cry @crying-outlad - Tumblr Blog

Feb 4

Yandere! Batfam! x Neglected! Male! Reader.

So Smile!

[09] Underexposed. <Prev Next> TW: Implied transphobia, implied death by overdose, implied domestic abuse, underage drinking, underage smoking, underage drug use, dead naming, etc... Pairings: Original Trans Character & Reader, Original Female Character x Reader, Sasha (Scarlet) & Reader, Jason Todd & Reader, Duke Thomas & Reader. Word count: ~6157 Not proofread or edited.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After your date with Minnie, things were… looking up. Somehow, you had managed to secure a second date—-it had gone amazingly—-after reassuring that all you wanted was to reconnect with her. It was true, but you also wanted to prove yourself to… well, yourself. She didn’t have to know. And after that second date, you secured a third. It’d be the charm.

It had been a couple days since your last date, and today, you’d take her out to have some dinner before going out to drink. Not a party, you didn’t trust yourself to show your best self to her in one, so a bar instead. Something chill. Sasha had volunteered to help you look presentable. And now, inside her room—you had many clothes inside her closet, from the many nights and days you had spent here—you were facing her relentless scrutiny.

“Okay,” Sasha said, sitting on the edge of her bed with a cigarette between her fingers. “I don’t want to be mean, but…” she gestured vaguely at you. “This is too much.”

You frowned, “How is this too much?!” Looking at yourself in the full body mirror hanging from the wall, you took another look at yourself. Animal print, a pair of oversized denim shorts, and enough jewelry to impress just about anyone who didn’t look too much. “I’m hot as fuck!” You hissed. “I could pull Nightwing no problem with this.”

“Nightwing?” Sasha snorted. “I admire your confidence.” She nodded. “But no, it's too much. This is your third date—-go casual, dude. Otherwise, she’ll think you’re love-bombing her.” You were planning to.

Her logic made some sense to you.

The first and second dates were always tests to see how committed you were to the girl, while the third date allowed the both of you to show a more real aspect of yourselves. The issue was that extravagance, as Sasha had put it once, was what you considered your true self. The weight of faux gold on your neck and fingers brought comfort, the animal print made you feel powerful, and the feigned nonchalance of your pants—shorts today—usually made others think that you weren’t trying to look cool.

Then again, you hadn’t always dressed like this.

“Shut up!” You remember groaning years ago at Joey. “It’s not that serious. I’m just going out with Minnie’s friends.”

Joey, you, and Sasha, were hanging out near Joey’s place. Not too far from Old Gotham, sitting near an abandoned basketball court at the edge of a small, rotted park that hadn’t seen kids in years. At the time, you and Minnie were ‘official’, and after introducing you to her friends, they had agreed to meet together again. The plan was to pick Minnie up before going to a party in one of her friend’s house, whether it was a birthday or not, you didn’t remember.

“Alone,” Joey looked away.

You remember briefly considering bringing Joey with you, but after glancing down at his clothes… You didn’t consider yourself homophobic or anything, but for the first time on that very day, Joey looked like nothing more than a faggot. He had put on a small pair of golden earrings, with a tight long-sleeved shirt striped in yellow, with the cuffs of it pulled over his hand so that only the tip of his fingers were peeking through. That, paired with black skinny jeans that wouldn’t come in fashion until a couple years later, made part of you feel… weird.

“It can’t be that different from the stuff we go to,” Sasha shrugged in between the both of you, letting her hair hang backwards so she could look up at the starless sky. “‘Sides, I can go if it gets too bad.”

You snorted, “No way they’re letting you in. You’re a baby.”

She scoffed, “Pearl invited me,” she explained. “I didn’t plan on going because I thought we were going out tonight.”

“You two can party together,” you shrugged.

“That wasn’t the plan—-” Joey hissed your name. “We asked you to come with us to my cousin’s set, and what did you say?” He leaned closer, not waiting for you to answer before yapping on, badly mimicking how you started to speak back then. “‘Sure, man! Just lemme buy some new clothes with banshee over there,’” he jerked his head towards Sasha, who quickly glared at you.

