Summary: there is a problem in the surveillance system and Bruce isn't responding to the league's messages, so they go looking for him at Wayne Manor.
pairing: Bruce wayne x wife!reader
note: idk I liked the idea of bruce's wife being a bombshell, I'm seriously thinking about doing some sort of series on this topic
open request - Bruce wayne masterlist - hot wife serie
"You know, I don't think he's in trouble," Hal said, arms crossed, staring at the enormous gate of Wayne Manor. "Maybe one of his kids knocked something over on the computer and made a mess."
"Exactly!" Barry exclaimed, pointing at him as if he'd just solved a mystery. "And here we are, ringing the bell like two idiots."
There was strange interference in the global surveillance system. The Tower's sensors indicated a jammed signal coming directly from the Batcomputer. Diana was the first to send Bruce a direct message, one, two, three times. No response.
"It's weird" she had said.
"It's Bruce Wayne" Hal replied. "Weird is normal."
So they decided to act. Better safe than sorry. In less than a minute, they were in Gotham, standing at the entrance to the mansion.
"And Alfred?" Hal asked, ringing the bell again. "He always opens quickly."
"Maybe he's on vacation? Seeing the Caribbean?" Barry offered. Hal glared at him.
Diana, standing with her arms crossed, said nothing. Her expression was serene but alert.
Soft footsteps echoed behind the door until it opened, was this heaven?
You opened the door. You were barefoot, wearing a black silk robe loosely tied at the waist, the fine fabric leaving little to the imagination. Your hair was loose, a little messy compared to how they usually see you, and it fell over your shoulders. Your eyes were a little glossy, as were your lips, and you had that soft voice they'd already known... but never so closely.
"Is something wrong?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, as if the sight of two League members at your door wasn't at all strange.
It took Hal three seconds to blink. Barry made a sound that didn't sound human. Diana, thankfully, took back control. "Is Bruce available? There was a glitch in the Batcomputer signal. We're trying to contact him."
"Ah... yeah, I guess," you said, reaching up to straighten your robe, which clearly didn't help anyone's concentration. "I was using the Batcomputer... Bruce wanted to get me a present, and the computer there is really fast. Luckily, I was able to buy the lingerie I wanted."
Barry rolled his eyes at the ceiling as if that would save him. Hal blinked twice. Nothing changed. You were still there. In that robe. In that voice. With that damn confidence that made everything feel even worse. How could you talk about lingerie shopping in front of them so casually?
"And you shut down the system?" Diana asked, with the calmness of someone already accustomed to these situations.
"Maybe" you acknowledged with a half smile, lowering your gaze for just a second. "I'm not a big fan of Bruce's operating system. I shut everything down, and well... apparently I blocked an entire global surveillance network."
"And Bruce?" Diana asked, just as calmly.
"He went back to sleep" you replied. "He was up late... work stuff. You guys understand."
"Work, for sure" Hal repeated, without thinking.
You raised an eyebrow. "What else would we do until late, Hal?"
Hal opened his mouth to reply, but Barry jabbed him with an elbow so hard he nearly knocked him off balance. “Nothing! Nothing! You were probably working. You guys… do that. Work. A lot. All the time,” Barry said, his smile strained, his ears red to the roots.
Diana sighed with a hint of resignation and began to enter the house without waiting for further authorization. "We better check quickly. We don't want to interrupt... Bruce's rest."
"Oh, don't worry," you said sweetly as you moved away from the door frame. "He doesn't sleep much."
Just then, Bruce appeared at the top of the stairs. Shirtless. Hair all messed up. And a glare straight at Barry and Hal. "What are you doing here?"
“We thought you were in danger,” Barry said, seeming to evaporate.
Bruce stepped down slowly, crossing his arms. "I'm not in danger. What's in danger is your continued presence in this house."
You giggled, walking casually toward him. You stopped beside him and smoothed his hair, not caring about any witnesses.
"Sorry, love, I opened the door for you. I thought it was Alfred."
Diana, flawless as ever, continued, “The Batcomputer showed a signal of interference. You weren’t responding. We came to make sure you were okay.”
Bruce took another step down. His eyes slid toward you. “Was that you?”
