In fact, the idea had started around the time of Damian’s arrival. It had been your idea, actually. Sweet, younger you had imagined it to be difficult to get used to new environments, and so the Sunday dinner rule was born in the hope that not only Damian, but everyone would be able to spend more time with one another–and perhaps get to know one another better outside of the capes.
All family members are free to do whatever they want throughout the day, so long as everyone is present at the dinner table at 18:00. Unless there’s a vigilante emergency of course.
Establishing the rule had taken nearly four months due to lack of commitment and enthusiasm from several family members (Jason and Damian) but upon Alfred’s insistence, it eventually worked out.
Alfred had once again made a delicious dinner, taking care of everyone’s dietary wishes. It was 17:59, meaning that in one minute all members of the family must be seated at the dinner table.
And yet, the Wayne family sat incomplete.
‘’Where is my sister?’’ Damian sneered as he looked around the table.
When nobody else answered Dick decided to speak up, ‘’maybe she still has schoolwork to finish? I’m sure she’ll be downstairs soon.’’
Before anyone could add anything to the conversation, Alfred came in and placed the food on the table. As the aroma of the food wafted around the room everyone’s eyes darted towards your seat, to the door and the hallway, and back to your seat again.
Reluctantly, everyone started eating their dinner. Your seat remained empty. Your plate, placed carefully next to Damian's, remained unused throughout the start of their dinner.
It only took a few minutes before someone spoke up. ‘’This is bullshit.’’ Jason.
Bruce looked up for a moment before raising his brow. No words were spoken by the older man, but the implication was clear. Be careful with your next words.
Jason's tall posture stiffened slightly as he narrowed his eyes. ‘’She wants to set this rule in place but she can’t be bothered to come herself?’’ he questioned.
‘’My sister has never missed a Sunday dinner before, perhaps she is not feeling well.’’ Damian retaliated in your defense. Dick, ever the drama queen responded ‘’You know Damian, they’re our sibling too.’’
‘’Tt.’’
‘’That makes no sense anyway, if she really is ill Alfred wouldn’t have put her plate on the table.’’ Tim argued back.
After hearing this, every head at the table turned towards the old butler.
‘’I know not of any illnesses plaguing master name.’’ Alfred answered. ‘’I called her down for dinner, but it seems she has not heard me. Allow me to check up on her.’’
‘’Wait.’‘ Bruce interrupted, ‘’I will go.’’
The table quieted down as he stood up. ‘’Continue. Me and name will be joining you again later.’’
Batman was prepared for anything coming his way. Contingency plans were prepared for any situation you could think of, ever. There was close to nothing in the world the dark knight was not prepared for.
But Batman was not good at feelings. And neither was Bruce Wayne. The two persona’s were often seen as two separate entities– but in truth, he was both of them, and they were both him. He wasn’t really ‘just’ Batman, nor was he ‘just’ Bruce Wayne.
He was strategic. He operated by logic rather than emotions– evidently so, as he marched up the old polished stairs of the Wayne manor. He’d left the dining room in full confidence, but now, as he made the small trek to your room he realised that he was heavily underprepared for this situation.
What was he to say? Should he be strict and demand you be on time next time? Or should he take it slow and have a long conversation about feelings with you, and why not showing up could hurt the feelings of the others. The irony of his thoughts were lost on him.
He’d prefer avoiding the latter. Not because he did not care about how you felt, but simply because he had realised he wouldn’t know how to help you if needed. Feelings were difficult, something to be experienced differently by every soul. Would his insights on life and its emotional toll on people make you feel better? Or would it make you feel lonelier? He wouldn’t know.
He did not have time to ponder anymore as he finally approached your room. It was located near his bedroom, a safety precaution he’d made when you first arrived in the desolate manor. Bruce knocked twice.
No answer.
He called out your name.
‘’Are you alright?’’ he questioned. ‘’Dinner started ten minutes ago. Alfred made your favourite.’’
He doesn’t know if it is actually your favourite, he just knows that he has seen you eat this dish more than four times, which in his books means he filed it away as something you really enjoy.
Three more knocks. Then he called your name once again, but to no avail. A nagging feeling tugged at his gut. You and Bruce’s relationship was alright. The two of you didn’t spend a lot of time together to his regrets, but he had duties to attend to– he had hoped that you understood.
Bruce’s body reacted before his mind did, his heart hammered uncharacteristically in his chest. Bruce called your name once more before opening the door.
