TeaButNerdy

You have moments of half-consciousness as they scoop you up from the floor of the hospital.

There’s a vague sense of motion like you’re in a car then sometime later, a quiet murmuring and the sounds of feet stomping around. The pain in your head has spread and is sharp against the fogginess you find your mind in. You think one of your sisters wakes up before she’s supposed to based on a sudden commotion around you as you hear hear her try to speak, but then everything goes dark again and you stay under this time, any awareness from before erased from your memory.

You wake up in a surprisingly familiar place, a living room scattered with stuffed animals and coloring books. There’s a half-finished lego set on the coffee table you’re hiding under. 

You’ve been under there for what feels like an eternity and your suspicions are confirmed when you hear a key turning in the front door. Your foster mom has returned home and your game of hide and seek started an hour ago, it shouldn’t have taken Grace and Faith that long to find you. Your spot had been pretty obvious because you wanted to be the seeker. The sooner you’re found the sooner you can switch places.

You crawl out from under the table with a weird feeling in your chest knowing that your sisters forgot about you. This is one of the first times you became aware that you were on the outside of their relationship. Three was an awkward number, an odd one. It made sense for them to pair up for certain things, but you didn’t think it meant you were forgettable.

Your sisters had came running down the stairs to greet your mom but both abruptly stopped when they saw you standing there.

Grace’s smile falls and Faith rushes over to hug your waist.

There’s apologies, explanations, exact words left to time, but that first curl of darkness had made itself known that night.

When you finally come to, your mouth is drier than the Mojave desert. 

Cotton mouth comes to mind and you move your tongue around in your mouth, trying to get saliva production to start again, but there’s something blocking your ability to move the muscle.

You probe at something hard and circular in your mouth, though the more you fiddle with it the more your jaw hurts.

Realization hits as you try not to choke on the fucking ball gag in your mouth. They’ve fucking gagged you.

The dryness of your throat - probably a side effect from the gas they used on you - starts to fade and having the ball gag in your mouth helps speed along getting your mouth wet. 

The first swallow has you wincing.

You can hear people talking and things moving around. You think you can identify the sound of chairs scraping on the floor and the creak of people setting their weight on them but you’re not sure, you can’t see jack shit.

The air you breathe in is hot. When you open your eyes all you can see is darkness until you peer down and see a sliver of light. They have you wearing some kind of bag over your head. 

You can see you’re wearing the same pantsuit, still splattered by all the gore from the detective and the guy in the blue suit. You can make out Faith’s blue jeans and Grace’s wedding dress on either side of you. It’s on the edges of your limited sight but it brings you some comfort. 

You focus on the rest of your body, the pounding in your head duller now than it was before. You can feel rough rope around your wrists, binding you to the armrests of the chair you’re sitting in. The same for your feet, your legs slightly splayed open. You give tentative jerks of your limbs, testing the strength of the rope.

It holds fast, you don’t think you even manage half an inch of movement.

Your knees and palms feel a little sore, probably from breaking your fall earlier, but otherwise you seem to have no new problems to add to your shitty day.

You see movement out of the left of your eye, Grace’s knee jerking, and then you hear a low groan from her. A second later there’s a whimper from your right, meaning Faith is waking up too.

You feel relief wash over you as you realize you aren’t alone anymore.

The people in the room seem to catch on as well because everything quiets down except for some strange electronic noise. You think it sounds familiar but then the bag is whipped off your head, messing up your hair so you have to blow a strand out of your face.

A tough looking woman whips Faith’s bag off too and marches - literally marches - to the front of the room with three black cloth sacks in her hand.

You squint up at the person in front of you, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light again.

He doesn’t look like much, a little on the shorter side with blue eyes that seem to be digging into your soul. You feel uneasy and let your eyes dart around the room, trying to make sense of where you are.

The room has a circular conversation pit that you and your sisters are conveniently located on. It’s obvious you three are the main event. Even the lights overhead are larger and more ornate than the smaller chandeliers around the room. You have your own spotlight.

The walls are a dark forest green to compliment the mahogany tables where various people are sitting, but you don’t focus on them yet, though you’re not sure you want to see the people who are watching you.

There are several gold framed paintings in your line of sight, and thick curtains pulled to the side of the tall windows that bring some natural daylight into the room. Wherever you were was a place you can only assume the wealthy came to. Everything was clean and not a piece of furniture was out of place or clashed with the rest of the decor. 

The flooring at your feet has an intricately done mosaic of blue, red, and beige. 

When you look forward again you notice an extremely large book is now on the podium. The lawyer is tapping his fingers on it, waiting for everyone to settle.

There’s an impatient cough from somewhere behind you, and that insistent, annoying other noise that -

“Is that a fucking switch?” you exclaim.

Or that’s what you try to say but with the ball gag in your mouth there’s only a jumble of muffled words that come out, but you’re too busy doing your best impression of an owl, turning your neck as far over your right shoulder as it’ll go to find the source of the noise, to care whether anyone actually understands you.

There’s a guy, maybe in his 20’s, playing something on his switch just totally engrossed in it. The woman next to him has a small resigned frown on her face. You feel like you’ve seen that look on parents with their toddlers and assume that’s his mom.

There’s a clomping of heels and the woman who removed the bag from your head is blocking your sight. She firmly turns your head to face the front of the room, and then you can feel the gag in your mouth start to loosen. She unlatches it and goes over to Grace to undo hers. She walks away after, which has Faith making a noise of indignation as she’s the only one still gagged.

You make a disgusting sucking noise as drool comes out of your mouth and you try to not get it everywhere. Some still sits on your chin, and the rubber taste lingers in your mouth. You have a moment to wonder if you should spit before thinking better of it. 

“You’re seriously playing a fucking game right now?” you ask, tilting your head down and lifting your shoulder up so you can wipe your drool away from your chin. 

The man at the front starts to say something but you cut him off.

“This has to be some kind of joke right? You kidnap us but you have some kid in the back playing freaking animal crossing or mario kart or whatever the fuck.” Your head is reeling and it’s not the point, it’s way beyond the point, but your brain is completely stuck on the fact that these psycho’s, are planning on probably murdering you like they tried to do with Grace, and one of them can’t lift his head up to acknowledge you and your sisters for one minute.

You can feel Faith and Grace’s stares boring into you so you shut your mouth, aware your outburst has left some of the other people tittering.

“I’m sure this has been hard for you miss..” the man at the front cocks his head to the side but you refuse to say anything more.

“You know, we weren’t expecting so many…guests to be here. Only Mrs. Le Domas.”

“It’s MacCuley,” Grace says, quiet but firm.

The man doesn’t spare her a glance, oddly focusing on you with a tilted smile like he knows something about you that you don’t. 

“But here we have Grace, Faith, and Hope.”

You shudder at the usage of your birth name, the one that was written on a note taped to the baby blanket you’d been swaddled in when you were left outside the fire station. You don’t use that name because that’s not who you are. You wanted nothing to do with your birth parents so when you were old enough to come to that decision you had demanded everyone call you by your current name, and eventually you legally changed it.

“Fucking Irish Catholics.”

Your eyes dart to the left, just trying to see a glimpse of the man who had just spoken, because really? But you find you can’t look away from him once you meet his eyes.

It’s like he knew you were going to look at him. He holds your gaze with such intensity that you swear you can feel your heart skip a beat.

You force yourself to look away because what the fuck. What the actual fuck.

But you can still feel his eyes boring into you as you stare down at your knees, your heart racing and a flush heating your cheeks.

There’s no way you found this guy hot right? It’s just adrenaline, some weird physical response your body is going through to get you through what you’re dealing with mentally.

You lick your lips, catching a drop of sweat on your upper lip, and glance up again into his eyes; a murky lake, a brown mixed with green that you're hesitant to call hazel but there’s no other word for it.

His eyes are on your mouth as he leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“You’ve caused quite a stir, Grace,” the man behind the podium says, and you let your attention drift back to him as you let out a long exhale. He seems to want to be charitable by using your sisters first name, instead of insisting on her married last name.

“I am the sole attorney for Mr. LeBail and the LeBail organization. The organization was made up of six families which are now down to four, thanks to you three.” The lawyer says with a polite smile on his face like this was a normal conversation, not one layered with murder and the devil.

“Mr. Wilkinson of course was… over eager to say the least, so he’s mostly to blame for his family's demise, whereas you won the game of hide and seek, sealing the Le Domas family's fate. And your own. By winning, you triggered a seldom used clause in our organization’s bylaws.”

The lawyer takes a small box off the podium and reveals a heavy looking ring. It reminds you of the rings in the brochures you received in high school and college, when they’d try and get you to buy a class ring. One of those chunky gold ones with a sigil on it. 

You can’t see the exact details because you’re too far away, but you can tell it’s all silver, not a standard gold, and it looks to be speckled.

The lawyer puts the ring away and opens up the book, trailing his finger down the page as he looks for something. 

“While each family here holds power, the one who wears the ring has the high seat making them the most powerful. Until now, that seat was occupied by Chester Danforth,” the lawyer gestures over to the man and woman sitting to the left of you. “Titus and Ursula’s father, I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” The lawyer looks at you with an expectant eyebrow.

Your nose scrunches unknowingly as you rack your brain for that name. 

“He was interviewed a few years ago when his placement on the Forbes list changed, some inquiries about his wineries and casinos. I didn’t work on that piece,” you mutter and shift uneasily in your chair, sneaking a glance at Ursula and Titus.

Ursula is beautiful in a W.A.S.P way; clearly privileged and clearly aware of her beauty. She has finely tweezed eyebrows and slightly pinched features like her default expression is to purse her lips. Her light blonde hair is pulled back into a low slick backed bun, with a pair of expensive looking sunglasses perched atop her head. Her black suit isn’t anything too fancy, sleek and practical, but the giant folded over lapels and just the general look of her, meant that suit probably cost double your rent. 

She’s been interviewed more recently than her father, by the magazine you work for and multiple other high-end ones. If you scour your memory you think you might have seen her walking to your bosses office in a similar suit, but in pale pink. 

Her brother on the other hand…

He seems to always be in the shadows, mentioned off-handedly in interviews with his family, but you can’t think of any articles that actually interviewed him.

Titus still has one leg crossed over the other, appearing laid-back, but as soon as you look at him he becomes tenser. He leans forward now that he has your attention again, and twiddles his fingers at you in a mockery of a hello. His smile doesn’t quite fit a leer but it still makes you feel funny. Inexplicably you can feel something between the two of you. 

You let your eyes roam him over as the lawyer keeps talking, explaining to Grace that she’s been given the opportunity to fight for the seat.

Titus' smile hasn’t budged an inch and brings out the lines at the corner of his eyes and by his mouth. 

Titus pulls off the rough but put together look, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders but he still has to appear in his Sunday best. There’s a light dusting of freckles across his cheeks and you briefly wonder if there are other places on his body you could find more. His stubble is light, looking almost blond in the darker lighting of the room.

His outfit is as wealthy as Ursula’s and is a dark black coat and pants, the fabric over his thighs stretched tightly across them. The collar is high around his throat and you have a image flash in your mind of folding down the collar and-

“No, are you fucking deaf? Did you not just hear what I said? I’m not playing.” Grace snarls with such vehemence that you immediately return your attention back to the situation at hand. You know. Where you’re kidnapped and not meant to be ogling a guy about two decades older than you. 