"I'm sorry, love. I accidentally locked everything" you said, your voice so sweet any other man on the planet would have melted.
"So you've decided, what did you buy?" Bruce asked, before his brain could intercept the impulse.
You turned your head slowly, with a lethal smile. "Lingerie. Do you want to see?"
Bruce simply raised an eyebrow. “Jordan, Allen. Three seconds.”
"We're leaving now!" Hal said, pushing Barry toward the door with a desperation unworthy of a Green Lantern.
"Thank you for your hospitality! Sorry for existing!" Barry said, tripping over a rug.
The door slammed shut. The echoes in the hallway hadn't yet died away when Bruce let out a deep sigh, tired but clearly resigned to his fate.
You laughed softly, and before you could say anything, he had already taken you by the waist and lifted you up in his arms with that naturalness that always left you breathless. "Shall we go back to bed, Mr. Wayne?"
"Not until you show me what you ordered from Paris, Mrs. Wayne."
When you wake up, it is to the stars that shine above you, to the soft sound of vegetation brushing together and the hard ground beneath you. The air is cleaner than you have ever felt and the quiet is very noticeable. The kind that makes you realize how loud silence is.
You pause...
stars?
You open your eyes wider, squinting slightly as everything comes into focus, to see them clear as day, this is the hunter and his belt. The dipper. There is the Capricorn.
Now that you think about it, why is there hard ground under you, and......corn? Tall stalks of the vegetable surrounding you at all sides, swaying slightly to a rhythm that is not know to you.
You sigh and sit up. It appears that it happened again. Your little habit of waking up in other places aside from your bed has not stopped. Not like Bruce and Alfred have predicted. The small lull in the frequency of it lured all of you into a sense of safety.
You stiffen lightly.
Dick.
dick was sleeping next to you because of a nightmare, You glance instinctively to your side, heart lurching, and exhale shakily when you remember, he’s not here. He’s safe. Back in Gotham.
you hope that he won't wake up freaking out.
It is no matter now, you think. Worrying won't get you home.
You rub the sleepiness from your eyes and look around you, even though it is very dark around, the full moon still illuminates plenty to confirm that it is corn that is around you. Which also confirms that you are a long way from home. There is no vegetation growing in Gotham. There is not a lot that grows there at all. You stand up and walk.
Stumbling, really. Moving around for a while, because trying to move in a cornfield in the dark is a task and a half, Dry leaves scrape against your arms, the ground uneven beneath your bare feet. Eventually, you find a long pole with a scarecrow on it. You shiver a little at the remembrance of the one you know back home.
"I am sorry buddy, I hope you are not as half bad as the other one." You mutter as you climb it, wood rough on your palms. It gives you as much visibility as expected, which is non, since it is still dark. But there is hope to your situation after all. Because north of where you are, you see lights, house lights. Your salvation. It is very close.
*******
It is not close. You have been walking for what seems like hours, bugs everywhere on your body, shivering because your pajamas do nothing to shield you from the cold. You try to rub your arms in hope of warming yourself up a bit, teeth chattering, but it is in vain.
After more walking, you feel exhaustion filter through your body. Your bare feet ache and protest your movements, soles raw, but you are finally here. You knock on the door, feeling half dead, and you hear shuffling and the door swings open, in front of you stands a gentleman. No really, he looks very gentle, he has very kind eyes and a sharp nose. He gives you a once over and his eyes narrow in suspicion.
you don’t blame him.
You must look downright disturbing.
“Can i help you miss?” He asks.
“I am sorry but can i use your phone" you say, voice hoarse. "I need to call my cousin. it seems that i have gotten lost.”
“You don’t say.” He hums. Furrowing his brows.
“John? Who is it?” A feminine voice sounds from the inside and the man turns around and calls back,”put the shotgun down, Martha, it is just a lost girl.”
A woman comes to the door and she looks at you and makes a sound of distress. Huh, do you look that bad?
“Let’s get you inside by the heater hun, you must be freezing.”
They have no idea how much.
********
Later, warmed by tea and the fire place,the man, john, asks.“How did you end up in here miss? You are obviously not from around here.”
The lie comes easy, after living with Bruce the white lies and half truths become second nature,
”i was partying with some friends, I don’t remember much after that.” You take a sip of your tea.
