The Batboys and Their Girlfriend with Low Self-Esteem
Richard "Dick" Grayson
Dick is the warmest and most affectionate. For him, self-esteem is built little by little, with patience and a lot of love. From the start, he notices that his girlfriend doesn’t see herself the way she deserves, so he becomes her constant reminder of her worth.
Constant emotional support: He sends her small, sweet messages throughout the day: “I’m thinking of you, you’re amazing,” “Don’t forget how much you’re worth,” or songs he knows lift her spirits. He understands that in moments of insecurity, a kind word can change everything.
The power of touch: When she feels insecure, Dick offers a warm, sincere hug. For him, physical contact is a love language that can heal internal wounds. “To me, you are perfect just as you are. You don’t need to change anything for me to love you.”
Activities to reconnect: He invites her to go dancing or do activities that connect them to their bodies and movement. He believes feeling the body in motion helps her love herself more.
Sharing his vulnerabilities: At night, when anxiety or doubts appear, Dick doesn’t hide his own insecurities. He tells her how he has also felt insecure many times and how, little by little, he learned to love himself. This makes her feel less alone and more understood.
Self-acceptance exercises: Sometimes he suggests looking in the mirror together and repeating positive affirmations. It may feel awkward at first, but little by little it becomes a ritual that helps change how she sees herself.
Jason Todd
Jason is more direct and can sometimes seem rough, but deep down, he wants what’s best for her and protects her fiercely.
Honesty and firmness: He doesn’t sugarcoat things but is always honest. When he sees her doubt herself, he challenges her to face those insecurities. “You’re not less because of what you think. If you fall, I’ll be there to lift you up, but first, you have to try.”
Showing love through actions: More than words, Jason shows his love with deeds. He leaves her notes with motivating phrases or surprises her with little gestures to remind her she’s important to him. “This isn’t because you’re perfect, it’s because you matter to me.”
Support during tough times: When she feels bad, Jason doesn’t judge or minimize her feelings. He hugs her and softly says, “You’re not less for feeling this way, but don’t let that define you.”
Small challenges: He encourages her to step out of her comfort zone, always with his support, to face her fears and build confidence. If she fails, he’s there to remind her that trying is already a victory. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just be yourself, and that’s already enough.”
Showing pride: Jason never misses a chance to say in public how proud he is of her, which makes her feel valued and real.
Timothy Drake
Tim is the most rational and analytical, and he uses that to help her understand and manage her negative thoughts.
Challenging toxic thoughts: He explains that insecurities are just thoughts, not facts. Together they work on exercises to replace them with kinder, more realistic ideas.
Journaling and reflection: He encourages her to write in a journal about her emotions, achievements, and things she’s grateful for so she can gradually see the good in herself and in life.
Lists of qualities: Together they make lists of all her virtues, from obvious to small ones, and place them where she can see them when she feels insecure.
Confidence-building activities: He suggests challenges like public speaking or sports, always accompanying and supporting her to boost her confidence.
Intellectual support: He gives her books, podcasts, or videos about self-esteem and personal growth, and they discuss them so she can internalize those ideas.
Infinite patience: He knows there will be good and bad days, and he always supports her, respecting her pace, with active listening and a shoulder to lean on.
Damian Wayne
Damian is colder and more serious, but with his girlfriend he learns to be patient and express his affection more deeply.
Firmness with affection: Though direct, he becomes protective and patient. He tells her that self-love is true strength and that no one, not even herself, has the right to make her feel less.
Shield against criticism: When she feels insecure, Damian becomes her shield, protecting her from any external or internal criticism. “To me, you are the most important person. I won’t allow anyone to make you feel less.”
Challenges with support: He proposes challenges so she can face her fears, always ready to support her if things don’t go as planned. “Falling is not losing. Getting up is what matters.”
Showing love through actions: Although not very expressive with words, his actions show how much he values and protects her.
Telling her she’s his hero: In her most vulnerable moments, he tells her she’s a hero to him, and that he loves her unconditionally for who she is.
Patience and growth: Sometimes he’s blunt, but he learns to be patient and respect her process because he knows love is also about accompanying internal struggles.
Batboys taking care of their partner with narcolepsy
Richard "Dick" Grayson
Dick was the first to notice that something was different with you. It happened during a date in the park when you fell asleep in the middle of an animated conversation. You woke up startled, but he just smiled and gently brushed your cheek.
—No need to apologize, sweetheart. —he whispers—. I’m here for you.
Dick does his homework, reading everything he can about narcolepsy. He learns to recognize your sleepy moments and always stays alert. When you start to doze off, he takes your hand and guides you somewhere safe. If you’re at home, he’ll scoop you up in his arms and tuck you into the couch or bed with such care.
He loves holding you while you sleep, making sure you feel safe. If you wake up confused or embarrassed, he simply smiles at you with that gentle expression.
—Hey, it’s okay. I love taking care of you, darling.
He often wakes you with a kiss on your forehead and a cup of your favorite drink. If you have an episode in public, Dick doesn’t hesitate to stand behind you, supporting you with steady arms and whispering that everything’s alright. His arms are your shield, and his love, your sanctuary.
At night, when you’re worried about your sleep attacks, he strokes your hair and murmurs:
—No matter how many times you drift off, I’ll always be here for you. Always.
Jason Todd
Jason pretends he’s not worried at first, but everyone can see how much he cares. His protective instincts kick in the second he sees your eyes starting to droop.
—Hey, angel. Come here. —he says as he carefully seats you on his lap or lays you down gently.
At first, he tries to lighten the mood by joking:
—Did I bore you that much?
But deep down, his heart races every time you have an episode. He does his own research, looking for ways to make you feel more comfortable. At home, he makes you a sort of “nest” with blankets and pillows so you can rest whenever you need.
If you’re out in public, his expression hardens, scanning the area to make sure no one bothers you or takes advantage of your vulnerability. He doesn’t hesitate to stop whatever he’s doing to cradle you in his arms and make sure no one dares to stare.
—Sleep easy, beautiful. No one’s going to mess with you while I’m here.
Jason struggles with words sometimes, but he always manages to express his love when you need it most. One night, after you woke up from a particularly long episode, he looked at you with such tenderness.
—I don’t care if you fall asleep a thousand more times. I love you, sleepyhead.
Timothy Drake
Tim, the brain of the family, becomes your biggest emotional support. The first time he saw you fall into a sleep attack, he was genuinely worried.
—Are you okay? Do you need anything?
After that, Tim reads everything he can find about narcolepsy: medical articles, support forums, even personal stories. He’s always checking in, asking how you feel and what he can do to help.
—Do you want some tea? Would you rather lie on the couch or the bed? —he asks gently, adjusting his schedule so he can be there for you.
He likes working while you nap next to him, stroking your hair with one hand and holding a book or tablet in the other. When you wake up, he’s right there, ready to continue the conversation like nothing happened.
If you’re out and about, he always looks for a quiet spot where you can rest. Even in the Batcave, Tim has set up a little corner with blankets and pillows just for you. You like to call it “my sanctuary,” and he loves to see you smile when you use it.
—I love taking care of you. —he tells you one night, glancing up from a report—. I love that you trust me enough to sleep here, in my arms.
Damian Wayne
Damian may seem distant at first, but inside, he’s the most attentive and protective of them all. The first time he saw you drift off into a sleep attack, he nearly panicked (not that he’d ever admit it).
—Tt. You’re alright. —he says as he gently settles you.
Damian doesn’t fully understand how narcolepsy works, so he bombards you with questions, even if they’re blunt:
—Does this happen often? What can I do to help? —he asks, his green eyes filled with concern.
Even if he acts aloof, he memorizes your schedule, your cues, even your breathing. If you start to nod off during training, he’ll sigh and immediately stop:
—Enough. You need rest. I don’t care if we’re in the middle of a session.
His stubbornness is adorable. He makes sure you get enough sleep, even if it means staying at your side for hours, gently stroking your head.
—It’s not a weakness. —he murmurs, like he needs you to believe it—. It’s a part of you, and I accept it.
Damian may not be one for flowery words, but when you wake up to find him watching you with that quiet tenderness, you know you don’t need anything else.
Dick has always been open and expressive, and although he’s a naturally affectionate person himself, discovering someone who matches and returns that love leaves him speechless. From the start, he’s fascinated by the way you hug him without fear, how you hold his hand in public, or how you leap into his arms the second you see him.
If you’re walking down the street, you never hesitate to wrap your arm around his waist or cling to his side. Dick always smiles with that warm look in his eyes, and he kisses the top of your head. “You know how much I love this?” he whispers in your ear, and you just hug him tighter.