The lawyer looks put out which is kind of comical, the casual undertone of all this, like it’s a normal Tuesday.

Which, since they’re Satan worshippers, maybe this was a typical Tuesday activity. 

“Let me reiterate. You have been given a gift, you should be grateful that you have the opportunity to win the high seat. You, and the other heads of the remaining council families will be competing to win the seat for themselves.” 

“Or in our case, take back what should still be ours,” Titus says, causing a man to your right to laugh.

“Ah, you’re afraid one of us is gonna take daddy’s place, eh?” he says.

The man’s at a table with a boy somewhere in his early teens and that puts an unpleasant feeling in your stomach. For his part, he’s smiling like the man you assume is his dad, equal parts amused and smug.

“You never know, Mrs. Le Domas could win,” the lawyer says, looking with annoyance at the man and his son.

Grace mutters a curse under her breath and the lawyer smiles at her again.

“Mr. LeBail has smiled upon thee.”

A chorus of ‘hail Satan’s’ fills the room and you feel a shiver go down your spine. What kind of fucked up nightmare were you in?

“Any questions?” the lawyer asks, clearly expecting one of you to talk but the woman behind you that has the son with his stupid game, speaks up first.

“I actually do have a question. Where is Chester? He’s been absent as has Ignacio’s daughter, isn’t she supposed to be here too?”

“My apologies,” the man sitting to your right says, identifying himself as Ignacio. “My daughter is running a little late but she just texted she’s at the gate. It was such short notice ya know,” he waggles his phone screen which is open to a text conversation before he puts it back in his pocket.

“Our father…passed,” Ursula says, her face dropping into a frown. If you hadn’t been so attuned to Titus you wouldn’t have noticed how Ursula elbowed him in the rib, disguising it as her adjusting the lapels of her blazer. His face drops to match her frown but it’s clear by the slight twitches in his face that he’s trying to keep a different expression at bay. 

“What the fuck,” a man behind you exclaims and the energy in the room shifts and you’re stunned to find yourself and your sisters no longer the main attraction.

“What?”

“Wait, wait, wait.”

People are expressing their outrage faster than you can figure out who is talking.

“Last night, in his sleep,” Ursula’s short explanation causes more outrage.

“So does that mean that you’re playing now?” Someone asks and Ursula nods solemnly.

“As we are twins, we will both be taking the field.”

Titus smooths a hand over his mouth, but you catch the hint of a smile before it’s wiped away.

There’s more grumbling but the lawyer claps his hands together.

“Can we please get back to the matter at hand and, Pernilla, you can ungag the other sister,” he waves his hand over towards Faith. 

“We can make this real quick, because I don’t want your fucking chair. I’m through playing games with you psychopaths,” Grace says over Faith’s hacking as the ball gag is finally removed from her mouth. 

“You’d have control of everything if you won,” the lawyer says impatiently.

“Everything?”

"The world, it would be in the palm of your hand.” 

“So I just pull another card out of the box?” Grace asks wearily and you wish you had more slack to the rope so you could hold her hand, do literally anything to comfort her.

“Even simpler, think of it as double or nothing. You survived hide and seek so you will get the chance to play the game again, this time-”

“No!”

“-with the council members.”

Grace is shaking in her seat, a mixture of terror and anger.

“So for me to win the seat?” she asks, her glare turning glacial.

“Survive until dawn.”

“And the rest of them?” Grace asks, jerking her chin to gesture to the people around them.

“This part will be familiar. They will try to kill you, whoever does, wins the seat. There will be a special ceremony in the Black Temple where the winner will be coronated. A truly special occasion where the creme de la creme of Mr. LeBail’s faithful will be in attendance. The seat must be filled by dawn or…Mr. LeBail will be most displeased.” 

Grace’s face goes through a series of complicated emotions. 

“Still not playing.”

You eye the lawyer wearily, wondering what he’ll say to that. This doesn’t seem like the sort of situation where anyone has a say in this matter. They’re offering Grace a courtesy by explaining everything to you all.

“I’m sorry, but you have to compete.”

“I’m not playing!” Grace yells, lurching forward so hard her chair makes a scraping sound as it scoots forward.

“You have to,” the lawyer says tersely. 

“Not playing,” Grace says with finality.

The lawyer stares back at her, clearly fed up but trying not to show it.

“Ok. Pernilla, kill the sister, the one in the middle.”

Your eyes widen in shock and you press yourself back into the chair as if that will help you escape.

“No, no, no, fuck no, fuck you!” Grace yells as Pernilla starts walking over to you, a gleam in her eye. 

You can do nothing but watch in horror as she stalks towards you.

“Wait! Listen!” Faith yells and surprisingly Pernilla does stop.

“You guys seem like good people! And I don’t even know why we’re here besides Grace, so why don’t you let me and my sister go. We haven’t seen Grace in sixteen years,” Faith pleads, looking at the lawyer with desperation.

“Sixteen years?” someone asks in disbelief and Pernilla backs off to her original spot, heeding some unspoken command.

“Why not?” The lawyer asks.

“It’s complicated,” Faith says, looking a little taken aback by that being the focus of what she said.

“You don’t get along?” Ignacio asks, looking at the three of you with a new appraising look.

“We had a bit of a…falling out,” you offer, giving Faith a warning look which she ignores as she answers someone else who asks what the fall out was about.

“She’s fucking an asshole.”

“Faith,” you hiss.

Before Grace can defend herself the lawyer cuts in.

“Allow me to wrap this up, the game will begin at exactly 2:31pm in observance of the exact time Mr. Le Domas-”

The sound of a door slamming into the wall behind you startles everyone and then someone’s yelling, “daddy!”

The lawyer mutters what sounds like ‘for Satan’s sake’ as a woman about your age barrels towards Ignacio and hugs him.

This must be the daughter the others had been talking about earlier.

The woman whips around, her eyes skipping over Faith, then you, and fixes a glare at Grace.

“Well holy shit, here you are,” she says, puffing up like some kind of territorial bird. She walks over to Grace and smiles nastily. 

“Francesca Alcaido, you dumb slut,” she says introducing herself.

Grace looks bored as she she looks up at Francesca, her answering ‘okay’ as bored as her face.

“Alex’s ex-fiance,” Francesca says, arching an eyebrow, clearly expecting more of a reaction but not getting anything more than another bored, ‘okay’.

“Where the fuck is my ring bitch?” Francesca asks.

That sparks something in Grace who allows a small smile to break through.

“I threw it at him right before he exploded,” Grace says and Francesca lets out a screech.

“You’re nothing but a cock-sucking whore,” Francesca spits out.

“Alex wasn’t stupid, but he sure was fucking gullible.”

“You ruined my life!”

“And I don’t even know who the fuck you are.”

Francesca raises her arm up, clearly preparing to slap Grace in the face, but you surprise everyone but spitting at her.

A glob of spit lands on her cleavage - you had been aiming for her face but beggers can’t be choosers - and she stumbles backwards, batting at her skin. 

“Ew, ew, ew, you fucking bitch,” she shrieks, using the sleeve of her black and gold satin blouse to rub your spit off of her.

What you wouldn’t give to be able to knock her teeth out, or watch Grace do it. Grace could handle herself but you were finding you were having an itch for violence since she’d threatened your sister. It'd been a knee jerk reaction too because what were you supposed to do to protect your sister when you're all tied up?

You hear a snort of laughter and catch Titus’ eye, the amusement clear in his expression. It makes him look younger. You feel your cheeks flush and you quickly look down at your lap.

“Anymore interruptions?” the lawyer asks impatiently as he gestures for Priscilla. She nods, leaning over a tray that she wheeled in front of her at some point.

“I have one,” Titus says and you keep staring down at your lap as you hear him stand up. You can hear the swish of the fabric of his pants as he walks, and the solid steps of his boots as he takes his time walking around Grace and stopping right behind you. 

“This one,” you feel your hair being pushed aside and then a heavy hand around your neck. His fingers curl around the side of your neck while his thumb presses at the bone right under your right ear. “The biter, what about her?”

A confused noise escapes your lips and there’s a little more pressure added to your throat as he leans in, his lips centimeters from your left ear.

“We watched the footage at the hospital and someone was extra naughty,” he says in a whisper that can’t hide his delight.

Your breathing picks up as does your heart rate and you hope he can’t feel your pulse pounding in your neck.

“Let go of her you creep,” Grace hisses out. She sounds awful, the words hurled from her throat like they could do damage her bound limbs can not. 

He squeezes a little tighter and then releases, moving his hand to your shoulder and you let out a reflexive whimper.

“We already weren’t expecting the yappy one over there and now there’s a third one. Clearly these three don’t have any love lost between them, maybe I can-”

“If you do anything to her you psychopathic dick I’ll shove my fist so far up your ass,” Faith yells, cutting off whatever Titus was going to say.

You can’t see his expression but the hand on your shoulder flexes and digs in. 

“Don’t worry about it Mr. Danforth, we always come prepared,” the lawyer says. 

Like anything in the last twenty minutes reassured anyone that his words were true. 

“Titus, we haven’t got all day man,” someone whines from behind you and Titus clicks his tongue impatiently, but his hand leaves you and he walks to the front of the room where Priscilla has been preparing something on the tray all this time.

“I wanna do it” Titus says roughly and picks up something from the tray, ignoring Priscilla’s admonishing look. He’s shielding your view of whatever’s on the tray with his board back and your eyes dart to Grace. You need to focus on the situation you’re in, rather than how soft the curls by the collar of his coat look.

“I’m going to get us through this,” Grace whispers through gritted teeth, looking you dead in the eyes before leaning forward to do the same to Faith.

“I swear,” she says, and for a moment you believe her because she’s Grace.

She’s your big sister.

And then there’s a glint of silver that draws your attention over to the needle Titus is holding and your stomach drops to the floor. 

This time he doesn’t step behind you, he crouches right in front of you, the needle pressing against your neck. You hold yourself as still as possible, your chest heaving up and down as you start to panic. 

His eyes drop to your chest, watching it go up and down, before he looks up at you with a serious expression. 

“It’s going to be me…who gets you,” he says, and it’s not a threat but a promise.

The needle goes in and your mouth parts in shock.

Whereas your “no” is softer, like an exhale after you’ve had the air punched out of you, Grace’s “no” is shrill and loud; a plea.  

It’s the last thing you hear as the darkness takes over you once more.

@1dhoe93 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @kollover24 @t-candy @aleemendoza2425-blog @tooflef @thatmarvelloser @blackbearbluues @4ria790 @gingermars830 @ribsbyl0rd3

You weren’t wanted by either of your parents. That had been the cold hard truth that you had known since you were nine years old.

Your mother was a member of a wealthy family. While she wasn’t the heiress, that title belonging to her older sister, she still had a lot of money at her disposal, and took long trips to different places.

That was how she met Bruce, and she had a one night stand with him.

She didn’t realize she was pregnant until it was too late for a termination, and her parents threatened to cut her off if she gave up their grandchild. So she reluctantly kept you.