You feel bad, obviously. These two let you interrupt their night, ruin their sleep. They let you into their home and you are lying to them.
“These wont fit you, but it is better than my smaller clothes.” Martha says, returning with clothes.
“I hope it is no trouble.”
“Not at all, we love having guests over, right john?” The aforementioned man just grunts in agreement.
“It is just until tomorrow, I promise.”
“It is no trouble really. Take your time.”
You feel even guiltier for lying.
She leads you to their spare bedroom and you change into the clothes that she gave you. When you finally look around you realize that it is not a spare bedroom like you have in the manor, where it is just an unlived in room. This room obviously belonged to someone, you can see their personality all over it, movie and band posters line the wall, trophies litter the shelves. There is a small library of well loved comics. This room saw life, it saw childhood. You fall in love with it all, even when you feel a strong bang of loss.
The clothes are very large on your frame, and you need to roll the pant legs several times so you don’t trip when you walk. Martha drops by again to give you a tooth brush and an extra blanket for warmth. Eventually you settle down in the bed and let sleep take you, praying that this time, you wake up where you slept.
******
Your breath is knocked out of you. In a single moment few things happen in quick succession, first, you are startled awake by a heavy weight slamming into you on the bed, this leads to all the air leaving your body in a choked oomph. Second, upon your soul leaving you body in fear and shock, the heavy weight yelps in what seems like surprise before lefting off of you, and you with the grace of a cat just falling into water push yourself off the bed and on the ground, your instincts kick in, the drills Bruce ran you through coming in full throttle, in an instant you take the lamp on the bedside table and you break it over the intruders head. Taking one of the shards and preparing to finish the job. But he catches your wrist before you can even do anymore damage.
You are surprised he is still standing. There is a shocked on his face and for a moment you are mesmerized by him. The blue eyes and the sweet curls. Then you take the rest of him in and....oh. Oh no.
That's Superman.
That is really...really bad.
"Who are you?" He asks.
And correct, because who are you even, in the grand scheme of things?
You really need to get out of here before Bruce comes.
You don't get to answer because there is rapid footsteps running down the hall and the door bursts open, revealing Martha.
She frowns at the scene in front of her, at the broken lamp and you and Superman standing there.
"Well, this is bad."
You don't say...
******
The breakfast that Martha made is hearty. There is waffles and eggs and warm coffee. You can tell that the toast is homemade and the butter is so soft it is melting at room temperature.
You can also cut the tension with at knife.
You can't really blame them. Now that you had a minute to calme down, you realized that the room that you slept in is his room.
You were sleeping in Superman's bed.
You are at Superman's home.
You are at Superman's childhood home.....
Off the top of your head, you can name a large number of people that would kill for this information. Have killed for this kinda of information.
And the bat may not kill people. But he too would like to know where the strongest man on earth grew up. For contingency purposes of course.
How did you even get into this mess? Nevermind that, you really need to get out of here. The tracker you wear is binging your location now. And it would be very bad.
You look around the table, and Martha is clutching her coffee cup tightly. Superman is sitting very stiffly across of you and you can tell that he is very nervous about this whole thing. You don't know what exactly you could say that could elevate their worries without sounding vaguely threatening. So you go for the obvious thing.
"Is Mr. John not going to comedown for breakfast?" You ask, keeping your voice even.
Martha relaxes her hold on her cup, barely.
"Oh, dear. He will be here shortly, that man wakes up at the crack of dawn. He is trying to fix that tractor of his."
You can tell that she tries to sound okay, but you guess that county people have a hard time being deceiving. Or that is what you believe at least. But you perk up at the mention of machinery.
"Is it giving him trouble?"
"It doesn't work very well. Ever since he bought it. And he is too stubborn to take it to the mechanic."
At the mention of the man, he practically materializes out of nowhere.
"I grew up around tractors, I can damn we'll fix one."
All of you jump at his voice, and Martha gasps out something about him minding his language. He sits down and sees Superman.
"Ah Clark, we weren't expecting you son." And then he seems to catch on to the fact that his son, which now you know as Clark, is pretty much still wearing is suit, While you are still here. He looks at you and then at Superm-Clark, and just slumpes in his chair.