Quiet. No soft snores breaking the silence, no pencil scratchings against a sketchbook, just silence. The room was decorated the same way it had been for years. Knick-knacks scattered across your desk, posters and photos littered the walls, and countless medals and certificates were placed between your favourite books on the shelves. Everything screamed you, yet you yourself were nowhere to be found.
‘’Something is bothering her.’’ said Cass.
Everyone present at the dinner table looked at her questioningly. Sure, you’d been quiet as of late. But weren’t you always?
You weren’t.
You weren’t and Cass knew it.
She saw it in the way you had started shrinking into yourself more and more. How you shied away when any of them came too close for comfort– a shift so small it was nearly unnoticeable to most, but not to her. Never to her.
When she’d first arrived you were sad. You smiled politely during dinners and answered questions when needed. But your shoulders were turned inward ever so slightly. You rarely made eye contact with any of them, not anymore.
But those first few weeks you had given Cass that privilege, the chance to really look at you. Your eyes were kind. You looked at her like you were preparing to tell her something– but as if you weren’t sure if you were allowed to.
Then that day, after weeks of preparation you had come into her room. Eyes sparkling with determination. And you had signed, the language still a bit wobbly on your fingers. Cass was quiet, even after Bruce’s help in developing her speech. She’d learned many languages– found the beauty in them. She was happy to have someone to share this with, excited even. She found it beautiful, the concept of someone learning a language they themselves do not speak– just to create the chance to become closer to one another.
But before she knew it, she and Bruce had missions to go on, investigations to follow and weeks had passed with no contact between the two of you.
When she came back to find you, she soon discovered something else. You greeted her as you would do normally, but something was different.
The look in your eyes had changed. Your face– kind as ever, had grown more reserved. The light in your eyes had grown dim.
Jason wished he could say he noticed. But he hadn’t, not really anyway. He’s been busy. And in all honesty? He didn’t want to spend too much time with you. Perhaps it was out of guilt, perhaps it was out of anger. Whatever it was, you made him remember.
You reminded him of before. Of how you’d cling to him before and after missions, of how you’d beg him to read before going to bed. Of how you used to look at him like he hung the stars in the sky. Some days he’d give anything to see you look at him like that again.
But he never actually went to see you. Because if he had, he’d know that you did in fact still look at him that way. Because despite everything, he was still your big brother.
The table had quieted down in the past ten minutes, so when Bruce’s footsteps thundered down the stairs–and the old clock in his study opened towards the Batcave everyone tensed.
Your siblings shared five seconds of intense eye contact before standing up and rushing down to the cave after him.
There was no reason for the two of you to suddenly go to the cave, not in the middle of your beloved Sunday dinner. Something was wrong, very wrong.
And they were going to find out what.
BAT FILES!
Damian wanted to be the one checking up on you in your room, but his pride might have gotten the best of him
guys what if I... delete this series! help omg I'm lowkey hating everything I wrote LMFAO
note : this chapter was edited and rewritten, u guys won I won't delete it
Bat!sib: I never tell people off the bat that I'm gay. I wait. I wait until they say some homophobic shit and then I laugh and am like "you know I'm gay right?" and watch the look of terror on their face.
The idea of neglected! Batsib taking to stardom like a fish to water is always funny to entertain. Many people humor it but none have taken the angle that usually appears in my mind so I wanted to give it a shot.
The Batfam doesn't explicitly ignore Batsib. Most of the time. Batsib is a civilian and either they don't want Batsib to know about their vigilante mess or it feels awkward to talk about it around Batsib since they aren't involved. The Batfam have their civilian identities to keep up with alongside the vigilante stuff so they're pretty busy. They don't mean to blow off Batsib when they offer plans or forget when they suggest ideas, it just happens!
Eventually, Batsib stops trying to spend time with their family outright. They don't beg to be around them, but they don't decline stuff like family outings or family movie nights either— they just have to be invited and they'll show up.
Batsib turns to social media out of boredom. Batsib starts making posts; I imagine it's mostly makeup and fashion. They develop a following rather quickly. They're a Wayne (biologically and/or legally), so they're a bit of a micro celebrity just from their association to their family, but it quickly grows beyond that.
Batsib started getting actual modeling gigs eventually. I like to picture they do editorial photoshoots (kinda like the kind kpop idols do), with beautiful visuals and interesting outfits. Maybe Batsib gets into acting aswell.