You were mostly raised by a revolving door of nursemaids and babysitters until you were five, and your mother deemed you old enough to be alone. You saw your mother about three times a year, during which she would play a doting mother in public before verbally tearing you down in private.

You were five when you understood you were a burden to her. You were eight when you stopped desperately searching for her love.

You were nine when she died in an accident, and your biological father had to take you. (Your grandparents were too old to take care of you, and your aunt was rarely seen outside of a board room, and was unwilling to take you.)

You had a few days of hope for a family, since Bruce Wayne was known for being an amazing father to his children.

That belief was shattered after you moved in and you were basically shunned by everyone. Bruce was cold and rushed around you. Tim was cold and distant. Dick acted nice, but he barely gave you a minute of notice. Even Alfred was constantly brushing you off, though he had a decent excuse.

The final hope was shattered when, three weeks after you moved in, your birthday passed unacknowledged and unnoticed. The only sign of it was the text from your grandparents and the package you received from them two days later, filled with nice dresses for you.

You grew up quietly, keeping to yourself. You had weekly calls with your grandparents, but didn’t mention the family.

The breaking point was when you were 13, and Damian arrived. You thought now, finally, you would have someone like you. That belief lasted six hours, until you were almost stabbed by the menace.

It was one of the first times the family spoke to you, and it was to tell you not to overreact. You barely held back the rebuke and bitter laughter.

The worst part about Damian’s arrival? The fact they loved him. Even though he kept acting out and threatening people and generally being a prick, Bruce made time for him and brought him to meals. Dick showered him in affection. Even Alfred was softer with him. It wasn’t fair. You were a perfect kid and they didn’t care about you, but in comes a kid with the same story as you but with a worse attitude, and he is loved unconditionally?!?

It wasn’t fair.

After the fifth time Damian almost killed you without reprimand, you contacted your grandparents and asked about returning to the country. They eagerly told you about a high school in Japan that wasn’t far from one of their houses, filled with people of your status and known for giving its graduates a great advantage in later years.

Two days later, you approached Bruce with the papers to okay your move for the school year and signing custody over to your grandparents temporarily while you were in Japan. You had a whole speech prepared in your mind defending the choice, but he signed without even bothering to ask any questions. (You didn’t cry, even as you felt a lump in your throat. Despite everything, you thought he would at least care enough to ask questions.)

You boarded a plane a month later, reading your new textbooks as you flew. You took the sparkling champagne (non alcoholic) from the flight attendant and raised your glass in the direction of Japan, your new future.

“To Ouran Academy and my future there.” You murmur softly before downing some of your drink.

You arrived in Japan three days before the new semester starts, and spent the next few days getting a refresher on your etiquette lessons. (Your grandparents had a family friend, Anne-Sophie, work with you. She was a quiet but kind woman, one who filled you with a quiet longing for a mother like that.)

You start school with a decision to stay in the background. You aren’t very interested in getting involved in drama, so you avoid any big clubs, spending most of your time in the library, or looking for a quiet place to study.

You manage to stay away from drama for about six days… until you befriend two guys who are apparently infamous through the school.

The first one you befriend is Umehito Nekozawa, a quiet boy who consistently wears a black cloak. He’s sweet, despite his dramatics and darkness. (He reminds you of the parts of Gotham you actually liked.) He was also a great study partner.

You don’t really join in on his black magic club meetings, but you occasionally help him with set up when he asks. He also works as a great buffer between you and other people. (Way too many of the people here were dramatic idiots.)

Your second friend, the one that takes you a bit longer to realize is a friend, is Ritsu Kasanoda. He apparently just scared people off with his appearance, but you were so used to people glaring at everything that it barely phased you.

You only really realized how lonely he was when you agreed to be his lab partner in one of his classes, and everyone around you looked like you had signed your own death warrant.

They were both great friends, even if they could be a bit clingy. You didn’t really mind. You were so used to being lonely, and everyone else was so overwhelming.

(You don’t realize how much you affect them. No one has ever approached Umehito so fearlessly, or been so kind and considerate of his allergy to the sunlight. You didn’t make it a big deal. You were his moon goddess, his lovely symbol of worship.) (he will be a platonic yandere, but right now he’s very ambiguous.)

(You are the first person to look at Ritsu as if he isn’t scary. You are kind but blunt, and you look at him with no fear. Everyone else has always been scared of him, even his own father, but you… you just smile. You stay by him, treating him with kindness. His yandere behavior doesn’t settle until the day you choose him as your lab partner, and thank him for joining you. You even tell him you are glad he is your lab partner, because “everyone else in this class is tiring”.)

(Both of them notice how uncomfortable you are with attention, and willingly use their reputations to make people leave you alone. Ritsu especially loves it, as you look at him so gratefully whenever he scares people off.)

( To Umehito, you are a goddess, a being of kindness and soft light. To Ritsu, you are an innocent child, a person who looks at him with no fear that he needs to protect.)

(You don’t notice the Kasanoda family setting up a detail around your routine to protect you. You don’t notice how much Umehito stares at you, or how Ritsu treats you like you are fragile.)

(When you grow up without solid relationships, you don’t realize how boundaries should be formed. You don’t pick up on the difference between healthy and unhealthy relationships, when all your life you wished for a real relationship.)

(Humans need relationships so much, that when we are deprived of them, it is a physical ache. So growing up with so few relationships? That alters your mind.)

Edit: I hope you all like this! I couldn’t sleep, so I wrote this bad boy instead. I hope you enjoy this! Let me know what you think or if you have anything you really want to see in the comments.

It doesn’t take long for the host club to learn about you.

Kyoya already knew about your existence before this, and had been considering whether or not to approach you, as you were going to be an air to two very prominent families. However, from his research, it looked unlikely that you would inherit any of the Wayne family fortune, and while your mother‘s family fortune was quite bountiful, it was nowhere near the size of the Ootori family. therefore, it was not worth the effort to approach you.

However, the rest of the host club didn’t know much about you until you got put in one of Hani and Mori’s classes. (there was a photography elective and they signed up for it because they were bored. You signed up for it because you vaguely remembered how much fun photography had been back in the beginning of your stay in Gotham.)

The teacher decided that you, the only person who didn’t seem to hyperventilate or stare longingly at the two boys, would be perfect to be their photographer as they modeled.

Neither of them were used to the fact that you barely seem to register how attractive they were. You greet them with a calm, smile and jump right into the professionalism. You don’t cool over them or try to touch them with the excuse of moving them. Instead, you direct them and take pictures. Purely professional in your work, you don’t notice how confused the two of them are.

They notice how as soon as the class ends, Nekozawa appears at the door, extending an arm to you. You seem to relax as he takes your hand, and they watch in shock as you walk away with a boy that everyone in school thinks of as at least creepy if not terrifying.

They both get interested in seeing you more after that. They mentioned this to the rest of the host club, and Tamaki immediately tries to plan a rescue for you, convinced you’re being held captive. However, when he approaches you and starts talking, you interrupt him to inform him he’s too loud.

You were trying to take a nap on Kasanoda during your lunch break, and don’t appreciate this blonde boy who is theatrically shouting about saving you. In your entire state, you failed to realize just how many people are staring at you, or how flushed this blonde boy is getting. Instead, you tear him a new one about bothering people who are trying to take a nap, and how your friends are the only people in this godforsaken school who seem to respect the idea of quiet and personal space. With a huff, you flop back into Kasanoda’s arms, sulking and pouting. Your friend slowly strokes your head like a cat, soothing you a bit before saying something to the blonde, who is pulled away by a brunette who gives you an apologetic smile.

The entire host club just watched their fearless leader be yelled at by a girl about how everyone at the school is too loud and how her friends, two of the most terrifying individuals, are the only people who will let her nap. Then, as if to prove her point, she flaps down into her scary friend’s lap, snuggling into him while he pits the back of her head like she’s a cat.

Haruhi rushes over and drags Tamaki away before he can say anything else. However, this little incident that you will forget about by the end of the day? This incident put you on the map and caught the interest of the entire host club. Especially Tamaki.

Edit: I’m sorry if this isn’t as good as you were expecting, but I’m really tired and I just wanted to finally get this out. Comment if you have any suggestions or advice.

Taglist: @shining-stars @neverdead2 @nervousalpacalady @holybatflapexpert 

@vanessaboo @crustee-cl0wn-catt @thefairywanderer

@cosmosluckycharms @definitely-not-sammi @sirenetheblogger

You weren’t expecting anything special to happen after you yelled at the blonde prick. At most, you expected people to avoid you or look at you judgingly. Instead, it was like the entire student body couldn’t stop staring at you. Anywhere you went, people stared silently. (You were pretty sure they were also whispering about you.)

However, there were two positive changes. The first was that Kasanoda gave you permission to call him by his first name, Ritsu. He seemed a lot more sure around you, and kept anyone who tried to start shit with you at bay. Nekozawa did the same, though you weren’t on a first name basis with him yet.

The second positive change was gaining a friendship with Honi and Mori. They both approached you to apologize the morning after the incident, claiming their friend Tamaki (the blond Prick) had apparently misunderstood them and thought you were in danger. You could tell they were sincere, and you didn’t want to argue with people you were doing a project with, so you forgave them.

After that, they gradually started spending more time with you, sometimes even joining you, Nekozawa, and Ritsu for lunch. You mostly talked with Haninozuka, or “Honey” as he preferred to be called, since Mori didn’t seem to like talking, but Honey wasn’t a bad conversationalist, and it turned out you had a shared interest in cake and weapons (you preferred archery, having learned from watching Green Arrow’s tutorial videos in your spare time, while Honey preferred nunchucks or martial arts)

What you weren’t aware of was your affect on the Host Club as a whole. Your verbal smack down of their leader and blossoming friendship with Honey and Mori was making the entire Host Club feel off balance.

Tamaki kept cycling between growing mushrooms in the corner, being angry, and being remorseful. Kyoya kept having to stop him from approaching you, since it was clear that would only lead to more conflict.

Kyoya himself was caught off guard for once. Your response to Tamaki seemed off character, as you seemed to be the type to simply brush off anyone you deemed as annoying. This deviation was interesting, leading to him researching you more.

The twins were both enjoying the chaos while being concerned by how off balance the boss was now. Usually, this would blow over in an afternoon, but it hadn’t. Tamaki was brooding, something he rarely did, and Kyoya wasn’t even trying to pull him out of it.

Haruhi just felt exasperated by them all. She sympathized with you, since she knew the host club could be a lot, and was glad you seemed to at least be friends with Honey and Mori. However, she could also tell this wasn’t over, and felt like she had to warn you.

It was almost a week later when Haruhi approached your table at lunch. You were sitting with Kasanoda in the lunchroom, since Mori and Honey were dealing with Tamaki. She introduced herself and apologized about everything, expecting you to either tell her to go away or say thank you. Instead, you looked at her for five seconds before asking if she wanted to sit down and what her pronouns were.

Apparently, you noticed she was a biological girl almost immediately, but didn’t make a big deal out of it, since you didn’t know if Haruhi was trans or nonbinary. Haruhi explained things to you quietly, and you promised to stay quiet on the matter, though you did offer to help pay off the debt.