"Ah shit." He mutters.
"Language!!" Both mother and son exclaim.
John lifts his hands defensively, already gearing up for an argument. “In my defense,Martha, this is a situation.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says sharply, lips pressed thin. “You do not forget your manners just because things are stressful.”
“And you shouldn’t have said my name,” Clark adds, rubbing a hand over his face. “Or called me your son. In front of a stranger.”
“Well excuse me for being surprised that my boy dropped out of the sky into the kitchen before breakfast,” John snaps back.
And what a thought that is. Superman is raised by human parents. Kind, down to earth people. Literal farmers who hate cursing and argue about manners over breakfast. You think about the stroke of absolute luck that the universe aligned in such a way that he didn't end up with evil, out of touch humans.
Instead, he ended up here. With warmth. With love.
You also can't get that tractor out of you head.
"Can I take a look at that tractor?" You ask.
All three of them stop talking at once.
The silence that follows is eerie, thick, almost physical. Chairs creak faintly as they all turn to look at you, three pairs of eyes boring straight into your soul. The moment stretches uncomfortably and you feel yourself shrink just a little under their collective scrutiny.
“I don’t mean to offend,” John finally says, genuinely baffled, “but what would you know about tractors?”
"I am very handy with mechanics" you shrug, taking another bite of your eggs like this is the most normal conversation in the world. "I handle the research and development part of my cousin's company."
"And who would that be?" Superman asks.
"Bruce Wayne."
All of them look at you like you are crazy. And honestly, yeah. That is a reasonable response.
"Bruce Wayne doesn't have any cousins."
"Actually he does." Superman interjects.
"It's a long story. So Can I?" You ask again, looking at John.
"Sure. Why not." The man shrugged.
*******
It's been a while since you saw something like this. The tech you usually work with is very advanced and specialized. This is....simple.
You still can’t believe that the universe decided this was funny. Of all places. Of all people. Superman’s parents’ house.
You stand here, under the heavy cover of the tractors hood contemplating that possibility of such a thing. You heard of Superman, that is for sure. Ever since you emerged from your pod. But this whole thing feels surreal. Especially when you can feel him glaring holes into the back of your head.
Not subtly. Not politely. Just full-on, focused attention drilling into the back of your skull.
That is funny. Superman glaring. You snort out loud, unable to stop yourself.
"What's funny?" Comes the question from the man behind you.
You drop the hood, having figured out what's wrong with the machine, and you turn around to look at him,"I can feel you staring at me, if I did not know any better I would say it is quite....lazery." You say, smirking slightly.
"I do not glare!" His eyes widen and he sputters, His cheeks taking a pink hue.
"You should see yourself back there at breakfast."
He turns his head slightly to the side, his stance taking a more serious expression. Arms crossing at the chest, making his biceps bulge.
You drool mentally. He is very pretty up close. Eyes blue and face shape very pleasant.
“Can you blame me?” he asks, voice firmer now. “A person I don’t know knows who I am. Knows where I live. Knows who my parents are.”
His words sober you up.
You grab a rag and wipe the grease from your hands. The wind carries the earthy scent of soil and hay and old machinery. The farm is well-maintained, lovingly cared for despite its owners’ age. You don’t think Superman actually lives here, not with the way the Kents reacted to his sudden appearance. You drag your eyes to him and you feel a little intimidated by him, he is an intense presence, even if he tries to project otherwise. Your hind brain can definitely detect him as other.
"I won't say anything. No one would benefit of knowing your identity. Least of all me." You keep the eye contact as you say this. Trying to convey your sincerity.
"You can't possibly expect me to believe that."
You see his logic, he has no reason to trust you. You think the only way that he would is if you told him a secret that is identical to his own. That is catastrophic, not only you would be putting dick in danger. But Bruce will never forgive you. Not currently when he hosts distrust towards the man standing in front of you. The secret is not your own to tell.
Unless...
"You know who I am?" You ask.
He seems surprised by the question and his take an inquisitive look as to why you asked that. But He nods,"Bruce Wayne's cousin from Thomas Waynes illegitimate brother. You work at his company. You keep a low profile but you are active in the social scene. The more proper Wayne to your cousins constant scandals."