When you kiss his cheek out of nowhere or gently run your fingers through his hair while he’s watching TV, he absolutely melts. His smile widens and he kisses you back like he can’t stop. There’s nothing he loves more than seeing your tenderness overflowing.
At night, when you’re curled up in bed together, he wraps his arms around you and plays with your hair. “You make me feel so loved…,” he admits softly. Because for Dick, there’s nothing more perfect than having a partner who reminds him that love can be simple and sweet.
Jason Todd
Jason has always had a huge heart, even if he tries to hide it behind jokes or his tough guy act. But when he feels your love, all his walls crumble. At first, he’s a little awkward, as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with all the affection.
When you hug him out of the blue, Jason freezes for a second, like he’s processing that warm feeling you’re giving him. Then, without hesitation, he wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you against his chest. “You’re too cute…,” he mumbles, though sometimes he tries to say it in a gruff tone to hide how much he’s blushing.
If you’re watching a movie and snuggle up to him, Jason immediately relaxes. He’ll stroke your arm, kiss the top of your head, and even if he doesn’t say much, his gestures say everything: your touch soothes him like nothing else.
He also starts to match your affectionate energy with his own. He’ll cradle the back of your head when he kisses you, shield you with his body like you’re the most precious thing he has. And even if he sounds rough sometimes, his words are always soft when it’s just the two of you: “You drive me crazy when you do that… don’t ever stop.”
Timothy Drake
Tim is always thinking, always planning… but when you surprise him with a hug or gently stroke his cheek, his brain just stops. He blushes so hard he can’t help it, and his voice catches in his throat.
He loves how you hold his hand and play with his fingers, how you lean against him while he’s working at his computer. Even though he pretends to stay focused, the truth is that every brush of your skin makes his heart race and his lips curl into a shy smile.
When you kiss his cheek or loop your arms around his neck, Tim sighs and lets all his worries fade. “You make me feel so… cherished,” he confesses, with a spark in his eyes that very few get to see.
If you’re feeling nervous or insecure, he’ll take your hands and press gentle kisses to your knuckles. “Everything’s alright, my love,” he whispers. And though he might not always be the most outwardly expressive, he starts to seek out your touch too: leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, cuddling up with you on the couch, letting your gentle touches soothe him like nothing else can.
Damian Wayne
Damian takes the longest to get used to it. At first, he doesn’t know how to react to so much affection—not because he doesn’t like it, but because he’s just not used to it. Every time you hug him from behind or kiss his cheek, he stiffens for a moment… and then slowly relaxes, like he’s learning to trust that warmth.
Once he realizes your love is genuine and unwavering, he starts to crave it more than he’ll ever admit. If you’re walking together, he’ll grab your hand with a fierce protectiveness, like he doesn’t want anyone else near you. If you hug him after a rough day, he’ll bury his face against your shoulder and take a deep breath, letting your love calm him down.
Damian won’t say it outright at first, but his actions say everything: he lets you run your fingers through his hair, he lets you rest against his chest, and even though his kisses start off a bit clumsy, they grow passionate and intense.
“Thank you… for being like this,” he whispers sometimes, his voice almost too quiet to hear. And even if he pretends your sweetness annoys him, the truth is that every one of your hugs teaches him that love can be gentle, warm, and safe.
In the dim light of the room, the hunched figure on the couch barely makes a sound, except for the faint sobs she tries to hold back. It’s not a usual scene for him, but as he passes by and notices that almost imperceptible movement, he knows something’s wrong.
He stops at the door, heart racing with a mix of worry and frustration. He’s always been the protector, the one who puts on a smile to make things seem better, but now he knows words alone aren’t enough.
Slowly, he walks over and sits beside her. He doesn’t say anything at first. He lets the silence be a bridge so as not to overwhelm her. His presence alone is a refuge.
Gradually, he slides his hand to gently brush her back, careful not to pressure her.
“You don’t have to be alone,” he murmurs softly, a promise unbreakable.
She clings to that gesture, and he feels that invisible bond that ties their souls even closer. In that moment, he understands he can’t fix everything with words, but he can with patience and consistency.
When she finally looks up, her eyes swollen and tired, there’s a glimmer of trust in them. Dick never tires of reminding her she’s not alone and that together they’ll face whatever comes.
After a while, without forcing it, she begins to share what hurts her. He listens carefully, not interrupting, validating every feeling. To him, her pain hurts in his chest, and he’s willing to bear it no matter what.
That night, there are no jokes or laughter, just the safe space to cry and heal. He knows his role is to be there when words fail. Sometimes, strength is simply sitting silently, accompanying the pain of the one you love.
Jason Todd
Jason isn’t the type to handle soft emotions or awkward silences well. Yet, when he opens the door and sees her tear-streaked, silently crying face, a fire of anger and frustration tightens his chest.
He doesn’t fully understand why it hurts him so much to see her like that, but he knows he has to be there. He strides quickly over and sits beside her, no questions, no hesitation.
“Who did this to you?” The question bursts out like a contained scream, wanting to bring justice and shield her from any harm.
She doesn’t answer, and that disarms him a little. He doesn’t know what to say or do, but he won’t move.
He wraps a strong, steady arm around her shoulders, as if his hug could stop all the world’s suffering. He says nothing else, understanding that sometimes words only make things worse.
After a while, he lowers his voice, softer, with a tone rarely used, almost vulnerable:
“You don’t have to endure this alone. I’m here.”
His gaze is intense, trying to convey the promise that he’ll protect her from all harm. But inside, he struggles with helplessness, wanting to act, to fix it now, but knowing first he must let her feel safe.
So, without more, he holds her while the tears continue, fighting his own demons because there’s no one else to trust but her.
Timothy Drake
Tim has always been the calmest, the one who seeks solutions and answers with patience. So when he sees her silently crying, not making a sound, his first instinct is to approach gently, without invading, without rushing.
He sits beside her and carefully pulls out a handkerchief.
“When you want, you can tell me,” he says, his voice calm and sure.
He doesn’t want to pressure or hurry her. For Tim, respecting emotional space is essential. He knows sometimes people just need to feel heard, and that’s what he offers.
She takes the handkerchief, and he stays attentive, watching every gesture, every pause. He doesn’t interrupt, only accompanies.
When she begins to speak, he listens actively, without judgment or correction, only understanding.
He asks soft, precise questions to understand better, but never imposes his opinions.
Afterward, when silence returns, he offers his hand, a tangible support to remind her she’s not alone.
Tim feels the responsibility of being an anchor, someone to lean on when everything seems to fall apart. To him, trust is built with every small act of understanding and patience.
Damian Wayne
Damian has always been reserved with his emotions, molded by years of rigor and discipline. However, when he finds her crying, he breaks down a little inside.
He approaches cautiously, knowing he doesn’t have easy words or traditional gestures. But the love he feels for her gives him strength.
Kneeling beside her, he whispers tenderly:
“Habibti...”
A simple, intimate word that carries the weight of his affection. He doesn’t expect a reply; he just wants her to feel he’s there.
Instead of speaking, he wraps her in a firm but gentle embrace, conveying security without more words.
Sometimes, Damian’s emotional distance can be mistaken for coldness, but in moments like these, his language is silence and presence.
He stays with her as long as she needs, resisting his own pride to show vulnerability.
When she’s ready to talk, he listens with complete attention, no interruptions, no distractions.
He’s a warrior who learned to protect those he loves not only with physical weapons but also emotional ones.
Gotham never slept. But inside the small apartment where they spent most of their nights, the outside world didn’t exist. It was just him, Jason, and you, his refuge.
It was a peaceful night, with only the sound of the wind filling the air when Jason arrived home. You, cozy on the couch, were lost in a book, enjoying the warmth of the apartment and the familiarity of the routine. But nothing was better than those moments when he came back, and you could feel everything was right just because he was there.
The door opened quietly, and as always, Jason entered with a tired but tender smile. When he saw you, relaxed and calm, his eyes softened even more, as if the rest of the world didn’t matter. He walked toward you without a sound, knelt down, and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.
“Hey, love,” he said, his voice warm as always, though he’d had a long day.
You smiled immediately, lifting your gaze from the book. “Hey, baby. How was your day?”
“Long... you know, Gotham isn’t exactly known for being calm,” he joked, taking off his leather jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. But the tiredness in his face disappeared as soon as he saw you smile.
“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, smiling softly. You knew he didn’t usually talk much about what happened outside these walls, but you also knew that there was something in your company that let him relax.
