I don't know why i think of this but i just do.. and so I'm asking, do you think it's possible if Eldest bat! Reader who somehow usually scares anyone just by being... there. LIKE he's there, but no one noticed him until he says something (maybe about his opinion about what the person is talking about) and they were like "since when are you there..? I didn't see you there before.." And he's like "like a while ago" I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE IT I'M SORRY 💔💔💔💔 english is not my first 😭😭😭
Yes, YES. Eldest Bat is exactly like that.
Eldest Bat is loud verbally because he chose to be. He'd laugh the loudest, ugliest laugh when someone falls and hits their head because he wants to, he'd genuinely just grab two pans and hit it together to make a sound so loud it'd rival an ancient temple bell to wake someone up because he wants to.
But naturally, Eldest Bat is such a quiet person. No training needed, his footsteps are light like a cat's (Selina likes this about him since when he was a Robin, and wanted to steal him from Bruce many times, but Eldest Bat was lowkey too angry a boy for her taste), adding this on top of Eldest Bat constantly just appearing at places he should've never been able to enter, or just taking impossibly short time to travel from one place to another, he's like a fucking ghost.
When Eldest Bat wears a completely dark/black outfit, he's genuinely terrifying.
He'd be that type of dude who appeared behind a sniper trying to snipe him and goes "Who're we aiming at? 😛" like, buddy 🥀
Also loves scaring the shit out of his family with this. It's impossible to spook Cassandra—matter of fact, Eldest Bat loves spooking others with her! But excluding her, Bruce has the easiest time detecting Eldest Bat from how long he has to deal with him since he was fifteen. Dick squeaked like a dying squirrel under a car's wheel when you really caught him off guard, while Jason just let out the most terrible "AAUUGHHH" type of scream with several voice cracks and probably accidentally shot you once...
In the story, Eldest Bat has canonically taught Tim and Damian how to moved like him, but those two still have a long way to go to move exactly like their older brother or detect him as easily. Rather than seeing it as a prank, Tim and Damian sees Eldest Bat trying to spook them as a test, and they tried to compete against each other a lot.
Oh, Damian detected the Eldest Bat behind them faster than Tim did? Tim is going to fucking tear Damian's head off his shoulders from how smug the ten-year-old looks clinging onto you.
Tim heard the Eldest Bat's nigh inaudible shuffling on the ceiling (what the fuck are you doing up there?) before Damian did? He's obligated to get a "you" time for the next hour before Damian busts his door down, and then they have to fight to the death.
Hyperbole... Maybe...
It's fun games for the people he trusts, but to criminals? Oh! Eldest Bat is fucking terrifying to criminals. Like, imagine Batman from the Arkham game trilogy, but if you maxed out his stealth until it's actually insane.
Eldest Bat with criminals just be moving like:
yes... yes... I got inspired enough to start drawing (very badly) again...
Hi! I hope i'm not brothering you, but what would the batfam on the Eldest bat! Reader reaction if they see Eldest bat! merch 😯😯😯 (i'm not good at explaining things, sorry..) like they found out people made those keychain, stickers, photocard or dolls of the Eldest bat (it's his vigilante persona tho) I'M REALLY SORRY IF YOU DON'T GET IT 😭😭😭
MERCH ?!
pairing: batfamily x eldest bat! male! reader ( platonic ) | mainly tim drake x eldeat bat! male! reader ( platonic )
the eldest bat has a dedicated fanbase for both his vigilante and civilian personas, but his vigilante persona's fanbase just so happens to express their love and admiration... by making merch!
cw: 2nd person POV | the reader actually doesn't really appear here until the very end, so it's more like just the batfam but the topic is about their eldest brother | vg/n means vigilante name
a/n: guys I actually wrote something after 3 months are u guys proud of me. also I know this request was from like 2025 I'm soooo sorry anon :( I started this right when you requested it but stopped because I got tired from writing. uehghhhh i hope you're not too mad .·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·.
While you won't refer to yourself as the "World's Greatest Detective" like Bruce and Tim do to themselves, you're shameless enough to admit that you're one hell of an observant person more than those two sometimes.
So it proves to be easy for you to discover the existence of your... fanbase.
You don't appear much publicly as a civilian, due to you being violent like a rabid dog when you were younger, and because you simply chose not to now. Well, you really don't want to deal with crowds of people throwing themselves at you—for attention, for fame, for money, whatever it may be.
But you're surprised, really, that there is a small but dedicated group of your "fans" out there who admire you almost obsessively. You already don't appear much in public, and even worse, it's damn near impossible to find a picture of you online that isn't pixelated and corrupted to shit, courtesy of Bruce and Oracle wiping them all off the face of the internet at your request.
To admire Y/N L/N-Wayne is to subject yourself down a rabbit hole you can't get yourself out of.
And, in turn, your other fan club for your vigilante persona is no different. People are just so obsessed, aren't they? Who could this tall and handsome vigilante protecting their gloomy city be?
There are probably some niche forums created specifically for discussing about VG/N, his possible civilian identity, making theories, and just obsessing over him like a middle school girl with her first crush.
Tim Drake is in it.