“Banshee? Seriously?” Dramatic as you used to think of her, she stood up from between you before childishly sitting by Joey’s free side.

You rolled your eyes, “Ain’t my fault the boot fits.” Plucking some dirt from behind her, Sasha tossed it at you, but you ignored her. “You can’t ask me to not hangout with my girlfriend—”

“Of a month!”

“Exactly!” You barked. “I gotta show her I’m serious,” you weren’t. “Plans change.”

Joey pointed at you accusingly as he spoke, “Except you got invited to that fuckass party a day after you agreed to come with us tonight.” Letting out a deep sigh, Joey looked away from you again. “And now you come dressed like stupid fucking clown to gloat. Like we give a damn about what you do.”

Frowning with humor, and after barely holding back a cackle, you grinned. “You obviously do give a damn, Joseph!” You gestured at him. “You’ve been bitching about it the whole damn day. But yeah, no. You don’t give a fuck, right?”

You knew that going with him to see his cousin’s DJ set meant a lot. He hadn’t told you the details, but as far as you knew, they had a big fallout that pulled them apart for a couple years. And after Joey met his cousin again during his niece’s baptism, the guy gave Joey a ticket. But at the time, what did it matter? They were cousins, they’d see each other at least once a year anyway. Your relationship with Minnie’s friends was too volatile to risk it, so you prioritized yourself over him.

He could handle it.

Pulling yourself away from useless-memory-land, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. You still had some time before going to pick Minnie up, so your outfit issue could be fixed… hopefully. And after asking Sasha to accompany you back to the manor to try and find other clothes, you borrowed Lev’s ratty old car.

But before going to the manor, you had to fill it up with gas since the old man couldn’t be bothered.

After arriving at the gas station, the both of you walked out of the car and went straight inside the small convenience store to pay for the gas, and to buy yourselves some snacks and beers to pregame your date. It was just for the nerves, you told Sasha. Plus you hadn’t gone out to drink in a while, a couple of beers couldn’t do any harm.

“Onion dip, or barbecue?” Sasha asked in the corridor opposite yours, she’d be buying the salty stuff today. “Or takis…” she hummed.

Picking a small pack of donuts, you looked over to her. Since the aisles weren’t particularly tall, you could easily make out the top of her head. “Onion dip,” you groaned. “I tried the barbecue ones with Minnie, they’re awful.”

“Not all of us have taste,” she grinned.

Tossing the donuts her way, you walked to the back of the store to grab a Koul-Brau six pack, and a pair of sparkling water bottles before walking back to the cashier with Sasha.

“Alright, time to use this baby for the first time!” Triumphantly, Sasha pulled out a credit card from her purse. “You should get one,” she joked as the cashier scanned the items. “We can get in debt together—more than you already are anyway.”

“Don’t start,” you rolled your eyes. “I still owe Jay $100.”

After paying for everything, plus the gas, you walked back to the car. Once you filled her up, you finally made your way to Wayne manor. Most of the ride was boring, talking with Sasha about the meaningless stuff that you both had heard or seen at school. Apparently, the parents of that Stacy chick had called the school to announce she wouldn't be attending anymore. You and Sasha agreed that it must be because of the baby. But before you could make a snide remark—

“Whatch where you’re going you fuck!” You barked out the window. A biker—a very ugly looking one at that, his only saving grace being that he was seemingly built like a wall—had sped in front of you as the light turned green. But the man was too far by the time you cussed him out. “Holy shit,” you sighed as you pushed the pedal. “Bet he’s drunk.”

“You can’t complain about that…” Sasha hummed, quietly fastening her seatbelt.

“I don’t drunk drive during the day!” You defended yourself.

“You still do it,” she shrugged.

Rolling your eyes, you sped up. Since you were almost at Crest Hill, the traffic had toned down significantly. Maybe a dozen cars and a single tourist bus between your front and back, fairly spread out.

