” 

You flinched, the grip tightening even more.

“Ahh, I was right.” He continued escaping, walking around the rooftop at a leisurely pace. You followed him, the tip of the blade following him.

“A demon girl. Also a hunter. Hiding, walking around free in the human world—”

“Just hunter. I am not a demon.” The words came out like a growl, as you swung and lunged.

He dodged.

"Not a demon? Then how’d you get the patterns?"

You gritted your teeth, grip tightening on the handle almost painfully. “That’s none of your business.”

“Maybe it’s not, but I know what it feels like to have them—”

“Feel? You’re a demon. Demons don't feel anything.”

He turned sharply, his eyes meeting yours. He didn’t move, his gaze didn't waver, and it was almost unnerving. His tone was quiet, and surprisingly steady, "Is that really what you think? That demons can't feel? That’s all we ever do. Feel. Our shame and misery. Chaining us to Gwi-Ma. Didn’t you ever wonder how Gwi-Ma controlled us? Can’t you hear him?”

“What are you talking about?”

He paused, as if contemplating his next words. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, his eyes dark and sad, "You’re lucky. I’ll never forget the first time I heard him—400 years ago. My family was extremely poor and miserable, but I had a single possession to my name. An old bipa. So I busked the streets, but it didn’t get me anywhere. I was desperate, and we were starving. Then I heard him and overnight my fate was changed. I was praised for my voice. My family and I lived on the palace grounds. Our bellies were finally full, our clothes clean.” His attention was drawn to the marks, the patterns that lined his skin—just like it did yours. “But the patterns, they kept spreading until they consumed me and I was condemned to the demon world. A prisoner to Gwi-ma for all of eternity. My family lost everything. Without me, they were even worse off than before. Every day since, I’ve been haunted by the memory of how I failed them. How I left them.”

The purple marks shone with a familiarly unsettling bright pink. “These are a constant reminder of my shame. One which I can never escape.” He drew closer, and you fought to do something, anything to fight back, the saingeom lowered and it was like your body was rejecting any command you gave it. You could feel it, his pain and despair. How similar the both of you were.

He was right in front of you, and then gently touched over your neck, grazing it. The patterns, hidden beneath the layers of fabric shone a similar shade of pink beneath his fingertips. “Yours are a reminder too. Of your shame, of what you feel you have to hide, and the reason for it.”

“You don’t know me.” It came out as a whisper, a plea.

“You know you can tell me. I understand. I’m the only one who can.”

Anger washed over like water that burned you from the inside out. He was wrong. He was pretending to understand. But how could he even pretend to? How could he look you right in the eyes and pretend to sympathize, to understand, when demons were nothing but rotted from the inside… like you.

Your muscles tensed, and raised the saingeom, the edge pointed directly towards him and heavy in your grip. “I’m nothing like you.”

He backed away slowly, staring, but not in fear. No, it was understanding…

You hated it. You hated how his eyes seemed to pierce through you. How they made you feel small and insignificant.

“I get it. You’re still in denial. I was there too. I’ll be here when you’re ready to stop pretending.”

“THERE WON’T BE A NEXT TIME!”

The sword cut through nothing but a cloud of pink powder that dusted away into nothing and when it was gone, he was gone as well. Your weapon fell limply within your grip as you groaned.

The streets of Seoul buzzed with life that felt the same but also so very different from Gotham. The lights were bright and the city was loud, the streets crowded with people and traffic. The sky was a mix of dusky blue and purple, a gradient that faded into the horizon.

Bruce walked, his steps measured and purposeful. The others had gone to the base he’d had set up just like in every other major city, while he went to a location Diana had recommended he visit—an obscure restaurant near the outskirts of the city, the exact details were vague. Though he was certain that she had specifically mentioned it as something that would help him start looking for you.

A bell chimed as he pushed the door open, the interior was simple. Wooden and well-kept. And surprisingly, there was no one there. Not even a worker as he waited a few minutes. The bell chimed again behind him and when he looked towards the direction, he saw a woman seating herself at a table. She stared at him, her expression unreadable.

After a moment, she spoke, her voice quiet. "It's been a while, Bruce."

Bruce sat down in the chair opposite to her. "Haneul?”

The corner of her mouth tugged upwards into a smirk, her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. "Yeah, I’m surprised you remember that. Mi-Yeong and Celine always took more of a center stage than I ever could."

Bruce couldn't help the relief that washed over him, a smile tugging at the corner of his own lips. A server came out from the back and placed two steaming drinks in front of them.

"I know why you're here. Diana told me everything."

He tensed.

Haneul didn't seem bothered, instead she just took a sip from her cup. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna ask you what happened back then. But if you're here to get closure, then you're gonna have to try a lot harder. Celine and I stopped talking a long time ago, and I don't plan on correcting that anytime soon.”

"I know, but she might know what—"

"Bruce, I can't." Her voice was sharper than before, her eyes stung with an unfeeling coldness.

Silence hung in the air, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was him, or if it was the mention of her. He didn't push further.

She cleared her throat, and the tension was gone, the coldness washed away. "Why are you here, Bruce?"

He paused, the words catching in his throat. After a moment, he responded, his voice quiet, "To find my daughter... and apologize for not being here when she needed me the most."

"I know you think that you could've been there, but it wasn't your fault."

"Then who is responsible for the patterns? Celine?"

"No one is."

"That can’t be true."

Haneul sighed, and her eyes were downcast, her voice barely above a murmur, "Why do you keep thinking that someone has to be responsible? Sometimes, things happen, and no one is at fault, no matter how hard you try to blame yourself. Mi-Yeong… she had them long before you even met her, and they only grew and festered because she kept them secret. She hid her shame, guilt, and insecurities. It wasn't something any of us could've prevented, even if we tried."

Bruce's brow furrowed. "Are you saying that this is inevitable? That no matter what happens, it won't change?"

Haneul's gaze met his, and there was a firmness in her voice, a conviction, "I'm saying that there is no one to blame. It's no one's fault, and if you want to make up for not being there, then just be there. Don't run from her like how I did because if I had been there, maybe I could’ve helped more. And maybe I could’ve stopped Celine..."

Bruce didn’t respond, his silence was enough.

Her voice was softer, quiet, but still carried the same conviction, "Just be there. Help her through this."