"That is correct. I am also not a normal person."
"Are you about to confess that you eat people of something?"
You laugh, a real laugh, surprised out of you, and it echoes softly in the open air. He smiles despite himself, like he didn’t mean to but couldn’t stop it.
“Is that what you think rich people do?” you ask between giggles. “Just… casually consume the lower class?”
“Don’t blame me,” he shrugs, lips twitching. “Gotham has all sorts of weird.”
"No, I don't eat people." You replied, taking a serious tone,"I just wake up in strange places."
He freezes. "What?"
“I go to sleep,” you explain, voice steady, honest, “and I wake up in strange places. It’s been happening for a while. Cornfields. Roofs. Abandoned buildings. Other people’s houses. The ocean.” You glance at him pointedly. “That’s how I ended up here.”
"Why are you telling me this?"
“Because even if it’s not of the same magnitude as your identity,” you say, “it’s something I keep secret from everyone except Bruce.” You shrug lightly, trying for casual. “Tit for tat and all.”
Then his shoulders drop, tension easing out of him in a way that feels almost startling. He exhales and moves to sit down on the ground, elbows resting on his knees. After a brief glance around, because sitting next to Superman in the middle of a farm feels surreal, you sit beside him.
“This is not great,” he says.
“Yeah.”
There’s a pause. The wind shifts. Grass rustles. Somewhere behind you, the old tractor ticks softly as it cools.
“I fixed it, by the way,” you add, breaking the silence. “The oil line’s cracked. Starving the engine. It’s a miracle it ran at all.”
He glances at you, surprised. “You’re serious.”
“You can replace the line,” you nod. “Or patch it temporarily. But it’ll work again.”
A small smile curves his mouth. “Thank you.”
You shrug, but your heart does something strange at the way he says it.
Another quiet moment settles between you.
“Let’s be friends,” you say then, voice lighter, hopeful in a way you don’t usually allow yourself to be.
He turns toward you fully this time. His knee brushes yours,
His body felt as though it was on fire, his throat dry and teeth aching. He hunched over himself, panting and trying to contain himself as he felt his body was going through hell. His breath coming pants and if he could sweat, he knows he would be. It feels like a fever, but he knows it is not.
“Y/N.” He could barely hear the voice calling for him, but he can’t pinpoint on who it is. A hand carding through his oily hair and there it was. The sweet scent that made his throat burn and his teeth ache impossibly more. A pitiful whine left his throat and hands gently scratched his scalp, like someone petting a cat, “Shh, its okay.” The rim touched his lips and Y/N was gulping it down, ignoring how some of it spilled from the side or how a hot tongue licked it away.
They nuzzled into the side of Y/N’s head, whispering sweet words and encouragement.
“Its almost done, Y/N. You are so close.” A cry left Y/N’s lips, tears now racing down their cheeks. The cold hand cupped their cheek, and another set of arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders. The head nuzzled into the crook of their neck, and they could feel fangs nibble on their clammy skin.
“Pl…please…” He gasped out, only for more liquid to be shoved down his throat. Tears continued to race down his cheeks and a hand gently brushed his cheek. A finger dipped past his lips and onto a now sensitive tooth.
Y/N, in instinct he didn’t used to have, bit down and the sweet taste of blood filled his lips. No longer blood from a bag, but now from the source.
“Good job.”
“Our little brother is the best. Catching on so quickly.” Y/N sobbed around the digit. Upset with them for doing this, upset at himself for allowing this, and overall in so much pain. Every drop of blood felt like cold water on his burning throat, and with every swallow the fog in his mind cleared a bit more.
“Good job, Y/N.”
+++
Y/N is loved. Y/N is revered within the manor, hands always keeping a tight hold on his wrists, forearms, or sometimes a hand is always clamped to the back of his neck. Almost like the Wayne family is scared that someone, not of their own, is going to take a bite.
He was kept from the public eyes, oftentimes staying behind in the manor with Alfred as the others went out. He is kept in the manor, only allowed outside as long as someone is with him and it has to be in the backyard. Thanks to that, however, the yard is now more beautiful than ever with the flower garden he has been working on with Alfred.
He is the human amongst a clan of vampires. The dirty little secret.