When the rest of the Host Club came to lunch, it was to see you and Haruhi talking animatedly while Kasanoda looked like his brain was reloading. Tamaki had to be dragged back to the club room by the twins.

(Mori liked being around you. You didn’t mind his silence but still included him in the conversation, often asking him yes or no questions. You seemed really interested in his fighting skills, but you seemed equally interested in him as a person. You didn’t question him and Mitsukuni. You just let them exist. He liked that)

(Honey liked you. You weren’t fooled by his innocent Lolita type. You seemed like you understood the difference between the cute things he genuinely liked and the things he did to maintain his image. You didn’t treat him like a child or a doll. You just… treated him like a person. He liked that)

The Host Club meeting was….. interesting

Edit: I’m really sorry for the cliff hanger, but I wanted to publish something today. The next few parts will focus on the members of the host club becoming yandere for you, since i want a solid base before I start bringing the batfamily in. I hope you enjoy, and I’m sorry it’s so short.

Taglist

@shining-stars @deathbynarcisstick @sirenetheblogger

@cosmosluckycharms @definitely-not-sammi @thefairywanderer

@nervousalpacalady @vanessaboo @crustee-cl0wn-catt @neverdead2

@holybatflapexpert @nightstarblue @theproblemisthatimnotfictional

After a disastrous host club meeting, it is agreed that Tamaki will apologize to you, with Kyoya supervising , and they can all befriend you if they want to, though Haruhi makes them all agree not to bother you if you tell them to fuck off.

You, meanwhile, are just trying to adjust to your new life. Unlike either of your parents, both of your grandparents are very interested in you, and are very focused on bringing you into the family business.

You had always vaguely known your grandmother’s family owned a multimillion dollar weapons distribution company, but had never thought much of it. However, you had never really thought about how, since your aunt has never wanted a child, you were the sole heir of that multimillion dollar company, which meant you needed lessons ASAP. Most of your weekends were spent learning about contracts and high society and how to figure out what would be profitable.

Luckily, your grandparents gave you afternoons off, actually encouraging you to spend time with Ritsu and Nekozawa, though most of your hangouts were at your house. Ritsu was very hesitant about bringing you home with him, and Nekozawa said something about not wanting his sister to meet you two yet.

More recently, though, you would invite Haruhi to join you, both in and out of school. (Though most of the time when the four of you hung out, it was at school when the Host Club wasn’t in session.) sometimes Hani-senpai and Mori-senpai would join you, but more often than not, it was just the four of you.

Thankfully, Haruhi warned you ahead of time that the Blonde Idiot, apparently named Tamaki Suoh, wanted to apologize to you, so when you saw him start approaching you at lunch, you were able to take a breather so you didn’t immediately yell at him.

When Tamaki got over to you, you were surprised by how awkward and sincere his apology was. It made you feel more comfortable around him, since while he might be a rich idiot, but he seemed like a decent guy, even if he is a bit spoiled and immature.

You stop his rambling apologies with a simple acknowledgment and offering of “commoner” candy (you had heard from Haruhi how he liked commoner things)

You weren’t exactly close with him after that, but as the semester continues, you get in the habit of sitting in on a few host meetings a week, usually sitting with Hanisenpai and Morisenpai. Nekozawa would usually pick you up from the meetings, and while he’d probably never be friends with them, he became more and more comfortable with them.

After almost two months, you even start talking to Kyoya about your lessons with your grandparents, and he slowly started helping you with lessons and assignments they would give you. You even started mentioning members of the host clubs to your grandparents.

Little do you know, your grandparents are the ones providing the Ootori private police force with their weapons, and due to your connection, your Aunt has decided you will be joining the next meeting

I really hope you guys liked this! I’m sorry for the wait, but better late than never! I have figured out there will be 9 parts, and created an outline, so hopefully the other updates will be coming sooner than this did. As always, please comment your thoughts!

Taglist

@sirenetheblogger

@shining-stars @deathbynarcisstick @cosmosluckycharms @definitely-not-sammi @thefairywanderer

@vanessaboo @nervousalpacalady @crustee-cl0wn-catt @neverdead2

@holybatflapexpert @nightstarblue @theproblemisthatimnotfictional

@ratterpatter

Dick, the smiley one, tried reaching out to you first. "Hi, Y/N," he said with a smile, as he entered your room uninvited. "How are you do-AAAAAAAAAH!" He tripped on a box. You looked at him and rolled your eyes.

"First things first, Dick, never go into a girl's room without making yourself known somehow. Second, never go in uninvited. I could have been changing. Or summoning the devil."

"O . . . K," Dick drew himself up from the floor, only to scream again. "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?"

You rolled your eyes; Dick was coming off as a huge baby. "Stop screaming, my ears hurt. And what are you talking about?"

"Y-you have a snake!" Dick stammered. He pointed at the terrarium that wrapped around the room, and the adorable snake that rested within it.

"Yes, I do. I thought people knew this. His name is Pretzelcoatl, and you're scaring him," you chided. "He's a hognose snake, and quite harmless. If you can apologise for your loudness and rudeness, I will let you hold him."

"You know what? No, thank you," Dick stammered, escaping out of your room like the devil was holding court in there.

"Suit yourself," you said, stroking Pretzelcoatl alone in your room.

School was better, in the sense that you had a friend and the ability to get people off your case scarily fast. But you were still a weirdo. "You really should be more popular," your friend, Wendy, said, as she munched on her ham and cheese sandwich.

"Why so?" you asked.

"You're a Wayne. Someone with your amount of money should be ruling Gotham Prep. But you're here eating lunch with a geeky scholarship kid and liking it."

"What's not to like?" you asked. "You're nothing to sniff at, Wendy. I want someone that could maintain a conversation, and I can't do that with those kids. They'd probably freak out about Pretzelcoatl."

"You have a point." Wendy nodded with agreement. "And thank you."

"You're welcome."

You were weird, not rude.

It happened at galas, too, but none of your father's friends were kind enough to tell you to your face. Tim had to break the news to you. "They think you're weird," he said, not even looking up from his phone. "The way you speak, act, and your facial expressions are unbecoming of someone from the upper crust."

"OK. I'll remember that for next time."

"There won't be a next time." His tone was so casual, like he hadn't announced your social death.

Jason used to humour you, until he died. You felt so much loss when you heard the news. Then he came back, and you wanted to pick up where you left off. Unfortunately, he didn't.

"Grow up!" he yelled, punching you to the ground. "You're such an annoying little kid! Can't you see that I've changed since then?"

That blow hurt, and you weren't thinking about the punch. After that, you started getting some new hobbies. Gymnastics. Karate. You took robotics more seriously, too. You had a small army of robotic insects, who stood watch from the safety of your wardrobe and chandelier. Your favourites, Quartz and Silver, were good enough for you to perch them onto your hair band as if they were accessories. And very cute accessories, too.

You were so happy to show Barbara, Cass, and Steph what your robots could do. You'd prepared schematics and a demonstration for them, and you wore the clothes that gave you the most confidence.

But then you saw their faces. Their completely uninterested, disdainful faces at how you had come up to them with your annoying, weird existence.

Damian, in a small act of mercy, didn't turn his nose up at you the moment he saw you. "Y/N, did Father adopt you, or are you his biological child?"

"I'm his biological child." You looked behind him to see a dog, assessing you. "You have a beautiful Doberman. What did you name him?"

"His name is Titus. And . . . thank you."

"You're welcome. It's always important to praise the work of good pet owners in maintaining their pets. Would you like to see the terrarium I set up for my pet hognose snake?"

Damian grinned. "Did it make one of the others scream?"

You nodded vigourously. "Yes! Dick screamed like a baby and ran out of my room when he saw Pretzelcoatl."

"Then I love him."

You noticed that Damian also had whispers surrounding him. "Troubled," Alfred said, in his measured tone.

"Little jerk," said Dick, much more unfavourably.

"Aggressive."

"Wild card."

You were expecting that Damian would be confined to the manor with you. But he wasn't. He was welcomed into Gotham high society with open arms, offered a soft embrace instead of the cold glances that swept over you.

And the weirdest thing about it was that you noticed Bruce take him places. "Anger management," he called it, when you asked.

Bull.

You needed to find out what the hell your family was hiding from you, ASAP. You'd need a plan.

Your insect droids stood at the ready, waiting for your orders. "Quartz, Silver, Opal, Topaz." Your drones clicked and flashed into life as you put on your controllers and your bunny slippers. "Eyes in the sky, if you please. I need to know what Daddy dearest keeps in his man-cave."

Your drones flew to your side, flanking you from all angles like you were the President with the Secret Service. "Higher by three feet," you said, as you followed Bruce through Wayne Manor.

Roughly three corridors later, you were beginning to wish that you had worn something other than your slippers. They were quiet, but terrible for walking long distances. But then you saw it. What your family had been hiding from you.

The Batcave connected to your house. You saw your dad put on his cape, while Damian dressed as Robin. Dick became Nightwing. All of your siblings had secret identities and roles, and none of them had even thought to tell you that this existed.

"There have been a series of break-ins within the elites of Gotham, and we need to stop it before someone gets abducted, held for ransom, or murdered," Bruce said. "The only thing they have in common is that all the break-ins start with the family being sent invitations to some kind of event."

An event, huh? Like the ones your family went to while leaving you behind? Meaning you were the one at risk of being abducted, held for ransom, or murdered? Well, that was a wonderful thing for you to learn without parental permission. Also (even if you were not a detective) it sounded like it was someone from the same social circle as the victims who was organising these crimes.

"Sounds like the Riddler's work," Barbara said. "Maybe he hid his name in the invitations."

"Maybe Bane's using this to distract from him making a new kind of Venom," Jason said. "This sounds like one of his multi-layered plans that aims to distract law enforcement. But I don't have enough eyes on my side to find out."

"If that's really a problem, we could borrow some of Y/N's insect drones," Damian suggested.

Everyone groaned. "This again?" Tim hissed, with a large mug of . . . something. Most likely coffee, but there was no way that it was just coffee.

"For the last time, we are not taking that brat," Jason scowled. "She's too weak and soft for something like this."

"Y/N does not have the training or wherewithal to take up any sort of cowl," Bruce, now Batman, said. "That's why we keep her out of these operations. Damian, I know you like your sister, but don't let the fact that she is your biological sister get in the way of common sense."

Damian sighed. "Yes, Father."

So, your family didn't think you were capable of helping and none of them (except for Damian) even liked you to begin with. And they'd all been solving crime without you, as a team.

A family.

This was way worse than being left at home for all those galas.

Next

You put your handful on the small corner table nearby. You knock and wait for an answer. You're unsurprised when none comes. Given the late night and the state you left Mrs. Shelby in, you don't expect an easy morning.

You try again. Still silence. You will only leave her coffee and cookie and let her wake on her own.

You open the door and peek inside. Mrs. Shelby is on her side, a pillow over her head. You turn back and take the cup and saucer. You creep over the floor and place both at her bedside.

You're startled as she shoves away the pillow and sits up. She snarls as she grabs the cup and flings the contents in your face. You squeak at the shock of hot liquid.

"Leave me!" She roars.

He face is puffy and her hair is tangled. You reel back in silent horror. You didn't mean to disturb her. You were only being considerate.