“Talk about what? I’m here with you, that’s all that matters,” Jason replied with a small but sincere smile.
You got up from the couch and hugged him, wrapping your arms around him. Jason returned the hug gently, holding you as if it was the only place where he found peace. Sometimes you felt that he, with his tough exterior and reserved nature, didn’t allow anyone else to get so close, but with you, it was different. Every time he hugged you, you felt the love in his touch, as if he was saying it without words.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered against his chest, breathing in the soft scent of his cologne.
Jason stroked your hair tenderly. “There’s no place in the world I’d rather be than here with you,” he murmured.
---
That night, you had a simple dinner: homemade pizzas you prepared while chatting about everything and nothing. Jason watched you with that expression that said he was enjoying every second, as if the simplest things with him were the most important. He sat close to you, sharing the meal, and between laughter and joke after joke, the night flew by.
“This cheese is amazing. Why didn’t you tell me you knew how to make pizza like this?” Jason looked at you with a mischievous smile, knowing that there was always something new to discover about you.
“Because I like to surprise you every now and then,” you replied with a playful smile, taking the opportunity to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
After dinner, you both settled on the couch, where Jason relaxed with a sigh, and you nestled next to him. It was one of those moments that felt perfect, as if time had stopped, and only the two of you existed. The city lights gently illuminated the room, and the feeling of being close to him filled you with peace.
Jason put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him as you both watched the movie that started playing. It didn’t matter what was happening on the screen. Being in his arms was enough.
“Do you know? I think I’ve never been as calm as I am right now, with you,” Jason said in a low voice, almost like a whisper.
“Me neither,” you said, lifting your head to look at him. “There’s something so perfect about simple moments like this.”
Jason smiled at you sweetly, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I just want us to always be like this. For it never to change, for us to always be able to be ourselves without worries, without anything but this.”
You blushed slightly at the intensity of his words, but you felt the same way. “It won’t change. I promise you.”
---
The next day was even more special. You decided to take a walk in the park. Gotham, in its usual chaos, had never felt so welcoming, and walking under the soft afternoon sun, with Jason by your side, was all you needed to feel happy.
“I love spending time with you outside the four walls of home,” Jason said as he took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. Despite his tough exterior, in these moments, you could feel how vulnerable he became when he was with you.
“I love being with you anywhere, but today is perfect,” you replied, squeezing his hand affectionately. The fact that Gotham was around him, with all its madness and danger, didn’t matter. What mattered was this walk, this simple company.
During the walk, Jason got closer to you, and in a moment of distraction, he picked you up in his arms and started spinning in circles, making you laugh with joy. It was impossible not to laugh when he was around, as if his joy was contagious.
“Jason, stop! I’m going to get dizzy!” you screamed between laughs as he kept spinning, enjoying your laughter as if it was the most beautiful music.
Finally, he gently set you down on the ground and laughed with you, savoring the moment more than anything else. There was no need to say anything else; you both knew that these kinds of moments made you happier than anything else.
---
That night, when you returned to the apartment, Jason looked at you with tenderness as you got settled in bed.
“Did you like today?” he asked, his eyes shining with a glimmer of love and happiness.
“Yes, very much. I love that we can do such simple things, like walking in the park. Just you and me,” you replied, stroking his hand as he lay down beside you.
Jason hugged you, and you snuggled closer to him, enjoying the warmth of his body. “I always want to be like this with you. Without thinking about anything else but the present moment. Just us.”
And in that instant, as Gotham continued in its constant noise and chaos, there was nothing more perfect than that little corner of peace. Being with Jason was all you needed for the world, even the darkest one, to seem like a place filled with light.
It was a quiet Sunday—one of those rare days when Gotham seemed to take a breather. Tim was at your apartment, sitting on the bed with your cat on his lap, casually flipping through one of your criminology books. You were in the kitchen, humming softly while making coffee.
—“Can I open your top drawer?” Tim called from the bedroom.
—“Yeah, sure! But not the bottom one. That’s my chaos drawer.”
—“Chaos drawer?”
—“Yeah. Old clothes, failed tests, and random memories I refuse to throw out,” you replied with a laugh.
He stood up and opened the top drawer… and froze.
Inside, carefully tucked over a stack of t-shirts, was a Red Robin action figure. Limited edition. Right next to it, a red mug with the bird symbol in black. And folded neatly: a t-shirt with the vigilante’s logo across the chest.
—“Is this…?” he murmured, holding up the shirt like he’d just found a portrait of himself in a fan’s bedroom.
You walked in at that exact moment with two mugs of coffee. You froze when you saw what he was holding.
—“NO!” you yelped. “Not my obsession corner!”
You rushed over and snatched the shirt out of his hands, your face burning.
—“It’s just a silly thing! Someone gave it to me. I don’t even wear it that much. I mean… I wore it last night, but that’s not the point.”
Tim tried to keep a straight face. His expression stayed neutral… except for the gleam in his eyes and the smile he was barely holding back.
—“You have Red Robin merch?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
—“Yes! And don’t judge me. He’s cool. He’s smart, underrated, and no one gives him enough credit, so I… make up for that, okay?”
—“I’m not judging,” he said, chuckling softly. “Just surprised. Don’t you have Batman or Nightwing stuff?”
—“Pfft, they get too much attention. Red Robin deserves justice. And affection. And custom mugs.”
Tim couldn’t hold it anymore. He laughed quietly, lowering his head so you wouldn’t see the faint blush rising in his cheeks.
—“What?” you asked, folding your arms.
—“Nothing… It’s just—you’re way too cute. Your dream guy is a serious, brilliant vigilante with a secret identity. Very specific.”
—“Who said he’s my dream guy?” you grumbled, then smiled. “But if he were, I’d still choose you. You actually come over to watch movies with me and don’t vanish across rooftops.”
Touché.
Tim handed you your mug, still smiling, though his heart was pounding. Because yes, you were a fan of Red Robin. But you were also his girlfriend. And even if you didn’t know it… you had chosen him twice
Dick is the most charismatic guy on campus. Always smiling, charming, and sociable. From the moment he met you, he was captivated by your sense of style, your bows, your soft voice, and your sweet laugh.
He treats you like a princess. He opens the car door for you, helps you walk if you're wearing heels, and holds your hand every time you cross the street.—"You can take my arm, my lady."
He’s often mesmerized while you’re doing your makeup. He finds it hypnotic how careful you are. Sometimes, he’ll even apply lip gloss on you just to make you laugh.
When you go to his place, he sets up home dates with fairy lights, blankets, and romantic movies. He always lets you choose, even if it’s an over-the-top rom-com that he secretly enjoys.
He takes pictures of you all the time, not to show off, but because he loves having memories of you in each of your looks. He has an album called “my princess” on his phone.
Jason Todd:
Jason is the serious, somewhat intimidating type that no one would ever imagine buying macarons with you at a pink café. But there he is, your purse hanging off his shoulder while you choose which dessert you want.
He loves your style. He says you look like a doll, but never mocks you. In fact, he gets upset if anyone judges you based on your appearance.—"She’s the best thing that’s happened to me. Keep your comments to yourself."
Although he enjoys reading dark books and listening to loud music, he’s always interested in your hobbies: watching dramas, decorating your planner, making beaded bracelets. He even keeps one you made with his initial.
He’s not very expressive in public, but in private, he’s extremely protective and affectionate. He’ll put his jacket on you when you’re cold and kiss your forehead when you’re tired.
Sometimes, without you noticing, he leaves little notes in your bag with messages like: "You look beautiful today." "Thanks for staying with me." "You’re the calm in my storm."
Timothy Drake:
Tim is the quiet, studious guy, the one everyone thinks doesn’t pay attention to anything… until he met you. He was surprised that someone so sweet and feminine would take an interest in him.
He watches you with fascination while you decorate your bullet journal, highlight with colored markers, or fix your hair with bows.—"Your level of organization is terrifying... and beautiful."
You taught him to take care of his skin, use face masks, and take little breaks. He used to not sleep well, but now he can’t sleep without a text from you saying, "Goodnight, love."
When you're in the library, you’re highlighting with pastel markers while he takes notes on his laptop. He sits close to you just to smell your perfume.
He always thanks you for being in his life.—"I didn’t know how much I needed sweetness until you came into my life."
Damian Wayne:
Damian is the reserved, intelligent, and somewhat arrogant guy at school. People respect him, but you’re the only one who makes him let his guard down.
Though he doesn’t admit it easily, he adores your flowy dresses, your pearl accessories, and your perfectly styled curls. He always notices when you change your hairstyle or wear a new perfume.