Batsib goes viral semi-frequently, because of their modeling, social media, sometimes just because they're a Wayne doing something different, or because they're serving cunt in an interview or something.
The Batfam finds out eventually, seeing something online relating to them and fall into a spiral learning more. I like the idea of them being a little unhinged about it but not outright yanderes yk.
The Batfam come to find that Batsib has a handful of celebrity friends and regularly leave Gotham to either visit said friends or for work. Batfam also find out that Batsib has their own penthouse... when did they even move out?
The thing is, I imagine it might be hard for Batsib to cut off their family completely and they even miss their family sometimes, so even though they've moved out, they regularly come back to the Manor to stay the weekend. Heaven knows how bad they all are about making plans and following through with them, Batsib is convinced that staying at the Manor some nights is the only way to catch a glimpse of their family.
The problem is, even though Batsib wants to be a family with the Batfam, they don't really know how to be one with them anymore (and maybe a small part of them is still resentful about it all).
When they Batfam reach out to connect with Batsib, they are decidedly unmoving. They do not lean into or anyway from the attention they are given from their family. Partly because they don't know how to react, partly because they're convinced that it will pass so there's no point in trying make a big deal of it.
Batsib who agrees to any plans the Batfam make with them, but also gets surprised when they actually show up.
Batsib who talks cordially with the Batfam but is selective with the information they share.
Batsib who let's their siblings crash at their apartment whenever just because it's nice to have them close without having to go all the way to the manor to spend the night (especially with Dick and Jason since the don't live there it's rarer to see them).
Batsib who keeps the Batfam at arm's length, not quite letting them closer but unable to let go entirely.
Divider by: @pixopix
Holy yapfest... I kinda just hit new post and just started typing and this is what I spat out, enjoy. Idc if it's nonsensical !!!!
Platonic! Bruce Wayne x Private Investigator! Batsib Reader x Platonic Dick Grayson! (Ft. Platonic! Alfred Pennyworth)
summary : after getting taken under bruce wayne's wing— you tried to navigating through your trauma and a new family as a survivor of one of gotham's tragic tragedy while also uncovering the billionaire's biggest secret hidden beneath the manor.
cw : mild spoiler for batman and robin : year one (2004), gn! reader, non-graphic description of murder, death, inaccurate description of PTSD, narcolepsy, and maybe depression.
an : i made alfred rather creepy (in an eerie way) in here *gulp nervously* like let's be honest, i would've been scared of him too.
wc : 1,3k+ words.
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it had been a week since you started living at wayne manor.
between the discreet glares dick kept sending your way, bruce's awkward attempts at being present for you despite constantly being pulled away by work, the endless trauma therapy appointments, and ms. lyn's frequent visits to monitor your 'progress' under bruce's care— life had become strangely mundane.
you had already started attending gotham academy three days ago, the same school dick went to. you'd made a few acquaintances, though none of them truly stuck close to you.
still, at least nobody dared to do anything bad to you.
that was probably thanks to the fact that you are under the wayne family's care now— and because your technically-older brother-dick grayson apparently had quite the reputation at school and people didn't want to mess up with him. (you don't want to know if it's in a negative or positive light).
"so…" the woman that sat across from you in the sitting room called out your name softly, she had a professional smile on her face as she darted her eyes between you and your caretaker who sat beside you.
"i see you're adjusting rather well here."
her tone remained smooth and lighthearted, but you could hear the subtle underlying tone beneath her words as she glanced toward bruce.
you quickly learned this wasn't ms. lyn's first rodeo in the whole 'bachelor guardian bruce wayne.' thing, she'd apparently monitored dick too after bruce first took him in not long ago.
you nodded mechanically, you really appreciated ms. lyn's genuine concern of your well being under bruce's care, but it really didn't do any better to help your growing anxiety over constantly feeling observed and evaluated.
"good. seems like you've finally improved your parenting skills, bruce." she raised an amused eyebrow. "or maybe they're simply more well-behaved than dick." ms. lyn raised a questioning eyebrow at your caretaker but there's no malice in her words as she wrote something on her little notepad.
bruce laughed immediately, the same polished laugh he used in interviews and press conferences. ‘a typical rich people laugh.'