"You don't want to meet her? Talk to her?"

"Maybe, someday." Haneul smiled, her voice wistful, a hint of sadness seeping into her tone. “I think because I wasn’t there, I feel like it’s intrusive to try and change it now. That I don’t have the right. I don’t want to confuse her, or hurt her anymore than I have already. And I think I owe her the chance to choose what she wants. But if you see her, tell her I'm sorry, and I’m here if she needs anything."

Bruce didn’t say anything, instead he just nodded.

A few minutes passed, and Haneul stood up. She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and heading towards the door. Right before leaving, she turned around, and her expression was soft, almost kind, but the sadness remained. "Bruce, if you really want her to trust you, and believe in you, then you need to be there for her. Just showing that you're willing to change can mean a lot to her. She's been through a lot."

Bruce didn't say anything.

She smiled, a tired and sad one.

"Goodbye, Bruce."

Sometimes you cursed the fact that you couldn’t murder someone with your eyes. It felt like every opportunity, every decision was overshadowed by Jinu and the rest of those disgusting demons. Masquerading as humans. Stealing your fans. And the worst part was that it was working. It felt like all the work, all the effort you had put in just meant nothing. But it had to. Even if difficult choices had to be made in order to keep some form of control.

A group signing and one shared table.

“I didn’t think you liked sharing.” He said as he seated himself next to you. Was it possible to conspicuously stab someone with a pen?

“I love sharing.”

“Really? Just like how you shared your secrets with your friends. Do you want me to tell them—”

“No. I’m gonna tell them… eventually.” You looked down at the posters in front of you, clicking the pen absentmindedly.You would tell Zoey and Mira… in time, but right now you couldn’t risk it. Not when you were so close.

“Are you two whispering?” A girl asked as she drew closer, staring at the two of you in wonder. The both of you scrambled to sign the poster in front of you before handing it to her. She took it before pointing at the graphic on her shirt… of you and him. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

You both stared in horror as she left.

What.

Noooo. Not this.

The grip on the pen tightened in your grip, making slight cracking noises which forced you to stop. “I’m not gonna talk to someone who’s helping Gwi-Ma. Who’s risking the souls of people while also claiming to have been one.”

“I’m helping myself.” He hissed before sighing and continuing. “Look, he’s promised to erase my memories as long as I help him. And then those voices in my head will finally be gone.”

“You’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” He closed in and whispered. “You can’t even talk about your patterns.”

The words felt like a slap, a harsh and painful one. They made you flinch, the air in your lungs seemed to escape and your skin crawled. Your hands shook before you clenched them and slammed your heel into his foot, causing him to flinch.

“You want me to talk about my patterns? I hate my patterns. Just like how I hate all demons. And how I hate Gwi-Ma.”

The pained expression on his face morphed into a frown, his brow furrowing. You were about to say something else, when he spoke, his voice quiet.

"If hate could defeat Gwi-Ma, I would’ve done it a long time ago. Trust me.” The last two words came out quieter than a whisper and you had to strain your ears to listen to him.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jinu.” The faint voice instantly drew both of your attentions to the small girl standing in front of the table, clutching a piece of paper to her chest. “I made this for you.”

He looked shocked, his eyes wide as he hesitantly took the paper and stared at it. Leaning over, you caught a glimpse of the drawing of Jinu with wings and a rose with the sweet words written on top: “Jinu, you have a beautiful soul”

“Maybe you should listen to those voices instead of the ones in your head.”

As the room quieted down into a familiar stillness from the last of the departed fans. You, Mira, and Zoey waved goodbye at them and were left with the silence that was interrupted only by the occasional rustling of papers. The room was dark except for the light from the sun setting behind the windows, casting a warm glow across the three of you. The light caught the shine of the gold lettering of some leftover posters. Standing up, you moved to the opposite side of the table, the faint sound of the door opening behind you gave you pause.

It was supposed to be locked.

You spun around, the blade was unsheathed and moved to swing—

The man in front raised his hands in surrender, his blue eyes widened in surprise. Two other people stood behind him, a blonde girl and a dark skinned boy with curly hair.

“This is the best family reunion I think we’ve ever had.”

Pinterest for the header

Amazing dividers by @saradika-graphics and @cursed-carmine <3 <3

Hope everyone has a great night! The pace is gonna be sped up for the next few chapters with heavy exposition and more internal monologues. Prepare yourselves lads.

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story or any others, just let me know! :D

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Rumi!reader

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.8 Ch.9

The blade stood still against the side of his neck.

The man raised his hands in surrender, his blue eyes widened in surprise. Two other people stood behind him, a blonde girl and a dark-skinned boy with curly hair.

He looked really familiar…

They all did…

Your breath hitched. You recognized the smile, the easy confidence. You hadn't ever actually seen him in person—in fact you weren’t even sure if you even really knew him, but the pictures—photos you’d only been able to glance at once or twice.

All of happy smiling faces.

They weren’t lacking in spaces.

They didn’t want you.

So why were they here?

These were unwanted ghosts from a past that as long as you could remember didn’t want you. You or your mother. A past that needed to be ignored, like it didn’t even exist. Like it wasn’t supposed to exist. Just like the patterns.

Fingers tightened painfully around the grip of the handle, muscles coiled and ready to strike. The anger that had been simmering felt like it was starting to boil over, directed at this intrusive, unwanted reunion. Why were they here now?

“Who are you?” you ground out, your voice rough from the earlier strain. You knew who they were, broadly. The children of Bruce Wayne. The ones who had never answered your calls, who had never cared.

The blonde girl, stepped forward, her hands held up in a gesture of peace. "Hey. Okay, let’s just calm down and restart this whole thing. I’m Stephanie. This is Duke. The one you’re about to stab is Dick. And we’re—"

“Stop,” you barked, the word sharp enough to cut the air. You took a deliberate step back, widening the distance between you and them. You risked a quick glance back at Mira and Zoey, who were frozen in stunned silence, their eyes wide with confusion and alarm. You had to protect them from this. They couldn’t know about this. About everything… 

"This room is locked. How did you get in here?"