"Now!" She swings the mug and it hits your jaw.

Another way of shock crashes down on you with the sudden pain. She drops the cup and it shatters on the floor. You cradle your face and back away.

"Sorry, Mrs..." You taste blood as you slur through the throbbing.

"Grace!" The booming voice has you spinning. "Are you not a lady?"

Mr. Shelby storms across the room and his blue eyes trail between you and his wife. You drop your hand from your face and blink. You get down on your knees and carefully start to gather the shards.

"Sir, she only dropped--" Each word aches until you have to stop to soothe it.

"I am aware of what she's done," he snarls as he waved you away from the mess. "Leave that be. She might clean her own messes if she insists upon making them."

"Thomas," Grace gasps, "I've a headache and she --"

"And she brought you your breakfast. I did see her in the corridor, diligently doing your bidding. As she did last night."

"Last night?" She breathes.

"What--"

"Oh surely you don't think she could carry you herself. In your stupor," he growls. "I will not pay for you to abuse the staff." He wraps his hand around your elbow. "You've forgotten what it is to be a person and I've forgotten how it was to have a wife."

He tugs you and you have no choice but to let him. He takes you out of the room, reaching back to close the door with force. You once more cradle your jaw.

"Sir," you lisp. "I woke here--

"No more excuses," he hisses.

He does not release you. Instead, he marches you down the hall to his office door. You've never been within. You never read reason to be.

He ushers you inside and puts you on a cushion bench between two tall bookcases. The room is as grand as the rest of the mansion. He lets you go and stomps to the desk that stands as centerpiece to the space. He opens a draw then snaps it shut.

He returns to you with a zip up case. You watch him as your face thrums. You save away the tears you notice only then.

"Cruel," he mutters. "I apologize and yet how can I make this right. This abuse."

He unwraps a sterile wipe and presses it to your cheek. It stings. You try to feel beneath it with your fingers.

"I'm...bleeding?" You say dumbly.

He frowns as he brings a knuckle under your chin to keep your head up. You stare at him. As his eyes stray from his tending and meet yours, you flinch. You didn't mean to gape.

"Sir," you say softly. "Am I fired?"

He is quite. He presses then pulls away the cloth. He turns your head gently then rescinds his touch.

"You will no longer be in the employ of my wife." He stands and tucks his hands into his pockets.

"Sir," you wince again.

"You will be in mine," he faces you. "Your first task is to wait here while I fetch ice. It will swell soon."

You nod and hold your cheek. It hurts terribly. He leaves you.

You ponder the carpet in his absence. You could not have seen the morning going so poorly. Or painfully.

What could you do for Mr. Shelby? Tea? Breakfast? Certainly he has those needs. But does he need you in the corner while he does business. You don't expect he has stylists bringing him racks of expensive dresses.

He returns and you lift your head. He has an ice pack in hand. He gives it to you and stands over you.

"You should reclined. Rest your eyes." He girds.

"Thank you, sir. But I could bring you tea--"

"You will pay down. Here." He turns and struts across the carpet. He grabs a pillow from an armchair. He brings it back and puts it at the edge of the bench. "I will work. Silently. And be sure you do not worsen."

"It is only blood," you press the pack to your cheek.

He looks down at you and exhales sharply. He reaches into his chest pocket and pulls free the square of fabric. He reaches for you and you flinch. He drags the cloth up your chin as the taste of iron costs your lips.

"I will find something for you clean your mouth as well. You should swish salt water." He says and takes your hand, putting it around the pocket square. It smells like him. "When I return, you will be as I've bid."

You open the door and mask your surprise as your employer stands without. You greet him flatly.

"Mr. Shelby. Did you wish me to bring you your tea early?" You offer.

His eye twitches and his forehead lines with thought. He lifts his wrist to check the time. The corners of his lips tug.

"The usual time will do." He looks up. "You left without dismissal." 

The night before flickers in your mind. It was just as unusual as coming to your chamber door. He is, however, of the right to be chagrined or to appear at your door.

"Apologies, sir. You'd fallen asleep and I didn't wish to disturb you further." You say.

He considers you. His eyes wander down to your stockinged feet. He hums.

"And you? You slept?" He asks.

"Mr. Shelby." You dip your chin. You doubt he cares that the creaks and cracks of the house keep you awake. 

"Very well. Let me not disturb you further." He backs up on his heel, hesitates, then turns. He strides away and you shut the door.

You step into your shoes and buckle the straps. You won't let the peculiarities get in the way of duty.

You start as usual. You open the curtains to let in the day. It's a rather grim one. You walk through the first level of the immense house and put a feather duster to wherever needs care. You fluff the cushions, you note which flowers need freshening, and you wipe the table tops.

You set the kettle on the burner and wait patiently. The front doorbell rings. It's the postman. He hands you the newspaper and some envelopes.

You thank him and return to the kitchen. You wait for the water to boil, then steep the leaves. You bring the tray up; pot, milk, sugar, saucer, and cup. You are certain to include a few of the cinnamon biscuits. The batch you made will likely need to be doled out at the charity house to keep from spoiling.

You take the mail with you.

Mr. Shelby is as he often is. Smoking. You enter and put the tea on the round table. Smoke swirls out from between his lips as you put the mail on his desk.

Before you can go, he rises abruptly. He goes to the window and unhooks the latch. He pushes it outward and holds the cigarette outside.

"Tea and biscuits, sir. Anything else I can bring you?" 

"Tea will do." He assures. He examines the cigarette then tossed it out the window.

"Mr. Shelby." 

You retreat. His voice stops you at the door. "You do not like the smell." 

"Sir?" You turn back.

"Of smoking. You crinkle your nose."

"I am not used to it, I fear, sir." You reply meekly. "Though it is in fashion." 

"Hm." He approaches the desk and picks up the mail. He shuffles through. You face the door again. He enunciates your name delicately. You turn back once more. "For you." 

He holds up an envelope. You cross the room. He holds it out and as you take it, he watches your face. You read the scrawl on it. Your mother's writing.

"It isn't someone looking for a debt, is it?" He asks. You arch a brow the realise, he's not serious.

"My family." You tuck the letter in your apron pocket.

"Family is important," he says.

"Very," you agree.

You hesitate to go. You push your hands behind you and weave you fingers together. " Sauasage or rashers for breakfast, sir?"

His brows lift in consideration. "Neither. I've business in town. I will find somewhere to eat." He insists.

"Mr. Shelby." You nod and spin away.

You leave without another word. He rarely eats what you give him as it were. He tends to be too distracted. You suspect the cigarettes do little for his appetite.

🚬

With Mr. Shelby away, you opt to travel to town on your own tasks. You will purchase a robe without patches and give the excess biscuits to the charity house before they are too stale. You stop at the latter first, lightening your load and your spirit. It isn’t much but you know better than many how precious food is in these places.

Sister Clarice thanks you and bids you god’s mercy before you go. You wish her the same though your own piety may not be so earnest. You set off further into town.

You sit and rest your feet. The trek from the Shelby manor to the urban epicentre is rather much. You watch men in wool caps pass by in a gloom of silence. They are set on some unseen destiny that has their eyes sharp and posture stiff.

You get up and cross the street. You enter the clothing shop as a tinny bell rings above. An elderly man puffs on a pipe behind a counter as a woman near the same age rises to greet you. Her hands are gnarled from endless work at the Singer machine in the corner.

“Afternoon, miss. How might I help you?” She hobbles over as her outdated skirt ripples around her ankles.

“A night robe. Wool.” You declare.

“Ah. Yes. Suppose we might have something. Is it for your husband or yourself?” She asks.

You answer plainly. It is for you. She shows your robe dyed red which is well past the limitations of your purse strings.

“Something…less costly?” You ask.

“Hm, yes, nothing as colourful as this.” She nods and peers around.

“This,” you point to the grey garment opposite the one she presented.

“Certainly, but it is a gentleman’s cut,” she girds.

“I only mean to keep warm at night,” you assure her. “The price?”

“Twelve shilling.” She answers.

You try not to show your disappointment. That isn’t within your expenditure. You suppose you can make it fit if you are prudent in the coming weeks.

“Twelve,” you repeat.

“We offer credit. Three shilling today and one per week until balanced.”

You consider. They seem honest and needn’t offer you accommodation.

“That is manageable,” you open your purse and count out three shilling.

“Shall I wrap it up for you, miss?” She offers.

🚬

You carry the brown paper bundle under your arm as you weave back through the city streets. You look up at the grey sky. The colour of the clouds keeps your feet moving. You’d like to be home before the rain.

You near the edge of the city as the smell of smoke and bodies fades behind you. You can smell the storm brewing. You don’t think you will be quicker than it. All you can do is keep going and hope the country roads do not slicken too much.

The toot of a horn interrupts your dread. You turn to look at a gleaming black side panel. You recognise the shining gold emblem on the hood of the automobile.

“Lost?” Mr. Shelby asks.

You look at him and shift the package with a crinkle.

“Headed back, sir.” you answer.

“You did not mention you had business in town. You knew I was driving in.” He sniffs.

“It is not urgent business.” You counter.

He’s silent. He drags his fingertips over the edge of the open window. His eyes flick upward.

“In. Rain’s coming.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby.”

You scurry around the hood. His door opens and he meets you around the other side. You’re surprised by his courtesy as he opens the passenger door for you.

“Thank you, sir.”

He grumbles. You get in and sit with the parcel on your lap. He shuts the door and marches back to the driver’s side.

He sits straight behind the wheel and sets off toward the green expanse. You’re quiet as you watch the foliage tangled between the thickets of trees. He sighs and a metal click draws your attention. He tucks away his cigarette case as one sticks out between his lips.

He searches with one hand and brings out his lighter. He flicks the flame on, holds it above the wheel, then extinguishes it with a snap of the lid. He puts it in his pocket and removes the smoke from between his lips. He puts it behind his ear.

“What’s in town? I will be sure to add it to the next delivery.” He says.

“I brought some uneaten food to the charity house, sir.” You explain.

“Hm,” he hums. “And…” He reaches to tap the parcel.

“A robe. As you bid.”

“I could’ve sent for it. Or you could’ve requested Percy bring you in the towncar.”

“It is my own chore.”

“The expense is on account?” He asks.

“Pardon?” You utter.

“You put the purchase in my name.”

“Sir? No. It is for me.”

“At my demand. It is an expense of your employment.” He argues.

“I can afford it, Mr. Shelby.”

“Give me the purchase order,” he holds his hand flat.

“Sir?”

“I will be certain it is balanced on your next stipend,” he wiggles his fingers. “The order.”

You look down. You slip free the hand-written slip from under the brown twine and put it in his hand. His fingers close around yours and he tugs it from your grasp.

“I am certain my staff are taken care of. I would not have any presume Thomas Shelby to be a miser,” he shoves the paper into his pocket. “Should you require so much as new shoes, you will come to me.”

The break was over, and Tim had begun to notice that Evelyn had been acting off for the past couple of weeks. For one, she appeared less sure of herself, more irritable, and, not to mention, she didn’t seem to be acting like herself lately. He was a bit worried about her; she was his favourite sister after all, and well, they got along incredibly. They both loved superheroes, played the same video games, and were quite tech savvy. If anything, they were destined to be siblings. He wondered if she was still hurt by how you had treated her. 