Y/N is- “You sure you don’t want to do it tonight?” -Not ready to stop being a human. He stared at Jason, Tim nuzzling into his chest, and Y/N found it hard to look away from the green eyes that he had grown up with. He knows they can hear his heart racing as his anxiety picked up, but Y/N tried to keep a straight face.
“I’m sure, it doesn’t feel like the right time yet.” It's been the excuse for the past few years, and he knows that it is getting old. However, he also knows that it is a human that he wants to be. Y/N wants to die as a human, and he wants to live as a human.
Y/N knows, just how a person knows they don’t want to be a parent, that he does not want to be a vampire. Yet, he couldn’t find it within himself to even voice it. How do you tell the people who raised you, expecting you to join them once you are ready, that you no longer want to be a vampire?
He wasn’t sure what to do. What he did know however was that this family, their family, will say no. They will not take no for an answer. This is because they are Waynes and they will always get what they want.
Y/N, whether he likes it or not, is someone they want. It is the price one pays when they are revered and looked after as much as he is. Similar to the gold family watch everyone wants to wear, or the video gaming that everyone must have turns playing with. To be well loved means to be sought after, and to be sought after means there is little freedom.
++++
Y/N was walking the long and gothic hallways of the manor, staring outside the window and watching how the rain pelted the glass. No lightning or thunder, only rain. Despite the darkness, Y/N wandered the halls with ease, knowing where each staircase was, which hallways led to where, and also which rooms were which.
Despite this, the manor was creepy. The way the shadows were casted like things chasing you, or how parts of the old structure would creak for no reason other than the fact that it is old.
It is why when Y/N saw Dick, it wasn’t fear that he felt but peace. Smiling widely at his oldest brother, he welcomed the other’s hug and buried his face into the cold chest.
“Dickie, welcome home.” The man smiled, “It’s good to be home. What has you walking around so late at night?” Y/N grinned up at him, before looking out the window, “Just up. I couldn’t fall asleep.” The oldest brother hummed, “That’s unfortunate. Are you having nightmares?” A hand cupped his face gently, and Y/N smiled, “No. I can’t sleep. I was hoping that walking around would help.”
Dick hummed, showing his understanding. He stared out the window alongside his brother, and sharp eyes watched the rain pelt the glass and the occasional lightning strike light up the sky. He can remember a younger Y/N, one who was terrified of everything, crying and running into one of their rooms whenever there was a thunderstorm. They were always awake, and once they found out whose room he had run into, everyone would congregate into that person’s room. It was typically Bruce’s room, and the man would wait with a book in hand a mug of warm hot chocolate.
Dick looked at Y/N now, and he wondered just where the time had gone. Y/N is now 21, and those years have flown by for all of them. Dick can remember first holding Y/N as a baby, found in a closet at murder victim's apartment. He had been so tiny, and Dick had promised that nothing would ever hurt Y/N.
Not even age.
“I wonder… When did you grow out of your fear of thunderstorms?” Y/N smiled, “I think the moment I turned 9, but you guys seemed bummed that I stopped going to your rooms.”
“Is that why you kept coming in?” Y/N, until he was 13, had continued to seek them out whenever there was thunder. Dick didn’t know it was because they all looked upset when Y/N stopped doing so.
The human nodded, “Bruce seemed to be the most distraught to be honest.” Dick laughed, already able to picture Bruce’s face the first time Y/N didn’t come in.
“You guys take such great care of me…” Y/N trailed off, his mind trying to think of a way to bring the conversation up. He could feel Dick’s piercing gaze, and it sent goosebumps down his spine. He scratched his ear, a nervous tic that he has never been able to grow out of. Dick brought him into a hug, and Y/N found himself relaxing as one of Dick’s hands caressed the back of his neck.
“And what greater ‘thank you’ than joining us?” Y/N snapped his head to Dick’s direction. Long fangs peaked through Dick’s lips, catching the manor light in a menacing manner, and for the first time in his life, Y/N was terrified of his brother. The hand clasped on the back of his neck tightened.
“Dickie?” His voice wobbled, and Dick just smiled so serenely and prettily. An arm wrapped around Y/N’s waist to pull him closer, and for the first time in his life, Y/N can feel just how cold Dick was. How different their bodies were.