Then, Sasha spoke. “Can I ask you something?”

You frowned, ”Is it dumb?”

“It’s meds related,” she said, and after giving her a nod, she looked out the front window. “Why haven’t you asked your dad for more money?”

Forcing yourself to relax your posture, resting your left arm on the door’s beltline and holding the wheel with less tension. “What do you mean?”

She made a puzzled face after turning back to you, “Well, you told me that they’ve all been trying to connect with you—hell, Bruce scolded you for getting on the news.” She crossed her arms. “So… ask him for more money. It’s the least he could do.”

“He ain’t around,” you explained. “Haven’t seen him since that day. And I’m doing just fine—”

“You ask all of us for money weekly,” she argued. “I mean, your spending habits suck. But all your siblings get enough to travel abroad once a month.” She huffed. “Even that Duke guy gets more than you, and he’s been there for… what? A couple years? A single year?”

“I’m fine,” raising your left forearm, you rested the side of your head on your knuckles. “I just gotta find a new job.”

Sasha raised her eyebrows in exasperation, “I’m not saying you don’t have to be responsible. I’m saying that it isn’t fair.” Slumping back against her seat, she sighed. “I hate your dad.”

You hummed noncommittally.

“And Duke looks like Joey.”

You frowned in disgust, “He doesn’t.”

“He does,” Sasha nodded to herself. “Give him some eyeliner, a skirt, and a cigarette and boom! Joey.” She snorted.

“You’re sick.”

Meanwhile, at Wayne Manor, Duke Thomas found himself with nothing to do for the first time in a while. Tim had taken today’s day shift since he had planned a date with Bernard for tonight. Something about making up for missing the past twelve. So, here he was, sitting on the kitchen table with a bunch of blank papers that he had been cutting and folding into various shapes. He was particularly proud of a small Batman figurine.

Still, something had been prodding at the back of his head.

He hadn’t talked to his brother for a long, long while. Last he saw him was when they all went out to the diamond district, but Tim and Stephanie hoarded all his attention, and then that girl—Minerva, was it? It didn't matter. She robbed him the chance to speak to him.

No, that’s mean, Duke scolded himself. Folding a piece of paper in half. Whatever way he sliced it, Duke knew that his brother didn’t care about him—he hadn’t been here for long, and he had a proper relationship with everyone in the family. He was a walking middle finger. Even so, Duke deserved a chance.

He hadn’t done anything wrong! The Signal overstepped, sure, but Duke had been nothing but kind and quiet to him. He was the first that expressed interest in connecting.

So wasn’t he owed a chance?

Hearing the manor’s door be pushed open, Duke curiously tilted his head to hear better.

“That wasn’t my fault!” A foreign female voice spoke. “I told you that he was a weirdo from the start! You’re the one who let him in.”

Then, Duke heard his brother’s voice. “Well, you should’ve slapped me or somethin’!” He protested.

Without thinking much about it, Duke seized his chance. Running out of the kitchen and towards the entrance—mindful of slowing his steps to look casual—there, his brother stood holding a small, almost clear white plastic bag full of maybe half a dozen onion dip potato chips bags, and a six pack of beer under his arm. Duke smiled, “Hey!” He greeted them both, turning towards the girl a second too late. “Sorry,” shit. “I’m Duke, nice to meet you!”

The girl sent his brother an amused look, but quickly gave Duke a kind smile, stretching her hand towards him. “Sasha. Pleasure’s mine.”

His brother sent Sasha a funny look, making fun of him—no, more like making fun of Sasha for something. Had they been talking about him? Was it a speak of the devil sort of thing? Duke hoped not. Besides, his brother hadn’t let him in yet, so the short conversation he eavesdropped on couldn’t be about him. This, however, didn’t change the fact that he suddenly felt more anxious.

Feeling his brother’s eyes on him, Duke spoke. “I, uh…” they were probably planning to hangout in his brother’s room to drink and have fun, and since Duke himself didn’t like it when his plans were suddenly changed at the last minute, he didn’t want to force himself into their time. However, he also wanted to try and hangout with him.