Dick slowly lowered his hands, his expression shifting from surprise to something that looked suspiciously like hurt, though you immediately dismissed it. "Look, we just want to talk. We’re not here to hurt anyone. We just found out where you were—"

“Found out?” you scoffed, the sound laced with pure venom. Your grip on the sword tightened until your knuckles were white. “What. Like I’m some kind of missing person? Like I just vanished? In case you’re forgetting, I did reach out. Tried to form a connection. You’re the one’s that wanted so desperately to pretend like I didn’t exist.”

The words tumbled out, uncontrolled, fueled by years of Celine’s bitterness and your own buried pain. The distinct prickle of the patterns felt like it almost burned, they felt like they were tightening around your skin. Though you knew—you hoped—the sensation was just a phantom feeling amidst all of this.

“We know we screwed up,” Duke spoke up, his voice earnest and quiet. He took a hesitant step forward, his eyes fixed not on your face, but on your arm, right where you knew the patterns lurked beneath your clothes. The sight of his gaze made your skin crawl. He could see it. He... he knew.

They all knew.

Just like Jinu.

“No, you don’t know anything,” you seethed, shaking your head slowly, a chilling calm descending over your fury. Stepping back to create more distance. You needed to leave, to get out of here and hide from whatever this was. “You don’t know anything. And don’t even try to pretend to understand or act like you care. If you really cared. If he really cared. You all would’ve been there. You don’t know about the Honmoon. You don’t know about the demons that are supposed to be gone because of people like my mother. You don’t know about the sacrifices we make every single day. You show up here, interrupting my work, with a friendly wave and a claim of family, after decades of acting like I didn’t exist? It's pathetic.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you swallowed hard, refusing to let them see the deeper pain behind the anger.

"We want to help," Stephanie insisted, her voice gaining a desperate edge. "We saw the reports. Diana told us what you do. We know about HUNTR/X. We know about the Demon Hunters and the patt—"

"No you don’t!" you yelled, finally losing control. How could they just waltz into your life and try to pretend like they knew, like they understood? Especially when they, in that same breath, were planning on revealing everything you had, had to keep hidden your entire life. "You want to help? You want to be family? Go home! Go back pretending like I don’t exist, and I’ll go back to doing the exact same thing. Because I don’t need you."

It was silent except for the metallic hiss of Mira and Zoey’s weapons appearing behind you. They were with you, even if they didn’t fully understand.

“Get out,” you commanded, your voice low and dangerously steady. “Leave now, and stay away from me.”

You kept the blade lowered but ready, watching as the three figures exchanged nervous glances. Finally, Dick gave a slow, painful nod.

"We're not leaving the city," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "We're going to stay. And if you ever need us, even if you don’t want us to, we'll be there."

With that, he signaled the others. Stephanie and Duke hesitated, their faces etched with sympathy and worry, but they obeyed, backing towards the door. Dick was the last to leave, his blue eyes holding yours for a final, agonizing moment before he, too, slipped out.

The door clicked shut behind them, and the room was silent again, save for your ragged breathing and the faint, confused murmurs of your friends.

You lowered the saingeom, your body trembling, the metallic taste of adrenaline and shame thick on your tongue. They were gone. But, despite their absence, it still felt hard to breathe or even think. It felt like burning anger that had been festering inside hadn’t diminished, but had somehow gotten stronger, and it was making it impossible to see straight, to see beyond the anger, the pain, the hurt, the embarrassment. Jinu… were demons really that bad?

Your mother had become a demon from hurt and shame… from your father. Jinu had become one too from those very same feelings of shame.

Did that mean… that all of them had become the very same monsters you hunted because of the same feelings that felt like they were digging under your skin?

“Hey, are you okay?” Zoey asked hesitantly, dismissing her shin-kal into faint buzzing strings that disappeared just as quickly. Mira did the same with her weapon and exchanged a confused look with her. “Yeah, who were those people?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You tried to sound as dismissive as possible, though the words came out more strangled than anything. The patterns felt like they were tightening around your skin. Like chains that were slowly crushing you. At their unconvinced looks, you added, "I’m fine. I swear. Don't worry."

They didn’t look like they believed you.

And you weren’t sure if you did either.

Maybe it was naive, but some part of you really did want to help him.

He was in pain. 

He had to be, to be willing to go to such extreme measures just to forget everything.

And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, just talking to him. Opening up about everything. To someone who didn’t tell you, didn’t make you feel like you should hide everything… it was nice…

It felt almost too easy to slip the small card, a simple “Save The Date” card to his cat—which visited you more than you’d like to admit.

The oversized feline sunk into a familiar pool of light on the floor, before that too, disappeared into the darkness of your room.

He had been right. You were hiding, not only from the your friends, but also from the world.

Because it felt easier to dislike and distrust yourself over others. 

Because that meant that the chances of hurting anyone else were almost impossible.

But it was time to change things.

You wouldn’t tell Mira or Zoey yet. Not because they weren’t ready, but because you weren’t.

But maybe, just maybe, you were willing to let someone in.

Maybe he was worth the risk.

The sky darkened into shade of purple and blue that was illuminated only by the distant fiery light of the setting sun, which left streaks of bright pink and yellow in its wake. Just as silently as before, you drew closer without him noticing.

His brow was furrowed, eyes impatient as he pulled out the very same card you’d sent him and turned it over agitatedly. You could hear him mumble under his breath as you crept closer. “She wants to meet, and she’s late.”

He turned just in time to see you perched right next to him, he shrieked and stumbled backwards.

“Did you make me come all the way out here just so you could jump-scare me?”

You refrained from laughing and instead spoke flatly, moving to lead the way. “Follow me.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re finally ready to talk.” He commented while moving a distance away onto a small cobbled pathway nearby. “Although, you could’ve picked somewhere nicer for a date.”

That immediately made you freeze in place.

Date?

What.

The.

Hell.

He laughed, the sound grating and irritating, and you could feel your blood pressure rise.

Hurriedly, you rushed to clarify. “Date? No! Ew! What are you talking about?”

He silently pulled out the card and eyed it in confusion. Save the date? Oh… nooo.

“That doesn’t mean—” Dragging your hand down your face, you groaned out. “Oh my god, you’re so old. This is strictly a business meeting.”

“Okay, understood.” He kept looking at the card, so you snatched it from his grasp. Pocketing the card, you turned towards one of the higher platforms where a stone wall stood between that and the rest of the city down below. “What if I told you there’s another way to get your freedom?”