He loves watching you paint, decorate your notebooks, or practice ballet. He says it’s "pure art expression." Although he says it seriously, it’s obvious how proud he is of you.
He accompanies you to stationery shops, tea salons, and floral exhibitions. He never complains. In fact, he enjoys watching how excited you get.
If anyone mocks you for being so feminine, he doesn’t get upset. He simply takes your hand and says firmly:—"Beauty is not weakness. And she is the strongest person I know."
What would they be like in a stable relationship with a girl
Richard "Dick" Grayson:
The couple who enjoys the little things: Dick has a very positive approach to life, so he makes sure to enjoy the simple things with his girlfriend. They enjoy leisurely walks through the city, dining together, and sitting down to watch movies or shows at home after a long day. Dick isn't just a protector; he's also very attentive to the small details that make their relationship special.
Committed but not overprotective: While Dick cares deeply about his girlfriend. He can be seen cooking for her, organizing a dinner at home for their anniversary, or celebrating important dates together. Sometimes, he's the one who takes care of everything so she doesn't have to worry, but he also values her independence and respects her space.
Everyday displays of affection: Dick has an open heart and isn't afraid to show his love. Simple gestures like holding hands while walking, hugging her out of nowhere, or giving her a kiss on the cheek when he says goodbye in the morning are common. He doesn't need grand gestures to show how he feels, and he loves making her feel loved in their everyday moments.
Quality time together: Despite his responsibilities as Nightwing, Dick understands the importance of having quality time with his partner. He doesn't mind sacrificing some of his time to share moments with her, whether it's going out for a meal or simply spending a quiet afternoon at home.
Jason Todd:
Close but distant: Jason is a guy who sometimes struggles to open up emotionally, but in a realistic relationship, he can be very affectionate and protective once he's comfortable. His love can be intense and sometimes overwhelming, but it's because he has a deep fear of losing the people he loves. This makes him jealous and possessive at times, but not destructively so. He just has a hard time trusting, especially because of his complicated past.
Not the romantic boyfriend: Jason isn't the type to spontaneously do romantic gestures, but he makes sure to take care of his girlfriend in his own way. He'll do something for her, like buying her something he knows she loves for no special reason or ensuring she's safe at all times. However, he may surprise her with a romantic gesture, but on his own terms.
Together in the chaos: Jason understands that life is complicated, especially when you've been broken and rebuilt. He knows life isn't easy, and in his relationship, he faces those ups and downs of everyday life. What gives him peace is the sense of without trying to change him. Sometimes, just the fact that his girlfriend supports him without judgment gives him the security he needs.
Silent care: Jason isn't a man of many words, but he shows his affection through actions. A tight hug after a rough day or bringing her breakfast in bed on weekends are examples of how he expresses his love without needing to say much.
Timothy Drake:
The detail-oriented boyfriend: Tim is the kind of person who, although he may seem a bit introverted or cautious, puts effort into understanding his girlfriend completely. He knows what she likes, what makes her happy, and what she needs in every moment. He pays special attention to the little details that make their relationship strong. If his girlfriend mentions a book or movie she likes, Tim has probably already planned a date or surprise related to it.
Planning their time together: Despite his tight schedule, Tim makes a real effort to ensure they have quality time. Even though his life as Red Robin can be unpredictable, he'll always find a way to adjust his calendar to spend time with her, whether it's going out to eat or simply sharing a quiet afternoon at home.
Constant support: Tim is an excellent listener, and he's always there for his girlfriend, not just as an emotional support but also as a practical advisor. If she has a problem or challenge, Tim will help her analyze it, offering his logic and perspective to help find the best solution. His support is quiet but firm.
Commitment without overwhelming: Unlike Jason, Tim isn't as possessive, but he's deeply committed. He values the relationship profoundly and approaches it in a realistic way, without pressuring her. He won't try to dominate the relationship but will seek to balance his life as a hero with his personal life.
Damian Wayne:
Affectionate in his own way: Damian, although he can be fierce and stubborn, is extremely loyal to his girlfriend. He may seem distant at first, but once he feels comfortable, he becomes a very affectionate guy, though in a more protective and possessive manner. The key for Damian is feeling like his girlfriend is an integral part of his life.
Actions over words: Damian isn't the type to verbally express his love often, but he's the first to protect her and show his affection through gestures. He may surprise her with small acts of kindness, like making sure she's safe or giving her something that reflects what really matters to him.
Struggling with emotions: Due to his strict upbringing, Damian has trouble managing his emotions, which translates into his relationship. While he may have moments of jealousy or insecurity, he's learning to be vulnerable with his girlfriend, something that is difficult for him but that he deeply values when he does.
Romantic in his own style: Damian's way of being romantic may be very unique. He might organize a date at a special place he's researched, or surprise her with a thoughtful gift that reflects something she loves, but in a way that he feels has more meaning. Sometimes, it can be something more symbolic than traditional, like a very personalized gesture or a special training session together.
Jason didn’t understand how someone like you had ended up with someone like him.
You were sitting on the couch in his apartment, a cup of tea in your hands and a blanket draped over your legs. The place wasn’t luxurious, but ever since you started visiting frequently, it had that warmth of a home he had never truly known.
“Did you eat today?” you asked with that sweetness that was so uniquely yours—no judgment, just concern.
Jason looked away, uncomfortable. He had been so caught up in a mission that he had completely forgotten.
“No… but I’m fine. It’s not a big deal,” he grunted.
You smiled, unfazed. You simply stood up, walked to the kitchen, and began preparing something simple.
“You don’t have to…” he started.
“But I want to,” you answered softly. “I like taking care of you, Jay.
”Those words—so simple—disarmed him more than any fight ever could.
Jason, the man who came back from the dead, who had seen the worst the world had to offer, felt human again with you. And though he didn’t say it often, he loved you. He loved you more than he ever thought he could.
---
Jason watched you from the kitchen doorway. Your movements were calm, almost automatic, as if making something for him had become part of your routine. As if you were part of his life. As if you'd always been there.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“Why do you do all this for me?”
You didn’t turn around. You just kept stirring the contents of the pot with a wooden spoon.
“Because I love you, Jay.”
The words hung in the air, sweet and soft, clashing almost violently with the quiet of the night. It wasn’t the first time you’d said them, but every time you did, Jason felt like you were peeling away his armor.
He didn’t answer right away. He never knew how to.
You brought over a warm plate and set it on the small table. Then you sat across from him, resting your head on your hand with a calm smile.
“Come on. Eat something. Don’t make me bring out my strict nurse voice,” you teased.
Jason let out a low laugh—quiet, disbelieving. He sat down, and for a few minutes, he ate in silence while you watched him with that same tenderness that always made him feel like less of a weapon.
“I don’t know how to get used to this,” he said suddenly, not meeting your eyes. “To… being cared for. To not having to defend myself all the time.”
You reached across the table and laced your fingers with his.
“You don’t have to get used to it all at once. Just stay. Just… let me be here with you.”
Jason looked up, and for the first time in a long time, there weren’t shadows clouding his eyes. There was something new. Something warm.
“Thanks for not giving up on me,” he whispered.
“I never would,” you answered softly.
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, and for a few quiet seconds, the world stopped hurting.
Because in the middle of Gotham’s chaos, between all the scars and ghosts, you were his safe place.
From the beginning, you were different. No one dared to mock Mihawk's silence, provoke him with jokes, or sit on his table with their legs crossed while he was reading. But you did.
—“Don’t you get tired of being so serious all the time, handsome?”
You asked once while leaning over his shoulder. You knew you were testing him.
Mihawk didn’t answer right away. He calmly closed the book, glanced at you from the corner of his eye… and let out a barely perceptible smile. That was the first time he quietly accepted that you belonged to him.
Since then, the relationship became a constant battle of wills. You flirted without shame, stole kisses during his training, and when he furrowed his brow, you just laughed and told him:
—“Don’t make that face. You know you love it.”
And yes, he did. Even though he wouldn’t admit it.
One night, after a calm dinner, you decided to sit on his lap without asking for permission. You looked at him boldly, your fingers tangled in the collar of his black shirt.
—“What if tonight, I take control, my hawk?”
Mihawk watched you, unmoving… but his eyes sparkled with that dangerous, contained desire.
—“Do you know how many people died just for speaking to me disrespectfully?”
—“Yes. And still, here I am, sitting on your lap. Alive. And wanting more.”
Silence. Then, his low and deep laugh echoed against your ear as his arm firmly rested on your waist.