And according to Tim, he had become far more welcoming after drinking together. “Sorry…” Duke gulped, trying to quickly find what to say so the silence didn’t stretch too far. “I’m… I’m doing origami!” He smiled, but it faltered. “In the kitchen. I didn’t bring any of my pieces with me.”

His brother blinked, “Cool.” He didn’t seem focused on the conversation, staring at Duke as if picking him apart piece by piece to see how it all fit together. “Well, gotta go man. Show me one of your pieces when you’re done, yeah?” Sasha kicked him discreetly. “I’ll be in my room if you need me…” putting the plastic bag on the ground, he bent over to pull out one of the chip bags, before tossing it at him. “See ya.”

Duke felt a pressure settle in his chest. “Yeah, thanks. See ya.”

His brother and Sasha walked upstairs, and Duke huffed in frustration.

Once you were out of ear shot, you turned to Sasha. “He does kinda look like Joey,” you admitted. “Just his eyes.” Duke had that pathetic look that Joey often carried when he was troubled.

A memory quietly crept its way back into your mind just as you opened the door to your room.

It had been a couple months into your relationship with Minnie, having met all her friends, quietly trying to worm your way into their group, and with puberty still hitting hard, you had slowly changed your style to something that fit everyone else more. Sasha and Joey were on a similar track—not to fit in, but to explore their own tastes more broadly.

“I don’t know, man,” Joey sighed. You were all at his place, his parents were on some kind of trip, so Joey had called both of you to help him paint his nails—Sasha painted them, you were there for moral support. “My fingers are too thick,” he lamented. “This just makes them look like sausages.”

He had picked a velvet nail polish from his mother’s stash, and in hindsight, it didn’t look bad on him.

“At least you’re self-aware,” you joked, sitting on a chair near the bed with your legs wide open, and holding a magazine full of women in underwear you found under Joey’s bed. “It looks like you don’t even have nails from here.”

“You’re an asshole,” Sasha groaned. “It looks good, Joey.”

Joey stood up from the bed, walking up to a mirror hung on his door to see himself better. He stretched his fingers a couple times, holding his hand up next to his head, and finally clawing his fingers to look at his nails better. He didn’t look happy, more like… resigned. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed upwards, and his eyes lightly narrowed, with his lips pulled into a tight line before he sighed. “I’ll try another color next time,” he said.

After that, the three of you began drinking from a vodka bottle you found on one of the kitchen’s cabinets. Planning to refill it with water later. The real issue was that Joey wasn’t good at holding his alcohol—he often got… all philosophical on you.

“I have a question,” Joey said, sitting on the floor with his back resting against the bed. You were sprawled on the bed, smoking a cigarette without care, while Sasha was trying on some of Joey’s shirts. “What would you guys do… if you like, woke up as a girl.”

“Sorry?” Sasha looked back.

“I mean—your opposite gender. What would you do?”

After thinking for a second, you snorted. “Whatever stops me from having a period.” Sasha rolled her eyes at that.

“I’d walk alone at night,” she shrugged after a while. “What about you?”

Joey thought for a while, “I’d try lipstick.”

At the time, you couldn’t help but scoff. For a while, Joey had an interest in more feminine things. He never acted on his urges, but he stared too long at dresses and makeup stores. You didn’t like that side of him because you wanted Joey as you met him—broad, masculine, caring. Just thinking or seeing him in something that didn’t fit that standard had always made you feel nauseous.

“Fuck it, I’m done,” you spoke to Sasha back in the present. “I’m wearing this. I’m not trying anything else.”

Sasha groaned, “Dude! You’re wearing sweats.”

“It’s casual,” you argued. “So fuck off. I’m seeing her in an hour and I’m already drunk.”

She huffed, “Fine.”

Nodding in her general direction, and after giving her the cigarette you had been sharing, you walked out of your room with a drunk heavy strut. Puking would clear up your head just enough to not make a fool of yourself, and since you probably reeked of alcohol, it would be nice to take a shower before going out. You changed, after all, Minnie wasn’t seeing a drunk.