"well don't let dick heard that, but they've been very well behaved ever since they stepped a foot into the manor"
ms. lyn hummed, rather contently this time- even though you sensed traces of distrust lingering beneath her calm demeanor. but still— she seemed content enough for today.
and you weren't planning to tell her about dick's unwelcoming attitude toward you, nor about bruce's frequent absences. because truthfully, dick hadn't done anything to you other than avoiding you completely and you were usually too busy drowning in homework, therapy sessions, exhaustion, or endless sleep to even process the loneliness settling inside your chest.
it felt awkward standing beside bruce outside the manor's grand oak doors as the two of you watched ms. lyn's car drove down the long driveway before disappearing from your sight completely. you shifted your weight nervously from one to other, picking nails absentmindedly before bruce's called out your name.
"... have you eaten yet? i'm sorry i couldn't be there for breakfast… and lunch" he said with a genuine guilt that made you shrink even further. he had gone early to the enterprise before breakfast so you just simply shake your head.
"no, that's okay, i know you're busy, i woke up late anyways"
which was true. ever since the incident, your sleep has become unpredictable. sometimes your brain simply… shut down, either you will sleep for hours on end or you couldn't sleep at all because of nightmares… a rather violent ones.
even now— you still can remember the tangy scent coating the air and vivid color of blood splattered across the floors and walls.
the deafening screams ringing endlessly in your ears as you desperately cover your mouth to stop your own sobs from escaping as you watch your friends and family get brutally massacred right in front of your eyes.
the heavy set of footsteps haunted you as it stopped right in front of your hiding place, you could feel them staring dagger on the little closet you hid making your heart drop to your stomach.
your ears are ringing loudly as the closet ripped open and a rough hand shoot to grab you out—
and everything went dark.
you jolted awake to the loud chime of the grandfather clock echoing through the hallway outside your room, what time is it?
you check the alarm on your nightstand, the digital number of 00:00 am greeted your bloodshot eyes, it's midnight already— ms. lyn's visit was three in the afternoon, which means you had passed out right in front of the manor. how embarrassing, bruce probably carried you all the way here himself.
it was after 3 days of living under the wayne's manor, you had passed out too many times on awkward hours, alfred suggested bruce to get you checked out.
that was when doctors diagnosed you with narcolepsy.
it was likely triggered by a head injury you suffered during the massacre, bruce didn't dare to questioned what happened that night so instead, the doctors recommended continued therapy.
you sighed and got up from the bed with a grumbling stomach, you hadn't eaten anything since lunch, and dinner had long passed by now.
you took a weak attempt on standing up, black dots clouding your vision before you took a deep breath and stood up, reaching for the door.
the clock is wrong, you stared at the grandfather clock standing in front of you.
10:47 pm.
but it was way past midnight, and you already got your fill for dinner a few moments ago, thankfully alfred was still in the kitchen washing the dishes, he quickly reheated dinner for you as soon as you entered the kitchen.
now you're on your way back to the bedroom before the grandfather clock took your attention away.
there were several grandfather clocks throughout wayne manor but this particular one always felt… wrong.
something eerie about it and you can't explain what or why, the first time you noticed it was when alfred escorted you to your room during your first night here.
the clock hands had never moved since then.
a soft cough startled you from your thoughts. you turned sharply, only to find alfred approaching down the hallways as he calls out your name softly.
"... what are you doing?" he asked politely, yet there's something nagging at the back of your head with the way alfred behaved.
his posture is still straight, facial expression is soft yet professional but you caught the brief flicker of his gaze to the grandfather clock, precisely— towards its unmoving hands -before quickly flicking back at you.
"alfred…" you began carefully, watching his expression closely. "is this clock broken?"
there's a pause that made your heart thump, ‘did you say something wrong?'
"yes, this clock is rather old, it was already fixed so many times and master bruce decided to just let it rest" he answered smoothly as you nodded, so the clock was something antique then, maybe something sentimental judging by the butler's reaction.
"you should be asleep now, master…" alfred said your name gently, though there was a quiet firmness beneath it and you can tell he was being genuine this time, "as your doctor instructed, staying awake at night won't help your narcolepsy."
you smiled and nodded, "okay alfred, thank you for the dinner"
"anytime, would you like me to escort you back to your room?"
"no need alfred, thank you" you bid him goodnight before walking back towards your room.
you purposely slowed down, listening closely to any footsteps behind you, but there was none— you can only hear your footsteps echoing through the hallways.
you reached your room, stepped inside quietly, and locked the door behind you, then you paused. from underneath the crack of your doorway—
you could still see alfred standing there motionless.