—“You’re a troublemaker.”
—“The best one you’ve ever had.”
And you were. The only one who could take his sword without permission and return it with a kiss. The only one who could interrupt his meditation to recite poems you made up just to bother him.
Although Mihawk wasn’t one for sweet words, he showed his love through actions: he kept an eye on your training, cooked your favorite food without saying it was for you, and draped his coat over your shoulders when he thought you didn’t notice.
And if someone stared at you too much in a tavern, all it took was one glance from him for them to walk away shaking.
He was the sword. You, the flame that never stopped burning at his side.
And although no one would believe it… Mihawk felt lucky that you were so bold. Because you were the only one who could break his silence… and make him smile.
A year later, you could still close your eyes and remember the exact way Levi held your face, as if you were something fragile. Like he was about to break you… or break himself.
You had moved on, at least on the surface. You finished your courses. Went out with other guys. Pretended your heart didn’t burn every time you heard his name in the hallways. He disappeared from the faculty. They said he transferred to another university. Some whispered that he had been fired. No one knew the truth. No one but you.
There were no letters. No calls.
Just that final note.
"When this is all over, find me. I’ll keep waiting, even if I shouldn’t."
You carried it with you. Always. Folded in four, hidden behind a photo in your wallet.
And then, one afternoon, another message arrived.
An email. No signature. No greeting. Just an address, a date, and a time.
"Friday. 19:30. Atlas Bookstore. Second floor."
You read it three times before your fingers stopped trembling.
---
The bookstore was almost empty.
The second floor was a quiet corner, filled with forgotten shelves and a single table by a window. There he was.
Black shirt. Simple. No tie this time.
And when he lifted his gaze, his eyes hadn’t changed. Neither had what you felt.
"Did you wait long?" you asked, trying to sound calm.
"A year. More or less," Levi replied, without a hint of irony.
You sat across from him. There wasn’t an explosion. No kiss. Just silence. And looks. As always.
"What happened to you?" you finally asked.
"I took some time to think. Changed cities. Taught somewhere else. But..." He stopped. His jaw tightened. "I never stopped carrying you with me."
Your voice came out as a whisper:
"Me neither."
A pause. One that filled everything.
"I didn’t know if you’d show up," he murmured.
"I didn’t know if I should."Levi looked down. His fingers drummed against the table.
"I want something I can’t have," he said. "But I’m tired of pretending I don’t want it."
You took a breath. Your voice trembled, but you said it anyway:
"Then let’s not pretend anymore."
He lifted his gaze. There was fire in his eyes. The same fire that had burned you from the first day.
You both stood up at the same time.
This time there was no hotel room. It was his apartment. Small. Neat. With a single framed photo: a forest in winter.
You closed the door behind you.
And when he held you, it wasn’t like before.
It was better.
Because this time there was no classroom. No surveillance. Just two people who, knowing they shouldn’t, chose to burn together.
The sea shimmered under the afternoon sun, foam gently splashing against the sides of the massive ship, Moby Dick. The breeze was warm, filled with the scent of salt and freedom, and you were sitting on one of the railings, watching the rest of the crew laugh, drink, and train.
“You never get tired of sitting there alone, huh?” a familiar voice said behind you.
You didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. You felt the heat before you heard it. Literally.
“I’m not alone,” you replied with a small smile. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
Portgas D. Ace dropped down beside you, resting his arms on his knees. He had that smile — carefree, full of life… and dangerously charming. Not because of what he could do with his powers, but because of how easily he made you feel things you didn’t want to admit.
“Watching the sea again?” he asked. “Hoping it’ll change?”
“The sea changes all the time,” you said. “But it also calms me. Doesn’t it calm you?
”Ace shrugged.“
Not as much as you do,” he murmured, not quite meeting your gaze.
You blushed, trying to hide it by looking out at the horizon. He was always like that — direct without sounding serious, sweet without even noticing. Since joining the crew, Ace had become your shadow: protecting you, teasing you, listening. Sometimes he disappeared for days on missions, and other times he fell asleep beside you on deck.
A gust of wind blew your hair into your face, and he reached out to tuck a strand behind your ear, his touch gentle — too gentle for someone with fire in his veins.
“You know…” he began, voice softer now. “I used to think family was a strange thing for me. That I’d never really find it. But ever since you came, I feel… less lost.”
You turned to him, surprised. It wasn’t like Ace to open up. He laughed, fought, stayed quiet — but rarely talked about feelings.
“Ace…”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he cut in with a gentle smile. “I just wanted you to know. In case one day… I’m not around.”
“Don’t say that,” you said quickly. “You’re always here. Always running around the deck, napping in random corners, shouting when you're hungry. I can’t imagine this ship without you.”
He looked at you silently for a moment. Then he leaned in, with fire in his dark eyes, and kissed you — so softly, so sweetly, it felt like the world stopped.
“I can’t imagine this world without you either,” he whispered against your lips. “So promise me you won’t leave.”
“Only if you don’t.”
He smiled. A smile that felt like sunshine, fire, and home all at once.
In that moment, nothing else mattered — not battles, not the past, not the future. Just Ace, you, and the gentle rhythm of the sea beneath your feet.
London, midnight. The city breathed between ancient fogs and modern lights, as if the past and the present intertwined in every corner. In the heart of the city, a private museum opened its doors only for the chosen. Among paintings and sculptures that spoke of the fleeting nature of beauty, one figure stood out that seemed born to be admired.
Her.
The forgotten daughter of Batman, now turned into an icon. She wasn’t a movie star, nor a pop singer, nor even a businesswoman. She was something more intangible: a symbol. Living beauty, unreachable perfection. Like a vision out of a sweet nightmare. Unsettling. Irresistible. Unforgettable.
She wore black, a form-fitting silk dress that flowed like liquid shadow. Her hair, her skin, her eyes... Everything about her seemed created to provoke obsession. And yet, there was an invisible wall around her. No one could touch her. No one could claim her.
And that night, among the attendees, were them.
---
Bruce Wayne arrived with his children. The invitation hadn’t been an accident; one of the organizers was an old ally of the League. It had been Tim’s idea, obsessed with seeing her since he stumbled upon an interview with her in a Japanese art magazine. Damian came for pride. Jason… simply didn’t want to miss out.
Entering the hall was a moment of tension. They were not Batman, Nightwing, or Red Hood. They were Bruce, Tim, Damian, and Jason. Men who, for years, had lived immersed in missions, fights, masks... And had ignored the existence of someone who was now more radiant than all of them put together.
And there she was. Talking with a French designer, smiling barely. The smile didn’t reach her eyes, but it still hypnotized. Her movements were graceful, her voice low, charming. People surrounded her with devotion. None of them had the right to approach her. But that didn’t stop them.
---
It was Tim who took the first step. His heart raced, his fingers trembled. She saw him approach. Her eyes didn’t show surprise or anger. Just... emptiness.
—Hello —he said awkwardly.
She looked at him calmly.
—Are you here to apologize, Tim? Or just to confirm that I’m still alive?
He swallowed. Each word was a blow disguised as courtesy.
—I wanted to see you. Hear you.—You already heard me once —she answered—. When I was thirteen and asked you to teach me how to use a computer. You told me you were busy.
Tim lowered his gaze. There was no excuse. No excuse for such everyday indifference. And now, that indifference had irreversible consequences.
Jason was next. He approached more confidently, more determined. He had rebuilt his life more times than he could count. He didn’t believe in the past. Until that night.
—You look good —he said—. Like nothing could touch you.
—And you look exactly the same as when you pretended I didn’t exist .
Jason scoffed. It wasn’t what he expected. He thought she would give him a chance to redeem himself. But no. She didn’t need redemption.
—I’m not good at this —he admitted.
—No, Jason. The only thing you’re good at is picking fights. But you won’t break me. They tried. It didn’t work.
---
Damian watched her from afar for long minutes before approaching. He, who had always despised weakness, now saw a different kind of strength in her. It didn’t come from training, nor from physical pain. It was a type of power he didn’t understand. Something he couldn’t control.
—I thought you were useless —he said bluntly, as always.
—I know —she replied—. You made it clear with every silence.
Damian clenched his fists.
—But look at you now —he added, as if surprised—. You have no weapons. You don’t fight. And yet... you are feared. Admired.
—And you, with all your training, still don’t understand why.
That hit him. More than a punch. More than any battle wound.
---
Bruce was the last. His imposing figure approached with firm steps, but his gaze… his gaze had cracks. He watched her as if she were a mirage. As if he couldn’t believe she was really there, in front of him, so alive and so distant.