But as you were walking out of the corridor where the family’s rooms were, right before taking a left turn towards the bathroom, you noticed him. Glancing down at him, with eyes heavier than you realized, you couldn’t help but scrunch your eyebrows in barely concealed disgust. He was maybe a half a head shorter than you, riddled with scars all over. His body seemed too thick for someone his height, and the stench pouring out of him was enough to make you nauseous—at least you didn’t need to stick your fingers inside your throat to puke now.

Distantly you realized that was Jason Todd. Thinking about him wasn’t worth your time anymore.

After getting ready, you drove Sasha home. Tonight you didn’t need to leave Lev’s car in the garage he rented—Sasha had told him about your date, and the old man seemed eager to let you use it for the night—-so after bidding her goodbye, you pulled out your phone to check Minnie’s address, put on some music, and lit a cigarette for the nerves before you drove off. She lived between Chinatown and Old Gotham. Though her apartment complex was… well, old, the place was very nicely kept.

On this side of the city, there were barely any neon signs around. Instead, the streets were lit with a warm orange that had always reminded you of Christmas. However, there were basically no people around during the day or night, only a couple kids who were worse off than others would wander around after visiting the library to do homework. Otherwise? It was a ghost town, which was nice for you since it had become a safe space to vomit on the sidewalks after a particularly rowdy party with your friends.

After parking right outside the old apartment complex, you walked out of the car and sent Minnie a quick text.

“Ten minutes early by the way,” you texted her.

You could almost hear her chuckle, “Ten minutes you’ll have to spend alone, Wayne.”

You had always known why you broke up, how you failed and hurt her… but even so, you couldn’t help but ask yourself how you allowed yourself to lose her.

Five minutes after the texts, she walked out of the building. Dressed in an oversized pink sweater that hung off her shoulders, with the black straps of her top underneath showing and lightly tucked under a knee-long light brown circle skirt, with her legs covered in ghostly laced brown tights. Tonight, her hair was let wild—-though you knew from memory that she spent hours shaping it to look like that—though lightly adorned with some sort of glitter that sprinkled under orange streetlights. On her face, she had natural-looking makeup that made her eyes look even bigger than they already were.

“Holy shit,” you chuckled as you looked down at her neck. “You still have that?” On her neck hung a simple golden necklace, with a small heart shaped charm right in the middle.

“Of course I do!” Minnie smiled. “I won it fair and square.”

That had been so long ago.

At the time, you, Joey, Sasha, and Minerva had gone out to the freshly renovated corner of Amusement Mile at her request. “I want to hang out with your friends, too!” She had said.

“Oh my God, look!” Minnie said, pulling you by the arm towards a window that displayed a bunch of jewelry inside. “It’s so cute—-think it’ll fit me?”

You stared down at the necklace she was pointing at, and… you thought she wasn’t worth that much. $130 for a necklace like that? For her? It wasn’t happening. But you were playing good boyfriend at the time, so you simply smiled, “You’d look amazing.”

She bit her bottom lip, “Should I buy it? I still have some money from my birthday.”

You could feel Sasha’s eyes burning a hole on your back.

After arriving at Amusement Mile, and buying tickets for the carnival, the four of you walked inside and started to kill time before the circus’ show began. And though it pained you to admit at the time, you sucked at carnival games.

“Come on!” You sneered. “I hit the fucking target, man!” You hadn’t, you were trying to use the fact that carnival games were known for being scummy to mask your horrible aim. Shooting a basketball was one thing, using a water gun… an experience you didn’t want to repeat.

“Well,” Joey smirked from your side, holding up his own water gun with pride as the clerk tiredly waited for him to lick his prize. “Sometimes you gotta admit you suck. And like usual—” he pointed at a stupid finger trap. “I win, you lose.” He cackled.

Sasha and Minerva chuckled behind you, and competitively you hissed, “Game’s on.”