Ugh you. You were such a nuisance. Here they were fighting to keep the city safe, while you got to attend some rich kid boarding school and do normal teenager things, only to come back and be standoffish. A part of him was jealous of you. You didn’t have to deal with the troubles the others and he had to face. You didn’t know what it was like to have bruises litter your body before a school night, have mental and physical scars that will forever be there, have to lie to your civilian friends, have to miss certain milestones, and deal with crippling guilt and greater expectations. You didn’t have to deal with that. Even though you’d probably be good at it, you didn’t have to do it. You didn’t even know they did it. Thanks to Bruce and his unspoken vow to your late mother about never letting you be like him.

Tim was currently in Evelyn’s room trying to look for his controller and perhaps her. He wanted to lift her spirits, or maybe get her to open up to him about what was happening with her. He knows the life they lead can be heavy on the mind. 

“Oh OW!” Tim keels over while his face twists in discomfort, as he clutches his stubbed toe. He sits up straight and steadies himself on the nightstand. 

He notices something. A journal. It’s a bit worn, but it’s well-kept and tidy. 

“No way! Evie keeps a diary?” Tim thought with sly giddiness as he lifted the leather-covered journal.  

Tim’s lips curl into a smirk as he opens it. He reads the first page, and his smirk fades.

(The date is two years ago)

It’s been so easy integrating into this family, well, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the help of Y/N. She gets ignored in this family, but her personality, quirks, and gadgets are loved by them. When they are on me, of course. Cluemaster is going to be so delighted, god, I can see it all now.

Tim’s eyes widened and then narrowed. What? He flipped through more pages. 

(A year ago)

I think she’s catching on to me. I’ll have to suggest that she should go to boarding school. Tim will agree with me; he already hates her.

Tim closed the book and put it down. His eyebrows raised high. 

No, no, no, no. He did not just find his sister’s diary and read the details of how she’s been actively betraying them since she arrived. His sister, whom he has bled for, fought for, bled with, fought with, confided in, vented to, and cried to. 

His chest seized. It was all a lie. 

He thought of you. Part of the reason why he disliked you so much is because Evi- no Evelyn would tell him about how awful you treated her. 

He remembered when the family decided to send you away to boarding school.

It was her idea, but he was probably the biggest supporter of it.

“Look, B, you said it yourself. You’re tired of sneaking around in your own home.” She said while standing by Tim and looking at Bruce with a hopeful gaze. 

“Evie’s right! Bruce, she doesn’t even have a public persona to help throw people off our track. She just goes to school, comes back, does some extracurriculars, and stays in the library or her room. She’s too close to us, too close to finding out who we are! She’s a walking liability!”

Bruce stared at the two of them; the rest of the family was spread out in the cave. Listening in on them, agreeing.

“And plus, she has a really negative energy to her. She’s pretty mean to me. I try not to let it get to me sometimes, but…”  Tears welled in her eyes, and Tim patted her shoulder.

“Please, Bruce.”

You were gone the month later. 

He now realised there’s a high chance you didn’t even interact with Evelyn as much as she let on. All those times when you supposedly said or did something were most likely lies. It all made sense now. Why she practically forbade him from mentioning how you treated her to you. Resulting in him straight up ignoring you and growing hateful of you. Not only him, but the family too. He owed you an apology, a huge one.

But first, he needed to get this journal to Bruce.

Meanwhile, in Newton Academy, you were currently in physics class. Xander was beside you, scrolling through his phone that was positioned in his notebook. How the teacher never notices is a mystery to you; he’s reading the Daily Planet, something about Superman. A superhero he has way too much love for. It’s honestly kind of funny to you. He’s fanboying over his future coworker, but he doesn’t know that. You have a feeling he’ll find out, though. You weren’t gonna nag him; he gets high scores in physics, despite the fact that he never pays attention in class. 

“Do you have to fanboy in the middle of learning about kinetic theory?”

You reproachfully whispered while your attention drifted to Camila, who was on top of her game and obviously in a brilliant mood today, the first day back. 

You know how the two of you are supposed to be rivals? Yeah, that’s not something the two of you really implemented. The man in front of the room did. Mr Hapsburg. He compares you two constantly, pits you against each other, and always instigates. 

“First day back, starting a new topic, and both you and Camila are across from each other with Mr Haps staring at you two like a spectator at a gladiator match. I don’t think I’m learning anything today, so I might as well check in on the man of tomorrow.” Xander whispered his retort in a matter-of-fact tone while screenshotting something.

“Imagine we could mark molecules contained in a small flask of 100 cc, and pour them into the sea. Let us now assume to fill the flask back in, after having waited for the flask’s molecules to distribute uniformly in the oceans. How many “marked” molecules can we expect to find back on average?” Speak of the devil, and he will throw you a physics question while grinning maniacally at your poor classmates and you, while his eyes dart between you and Camila.

Camila puts her hand up, and you rub your temples. God, your head was killing you.

“Let’s hear from someone else, Ms. Rossi. You’ve put your hand up for every single question so far. Let's see who we can hear from, hmm..Aha! Ms. Wayne!”

See? That’s purposeful. 

Xander chuckled beside you. “This is gonna be good.” What the hell, Xander?

You sit up straighter and look at your teacher. “Well, the expected number of marked molecules found back in the flask is equal to the number of marked molecules initially poured into the sea. This is due to the principle of uniform distribution and the ratio of volumes.” You answer bluntly while reading off what you wrote in your notebook.

“You’re supposed to show your method, Wayne,” Camila goes on as her steely gaze pierces you.

“I did. Using the density of water, its molar mass, and Avogadro's number. What do you take me for?” You replied with a chuckle while reaching for your water bottle. Reed would demolish you if you didn’t include your method. 

“I could be honest and answer that question, but then we'd still be in class with me showing no signs of stopping.”

“Interesting.” You mutter while downing your bottle. You should’ve gotten lemon water, but still water is still water.

“I see that since it’s been confirmed that Atomic’s alive, you’re back to your ways.” Xander quipped, eyeing Camila, his fingers were still tapping his phone. So uncanny.

Mr. Hapsburg remained quiet, sitting on his desk, his head darting between the two. The class mimicking him. Life cannot be so boring that you’re incredibly engrossed in a student’s argument.

“Who said I ever strayed, Galanis?” 

“Okay, can we get back to physics? We have three more questions to correct, and I’d rather not have to do this for homew-” You tried to diffuse the tension.

“Shut your mouth, Wayne.” Welp, you tried. “Keep Atomic’s name out of your mouth, Galanis.” Xander spared a side glance in your direction, his lips curling into a knowing grin. You kick him under the table. Why can he never behave? You sense his adrenaline spike. Lord Almighty, he actually gets a kick out of annoying Camila.

“Keeping Atomic’s name in my mouth is what led me to interview her in the first place.” Camila was fuming at the cheeky response.

Mr Hapsburg suddenly stands up. 

“Okay, everyone, settle down. That was a good answer, Ms. Wayne. Anyways, on to more pressing matters. Internships! Who has them and who doesn’t?” Great, he’s finally being a teacher and not a reality TV show presenter.

Everyone has their hands up for internships. You’re given forms, and class is dismissed. 

You’re in your dorm, getting ready to see the Richards. Sue wants you home for dinner,  and you don’t like disobeying her.

You look around to see if you have everything and lock your door, then teleport.

“Y/N!” You hear your favourite people. 

You’re instantly embraced by the little duo.

“Hey, guys,” you ruffled their hair.

“Did you bring us superpowers??” Franklin asked with excitement

“Uhm, no! But I did bring a homemade profiterole cake!” You displayed your creation with pride.

“That’s just as good,” Val exclaimed in awe.

You sensed someone trying to sneak up on you. 

“Johnny, back OFF.” You stepped aside, being mindful of the sweet cargo you were holding.

“That looks so good, I don’t get why you keep worrying over science when the art of baking is right there.” he stares at the cake with awe.

“Nope.”

“What the hell do you mean by nope?”

“I mean, nope. Science is my love.”

“I’m hearing Reed, but I’m not seeing him.” You roll your eyes at that, but feel a sense of pride flood you.

“Shut up and tell me where Sue is.” Val grabs your arm, and you let her drag you. “Thanks, VAL.” You say while giving Johnny a pointed look. Sue comes out to greet you.

“Thanks again for coming, sweetheart. We know how busy you get sometimes.” You hug Sue as she gives you a kiss on the cheek.

“Sue, don’t worry about it. I’ll always try to make time for you guys.” you earnestly reassure her.

After dinner, you’re with Johnny outside in your hero suits.

“So what’s up with Verone?” he asks with a sigh.

“He got himself into deep shit, Johnny.”. You fidget with a random geometric energy construct.

“How deep is deep?” He looks at you.

“I mean, he may have possibly contributed to the creation, selling, and distribution of a highly flammable and addictive drug that’s gonna be used against metahumans.” You stare at him, and his gaze sharpens.

“And we don’t know who caused this?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

At Wayne Manor, everyone was huddled around the batcomputer.

“She really has been playing us since the beginning,” Dick mumbled, disbelief etched into his voice.

Bruce remained silent as he scrolled through the computer. Contingency plans have been tampered with, encrypted files have been copied and sent to anonymous accounts; There was a reason why they’ve been doing so terribly on the field lately, and why the crooks have been steps ahead of them. There was a mole among them, one that lied to them, one that tricked them, one that made them turn against their own while actively using her quirks to draw them in.

Bruce felt sick. You, his daughter, were innocent in all this all along. He would never forgive himself.

Stephanie was the quietest of them all. She thought she finally had a best friend, but it turned out to be all a ploy created by her father.

“So does that mean…Y/N..”

“-Probably didn’t even interact with her at all,” Tim finished for her.

The atmosphere is heavy. The air is thick with betrayal and regret.

“We’ll make it up to her.” Dick declares while running a hand through his hair. “We have to.”

“Deal with the traitor first,” Jason adds.

As if on cue, Evelyn arrives and is greeted with the cold glares of the family.

“Uhm..guys..?What’s up?”

“Whoa, wait, you mean to tell me that you completely forgot that the science fest was on tomorrow?” Xander watched you dash around your dorm and levitate various objects you needed. It was currently nighttime, and you just remembered you had a science fest on tomorrow. You were so busy today, with auditions, meetings, and getting leads.

“Why do you sound so surprised? It slipped my mind!” You frantically moved around trying to finish building your project. Thankfully, the project didn’t need to be finished, but mostly done, and there needed to be notes and blueprints done to prove your thought process, along with a scientific journal detailing the timeline. You already had most of it finished; it just needed some adjustments.

You didn’t even sign up for this. Mr. Hapsburg did. 

“You know you could always drop out of this. You’ve been really busy lately. You should be lucky you don’t need the recommended amount of sleep.” Xander sits on your couch while fiddling with his watch.

“You’re right, but Tony Stark is going to be there scoping out talent. I have to be there, dude.”. You exclaim.

“You already have an internship set with him, no?” he scratches his head while looking at the levitating objects. 

“Yes, I do, but think of how beneficial it would be to have THE Tony Stark look at your creations and get an ego boost already knowing he’s chosen you.”