“Go on.”

“Help us win the Idol Awards.” You hopped onto the wall, the strings of the Honmoon hummed softly against your hands.“Because when we win, the Honmoon will be sealed. And that will guarantee your freedom. Gwi-ma will be permanently cut off and all the demons will be gone from this world.”

The strings fell protectively and comfortably over the buildings of the city below. “And I will finally be free of these patterns. I won’t have to hide or keep secrets anymore.”

Turning towards him, you continued. “You can be on this side when the Honmoon is sealed. Away from the demon world. And away from Gwi-ma.” Hopping off the wall, you walked towards him and hesitantly added, your voice quiet. “He won’t be able to torture you with your own memories anymore. You’ll still be able to keep them, but maybe they won’t hurt so badly anymore. You can be free from those voices forever.”

“What makes you think the Honmoon can even save a guy like me?”

“A guy who tried to help his family? You made a mistake, Jinu.”

He scoffed. “It’s not that simple.”

Reaching out to grab his hand, you stared down at where the patterns lined your wrists under your clothes. “But I am a mistake. I have been since the moment I was born. Half demon and half hunter, I have to pick one but it feels like it’s tearing me apart. I have to believe. Because if there’s no hope for you, what is there for me?”

Something in his eyes changed and he opened his mouth to say something, but the voice of an older woman cut in. “Bracelet? For your beautiful girlfriend?”

You dropped his hand like it was on fire and the two of you scrambled away, sputtering.

“Oh, no. We’re not—She’s not my type—”

“What? Excuse me, I’m everyone’s type.”

“You can’t even show up on time.”

“What are you? From the 1900s?”

“I can see why you’re still single.”

The older woman approached and stared at Jinu in what could only be described as judgement before reaching to drop one of the bracelets into the palm of your hand. “Here, a free one. Go find yourself a better boy. This one’s hopeless.”

He laughed as she walked away from the two of you. “See, there’s your answer. Hopeless.”

The pattern of the bracelet was all too familiar, both in color and shape as it sat in your palm. Light glinting off the threads, from the distant sun. “That’s the thing about hope. No one else gets to decide if you feel it.” You moved to hand the bracelet to him. “That choice belongs to you and you alone.”

He didn’t move or say anything.

It was starting to feel too real as he stared shocked.

As a silence hung in the air between the two of you.

You swallowed thickly, and turned briskly to keep walking.

Then he grabbed your hand to stop you.

That same silence was in the air, until he nervously coughed out. “Um, the bracelet…”

“Oh, right.”

You passed it to him and tried to avoid moving or looking at him.

“For what it’s worth, I never thought you were a mistake.”

The light of the train lit up the dark tunnel, illuminating the walls and ceiling with a bright glow. A soft, mechanical whir filled the space as it sped through. Tomorrow was the day of the Idol Awards, and everything felt like it was pulling further and further apart at the seams. Everything you knew, everything you had vowed to protect felt like it was a fundamental contradiction to what you even were. Avoiding your friends felt even worse, especially with it feeling closer and closer to the unavoidable deadline to revealing everything.

But you didn’t know if you could do that.

You didn’t want to, because all you could think was how they would react. How there was still the very real possibility of them hating you, and the worse part was that you’d understand why. Because you did too.

The guilt only felt like it was growing.

Mira and Zoey didn't deserve it. You didn’t deserve them. And they didn't know that was the reason you'd been so distant and distracted lately. You were trying not to worry them. And not to worry yourself. Your voice was healing, but the reason for it was something that felt like a very betrayal of everything you’d fought against.

Jinu, despite being a demon, had become someone you could confide in, and the fact that you had even opened up to him about the patterns, it felt like it was a step towards acceptance. You hated feeling like it was something that defined you, that highlighted all the things you hated about yourself.

You knew deep down that if your friends knew the truth, they would support you, but it was hard to admit the truth to yourself, let alone them.

From the darkness of the tunnel, the Honmoon gaped like an open wound as demons crawled out.

“I don’t get it. What is your problem?” Mira asked, her voice sharp with frustration.

The sword swung down and met one of the demons, dissolving it. “I told you, it’s the song. It’s just wrong—”

“I’m not talking about the song. I’m talking about you!” Her spear clanged against the roof of the train with a resounding metallic sound. “Why are you questioning everything we stand for when we’re so close to sealing the Honmoon? Isn’t this what you’ve been pushing us towards for all this time? What are you not telling us?”

She moved to grab your shoulder as you turned away, unable to look at her. “What are you hiding from us?”

The patterns on your arm felt like it burned for a split second as you jerked away. “Not everything is about your insecurities, Mira!”

The light of day hit with a palatable force that stung your eyes, but you knew that wasn’t the real reason for the tears welling up in your eyes. Why did you say that?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Zoey gasped out as she pointed ahead. “Would you two stop fighting each other and look?”

“If you’re really with us. Prove it.” Mira spoke, readying her stance.

A tear in the distance ripped through the space, the magenta color of it only caused even more of a sinking weight to fill your chest. Demons poured through the hole and the three of you moved to try and stop them, but for a fleeting moment everything felt too fast. Why couldn’t you push through the feeling of uncertainty when you had done it so often before?

A particularly large demon lunged out and your movement was too slow. The pain from the attack felt only secondary to the tracks of tears that ran down your face as the realization washed over you. You were hurting them.

A fleeting second of indecision was all it took for you to be struck down.

And for the train to be taken over by the hoard, like water washing over.

Mira and Zoey rushed forward and fended off the approaching demons, before Mira slammed her spear down onto the ground with enough force to cause all of them to disintegrate. The air shimmered and all you could manage to gasp out was, “The passengers.”

The three of you rushed inside to find them...

Why did he have to show up now?

The passengers were huddled into a corner of the train—thankfully safe—as the three of you quickly dismissed your weapons to avoid questions.

Bruce looked as imposing as you’d imagined, practically a shadow in a costume that made you hesitate to say anything.

Was he… were of all of them…

Dick’s back was to the three of you, dressed in a costume as well, though you could tell instantly that it was him. Stephanie and Duke were only recognized from standing so close to Bruce and Dick. All of them with masks that made you feel like you knew them even less than you thought.

"What are you guys doing here?" you asked, your voice quiet.