You would’ve laughed any other time with Joey, but Minerva was there, and you still needed her to speak nicely about you to her friends. If you couldn’t win anything, then at least trying should be enough for her. But soon enough, you grew tired of losing. Of hearing them laugh at you. So you told Minerva to play against Joey in your stead, choosing to sit on a nearby bench while they amused themselves.

Sasha approached you quietly after a while.

You glanced up at her, “Want a smoke?”

She shook her head, “How are things going? At home, I mean.”

You didn’t like her that much, that she probably knew. But opening up to her about your home life had somehow been easier than telling Joey.

“Jason’s still a bitch,” you huffed. “I swear he’d be better off back in the streets.”

“That bad?” She hummed.

“We could both die tomorrow and he’d get a better burial.”

“Lovely,” she looked up at Joey and Minerva. “If it makes you feel any better, we’re also drowning in shit. Uncle Lev is talking to his friends again, and dad is off doing God knows what at night.”

“And Joey?”

She glanced down at you, “He’s back with his grandma.”

Later, she would make you promise Minerva that you’d buy her the necklace if she outwon Joey in every game you lost in. And weeks later, you’d proceed to quietly practice so you’d never lose against either of them ever again.

Blinking with a smile, you chuckled at Minnie, “Now I’m feelin’ a little underdressed, babe.” A black tank top under an oversized black hoodie and a pair of loose black sweats, no jewelry to be seen and barely any cologne. Even if you bumped into your friends, they wouldn’t recognize you.

Minnie grinned, “You chose your own battle. Now,” she stretched her hand towards you, waiting for you to take it. “Shall we go?”

The bar you had agreed to go to was right in the middle of Chinatown. Usually, you only went there alone or with Sasha when things were too rough. A ten minute ride from Minnie’s place with the traffic that came with the narrow streets there—The Button, it was called. A small basement bar known for housing many awful acts every weekend, from comedians to singers and magicians. An old man you had befriended had told you that most entertainers went there to hone their act and try new stuff, and though they bombed more often than not, that’s where the entertainment came for most guests.

After walking down the stairs, you approached the door host. An old, black haired woman who no doubt must’ve killed someone at some point in her life. “Table for two, please.”

The woman raised an eyebrow with humor, “So well-mannered,” she sneered. “You already know where to sit,” she said your name. “Go on, Sasha already paid your tab.” That snake of a woman—-had Minnie not known Sasha, she’d probably get the wrong idea.

You pulled Minnie inside with a smile, “I don’t have a tab here. Just so you know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

The inside of the place wasn’t anything to write home about. Cheap wooden walls, with carved columns of the same material in seemingly random spots, a low orange light that barely let you see where you were stepping, and this strange lingering scent of fish. The only reason you and Sasha frequented this place was for the entertainment, and oddly enough, the food.

“I always get the wings,” you shrugged as you leaned back against your chair.

“Seriously?” Minnie frowned with humor before gesturing down at the yellowed menu glued into the plastic tissue box. “Of everything that’s in here—-”

“They’re good!” You raise your hands in mock defense. “I like Chinese. I just don’t trust this place.”

“So you brought me here to get food poisoning in your stead,” she hummed. “Well, my death will be on you.” You raised your middle finger at her.

Embarrassingly, the single waiter that worked here brought you the usual, two 33 oz mugs full of frothy, ice cold sweaty beer. You didn’t have the guts to look up at Minnie as you took a sip.

After ordering your food, you leaned forward, with your forearms resting on the table, you tilted your head lightly right as you spoke, “So… I was waitin’ for the awkward first few, uh, dates to pass—-”

“What are you gonna ask?”

Pulling your lips into a tight line, trying to hold in a smile, you sighed, “Psychology? Really?”

Minnie snorted before taking a sip of her beer, “What’s wrong with psychology?”

You shrugged, “No, no. Nothing! I’m just sayin’ that you don’t fit the usual standard.”

“And what would the standard be?” She crossed her arms.