“I don’t get you.”

“You will.”  You teleport a pencil to you and start writing.

“Is Camila in this?” 

“I think she’s in the chemistry branch..I’m in engineering.” You respond.

“Damn, there goes my entertainment.” You ignore that comment.

“I’m nearly done.” You excitedly proclaim.

“Great, let’s see it!”

You pause as you hear some commotion downstairs, but figure it's your housemates playing a board game or something. Wondering if you should join them after this, you focus on what they’re saying, but you hear a voice, or rather voices. Voices that shouldn’t be here.

“No,, that can’t be-”

You’re interrupted by a knock on your door, you drop all the things that were levitating at once, and Xander opens the door. It was Daniel. Xander suspected he was here on behalf of  someone, like the secretary.

“Is Y/N inside?” He asked nervously while peering inside.

"Yes is there something wrong?" Xander questions with a raised brow.

“Her family is downstairs.” You froze. Fuck. Why are they here? Since when do they visit?

“Dan, tell them I’m out or something. Whatever you do, do not tell them I’m in the building.” You asserted while fishing one hundred dollars out your pocket and handing it to him before closing the door.

Xander stared at you while you paced around the room.

“So what, you’re just gonna hide in your room until they leave?” He asked with curiosity and a hint of shock. He too is surprised that your family is here, being familiar with your situation and upbringing.

“You know it. I’m also gonna do something.” You say as you stop and stare at the wall

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

You cross your legs and levitate, as you feel yourself become more attuned to your surroundings, you project.

You stare back at your floating physical form and walk towards Xander and  “touch” his shoulder.

“Like this.” You telepathically reply.

Xander lets out an impressed hum while your astral form teleports downstairs to the lobby.

“What do you mean she isn’t here? It’s late she should be here!” You are instantly greeted by the sight of Dick interrogating Daniel on your whereabouts. 

“I’m sorry but she’s not here, I think she left a while ago.”

“Where?” Damian asks with suspicion

Shit how many of them came? You wonder as you look around the lobby. Bruce is speaking to the secretary, Jason is eyeing the place, Tim is on his phone, Cass and Stephanie are asking the students about you. They’re all here. 

Just then Camila walks in to see the commotion.

“What the hell is going on here?” She barks out.

“Why is Wayne’s entire family tree in here?” Dick perks up and walks towards her.

“You know Y/N?” He questions with hope.

“It’s kind of hard not to.” Camila picks the dirt from under her nails while glaring at Dick. You continue staring at the scene playing in front of you.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Why are you here? Did she forget something? Leave it with Trish and she’ll give it to her.” Camila sounds so done with the man.

“She didn’t forget anything! We just want to talk to her!” He raises his voice slightly.

“It’s the 21st century, phones exist; and quite frankly they’re much more convenient than having to drive two hours here in the middle of the night.” She retorts with a snarl. God you love her. 

“You’re right.”

“I know. Now leave.”

“That’s not happening.” What is his problem? What are all of them’s problem?

They engage in a stare off and you decide to go into their minds.

Oh. That’s why they’re here. They finally figured out Evelyn’s scheme. Wait a minute, Cluemaster??They let themselves be fooled by the likes of Cluemaster? The budget version of the Riddler? Wow, they’re never gonna forgive themselves for that one.

“Look, I’ll pay you one hundred thousand dollars if you let me see my daughter.” Bruce declared to Trish. 

Camila’s head snapped towards him.

“Back off, you geriatric frat boy.” You cackle at that but then remember that Bruce just tried to bribe the secretary and she actually considered it. No loyalty whatsoever.

Bruce ignored that even when Jason snorts at it.

“Name your price.” Bruce continues.

Oh god no. 

Camila speaks up. 

“The science fest is on tomorrow, knowing Wayne she’s probably in the library brushing up on her notes or something.” She’s lying, you know it. She’s trying to throw them off your track. You know the family are good at detetcting that so you project an illusion that doesn’t let her body language give her away. She’s a good liar, but they’re the best detectives.

“Where’s the library?” Bruce probes.

“There’s signs outside.” She responds, the irritation swimming in her features.

“Okay..”

They all leave. Your housemates stare at them with shock.

You’re there, in your astral state, wondering what the hell is going on.

Camila walks towards Dan and stares at him expectantly.

“What?”  he asks her meekly

“She’s still in her room isn’t she?”

“..yeah”

You transport back to your physical state. Xander is still there, his ear on the door. Your eyes snap open and you descend.

“They’re looking for me.”

“I know.”

“Camila saved my hind back there.” you exhaled.

“I know.”

There’s a knock on the door. Xander opens it. Camila is standing there, her face twisted with annoyance.

“Your family is downstairs.” She huffs.

“I know, and I’m not going down there to see them.”

“Who said anything about you seeing them?” She replied with a glint in her eye.

“What?”

“Come stay in my dorm. They’re gonna be redirected here any minute now, the little fib I told them can only hold them for so long.”

Xander looks back at you with his mouth agape. The Camila Rossi is asking you to come to her dorm. Yeah he’s never letting this go.

“Well are you gonna stand there and look stupid or will you come along? I know an entrance we can go through that’ll keep us out of your housemates’ prying eyes.” You straightened your posture.

You had no other choice.

In one world, your mother died when you were seven. A car accident, completely mundane with no surprising twists of it actually being a murder or anything of the sort. You, her orphaned pup, was then taken in by your biological father–the prime alpha prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne–only to be neglected by him and his chosen pack members until you turned sixteen and presented as a beta.

In this world, however, your mother decided not to go driving that day. Thus she lived on to raise you as her sole pack member, both you and her unaware of the tragedy that could've struck you in another life.

In this world, you lived well. Your mother having invested her inheritance wisely, you never lacked money though you were 'only' millionaires. Your mother successfully balanced being gentle and firm, letting you do whatever you wanted as long as it didn't harm people including yourself. As a result, while you might've never been a prodigy, thanks to your mother you got to grow up to be a healthy, honorable, and most importantly happy child.

To be sure, there were flies in the ointment. You hated that your mother being still so beautiful at over forty–to the point she couldn't step out of your home undisguised without being swarmed by fans, paparazzi, et al immediately–meant you two could rarely go out together. You hated that people, strangers who had no right to interfere, would claim unasked that your mother should've married again, taken an alpha to help raise you, as if she hadn't been a perfect parent by herself!

You hated those things, but–as had been said–in overall you lived well. It might've continued being well too...

...had it not been for your father and his children.

Damian

Walking down the hallway of Gotham Academy, you grimly pressed your lips upon noticing an alpha. A racist, sexist, classist idiot of an alpha currently sporting a smarmy grin while cornering an omega student.

Hands on hips, you stepped in.

"So after three years of spouting racist bullshit at him whenever you could, now that he presented as an omega, you went to spout sexist bullshit as well? I'd ask where your brain went, but evidently you never had any."

The idiot alpha–whose name you frankly forgot–whipped his head towards you and gave what he presumably intended to be a menacing glare. It was badly off the mark, and not even the omega boy technically trapped between him and a wall bothered being discreet while rolling his eyes.

"What's it to you, huh, bitch?!" The idiot alpha snarled. "A pup like you dares to fucking challenge an alpha, do you think I'd hesitate putting you in your place?!"

"Well," you drawled, "I just know that I'm not the one barking after acting like a dog in heat here."

At that, the nearby students promptly burst out into laughter. Some hid it as coughs, others just snorted, more than one outright cackled.

Hearing everyone's clear derision, the idiot alpha predictably faltered. You knew he wouldn't dare try to hit you–everyone at Gotham Academy still remembered you at age thirteen singlehandedly beating up a pack of alpha and omega bullies, then about three more packs wanting to replace the first as the 'top dogs'. Being the coward he was, the idiot alpha could only ball his fists and throw another so-called menacing glare before stomping away, trying to not look like he had his tail tucked between the legs.

You saw him leave, but sensing another's stare, you turned and locked eyes with the omega boy. Your omega little half-brother Damian Wayne, to be precise.

With crossed arms and a pout, he grumbled, "I could've handled that by myself."

"I know." You grinned and meaningfully tapped a side of your blazer, the same spot in Damian's own blazer where you knew he concealed at least one of his daggers. As his eyes widened, you teasingly told him, "That guy couldn't have handled your retaliation by himself, though. Figures I'd save him."

Damian clicked his tongue. "He does not deserve saving."

You shrugged. "He might be a racist, sexist, classist idiot."

One beat, two beats. "But...?" Damian prompted, askance.

You shrugged again, smiling placidly. Damian gave you a look of disbelief before scoffing and turning away. You turned away too.

Unaware that Damian glanced back at you, the emotion in his eyes going from suspicious to contemplative and finally interested.

Tim

"Uhh, Drake? Tim? Timothy Drake? Hello, Mr Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne–"

Mr Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, alias Tim, shot up awake from his presumably impromptu nap at the library table. His eyes wildly scanned the room before landing on you, the borderline manic look in them causing you to instinctively step back.

Tim continued staring at you like that for a few more seconds. Eventually he blinked, took a less hasty look around the room again, then opened his mouth to speak. No words came out, though, and you winced in sympathy realizing his brain had to still be buffering right now.

Taking pity on him, you explained, "It's already five-forty." You pointed at a nearby clock. "The library should've already closed."

Tim's eyes sharpened instantly. "What are you doing here, then?"

If you hadn't known the guy had been kidnapped and held hostage multiple times, not to mention he was an alpha who just got roused from a nap and therefore a vulnerable position by a stranger, you would've taken offense at his wariness. You generously decided to feel flattered instead that Tim took you–a still-unpresented pup at fifteen, with an average build and a face that supposedly looked more and more like your most beautiful omega in Gotham mother's face–as a potential threat.

"The library committee member on duty was an omega. He didn't dare approach you so I offered to do it. He's still outside now since he needs to lock up, so if you could please gather your stuff and leave...?"

Tim shot you a skeptical look, then looked down at all the books, papers, and other items littering his desk with a grimace. You stayed silent while he shut his laptop and put it in his bag, shoved the papers and pens after it much less carefully, piled the books, then tried to figure out how to carry said books alongside his trash in one go.

"Not going to offer your help?" he sarcastically asked. You pretended to cough to hide your silent snicker before answering with a guileless smile.

"I'm sure you can figure it out yourself, Mr Drake." Then, because you couldn't resist, you added, "You know, like I'm sure you would be able to figure out what's wrong with the code."

"The co– You saw?!"

"Just what was on display," you soothed.

Tim looked skeptical again. "And how would you know what's wrong with it, huh?"

Keeping eye contact with him, you took out your phone and typed one line of codes.

He gaped. You smirked and walked away with a wave.

Not realizing Tim frantically digging out his laptop before looking at your back, his previous manic look returning then intensifying.

Jason

"And what's a pup like you wandering the Alley all alone for?"

Halting in your track, you incredulously looked up at the speaker–only to become even more incredulous when said speaker turned out to be no other than the freaking Red Hood.

For a moment, you just gaped at him. You then took a look around, making sure the crime lord and/or vigilante was seriously talking to you. As the lack of other people in the area confirmed that yes, the Red Hood was talking to you, you looked back up at the guy perching on a rooftop.