—I didn’t expect you to want to see me —he said.
—I'm not here to see you. This is my world, Bruce. You’re the one who showed up here.
She didn’t call him “dad.” She hadn’t done so in years. And that, for Bruce, hurt more than any word.
—I failed you —he said in a low, dry voice.
She didn’t respond immediately. She simply looked at a nearby sculpture: a faceless woman, carved in marble. A perfect, empty figure.
—I didn’t fail you —she said at last—. You just never saw me. And that... that can’t be fixed with apologies.
He nodded, defeated. It was true. No gadget, plan, or strategy could recover something he had never known how to care for.
—But I look at you now —he whispered—. And I see everything you could have been with us.
—No. —She looked him in the eyes—. What I am now is precisely because I walked away from you.
---
And then, among them, appeared Dick Grayson. The first. The favorite of many. The one who always seemed to have a smile ready, the bridge between Bruce and the rest. But that night, he had no smiles. Only heavy shoulders and a guilt he hadn’t allowed himself to accept... until now.
She saw him. And for the first time, her expression changed, if only for a second. A spark. A memory.
—Hello, little star —he said, using the nickname he had given her when she was a child.
She blinked. But didn’t respond with sweetness.
—That nickname doesn’t fit you anymore.
Dick nodded sadly. He hadn’t expected anything else. Unlike the others, he had heard her laugh. He had been the one to care for her when Bruce couldn’t. The one who taught her to do cartwheels when she was little. But he had also been the first to walk away. To “prioritize” other missions. To assume she’d be fine on her own.
—I didn’t realize how much my silence hurt —he said honestly.
She looked at him with something that seemed like pity... or maybe sadness.
—What hurt the most was that your silence was the only one that really mattered to me.
That broke him. There were no tears, but there was a deep sinking in his chest. Because he knew. He had known since the first day he stopped calling her. Since the first time he ignored one of her letters. Since the day he decided it was “easier” not to deal with what she represented.
—I wanted to come back so many times —he murmured.
—But you never did —she responded, with no resentment, but also with no comfort.
—Can I do something now?
She stayed silent. Then shook her head.
—No. The only thing you could have done was stay. And you didn’t.
Dick looked at her one last time. He wanted to hug her.
He wanted to ask her not to hate him. But he understood that desire wasn’t for her.
It was for him.
And she wasn’t there to heal anyone.
He walked away without looking back.
---
Weeks passed. Then months. None of them ever approached again. But neither could they stop thinking about her.
She became a cult figure. Her face appeared in art magazines, her appearances at events were rare but impactful. Every time someone mentioned her, the Batfamily tensed. Because they knew she shone without them. And that was unforgivable.
Not for her.
For them.
---
The last time Bruce saw her was by chance: a feature in an architecture magazine. She was sitting on a balcony in Florence, drinking coffee. Smiling. With a peace he had never achieved.
And in that instant, he understood that they had never lost her.
Because they had never had her.
She wouldn’t come back.
And now, the echo of her absence was louder than any scream.
Sorry if there are mistakes, I don't speak English, I only use the translator.
In the Wayne Manor, there was a room without history. It had a small window, a neatly made bed, and a mirror without fingerprints. And in that room lived her.
She didn’t have a cape.
She didn’t have gadgets.
She didn’t have battle scars or soul wounds that others could see as worthy. She only had a face.
And in that house of masks, that meant nothing.
Since she was little, she learned not to make noise. When she walked through the carpeted hallways, she tiptoed, as if the echo of her steps were a crime.
When she spoke, she did it in a soft voice, afraid of interrupting the conversations between the heroes. When she laughed... she stopped. No one laughed with her.
She didn’t belong to the "team." She didn’t have official training. She wasn’t Nightwing, Red Hood, Robin, or the new girl from the orphanage with a perfect memory. She was just the daughter. The mistake. The useless shadow.
Her mother had died giving birth to her. Bruce raised her out of duty. Alfred was polite but distant. And the rest... simply didn’t see her.
"Since when has she been here?" Tim once asked aloud, not realizing she was right behind him.
Jason mocked, "She's always been here. She's like a nice piece of furniture.Looks good, but isn't useful for fighting."
And they all laughed.
She didn’t.
She just looked at her hands, delicate and soft, then lowered her head.
Bruce never trained her. He said he didn’t want to "put her in danger," but everyone knew he didn’t trust her strength. He didn’t consider her useful. He taught her to keep silent. To observe. To read books instead of reading bodies in combat. And she did. She learned to see without being seen. To understand without asking. To lock everything she felt in a corner of her chest where no one could enter.
But there was one thing she inherited: the gaze. That deep and sharp look. The one that made the guilty tremble. Hers was different, yes. Softer. More beautiful. But just as hypnotic. And no one in the house dared to hold it for too long.
---
One day, she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She was fourteen years old.
She had the darkest eyes in Gotham.
She had lips as soft as silk.
She had skin that seemed sculpted. And she felt nothing. "What’s the point of being beautiful if no one sees you?"
Someone knocked on the door. It was Damian.
—Move, useless. Some of us have things to do.
She didn’t answer. She just lowered her gaze. But that night, she broke the mirror with her fist. She didn’t cry. She just bled.
---
Time passed. She turned fifteen. Then sixteen. She knew no one would go to her room on her birthday. She knew no one would say "I’m proud of you." She knew that, to them, she was a mistake without scars. So, she left.
She didn’t scream.
She didn’t leave a note.
She didn’t seek drama.
She simply made the bed.Closed the door. And disappeared.
Bruce didn’t search for her. "If she wants to come back, she will," he said coldly. And the rest continued with their missions.
No one imagined she would find another way to exist.
And to shine.
---
First came the photos. Self-portraits on lonely streets. Her face surrounded by shadows. Her silhouette reflected in puddles. Her lips slightly parted as if whispering secrets. Someone found them. Shared them. And the world… listened.
“They call her the Marble Girl.”
They said she had an impossible face. Too symmetrical. Too pure.
But what attracted them the most wasn’t her beauty. It was what she hid.
A silent sadness.
A threat without violence.
A sweetness that was poisonous.
---
At seventeen, she was in Paris.
She signed contracts without giving her real name. She modeled without saying a word. And every time the camera focused on her, the world stopped. Not because she smiled.
But because it seemed she didn’t need to.
She denied it.
And that... drove them crazy.
---
She lived alone. In a small glass apartment with black curtains.
She slept little. Dreamed a lot. And never looked back at Gotham.
She never mentioned her family. Not because she hated them. But because... they no longer existed for her.
They had died the day they forgot her.And she... had been reborn.
---
One night, an artist asked to paint her face.
—You have something tragic about you —the woman said, as she traced her jawline—. Like a broken virgin. Or a sad goddess.
She just smiled, without answering. And when the painting was displayed, people cried in front of the canvas. They didn’t know why.
It just... hurt.
---
At eighteen, the world already knew her. Magazines. Art videos. Red carpets.
But never interviews.
Never words.Only that presence. Mysterious. Distant. Unreachable.
And then... Bruce saw her.
---
He was working in the Batcave when her image appeared on the screen. An irrelevant article. A gossip piece.
But there she was. Sitting in a velvet chair. Dressed in black. Surrounded by photographers. And smiling. That smile. Calm. Unbreakable.
Free. Bruce blinked.
—It can’t be… Dick looked down.
Jason clenched his fists.
Tim swallowed hard.
Damian, for the first time, said nothing.
Because they all remembered her. And she didn’t remember them.
—Why didn’t she come back? Dick murmured.
Jason clenched his fists. —Because we didn’t make her feel part of this.
Damian whispered: —She seems happy.
Bruce didn’t answer. He just looked at the screen. And inside, something broke.
It wasn’t guilt.
It wasn’t love.
It was fear.
Because she didn’t need them. And that... was unforgivable.
The classroom always smelled of black coffee and old paper, like time had stopped there — between worn-out books and desks carved with the years. You sat in your usual spot: second row, right in front of his desk. Never in the first — too obvious — but close enough to notice every detail.
Professor Levi Ackerman wasn’t like the others.
Always immaculate: black shirt, sleeves rolled up with surgical precision, tie perfectly loosened. He had that silent presence that demanded respect without uttering a word. His eyes — gray, cold, sharp like blades — were the last thing most students wanted directed at them... except you.
Because when he looked at you, you didn’t flinch.
You burned.
That day, like many others, the tension felt physical. He walked past your desk and laid down another sheet. One more among many handouts. But you knew what to look for. In the bottom right corner, barely visible between the margins, was the message.