Dick turned around slowly, his costume made of blue and black fabric had a slight metallic shine in the threads of it.

He smiled despite everything that had happened. "I told you, we're not leaving."

Bruce moved to step closer, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him. Instead fixed your gaze on the ground, biting the inside of your cheek till the thick taste of iron lined your tongue. “Thank you for saving the passengers. I’ll be going now.”

With a final glance back at him and the others, you pushed past the crowd towards the doors. The next station was close.

"Hey, wait!" Duke called, running after you. "We have to talk about—"

"No, you have to go home," you said firmly, whirling around to face him. “I don’t get it. What do you guys want from me? Why do you want to pretend like you care so badly?"

"We do care," he insisted, his dark eyes holding yours steadily. “Why do you keep pushing us away? Just because we weren’t there, doesn't mean we didn’t care. We just... we didn't know how. I can't imagine what you went through, but please. Just let us in. Let us help."

The words hung in the air as a strange silence followed, broken only by the sound of the train hissing to a stop. Your breath caught, mouth dry and throat tight. The passengers rushed to leave, but you all stayed still. 

“I’m sorry.” Bruce spoke up. “I think no matter how many times I say that, it won’t make up having left you. And I'm not going to make excuses for that because I know there aren’t any that would be enough. I’m not asking for you to forgive me. I’m just asking for you to allow for us to help you out.”

The words made you pause, the way his voice cracked at the end, almost imperceptibly. But the emotion that seeped through the words made your chest feel tight and constricting.

And for a fleeting moment, everything was still and silent until even your own voice startled you. “Okay.”

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Awesome possum dividers by @saradika-graphics and @cursed-carmine <3

Sorry this one took longer than expected to come out, I had a lot of homework this past week. I’m also sorry for any mistakes I made, I’m planning on reviewing it later to make edits.

Hope everyone has a great day! :)

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Rumi!reader

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

The broth smelled good. It curdled your stomach just thinking of trying to eat. The spoon felt too heavy in your hands as you stirred it noncommittally, causing steam to rise off the surface of it and disappear.

The room felt too large, and the air too thin.

A part of you didn't want to be here anymore. To see the pain and sadness in Mira and Zoey’s faces. The concern and the confusion.

They didn't deserve that. Not they who had stayed by you. Who cared about you.

"I… I’m sorry about the show.” The words felt stuck in your throat. They were barely a whisper, getting out even one word made you feel like you were choking. It didn’t hurt, but everything inside of you seized, almost startled and panicked.

This was the first thing you had said since you got back.

Zoey immediately spoke, her voice wavering, and her hands trembling, trying to reassure, "No, no. Don't be sorry. Please, it wasn't your fault, there was nothing—"

Mira interrupted her, her hand gripping the side of the table. "Zoey's right. None of us blame you, we can reschedule another live show within days. We just want to know that you're okay. That's all."

A tense silence hung in the air.

Your lips pressed together in a hard line, your grip tightening on the spoon. "I-I don't know... I can't—my voice is in trouble."

“In trouble? Then why did you push forward with the release?”

“Because we’re so close, and it’s so important…”

“Then why don’t we take a break? We’ll skip the Idol Awards this year, and focus—”

“No.” The sound of your own voice almost frightened you, startling you out of your thoughts.

You couldn’t.

Not when everything felt like it was falling apart.

Not when you were so close.

Everything in the room seemed to still hold its breath.

"We can't. Not while we're so close to sealing the Honmoon. When I’m so close"

They didn't say anything, but the looks on their faces said everything. They were worried, and that made you feel guilty. You didn't want to put them through this. You never wanted to put anyone through this.

Zoey’s hand on your shoulder startled you, forcing your attention to her, “Hey, we’ll get through this. We can get through anything. Together.”

"Yeah, you're not alone in this. We can figure something out." Mira reassured.

Morning had just broken over Gotham, though it was still dark out—almost as if the rest of the city was still sleeping. It was silent, with only the slight hum of the jets engine signaling its active flight into the Batcave. Active at least until it rolled to a stop on one of the many platforms. It stayed silent even as the canopy of the jet slid open, and Bruce wordlessly got out. He hadn't slept, hadn't rested, or stopped for more than a few minutes during the last thirty-six hours. His body ached with the strain of it, his mind racing. It felt impossible to even stop thinking about this, it was like his brain was stuck in an infinite loop of having to find a solution to this. He had to see you, to talk to you… but how could he? What could he possibly say that would justify twenty years of absence?

He was the cause of it all.

The thought was sickening, and he couldn’t help but think that if you ever found out, you would hate him. You had every right to.

The sound of approaching footsteps jolted him from his thoughts, and he turned to find Dick standing a few feet away, his arms crossed, a frown etched into his brow.

"I’d like to say I’m surprised by this, but honestly, I'm not."

Bruce sighed. He knew this was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier. "Dick, I don't have time for this. I'm trying to find your sister."

"No. You're trying to fix a relationship that never existed. You've become so focused on what went wrong and how you could’ve fixed it, you haven’t been able to see how it affects the people around you. You weren't there when she needed you the most, and now you're just chasing after a shadow without actually reaching out, hoping for what? A chance to talk to her, when she doesn't even know who you are. Haven’t you considered that the rest of us want that chance too? Or is it just another one of those things you've decided on your own? Just like everything else." Dick's voice was hard, his jaw set, his eyes glinting with frustration and anger. "I haven't spoken to her in years, and neither has Alfred. And here you are, making decisions about her without consulting either of us. Have you even told the others about this? About her?”

Bruce didn't answer, but his silence was confirmation enough.

Dick let out a frustrated huff. He was trying to rein himself in, to stop himself from getting carried away. To keep his temper in check. "It doesn't matter. You can't go after her like this, especially when you don't even have a plan."

"I'll figure something out," Bruce said, his tone firm, his eyes narrowed. "She deserves the truth, Dick."

"Yes, she does. And we deserve a chance to have a relationship with her too. Not just you. The others want a chance too, but not like this. Not when it's so forced." Dick's voice was softer, though his gaze was still steely. He didn't seem angry anymore, just disappointed. "So… please. Let me help."

Bruce hesitated, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he nodded. “I’m sorry, I know you don't agree with what I'm doing, but you have to understand, this is my mistake to fix."