"It's daytime," you pointed out.

"Crimes aren't constricted to nighttime, kid."

"I'm fifteen."

"Still unpresented, aren't ya?"

You shot him a dirty look. There was no need to bring up your late presentation like that. Your mother said she presented at sixteen anyway, you'd likely be the same.

"Other pups also wander the Alley!" You opted to focus on Red Hood's first question instead.

"With their packmates or at least their fellow pups, and even that is only when they're Alley kids," Red Hood corrected you. He moved his head in a way that made you assume he was scanning your appearance. You were proven right when the man added, "And you definitely aren't one. Your dam or sire never told you to ditch the designer goods when walking, pup?"

This time your incredulous look was directed at your own jacket-turtleneck-jeans-boots combo. You swore not a single thing was branded.

In the end, you could only weakly defend, "It was fine when I wore this very outfit here last week."

You couldn't see Red Hood's face behind his helmet, obviously, but you bet the man's eyes sharpened at your statement.

"And what were you doing at the Alley last week?"

You deadpanned, "Checking my youth shelter."

Now it was Red Hood's turn to look incredulous–again, though you couldn't actually see it.

"Your youth shelter?" he parroted. After a moment's hesitation, he continued, "That converted warehouse?"

You nodded. Your mother gave you one of her assets every year on your birthday, for you to do with as you pleased. When the previous tenant stopped renting the particular warehouse last week, you decided to convert the place into a youth shelter.

Red Hood went silent, before suddenly jumping down next to you. He actually had the gall to nod in approval at you instinctively whipping out a stun gun towards him.

"I'll walk you there," he said.

You gave him an exasperated stare, but eventually decided not to fuss and nodded.

You paid no heed to the way he loomed over you, protective bordering possessive as a dragon over his hoard.

Dick

"Come on, Richie, just a sip should be all right, shouldn't it?"

"Oh, I really shouldn't..."

Before the female alpha could press again, you kicked her ankle while making it look like you just slid too fast down the polished marble floor. You further pretended not to see her nearly falling flat on her face nor her hissing profanities at you; instead, you faced Dick 'Richie' Grayson–looking like he was biting back an amused grin–and fake-huffed at him.

"You've promised to dance this song with me, Mr Grayson! You forgot me again, didn't you?"

"How could I forget!" As expected of the born-and-raised performer, Dick (you decided against calling him Richie) was able to play along right away. Dramatically pressing one hand over his heart, he used his other hand to fake-casually place the cocktail pressed by that female alpha on a passing waiter's tray, before offering the now-empty hand to you with an exaggerated flourish.

Pretending not to see him discreetly signing something at the waiter–highly likely to bring the cocktail to security for testing–you rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand with another huff.

Immediately, Dick swept you into an embrace, then took advantage of the position to whisper in your ear, "Thank you for that. You heroes keep getting younger, huh?"

"Pretty sure the first Robin started when his age was in the single digit," you snarked.

His eyes comically widened. "Your age's in the double digit?"

You were only a teensy-bit vexed and totally justified when you stepped on Dick's foot. Tried to, anyway–he dodged easily.

In the end, you deadpanned, "Do not forget this act of altruism. If I am ever in trouble I expect you and your brethren to come to my aid."

This time Dick bent down over your shoulder to stifle his cackle. Somehow he still managed to avoid your completely accidental foot-stepping without needing to look.

"You're just as adorable as my littlest brother, I swear!" Dick exclaimed, eyes sparkling with mirth as his embrace became a hug. Teasingly, he asked, "Are you this noble and funny to other people, or am I just special?"

"Special in the sense you just flirted with me, an unpresented pup? Yeah, sure," you snorted, purposefully misconstruing his question and leaving Dick to splutter frantically.

"Wait, wait, wait! Please, I didn't mean in like that!"

The song conveniently having ended, you just stuck your tongue out before taking your leave.

You had no idea that Dick's previously casual, cheerful facade then faded as he contemplated your figure, smile unsettlingly gentle and eyes glinting with something dark before returning to the original cheery grin when you looked at him again later.

Bruce

It was utter coincidence that you got out of your apartment for a midnight snack run at the same time as Batman choosing the neighbouring alley to com his colleagues.

You instinctively froze, more out of awkwardness than actual fear, and became more awkward as Batman continued calling his colleagues only to–as far as you could tell–receive no response.

"Nightwing..."

"Robin..."

"Red Robin..."

"Agent A..."

"...Red Hood?"

Fuck. Just stab you and twist the knife inside, it was too pitiful to watch. Your stomach churned, and before you knew it, you were already walking into the damn alley.

You instantly spotted Batman even amidst the darkness. At any other time, seeing him loom at your appearance would've struck fear in your heart, but as it were, you couldn't help equate his behaviour to a cat puffing its fur.

Firmly, you reminded yourself that this was the Batman and not a scared, injured stray kitty you were dealing with. You lifted both arms, palms open.

"Batman, are you hurt?"

When Batman remained silent and only radiated suspicion, you again reminded yourself he wasn't a scared stray cat before continuing,

"I've got my EMT certification. If you are hurt somewhere you can't reach, I can help you out. I swear I won't, like, take your blood samples to sell online."

For a moment Batman kept being silent, back against the wall and cape drawn over himself like a comfort blanket. Eventually, however, he let the cape go and gave you a curt nod–so curt you just stared stupidly for a second before realizing aw yes the cat bat has tentatively trusted you to help treat his wound then hurriedly oh crap the cat bat is really hurt.

You scrambled to take out the first aid kit from your backpack, then–once Batman unclasped his cape to reveal an incredibly nasty gash on his back–the suture, alcohol and everything else you needed from the kit. As you treated his wound, to divert his mind from it you started chattering.

"You know, Batman, I'm super grateful to you," you said. "Like, I know some people say that you should have killed the Joker and all the rogues that would've killed us, but I mean, as far as I can tell you didn't sign up for that, did you? You just–volunteered to protect Gotham. You have zero obligations to kill! And my mother told me back when you just debuted people didn't trust you, even though you never killed anyone, so wouldn't it have been worse if you do kill even the worst rogues? And stuff."

You just ran your mouth without a thought, so it was a testament to your amazing self-control that you didn't jump in shock and botch up the stitches when Batman unexpectedly asked,

"You really do not believe I should kill?"

"Uhh." You looked at the gash you were stitching, recalling the lack of responses he got from his colleagues, and forcibly held yourself back from linking the possible reason behind that and him asking you that question. Nope, not going there. "I mean, I would've been far more hesitant about offering to treat your wound if you do kill people? So. Yeah. At the end of it I think it's really up to you, but personally, I'm glad you focus to protect instead of destroy, you know? What's the phrase again, about fighting not because you hate the ones in front but because you love the ones behind?"

"You don't think I'm a failure?"

NOPE, NOT GOING THERE.

"Well, duh! You volunteered to protect Gotham, not kill its criminals, right? Which I'm glad for. You don't have to protect Gotham, but you do it anyway. Maybe I'm just too lucky to not have to deal with the rogues hurting me and my loved ones, but as far as I'm concerned, at least right now you do a great job and I'm grateful to you."

Frigging finally, you finished the stitches. You sighed in relief and stepped back, letting Batman dramatically whirl to face you.

"Thank you." With another curt nod, he grappled away. You watched his black cape fluttering in the wind before blending with the night sky, and absently wondered whether you should have told Batman to not let his stitches get wet.

Then you strolled away to the minimarket, your intended destination.

Never looking back up to see the Bat following you the whole way, eyes behind the mask full of rapture.

"Mom!"

For the third time this week, you slammed the door in your hurry to enter the safety of your home. The daily calendar on the wall confirmed it was Wednesday.

"Baby!"

Without fail, your mother rushed to pull you into her arms, hugging you so tightly that you could hear her own rapid heartbeat. The two of you kept hugging each other for nearly half a minute, then she gently pushed you to stand straight.

"Arms out."

With an efficiency you wished she didn't have to acquire through experience, your mother began patting you down, searching for trackers or bugs or anything else they might have planted on you.

"Bag?"

You gave her your bag and left her to check that while you changed clothes, throwing the soiled ones in the washer to fry any bug that might have been overlooked. Once you returned, your mother handed you your bag back with a smile.

"All clear." Lightly squeezing your shoulder, your mother quietly asked, "Anything about the ones following you today, baby?"

You hesitated. "I think they might have–noticed that I noticed? I detected one at school, then three different ones in relays." Looking at your mother's worried face, you asked her back, "How about you, Mom? Did they... escalate?"

If your mother ever got hurt by them, you would go crazier than Joker.

It was such a relief to see your mother smilingly shake her head. You slumped and obligingly let your mother steer you to her nest–well, the pack nest, technically, since it was just the two of you in the pack–and got in, while she turned on the fairy lights overhead and turned off the regular lighting before joining you there.

Perhaps an hour passed in peaceful silence before your mother suddenly broke it with a hesitant, "Say, baby?"

"Yes, mom?" You lifted your head facing her.

Your mother's beautiful face seemed pensive. She absently ran her fingers through your hair, detangling it so gently it could've put you to sleep had she not spoken.

"Would you like to move out of Gotham?"

You blinked, surprised. Really surprised, actually, because–

"Isn't Gotham your dream city, mom?"

Your mother, despite once being called the most beautiful omega in Gotham, was not born and raised here. Her natal pack's late pack beta, however, was. Your mother had been close with said pack beta, and absolutely crushed at their death, that she insisted on moving to Gotham on her own. Your mother had frankly told you, even, that she purposefully chose Bruce Wayne as your biological father because he was a prime alpha, and her child with him–you–would surely be a beta given that she was a prime omega, and she wanted her beta child to...

Oh, right.

As if having read your thought, your mother reminded you, "I dreamed of raising my beta child to be healthy, safe and happy here in Gotham, yes. But between the health, safety, and happiness of my child and living here in Gotham? The former's the most important, baby."

Your eyes stung. You blinked hard and nuzzled your pillow, pretending you weren't trying to wipe your tears on it.

With a hoarse voice, you replied, "I'd love to, mom."

Your mother kissed the top of your head.

You didn't see the cold, determined glint in her eyes. You didn't notice the possessive, covetous grip she had around your person. You paid no heed to the way she scented you, hard and thorough so that her scent would be wholly entrenched into you, so that not even nose-blind people could fail to realize you belonged only to her.

You didn't know it, but back with her natal pack, your mother had always been obsessed with the pack beta. She dubbed the pack beta her 'best friend' and ignored their obvious discomfort of her. When her sister got mated into an ally pack and the pack beta took advantage to be brought with said sister, your mother went ballistic.

The taunt of her sister, your aunt whom you never met, was what 'inspired' her to have you. If you don't want your pack beta taken from you, then birth them as your pup! Just a mindless taunt, but your mother adhered by it and got you in the end.

You were her beloved pup now. The moment you presented, you would be her beloved pack beta until the end.

And no Bats nor Waynes would get in her way.

A/N: *jazz hands* Surprise yandere mom? Yay~ *ducks projectiles*

I've totally lost my previous writing speed omg, I get that this is 3600 words but I'm still sad that I could no longer write as fast as before 😔💔