"Stop looking too much, or others will start to notice."
Your heart slammed against your chest.It wasn’t the first note. But it was the boldest.Ever since that time in the library — when his fingers brushed yours, when he held your gaze longer than necessary, when you caught him watching while pretending to grade — you knew something simmered beneath the surface.
A minefield of unsaid words.
You never replied aloud. You responded in the language he understood best: held gazes, subtle gestures, a folded note inside a book he returned after class.
“Then let them watch.”
That was your reply the next day. It was the first time you saw something change in his expression. Not a smile — Levi didn’t smile — but his eyes blinked just once, like something cracked within.
The next few days were quieter. He didn’t touch you, didn’t speak unless necessary. But the silence grew louder.
One day, his fingers brushed your wrist as he handed you a pen. His thumb lingered a half-second too long. Another time, you stayed after class to “ask a question” — one you didn’t need to ask. You stayed alone with him in the empty classroom, the afternoon light slipping through dusty windows.
—What part didn’t you understand? —he asked, not looking up from the paper.
—The part where we pretend this isn’t happening.
The silence that followed was different. He raised his gaze, and for the first time, there was no distance.
—You know this can’t happen —he said. His voice was low, rough. Uncertain, just this once.
—Then tell me to stop —you challenged.
He stepped closer. Just one step. You could smell the coffee on his breath, the clean scent of his clothes. His jaw was tense. He always seemed in control. Until now.
—You’re old enough to know what you’re doing —he muttered—. And I’m old enough to know the consequences.
You took another step. The height difference didn’t matter. Your voice was a whisper.
—Then stop thinking for a second and act like nothing else matters.
He was the one who closed the gap.
His lips crashed into yours without warning, fueled by fury and restraint. The kiss wasn’t soft. It was anxious, chaotic, like a silent explosion. His hand gripped your face, your fingers twisted in his shirt. You felt him tremble, just a little, like his self-control crumbled in your hands.
That was the beginning of what should never be.
---
The encounters became frequent. Never easy.
Hidden messages inside philosophy books. Fake appointments for “private tutoring.” He was meticulous. Never left a trace. Never lost control — except with you.
Some days he wouldn’t look at you. Pretended you didn’t exist. But you could read him. In the way his voice trembled ever so slightly when saying your name. In the way his eyes searched for you, if only for a second.
And there were the nights.
A hotel room. Always different. Never near campus.
He always arrived first. Always silent. You’d open the door and find him standing there, unspeaking. That first touch was always the same: like he’d been holding his breath for days. Like the world only existed for that moment.
Levi undid you with his hands. With his mouth. With his entire body. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, he shattered you.
—This is a mistake —he’d whisper against your neck.
—Then don’t stop —you’d breathe as your nails scratched his back.
And he never did.
---
But nothing stays hidden forever.
One day, a note appeared in your locker. Not in class.
"Some eyes see more than they should. Be careful.
"No name. But the ink was familiar.
Your blood ran cold.
The next class was silent. Levi didn’t look at anyone. Gave instructions, left without saying a word.
Days passed. No notes. No messages. You waited after class. He never showed.
You decided to go to him. You knew where. A quiet library, almost always empty. You saw him there, back turned, facing the shelves. You hesitated.
But he felt you. He always did.
—You can’t be here —he murmured without turning.
—I also can’t sleep not knowing if you hate me or if you’re just scared —you replied, steady.
He turned. His eyes were clouded. More tired than ever.
—Someone suspects. I don’t know who. If this gets out... they’ll ruin you. Not me. And I won’t allow that.
—Is this goodbye?
No answer. He took one step. Then another.
—There’s no goodbye if there’s no end.
He embraced you. Not like before. This time it was slow, fingers shaking. Like time had finally caught up to him.
—Promise me one thing —you whispered—. If it all falls apart... don’t say it was a mistake.
Levi inhaled deeply. And for the first time, you heard him answer without fear.
—It never was.
---
A semester passed. Then another.
You saw him only once more on campus, from afar. A coffee cup in hand, alone. He didn’t approach.
But you knew how to read him.
And on your desk, that final day, was a forgotten book.
Inside, a single note.
"When all this ends, find me. I’ll still be waiting, even if I shouldn’t."
Your heart caught fire again.
And you smiled.Because some stories, even the forbidden ones, never truly fade.
worthless speculations (a loving family, an unpalatable desire drabble)
ft. yandere superfam x gn! neglected spouse reader x yandere batfam
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
— masterlist ! ; related post !
all it took was a candid shot of the resident, widowed journalist who's not-so subtly hiding his affair with the infamous spouse of bruce wayne to spark immediately rumors.
for weeks, it seems, the table has once been turned on bruce as you've found yourself the center of attention, spending time with your new family, with the very man who has come to save you months ago from the cruel hands of the paparazzi.
it started with the first picture, which quickly blew up into many photographs in such a short span.
one of a simple date, where some stranger, a fan of you, saw you at a park, having a cute picnic with both clark and jon. at first, most would assume that clark's probably just a close cousin of yours, with just a kid you're babysitting, right?
wrong. the proximity you have with the unknown man is too intimate. someone's got a close shot, and through the lenses, you wouldn't even need a damn interpreter to just see how his palms are rested against your thighs, massaging occasionally without thought nor pattern, as if it's been a natural habit of his; or how in another shot, he handfeeds you the sandwich, then takes a bite in the same spot you have bitten. he doesn't take a napkin to wipe away the remaining condiment on your lips, and—
oh!
he licks at his thumb then quickly brings his lips near yours, closing the space in between with a peck that draws out too long to be even considered remotely platonic.
a kiss packed with longing and desire.
his tongue sneakily swipes at the remaining cream on the side of your tongue. your nose crinkles and you swat his face away, but you don't look disgusted, don't even pull away as you softly swipe away the strands of hair framing his glasses.
some commentor mentions how warm your face looked, another replies with just how your fingers quickly made their way to fiddle with the man's arm in another candid photo.
the child beside you, meanwhile, makes a grossed face, cringing at the obvious romance— then he clings to you, slapping his dad (?) away from you. his hands are wrapped around your waist, and click!
it looks like the kid's looking up at you with puppy eyes, mumbling something whilst you laugh and ruffle his hair. another spectator managed to capture a video.
then a lipreader on twitter made out the words the kid is saying. he's begging for ice cream, he says with a pout, neapolitan, he says, and that he made sure to eat all the vegetables in his sandwich. then he grins when you giggle at him and whip your head to the man beside you who replies with:
"oh, sweetie, don't fall for his lies; he just sneaked junked food last night to his bedroom."
the kid, who's now famously referred to as jon, your precious little baby, as you love to call him — and since the internet is so obsessed with drama, a lot of people were smart enough to piece the puzzle together, the man you're with is clark kent — sticks his tongue out his father, then stubbornly crosses his arm yet just as quickly return to his begging.
the person recording hidden behind the bush had to do a double take, their hands shook when the audio recording picked up your faint whispers, and they were sure to gods that you referred to yourself as... as clark's spouse?!
and did jon just call you his parent?
you're brave— no, scratch that, the people you're with are even braver.
it's like they're making it obvious that you've been claimed into another family; that you oh-so easily estranged yourself from the wayne's to live a mundane, yet peaceful, loving life with the kent's just to escape the constant torment of living under an empty roof.
but still, to be that obvious is a dangerous move, isn't it?
to show up in public, unannounced, in matching trio outfits, sometimes even appearing with another unknown figure who always has shades on, to a crowd of people who take pictures of you every moment is such an iconic, yet ruining admission that you've basically (and rightfully) had an affair with no shame.
after all, who would ever think of cheating on a billionaire, one of the most famous, too!? that's basically asking for a divorce, which leads to losing all your assets. most socialites who marry into old money families are aware that even if your partner cheats, you'll still be strong enough to bear through the pain, but god are you brave for making another scene just some days after, in a cinema no less without a care in the world if the people around you watched your barely disguised pda.
well, you aren't most socialites to begin with, you've only ever married for convenience.
even when news stations were going haywire for the rumors, when so many commentators on tiktok, podcasts on twitch and youtube have you as their main topic of the week— your little family is nonchalant about everything.
it was the number one trending tag, the only headline every person focused on.
and the best (or worst in your case) part of it all, is that this was all perfectly curated by your own affair partner.