"It's not just yours. It's mine too. I didn't do anything then, and I didn’t try to even when I could.” Dick ran his fingers through his hair, a tired smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "What did Diana have to tell you, anyway?"

Bruce frowned, his eyes dark. "She said one of her contacts was part of the hunters.”

“That’s pretty good, a direct line to them.”

“A previous hunter.” Bruce clarified, his expression becoming more guarded.

"Oh…” Dick trailed off, his face falling slightly. "Wait, a previous hunter? Does that mean—”

Bruce cut him off, his voice sharp. "It’s most likely not Celine, she’s stayed in Korea for years and any contact between her and Diana would’ve been noted a long time ago. It must be someone else—”

“Have you tried—I don’t know—talking to them?” Stephanie’s voice piped up, her tone almost a snap. She stood in the light of the stairway that led up to the manor, wearing her Spoiler uniform but with the hood down and the mask off, clutched in her hands. 

"Steph? What are you doing here?" Dick asked, his surprise evident.

Stephanie strode towards them, her expression hard. "I live here. And also just got back from my patrol. You can ask Cass if you want, and Tim too—though last I checked, he was passed out and mumbling incoherently on the console. I was just passing by and overheard you talking, and honestly? I’m not even sure what to make of half of it, but it sounds like a really bad idea. So, I want in."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "No."

"Too late.” Stephanie crossed her arms, a smug look crossing her face.

Bruce let out a long-suffering sigh. There was no stopping her once she made up her mind.

Dick glanced at Bruce, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and a hint of mischief sparkling in his eye. "Okay, so we’re just gonna go talk to them? Just like that?"

"Well, what are we supposed to do? It’s not like we have any other options.”

The dusky light of your saingeom lit up the steamed air of the bathhouse upon entry. The room was large, the walls made up of the pale white linoleum that sunk  into the mist almost nonexistently, the floor was tiled, and floating within the multitude of pools that littered the room were guys, meaning this was “Men’s?”

The three of you groaned.

Your mutual disgust was interrupted by his stupid voice, “Did you really follow us in here?”

There they were, those guys, and this time you would ensure that he—no they—wouldn’t have any chance of leaving alive. “Do you honestly think we’re gonna let you steal our fans? You’re gonna have to fight us for that.”

“Yeah. Keep your hands off our Honmoon.”

Bracing your feet backwards, you prepared to lunge, grip tightening around the handle of the blade.

“We’re not here to fight… but they are.” Right after he said that, the surface of the pools nearby wavered as magenta weak spots opened. Rising from the ripples were the distinct and familiar shadowy and visibly wet forms of water demons. 

He crouched down and braced his hand against the back of one of the water demons floating in the pool in front of him and the other four. “If you can get rid of the hunters, then you can eat all the souls you want.”

Clawed hands and knotted wet hair flew backwards as the demons crawled out of the pools and started lunging towards the three of you. Pushing forward, the muscles in your arms burned almost pleasantly as you swung it with practiced ease.

The demon was flung backwards, landing against the edge of the pool with a solid thunk.

It wasn't enough, as it was already pulling itself upright, but before it could attack, the tip of a blade came crashing down, slicing clean through it. The demon was cut in half and the halves evaporated. 

Parts of the ceiling collected the very same pink weak spots and more and more of the demons crawled out. One of them moved to attack Zoey just as she turned her back, the breath of air got caught in your lungs as you vaulted over her, sword cleaving through it causing the monster to evaporate, revealing who was behind them.

“Have fun.” He mocked, slipping on a puddle as he moved backwards before running through the door behind him.

No. Not this time. There was no way you were going to let him get away this time.

The doors flew open and closed, a blur of colors that you didn’t bother to pay attention to while moving to swing at him. He dodged every attack, and right as you had him cornered, he slipped into a door behind him.

A dense orange steam clung to the new room, buckets lined the walls, though your eyes never left him as you continued trying to attack him.

He moved, and you followed. He dodged and you moved to hit him again. He leaned almost casually against the wall, “Woah, watch the face. I need it to steal your fans.”

Lifting the sword into the air, you prepared to hit him, only to catch and cut in half a bucket he had thrown in your direction.

The clang of the bucket falling to the floor was loud.

You turned, and he was gone from view, having jumped behind you.

This wasn’t a game. You weren't going to let him get away and escape, and so when you turned and saw him, you didn't hesitate, you just swung the blade towards him and he met it with claws. 

A flash of pain was quickly ignored as you finally saw an opening to corner him once and for all. He hissed, his eyes widening and then narrowing, his grip tightening around your hands which you braced forward—trying to force the sharpened edge of the blade to his neck. He forced out a laugh—grating against your ears, “You’re strong.”

Growling, your grip tightened almost painfully as you pushed harder and his face was inches away from the tip, the grin still there.

The room was silent except for the two of you.

His eyes flicked over to your arm and the smug expression crumbled into shock and confusion, his grip loosened, causing you to hurriedly glance over and see them. The patterns.

He didn't hesitate, his claws dug into your wrist and he kicked, sending you backwards.

Panic was the only feeling present as you covered the exposed skin where the patterns had been shown. A wall had busted down in the chaos from having the body of one of the demons thrown through, but none of it registered except for the faint yells of Mira and Zoey.

You wanted to help them.

You needed to help them.

But this was never supposed to happen.

You couldn’t let them see like this.

You couldn’t let them know about the patterns. Which had become tangible proof of what was wrong with you. What you had been trying to fix for years—for your entire life. And now felt like it was slipping further and further away.

The shadows of the room felt like they were suffocating you. Trying to breathe felt impossible when every part of you felt on edge and frozen in place.

Then it stopped and for a moment everything brightened. He had grabbed you—but not aggressively like you had expected—no… it was warm.

It felt safe.

And then it was over. He was gone.

Instinctively, you reached to cover the patterns, but found a piece of white and green checkered cloth tied over them. Before you could dwell on it further, Mira and Zoey’s voices pierced through. When your eyes focused, you saw them trapped and surrounded by a hoard that was starting to close in. 

The currents of the Honmoon vibrated, alive, as you reached out and tightened your grip around the hilt of your saingeom. The very tip of the blade glinted from the movement of your swing, slicing through the body of one of them which was starting to close in and creating enough of an opening for Zoey to start attacking instead of defending. You rounded back towards Mira, and created one for her too. In a few seconds, all of the demons were dead and it was quiet in the bathhouse except for the slight puffs of breath coming off the three of you.

