Warning: This concept delves into heavy themes and sensitive topics. It is a work of pure fiction meant for creative exploration; not an endorsement or reflection of real-world beliefs, ideas, or practices.
ᴅɪʙʙʟᴇ ᴅᴀʙʙʟᴇ/ʙᴜᴅᴅɪɴɢ ꜰɪᴄ ɪꜰ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ; 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐞 ⋆˚𖤓˖° 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 & 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
hai... gulp
main idea; neglectful!batfam & yandere!reader. i dont know if this has been used yet, but hear me out:
yandere reader doesn’t truly understand they’re a yandere—they grow to have a vague understanding that it isn't necessarily normal; but is anyone really, truly normal? if not in the world, then most certainly not in Gotham for heavens sake! yandere reader was raised by an aspiring mother with an inkling to Icarus— but instead of dying in the flames, she was unable to grasp the hand of the clouds.
Bruce Wayne. Certainly as pale as a cloud; and just as untouchable, high in his place above Gotham’s filthy streets. Or maybe that was Brucie Wayne she met, and hoped she charmed the day she was sent to photograph his gala for the paper.
She had gotten nothing but bad luck after that— “the cost of a bad seed”, she’d say. Her stunt in the back room of the gala lost her the opportunity of the best shots, and her fangirlish focus on Bruce Wayne made her deemed incompetent for their paper company. The only thing she could feel, however, was the joy from the opportunity she was given. She had gotten a chance to be with the Bruce Wayne, as a normal woman. It was only later when she realized she was pregnant did some of her walls crumble; but the idea of something of his being hers, too, did she decide her fate.
“A blessing it was, to touch his skin…”
“I should’ve done more!”
“You’re like a sunburn; proof of my exploration.”
“…You’re lucky I let you mark my skin. You’re blessed to be him; his essence, his fire. If you weren’t, I would get rid of you even now.”
yandere reader was their mothers’ obsession as much as they were her ire; and maybe that’s where their twistedness stems from. It’s the only form of love they’ve seen— their mother is obsessed with their “father” for all he is (or what yanreader’s mother made them believe he is, along with the short parts where they’d see the money he’d donate to help people in need from the photos and articles her mother has taped in her walk in closet— hazardously shoved in there once it got too big in her dresser drawer), and yanreader as-well for all they have from him. Is it Bruce himself, or is that just love?
Maybe it’s both, they come to think as their mother’s suicide over Bruce’s other, acknowledged family— or just the biological kid, they had tried to explain— sends her into too far of a depressive dip too fast. yanreader’s world completely flips during this time, unable to understand life outside their mother’s teachings and more deluding than guiding words, trying to find their footing in a house so unfamiliar; it feels like a church, more than anything. Big and empty, waiting for something larger than life to fill it; the need to be perfect and prove it to the eyes watching, actually or not. Alfred was the one who picked them up, after all, and the deathly glare their half-brother sends them as soon as they enter throws them into a loop. Did he see their impurities too? This soon?
The idea of that fills them with horror. How would Bruce act when he sees them?
(Their mother never let them call him their father; they couldn’t pass the gray, not if she couldn’t— they weren’t enough to bask in that light. They had to rot with the rest of Gotham in the shadows, if only so their mother could have an ember.)
Their mother lives under their skin, rotting their mind. There’s no voices, or info-chan(is there…?). It’s the illusion that their mother is there next to them, reminding them of the opportunity they were presented with, and how they couldn’t let it slip through their fingers like she did. Freshly 18 and uneducated about college, to the batfam(batkids, specifically) they seem… like a freeloader. They were their mother’s attempt at forcing Bruce into a relationship, in the family’s eyes, and yanreader being a bit reserved only helps the kids solidify their opinions about them being there for that quick cash.
They float around the house, deepening their own delusion and the distance between themself and the family. Yanreader, admittedly, never tried with Bruce. They never seeked him out in the hall, never ate a meal with him, and never told him about things he needed to do at the school. They told Alfred, but Alfred’s plate was full, just like they hoped, and a simple call day of when yanreader reminds him sadly just as it’s too late is enough for the school to wave a forgiving hand.
Of course, that’s where it stops within the family, too. Damian gets caught in their webs; guilty by association, in a way. If Bruce lets him in, and he’s his blood son, it’s obvious to Bruce that he’s the full son, and yanreader is stuck as the half bastard to their family. But the others? The adopted kids? They’re chosen to be family to Bruce, which means they’re safely tucked under yanreader’s ribs— but yanreader wouldn’t hesitate to rip out their own heart at a look from Bruce Wayne, so that doesn’t mean too much.
They’re content in the shadows, lurking through Gotham and continuing their life in the gunk; keeping tabs on whatever rot tried to reach the manor. They might not be protecting the world like their family, they’ll come to realize after they uncover their identities, but they’re protecting their world, which is close enough to whatever Mr. Wayne was spieling to them.