“We love you so, so much Y/N. So much that it eats at us when you are not within arms reach.” Y/N loves them too. It's just, Y/N also loves being a human. When he was younger, there was nothing he wanted more than to be a vampire with his family. Now that he is older, he can better see the beauty in life because life itself is short.
Y/N no longer wishes to be a vampire.
Dick leaned down, and nuzzled the skin that is pulled taut over Y/N’s collarbones. Y/N couldn’t stop the shiver that broke out on his skin or the way that the hairs on his arms now stood on end. He finally found the strength to move and gripped Dicks’s shoulders, trying to push him away.
“Dickie, please I don’t- don’t want this.” There was a small nibble on his collarbone, and Y/N felt his heart rate spike. From the way Dick smiled, showing all teeth, he knew that his oldest brother could hear it.
The blood in his ears began to roar and Y/N began to feel his breath pick up. He hated that this feeling was making him scared of his brother. That this feeling was making him see Dick, sweet and kind Dick, in a new and darker light. One that helped him see what others saw just before strong jaws clamped on fragile skin. He was looking at a monster in the shape of his brother.
“Di-Dick?”
“Master Richard, what are you doing?” The grip released and Y/N pushed himself off and ran to Alfred. The oldest vampire was staring down at Dick with a raised eyebrow. One that had many of Y/N’s brothers confessing what they were guilty about. All this did however, was make Dick smile with only the smallest traces of being guilty.
“Sorry Alfie, I was only teasing.” From the look Alfred gave him and the furrowing in Y/N's own brows, the oldest child knows he’s not fooling anyone. Which wasn't the point. Staring down at his sibling, Dick could hear the blood racing underneath the skin, and the way his heartbeat continued to race in his chest.
The grin increased in size, and his fangs remained elongated. Y/N gripped Alfred’s suit tighter, and the butler sighed at his ward, “Master Richard, if you continue to bully Y/N, I will need to bring in Master Bruce.” Dick’s grin got even wider at the threat, and Y/N knows that that is exactly what Dick wants.
“It-its okay Alfie… Dick’s joke just went too far.” If Dick is doing this, then that means he has to go ahead from Bruce. It’s terrifying to realize that Bruce is done waiting.
++++
Y/N knows he’s being watched. He knows that he’s being observed and that this plan was a failure from the start. Which was why when he walked in his room and saw Bruce standing amongst his packed bags, bags he knew he hid, Y/N knew that this game was over. Still, he tried to hold his composure, “I don’t remember saying you can come in.”
Bruce doesn’t even look at him, “When I believe one of my kids is in danger, your permission to enter a room in my manor is the last thing I need.” Y/N huffs, “I’m not in danger.” The old vampire narrowed his gaze, and Y/N wondered if maybe he should jump out the window.
“I, and many others, highly disagree. Why are your bags packed?”
“Am I not allowed to go on trips?”
“Four bags to go on a trip? Must be a long one.” Y/N narrowed his eyes, “Just around Europe. Nothing too long.” Bruce strolled over, and cupped Y/N’s cheek, making E/C eyes meet blue. They were as cold as his skin, and Y/N can’t help but to wonder if they were always like that.
“You’ve never been a good liar, Y/N.” He bit his lips, “It's because I’ve never had a reason to lie before.” Bruce had some decency to look guilty, “Y/N, I’ve been meaning to have this conversation with you for a while, and it’s my fault for putting it off.”
“Bruce, please,” Y/N whimpered, their fingers gripping into the silk fabric of the casual-wear and they stared into blue eyes. Those same eyes that they can remember being one of their first memories.
“Please, I… I want to be human.” Bruce’s grip tightened and Y/N flinched. It was the wrong answer, but it was the answer that he needed to say. Tears now streaming down his face and his body shaking. His bags laid strewn across the floor, and Y/N wonders if they had all known from the start.
“Tell me, Y/N. Did you really think there was a place on this earth where we wouldn’t find you?” Y/N bit the inside of their cheek. Of course not. Y/N knows that wherever he were to go, the Wayne’s would always be in his shadow.
It was still nice to try. Then again, Y/N didn’t even get to try. The furthest he got was packing his bags.