“Hey! This is the men’s bathhouse. Get out of here.” An old man in a towel yelled at the three of you, causing the three of you to start rushing to get out while apologizing.

“Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner about what happened, Babs.” Dick said, his voice coming through the comms.

Barbara, who was sitting in the Clocktower, sighed. "It's alright. I was worried that something would happen. Is everything okay? Is Bruce okay?”

“Yeah, I think I managed to talk some sense into him."

Barbara couldn't help the small, relieved smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth, though anxiety still crept through. "That’s good… everything in the files was just a little hard to swallow, and I know there’s nothing I could do about it. But I think it’s just kind of hard having to compromise what I thought I knew about him, especially with Mi-yeong’s death—"

“Her death? What are you talking about? I thought she—what happened?"

"You don't know? The files said she died, but the cause of death wasn’t written or specified. I figured you already knew—”

“Knew what? How did she die—”

Bruce’s voice came in through the comms, “Dick, we’re gonna be heading off soon. Stephanie said Duke’s coming too. Did you manage to secure an exact location yet, Barbara?"

Dick sighed, a slight hint of frustration seeping into his tone. "I'm almost done, B. Barbara was just about to—"

"I'll tell you about it on the way." Bruce cut him off.

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Dividers by @saradika-graphics and @cursed-carmine <3 <3

Sorry the chapters for this series has been taking so long. Hope everyone has a great night!

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Rumi!reader

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

It happened for a split second during the concert. The barest flickers of the color dancing along the threads of the Honmoon. Everything you had ever hoped for in your life, and you had come closer than ever before to turning the familiar blue tones into gold that shined bright enough to block out the darkness. Gold is everything. It’s hope. The light at the end of the tunnel that can finally make all the hiding and the secrets worth it.

And you couldn’t wait another minute.

Not while you were so close.

So why did it feel like everything you were working towards was falling apart at the seams?

Your voice had felt… strained for longer than you’d prefer to acknowledge or even think about. You could feel it, and you knew it was there, but every time you reached towards it, it grew further away.

The cold night air felt suffocating, and only got worse when you had peeled off your jacket, hoping it would relieve you of this awful feeling that was never supposed to be there. Everything was heavy, it was like the air was trapped in your lungs as you tried to reach the notes you’d reached before so many times. The city streets were a blur, a haze of lights and colors that bled into each other. You couldn’t focus, not while your voice was now a sandpapered rasp in your throat every time you tried to reach higher.

You weren’t supposed to be here. Not while the concert for the premiere of Golden was supposed to happen tonight. Not while the first step towards really reaching gold was supposed to be tonight. How could you fail when this was all you’d ever wanted—all you had ever worked towards?

You were supposed to help others, to guide and protect them, but how could you even do that when you couldn't even hear yourself. When you felt so alone even with those you loved.

“Not now… not while I’m so close.” You croaked out, the lights in front of you starting to blur from the wetness forming in the corners of your eyes. “… why…”

You had failed. You couldn't even keep it together for one night. What if it wasn’t just tonight, but tomorrow, and the next week, and the next year. The thought was terrifying. The loneliness, the stress, and everything else curdled all at once into anger, as you nails dug into your palms, “WHY!”

You hadn't meant to yell, but the words tumbled out anyways. You didn't know what you were saying, only that you needed to get it out. The frustration, the hurt, the lack of control. You couldn’t stop.

It wasn’t a split second this time. It was a wave of horrifyingly familiar magenta pink that shook the Honmoon and faded away into the middle distance. Pushing yourself back, all you could do was stare at it. Was that you?

No.

You weren’t supposed… you couldn’t.

You needed to leave and go back and find a way to fix this because if you couldn’t…

Gotham always seemed to be submerged in a perpetual state of fog and rain. It was downright dreary at best, and oppressive at worst. But there was something comforting about it, something almost calming about the way the clouds rolled in and the rain fell. It was a welcome reprieve from the internal noise Dick had long since learned to block out.

He didn’t like sitting still for too long. 

Or rather, he didn’t like not being there or available to help. 

Even if he wasn't needed, the nagging feeling that something would happen while he wasn’t looking kept him on his toes.It was hard not to feel like that when it felt like it was the only thing keeping him from imploding. Like everything and everyone he cared about would fall apart if he wasn’t constantly vigilant.

Even if it was outside of his control at the time, his parents deaths had, and always would feel preventable.

The comms beeped an almost anxious sound before Barbara spoke over the channel. "Hey, Nightwing. Are you there? It's kind of important."

“Hey Babs, I’m almost there,” he said, carefully using the momentum of the grappling line to carry him further.

“Don’t almost be here, Dick, be here,” Barbara’s voice was strained, a rare sign of agitation. “Everything’s a mess right now. Come to the Clocktower. It’s Alfred. He’s... really worried about Bruce, and now he’s gone.”

Dick landed on the fire escape outside the Clocktower and slipped inside, finding Barbara already seated at the console, her expression grim. “Gone where? The League meeting ended hours ago.”

“That’s the problem. He’s gone off-grid. No contact, no check-ins, nothing. Alfred’s been really quiet about everything—more or so than usual. I did get him to tell me that Bruce had been researching something relentlessly, something old. I pulled the last known ping from his private jet’s transponder.” She brought up a map of the globe. A flashing icon showed a single destination: Themyscira.

Dick’s eyebrows shot up. “Themyscira? What could he possibly need from the Amazons that requires total radio silence? Is it a League thing?”

“I don’t think so, all the other League members either went on their own missions or went home. And before he left, Bruce had him pull up all the initial paperwork for… that case,” Barbara said, her voice dropping.

For a moment, Dick could feel everything inside of him get frozen over. 

He didn’t know how to react.

That case. The words hung in the air, still, with a weight he had always tried to avoid. Dick hadn't thought about you, the baby, the lost sibling, in years. He’d buried the memory deep, a necessary defense mechanism against the wave of guilt that always followed. When you had been in the Manor, his world had been chaos—the death of his parents, the shock of finding a new purpose as Robin, the all-consuming need for justice and revenge. He'd barely processed his own trauma, let alone the tiny, silent presence in the nursery.