Feigning reluctance, you looked away from her and towards just about everything around you, “Well, y’know…” you puffed up your chest like a rooster, and pitched your voice up just a little higher. “Jessie.”

She laughed, “First of all—-” she put her mug down. “He was incredibly healthy, contrary to popular belief.”

“He had an eating disorder," you frowned with humor.

“No, yeah—I know what you mean,” she chuckled. “I’m just saying that he wasn’t that damaged in comparison.”

“Who would be a better pick, then?”

Minnie gulped some beer.

You remember it happened mid July, during Gotham’s own extra, week-long halloween. It had started a few years back after one of the most devastating attacks from The Joker, a commemoration for the deceased, but it quickly devolved into another festivity that everyone used to get drunk. At the time, there were very strict regulations on what you could and couldn’t dress up as.

That year, you chose to dress up as a jester. Barely. It had been intentional on your part, you wanted to draw in a couple eyes, and you had been sure that Minnie’s friends would like it—but dressing up was something you felt silly doing, so you settled for something that could barely pass as a costume. If it wasn’t for the stupid, jingling hat you wore, and the smudged makeup you asked Sasha to help you with, no one would’ve realized you were dressing up as something.

During that week, you had gone out with Joey and Sasha to have fun and scare a couple fossils into their retirement homes. But on Friday, you had been invited to the party of the year—-at least by your middle school standards—organized by a high schooler who you were pretty sure died a couple years later.

You had decided that this party would be the one. If you succeeded that day, you wouldn’t have to play boyfriend anymore. So you arrived an hour before Minerva would.

The place was something still new to you at the time, similar but so different from the places you used to frequent and the bars that you would go to with Sasha. So open and claustrophobic at the same time, with a cacophony of perfumes and colognes and sweat punching their way into your nose.

Pushing past the teenage drunkards littering the door, with the jingling of your hat muffled under loud music, you searched for them. A group of five people whose names you wouldn’t remember years after. The place was packed, and knowing that it’ll take you some time to find them with all the weird costumes people were wearing, you decided to go grab a drink first. Raw vodka, you had learned, helped you be more… open, a better fit to hangout with these type of people.

Twenty minutes in, and you were sitting with them on the living room. A pair of guys at your sides, one girl on the upper left side, another opposite her, and one dude sitting on the floor with a bottle.

“So, since we have you two here—-” one of the girls gestured vaguely at you and the guy on your left. “I have to ask, why did you lose the last game?”

The guy chuckled, “Captain’s fault. He chose the rookie over me.”

“Arthur?” You asked.

“Huh? No, the other one. Amir,” he crossed his arms. “Arthur’s alright. But Becket subbed Amir in mid game—-no wonder we lost.”

“The guy looks nice,” the guy on the floor shrugged. “Maybe he just needs to find his calling.”

Should I chime in? You thought. But before you could process the idea further, you opened your mouth, “Eh, only if you like the loud guys.”

“What’cha mean?”

You blinked, “Like—he’s nice alright,” you glanced at the guy on your left. “But I swear, something about how he speaks gives me a headache,” the sudden silence forced you to speak again, trying to clarify. “He’s very childish, y’know? He keeps asking to try those card games of his. Pokemon or something, whatever—-” you sniffed. “I mean, we’re in middle school, y’know? At some point you gotta grow out of that stuff. ‘Cause so far, it feels like he’s desperate for attention.” You snorted.

The girls glanced at each other with an uneasy chuckle, “Right.”

It wasn’t long before they all walked away from you.

Half an hour later, Minerva arrived at the party. She found you fast enough, dressed in pinks and ruffles, her hair pulled into a high ponytail, and with a smile that, for some reason, made your head hurt.

“What’re you wearing?” You asked.

“Pinky Pie!”

You rolled your eyes, “I can see that—”

“Wait, do I look bad?”

Exhaling softly, you shook your head, “I’m not saying that. I just…. I don’t want people to be weird about it,” You shrugged. “You know how people are. They see something like that—-” you jerked your chin towards her. “And they don’t take you seriously.”