“I wasn’t going to hide from you all or anything! I just wanted to take a trip.”
“Then why the secrecy?” Y/N scrunched his nose, “Because you guys would have never let me go.” Bruce sighed heavily and Y/N grit his teeth, “I wasn’t running away. I was only wanting to go on a trip.” Blue eyes narrowed on his form, his grip tightening, “You wanted to live there.”
“Just for a bit! Everyone else got to do it.”
“Y/N, you have been swaddled in the finest fabrics in the world, had the best food on your plate, and have always had money at your fingertips. Did you really think you would make it?” Y/N flinched, and the hold that Bruce had on him loosened. No longer gripping his shoulders as if Y/N would run, but now in a comforting manner.
Bruce nuzzled Y/N’s hair, in a mocking sense of comfort, and he took a deep inhale, “I don’t mean to undermine you, Y/N. However, we do worry.
“If you were like us, the worry would lessen.” Y/N tensed, and Bruce pulled back to make eye contact with him again. He smiled down at his child, fangs protruding as he did so, “You could go anywhere, and we would fear little.”
“But I would still need someone with me.”
“Of course, you’d be a young vampire. New to the world and its wonders, it would be cruel to just let you go alone into this world.” Which isn’t what Y/N wants. He wants to see the world on his own, as a human.
At least one trip.
“The answer is no Y/N.” Bruce sighed heavily, and he gently pecked Y/N’s temple, “We will not be barbaric about it.” Long gone are the days when biting a future vampire was the only way to turn them. Too many deaths happened like that, due to the fangs becoming even longer to ensure the venom gets into the blood and accidentally nicking an artery or vein.
Injecting venom through the bite to course through the bloodstream was the new way.
Unfortunately the symptoms are longer and a bit harsher.
“Please, Bruce.”
“Goodnight Y/N.” His world faded to black and the last thing he saw were blue eyes now turning red.
+++
He woke up to his body feeling as though he’s on fire. Rolling off the bed, he cried out as the freezing floor met his burning skin harshly. The coldness overriding the pain only momentarily, and acting as a sweet release, only for it all to come back. Y/N’s mouth opened in a silent scream, and his throat burned with an intensity he has never felt before.
He reached forward, for what he’s not sure, but through the haze of his mind he could see that the nails on his fingers were longer, and the floor under them had cracked. His vision remained blurred with tinges of red around the edges. Panic rose in his chest, and Y/N wondered if this was all part of the process. Was this pain meant to strip his humanity so when the hunger kicks in, it would be all he is focused on?
A scream broke free as another wave of pain coursed through him. His body felt even more feverish and sluggish, and his teeth were aching in a way that had him reaching towards his mouth in an attempt to remove the source of pain.
“Let's not do that.” Another hand grabbed his wrist, and Y/N spasmed under the cool touch. Another hand reached down and gently picked him up, and held him tightly when he began to thrash around. Y/N did not want to be in this person’s hold, and they were taking away the coolness of the floor.
The grip tightened, and when he was back on the scratchy sheets from earlier, Y/N let out a pitiful whimper. Each strand felt like small pins digging into his skin, and the smell caused his nose to wrinkle and feel like someone was swab as far back as they could.
“Shh, I know Y/N. It’ll be over soon.” Something was presented in front of him, and the horrid smell from the sheets was replaced by the smell of something pleasant. It could be compared to smelling flowers for the first time, or Alfred’s baked goods. It smelt of something that promised only happiness, and the ache in his mouth only intensified. He had no control over his body as he lunged forward, and teeth punctured a thin film and that warmness burst past his lips and soothed his throat.
Comparable to cold water on a hot day, relief flooded through his body. The feverish ache was gone, and his vision began clearing once more. There were fingers running through his hair, and they scratched his scalp lovingly.
“Good job Y/N.” Dick. It’s Dick’s voice. Y/N’s mind cleared, and looking down his nose he could see the red that decorated the white sheets. He knew what was in his mouth, however, he couldn’t bring himself to stop gulping. Tears raced down his cheeks and the feeling of contentment forcefully burrowed itself in his chest.
LOL Now to disappear for like 8 months again and the only way you all know I'm alive is by my reblogs
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