a little handholding, soft touches and caresses on your cheeks, muscled palms resting comfortably on your shoulders, and jon's tiny hands latching onto your body, nuzzling on the expanse of your stomach whilst his head tilts up to look at you with the widest puppy eyes, asking you to buy him more sweets with his freckled smiled and toothy grin— it creates this immaculate opportunity for passerby's with enough knowledge about the wayne's messy relationship status to immediately catch on to the infamous face of bruce's poor, naive spouse now in a date.
and it's not even the first date you were all caught together.
who wouldn't whip their phone out faster than the well-known speedsters to conspicuously take shots of your seemingly happy and satisfied composure?
unlike with all the moments where you are with bruce, pictures of your uncomfortable hold on his shoulders, the stares from a distance never directed at you from galas, or the way your hands quickly unwrap from his the moment your magazine pictures are finished— you look refreshed, downright gleaming brighter than the sun that could even make some senile, grumpy man smile.
your small fanbase grows quickly: people never knew just how gorgeous you are not until they see your lips quirked up, mischievously peppering the unknown child with kisses, then standing on your tippy toes next to the hulking figure beside you to give him a gentle peck on the lips.
in your current place at the farmer's market, you are glowing like a ray of sunshine, never before had the crowd ever seen you without a strained smile, never seen your eager eyes at your affair partner's sweet surprises, never seen you so willing to pick up your child and pepper his face with kisses all over his face at yet another cheesy joke he concocted.
and it's perfectly become a topic of gossip for the citizens of gotham and metropolis on the seemingly new, and unexpected affair of one of the richest man in the world's spouse.
well, if they could even call you bruce's spouse, not when his eyes are always elsewhere. not when there's been dozens of news highlighting the gossips about bruce's past affairs.
and right now, it seems you're not even wearing the diamond encrusted ring on your finger anymore. the longer you are exposed to the public, the more people notice the lack of bedazzled jewelry, or even notice
and instead, you sport a simple silver promise band on your left hand, which somehow gleams brighter than your previous ring. you wore more casual clothes, sometimes match color schemes with your little family. most of the time, you wear your affair partner's huge jackets and let it drape across your body.
others say your lazy efforts, your carelessness compared to your rigid styles before felt more befitting for you— and you are... cuter whenever they see you beside clark to assist him with his office work with a matching messenger bag hanging off your shoulders.
some people were so invested in your relationship, a close-up zoom in on clark's wallet revealed a picture of your family with the addition of ma and pa kent in his wallet's clear frame. his fond smile while looking at the photo made fangirls swoon.
and with you always trying to reach atop the nest you call his hair, always ruffling it to fix the mess, people began seeing you two as the couple goals, an embodiment of what years of love looked like despite only being together for months in their; people are unaware of how long your affair has been.
never knew clark has set his sights on you since the day of your marriage with bruce.
but it's alright if people only see the surface level of his devotion to you—
because at least his beloved is thriving.
and at least their support, their obsession over your relationship with him helps in tying you even closer to him—
without your complaints, without your hesitation.
because you love him, and he loves you. jon and even conner has warmed up to you. they all love you, and no amount of material compensation bruce throws at you can amount to the dedication and patience clark has burnt off for years to scoop you in his arms at your lowest moments.
just like a true superhero does.
he loves seeing you as the best version of yourself everyday, and you only do so because you're with him and the people who actually love you, only them.
some people who bumped shoulders with you every time you dropped jon off to school said you even smelled even less intense, like you didn't feel the need to bathe in expensive perfumes anymore. you are softer now, more homely and buzzed with a familial joy none has ever seen or felt in you before.
unlike last time, you're more confident in greetings. reducing your appearances in galas lessened your eyebags. you were the epitome of new beginnings, a symbol for citizens that maybe second chances aren't too scare in the first place.
people whisper that you've probably divorced bruce, or that your previous husband doesn't give a damn about your affair.
a person occasionally tweets questions regarding your affair, if bruce is aware about the entire thing, if it hurts his ego, or if he doesn't care at all. his fanbase still loves him, obviously. they still see him as their beloved problematic playboy, but it's concerning how others sweep your affair under the rug with every new gala published, or how news about his children sometimes overthrows the current gossip of the day about you.
of course, the media feeds off the drama like bottom feeders. there's a resurgence of even more theories regarding your complicated relationships. one person even briefly mentioned what a coincidence it is that the dick grayson is found to be eating at an adjacent restaurant beside the one you and clark were found out.
there was a trending tweet once, one that highlighted the strangeness of your previous children's sudden frequent appearances in metropolis too.
others argue it's just an overreaction, but nobody ever denied that claim itself.
some people are anticipating bruce's reaction to the tweet, too. would he stay silent, would he grovel at your feet, or is this some sort of competition between these two?
there's a conspiracy that bruce is letting all the drama simmer down, that this may be a publicity stunt. a smaller fanbase that liked your complex relationship with the man wanted you both to return together, many argue that you look better off with him— clark feels the urge to find each and every individual who's stated this if not for your current laughs in the kitchen with jon distracting him from darkening thoughts at every annoying theory.
though most of the time, thankfully, others defend your actions and clark's, even stating that it's right that the once silent and solitary spouse of bruce deserves at least decent treatment; because from all the gathered news you before, it's always just you who fusses over bruce's children like a worried hen, it's always you who adjusts and kisses your husband's ties with a fond, yet tired smile.
and some miss those softer moments they've seen on screen, even bruce himself finds his fingers dangling on his past ties in his office, unknowingly reminiscing on the warm lips that once held the same tie. and the hot dinner left cold and diverse snacks untouched always left beside his desk, and your worried coo every night he stayed up late, and...
and just how much of a perfect spouse you actually are.
it's only when it's too late, when you're too deep into your romance with clark that he finally discovers how much he misses you, your concerned whispers, your frustrated quirk of the eyebrows that you hide from him every time he rejects your advancement, your constant presence in his life until it felt like it was never there, the way you weaved yourself so easily into his life and slipped away just as quickly because of his stupidity.
in a moment of weakness one evening, when restlessness and the yearning for your soft touch urged him once more, bruce finally gained the courage to confront all the rage about you—
he tells himself it's out of curiosity, just that.
nothing else, but god, the sight of you with someone else for once hurts more than intended.
it punches him even more in the gut once he realizes that you're with his coworker, his teammate, his trusted friend who displays himself as the perfect puzzle piece beside you in every article. you don't wear your old ring, don't even wear a single piece of clothing in your old wardrobe full of luxury items.
you're different, but you're still you... just better off without him, without his children, without alfred or the comfort and protection of the manor.
alluring as you've always been, but you shine even brighter now, draped in gentle sunlight that dims in comparison to you.
and the longer he stares at your pictures, at your smile, the way your cheeks would slot so perfectly between his palms, and your hair that he knows he'd soon love to bury his nose in—
the easier it is for his hands to make its way to his contacts, ready to call alfred and his children—
and he finds himself concocting a plan faster than the need for rest swept away from his thoughts when he sees your silver band, the same design he found one day on clark's fingers after a mission.
of course, bruce is aware that he has to deal with the consequences of his actions, that his idiocracy led him at a stalemate where he's aware that your chances of returning to him is a measly zero—
but heaven forbid him, for he's still bruce. he's no lesser than the cunning, strategic vigilante he's known to be.
he'll always be one step ahead, and rummaging through the records on his desks reveals no sign of divorce papers, no legal precautions taken for custody and no angry relative of yours (who only sold you off to him to earn their share of profit) angrily contacting him.
it'll be one hell of a night, but it doesn't matter.
why?
the headline and content for the next day on a newspaper for the gotham news—?
"y/n wayne, spouse of famous philanthropist, billionaire bruce wayne found back in the arms of their old flame—?"
"there's been newer speculations, of y/n's supposed ex-husband and their children finally reconciling with each after after months of rumors regarding whether their divorce is real or not."
"—and after some investigations and a statement from the husband, bruce wayne, himself; it was finally confirmed that their divorce, was in fact, never legally processed— because, as it turns out, it was never filed at all."
a/n: that took a dark turn HAHAHAH you guys think this will be something cutesy? NO! this is my late april fool's attempt at fluff bec i love drama. please comment about what you think about this and let me hope to god this gains interaction </33 i like writing affectionate scenes with a tinge of insanity scattered in between.
also hive minds and parasocial relationships are seriously creepy to think about. that's why i tend to not often disclose personal things relating to me because of how easy it is to track someone and their life down 😭 this has been sitting on my drafts for a long time and i nearly forgot about it until someone reminded me to write for this series soo... transitioning pov's is genuinely such a struggle btw, ugh ☠️ hope u guys enjoyed this bec this is by far the hardest drabble to write.