She frowned, “I mean, the girls liked it—-”

Of course those idiots would, you thought. They probably pretend to like this kind of stuff just so she doesn’t feel bad about herself.

“I mean—-” you shook your head, already standing up to grab another drink. “Fuck. Whatever, it’s your thing. Just don’t be surprised if people laugh.”

Later that night, you received a call from Joey’s number. Apparently you were his emergency contact. You didn’t like to remember what happened then, how you clumsily tried to do CPR on his spasming body, how Sasha tried reading some stupid note he left. How, after he was buried, you almost put a black eye on Minerva.

So you wouldn’t think about it.

After you and Minnie walked out of the bar, you looked up at the sky with a dry chuckle.

“Fuck,” you glanced at Minnie. “I thought Freeze was in Arkham.” It was snowing lightly, a cold breeze swept under amber light making both of you shiver. Looking at Minnie, you knew she wouldn’t handle the cold well, so after taking off your hoodie you tried giving it to her. “Here. Let’s get you home—-”

She called your name, “I… I’m sorry.”

You pulled back, “Huh?”

Letting the silence linger, either for torture or reluctance, she gulped. Her eyes briefly flickering from the ground to the lampposts to anything that wasn’t you, “Listen. I know I accepted all the dates and the food and—-”

“You’re rejecting me,” the hand holding the hoodie fell limp at your side.

She hesitated, “No—yes. I can’t do—”she gestured wildly at you. “This.”

You snorted, “Fuck, thanks for the heads up.” After licking your teeth and biting your tongue, you shook your head. “Let’s go.”

“No, wait,” she pulled your arm. “Just listen.”

Pulling your arm away harshly, you let the silence linger.

“I… I still have feelings for you,” she nodded at herself. “But after everything that happened, I just—I don’t think I can be with you again.”

You knew where this was going, so you simply nodded. “Friends, then?”

“Friends.”

The rejection stung, but not because you truly felt something romantic for her, more out of pride than anything. All of this wasn’t because you wanted her back, it was just to see if you were a better person than before—-to see if, maybe, things in your life had really changed for the better.

You guessed they did.

Jason Todd, meanwhile, had a horrible day.

First, he had to pull an all nighter because some wannabe villain confused an orphanage for a hotel, then he couldn’t rest during the day because Cassandra sent him on a wild goose chase for some book she wanted to gift to one of her friends—and then, some moron almost ran him over.

But he was finally home, at four in the morning maybe, but home.

And distantly, he realized that the idiot in question was that guy. His other sibling. If only because the sound of his drunken voice was burned into his mind after that night in the Iceberg Lounge.

Jason heard him in the kitchen, cooking… hamburgers, “I think I’m going Gym.” He said.

“Jim?” A girl’s voice spoke from a phone’s speakers, he must be on call.

“Yeah, like, get ripped or somethin’. I’ve been feeling like an eel, man.”

The girl hummed, “There’s one nearby. Uncle Lev used to go there. Pretty cheap I think.”

Whatever, Jason thought with a huff. If Bruce was so obviously hiding from the topic, then Jason would force him to acknowledge it—the sooner things blew up, the sooner everything would go back to normal.

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

A/N: The oc arc is almost done yo, just bear w me!!! We'll go back to the batfam proper soon, yall just gotta go through this first.

Also lmao, Sasha has the whole story 🙂‍↕️.

TAGLIST: @cssammyyarts @trouxandy @pearlyribbons @swanluver @vanessa-boo @soulsire @thypplover @nirvanaxx1942 @tacodeemon @sadeem575 @lazyanimal-things @ironsaladwitch @dottoreos @lilyalone @cookie-crazylovethatgaygay23 @jazzyier @horror-lover-69 @unearthlykara @aloflapse @staarflowerr @0wawaweewa0 @eyeless-kun @sitepathos @mushinokoky @flyingpansaurus @k-tsuyuri @rainglitchblonde

#yandere batfam x reader #batcest #x male reader #yandere dc x reader #dead dove do not eat #dc x male reader

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