He had walked past your room countless times, heard your faint cries, and dismissed them. Not my problem. Bruce’s problem. Alfred’s problem. He was too busy chasing shadows and trying to become the hero his parents would've been proud of. Trying to get revenge when everything had felt even more bleak than the weather. He had compartmentalized his life until the cracks were showing. And then you were gone.

“The paperwork, Babs?” Dick finally managed, his voice hollow and distant even to his own ears. “I thought he said that case was off-limits.”

Barbara’s fingers which had been speedily typing on the keyboard came to a sudden halt, the keys clacking sharply. She bit her lip, her brow furrowed. After a moment, she exhaled, and met his eyes. Her voice was low, but firm.

"I… know, but everything about it was just so… weird. The files were sealed, and we could only access the most basic information. Bruce never told me anything, and it always seemed like Alfred didn't want to talk about it either. It wasn't until I did a little digging on my own that everything started to make sense. I know these things are connected.” Barbara took off her glasses and stared at the reflective surface of the lens. “I just don’t know how, there’s too many redacted parts, and not enough details for me to be able to make any sense of it. It doesn’t help that Bruce doesn't tell anyone anything."

"It's Bruce. Keeping secrets is kind of his thing." Dick said, leaning against the console, his arms crossed.

Barbara let out a soft laugh, but still didn’t seem assured. "I know you said you don’t know a lot about what happened then, but…"

"I know more than you think. I was there when she left, and when the baby came, I just..." He trailed off, the words stuck in his throat. "I was busy trying to do my own thing."

Barbara gave him a sympathetic look, her eyes full of understanding. "We were all dealing with a lot, Dick. But… now I'm afraid because this all feels like it would make sense if I had just—”

“Hey.” Dick cut off, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Bruce is probably just going through one of his “I work alone” things again. When he comes back, I can try to talk some sense into him, get him to tell us everything. I know I didn’t… handle it very well back then, but right now we have questions that he has the answers to. In the meantime, the best we can do is wait for him to get back and see what he has to say about all of this. I'm sure everything will work out."

Barbara didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she nodded anyway, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Dick gave her a reassuring pat and headed towards the window, his mind racing. She didn’t seem to believe everything he had to say, and honestly he wasn’t sure if he did either. He was trying to keep it together so she wouldn’t get more stressed, but he couldn't stop the uneasiness growing in his gut. Bruce wanted to see you again, to reconnect, and fix rekindle something he had let die the first time. And Dick also wanted to.

“I’ve told you what I can, Bruce—”

“You said you had a contact from one of the hunters.”

Diana paused, her hands resting on the table. There was a tension in her shoulders, and her jaw was set, but her expression was otherwise unreadable. She seemed to consider every word carefully before responding.

"I do, but it‘s one of the previous hunters. Believe me, if they had any contact with Huntrix.” Her voice quieted down into a murmur, “With your daughter, I would’ve informed you prior to the meeting. But as it stands, this isn’t the right way to go about things.”

She was right. Of course, she was right.

He knew that, he had known the second the words had come out of his mouth. This wasn’t the way to go about doing things, he was well aware of how wrong it was, how much of a violation of privacy and trust, but he didn't care.

This was his chance to make things right. To fix the mess he had unintentionally created.

You had been gone from his life for longer than he could remember. Even after Celine had taken you away, he could still remember seeing your name in the headlines. The pictures and the articles. Seeing how happy you were, and that was enough for him to keep up with you and stay informed.

When you first debuted as Huntrix, he’d observed that and thought it was a good thing you were away. Safe. Living a much more normal and happier life than one he could’ve given you.

But now he knew that wasn’t the case, and the guilt was starting to consume him.

He was selfish. He had thought he knew better, that this was all better. But now the consequences were going to be his undoing.

His fingers twitched, his grip tightening. He needed to talk to you, and not just because he wanted to fix his mistake. He wanted to apologize. To make up for the time he had lost and to finally make up for the one who he had lost.

“Bruce? Are you listening?” Diana asked, her tone sharp.

He shook himself from his thoughts. He would deal with those later, right now he needed a lead.

"Yes, I am." He lied, not wanting to reveal his distracted train of thought.

Diana looked unconvinced, but didn't press. "Your daughter and her friends are coming very close to sealing the Honmoon—the barrier that separates the demons from being able to take the souls of people… but recently, there’s been some unexpected issues—”

Bruce’s chair skidded backwards, and Diana quickly tried to calm him down. “Bruce, calm down. Whatever problems she’s going to face, can only be resolved by her and her alone. But if you really want to help her, just be there for her and then it’ll be up to her if she wants to forgive you.”

His fists were clenched so tightly, his knuckles had turned white. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

There were no guarantees. Nothing that would give him the assurance he needed, but Diana was right. This wasn't about him. This was about you.

He wanted to be there for you now, because he knew he hadn’t been back then.

"Thank you, Diana." He murmured.

"Just be careful, Bruce.” Was all Diana said before standing up from the table and walking away.

The carmine and rust colors of the sunset reflected and danced across the surface of the ocean that expanded outwards from the island. The now violet waves, shaded by the fading light of the sun, lapped against the white sand that had turned almost gold. A light wind blew the long grass and the leaves of the palm trees that grew near the shore, creating a soothing melody.

The balcony of the palace seemed to provide the perfect vantage point to observe the almost dream-like setting. It had been a long time since she had experienced any kind of peace apart from Themyscira and to leave that grounding protection was something that scared her.

“Haneul.” Diana said as she walked through the balcony doors, a gentle, comforting tone in her voice.

Haneul was sitting on a bench, her arms wrapped around herself. Her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, her face unreadable.

"I think it’s time for you to go home and talk to them. They’re going through a lot right now."

That was all Diana needed to say for her to understand it. Haneul hated herself for the fact that she couldn’t face it, not back then and now… home… it scared her. Home meant seeing the aftermath of the mess she had left behind, the hurt and confusion she had caused, and having to face her. Celine.

Even after all this time, the name left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

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Beautiful dividers by @saradika-graphics and @cursed-carmine <3 <3

I love mysterious character introductions, it makes everything so dramatic

Hope everyone has a great night! Thank you for the continued love and support! If you want to be added to the taglist for this or any other story just let me know :D