Seriously, he's been a respected figure in the community for so long now. Even before he became Robin, he consistently churned out the most third-eye-opening, jaw-dropping theories and discussion topics in the forums, earning him a reputation where everybody in the community just remembered his username by heart.
Before becoming Robin, or when he did become Robin but hasn't met you yet, he was very active in the community. He'd often just comment very shortly on other people's posts, but when he does post something, he'd drop a long ass 500 page essay with titles like "Identity & Partnership: A Pattern In Vigilantism" and "VG/N's Moral: What Can We Learn From Life?" and everybody eats that shit uppppppp and stays bloated full of good food-for-thoughts for weeks.
But now that Tim knows the man behind the myth himself, he doesn't post as much anymore. Why waste his time theorising when he has the Eldest Bat as his big brother? Why waste time analysing who VG/N "could be" when he could basically just show up at your apartment when he's bored and force a cuddle session on nights where he couldn't sleep?
Well, he's still somewhat active in the community, but now mostly to monitor them. He sometimes laughs at some of the ridiculously funny posts, but he also makes sure no one thinks too hard and ends up actually discovering your identity.
No, that's his thing, and it'll end with him, thank you.
What? No, he's not protective of his big brother and possessive over the idea of being the only one worthy of knowing you and getting to be close to you in such a way; that's blasphemous!
So it's no surprise that it would be Tim who ended up discovering a whole new world of his big brother's merch.
It was another boring night where Tim had somehow finished everything. No cold cases, no criminals to beat up—actually, there definitely are. It's Gotham, what do you think? But Bruce and Dick and maybe Jason and definitely Cass and maybe maybe even Damian would have his head if he goes out as Red Robin right now when he's still nursing the bullet wound he got from last night.
So now Tim is just sitting in front of his laptop, scrolling away on the internet. It's 1 AM and he couldn't go to sleep. Maybe it's all the vigilante stuff doing this to him, but he hadn't touched a cup of coffee since the morning and he still wasn't feeling sleepy enough to call it a night.
Tim had the urge to go find a random metal pipe on a wall, rip it off, and knock himself out with it as he clicked open the familiar discussion forum for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. Same old posts, no new ones yet—
Then something caught his eye as he clicked on the rearrange button to see the newest posts.
An account, simply using his eldest brother's symbol as their profile, posted on the forum to show off their creation. The title reads, "Do you guys like my VG/N-themed bag? :3", and attached to the post is an image file of—
An ita bag, filled to the brim with merchandise of VG/N. Photocards, stickers, keychains attached to the strap outside, frills and ribbons in the colour palette of the Eldest Bat's vigilante suit, badges, buttons—
Not only that, as Tim clicked on the right arrow button to see the next picture, the second image is of the ita bag again, but sat beside it is a big ass plushie of VG/N the size of his fucking pillow.
And if he squinted, he could see the VG/N figurine behind the ita bag.
What.
Tim just sat there and stared at the image in front of him. His big brother's merch.. His big brother has... merches.
Tim realised he had never thought of this before. I mean, sure, being vigilantes and all, each of his family members' roles has been romanticised by the media in some way, especially by teenagers who might admire them. Sure, he has walked past stores and has seen Batman-themed t-shirts, and Nightwing-themed water bottles, and Red Robin-themed notebooks—
But ita bags?
Plushies?
Tim just sat there and stared at the image for a bit longer... Until he finally made up his mind.
I want that.
Quickly, he clicked on the poster's profile and dove straight into their DMs. He expected his greetings to be answered by the morning, but surprisingly, the account was still online when he had texted them.
A few small talks and questions later, Tim easily tracked down where they've gotten all of their merchandise. He doesn't worry about finding the ita bag since they told him there's a shop specifically for those kinds of bags online, so he'll look at it later.
What he found out was that most of the merchandise, like the badges and photocards, is seemingly made by someone in his eldest brother's city. It's easy to see that they're most likely a teenager or a young adult doing this to get money on the side, but the quality of the merchandise is also pretty good, too good to be made by someone who's purely making this for money. So, merchandise made by a truly passionate fan. He likes that.
The plushie is made by a small company, probably in the same city. They also have plushies of other superheroes and vigilantes—maybe he should get both the VG/N and Red Robin plushie so they could sit together in his room...—but the VG/N one seems to be the most popular seller as of currently.
The figurines are made by a bigger company and are pretty expensive, given how detailed they are, but Timothy Jackson Drake would be the last person in anyone's mind when it comes to who could be struggling with money.
Tim couldn't help but grin. He loves being all humble and wouldn't really place himself on a pedestal (why is he lying), but anyone else could tear the title of "VG/N's number one fan" out of his cold, dead hands, and even then, his hands would probably be ripped off his wrists before he could let go.
A bit dramatic? Maybe.
Okay, enough talking, let's get to work.
"Tim has been in his room all day, hasn't he?" Dick questioned out loud, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the general direction of Tim's room as he raised an eyebrow at everyone.
Sitting in the room are surprisingly almost all of his siblings. Dick himself, Damian curled up in the corner of a sofa with his sketchbook, Jason begrudgingly sitting on the other end of the sofa like he was forced to be there with a book in his hand, and Cass just silently drinking her drink from her favourite pumpkin cup. Duke would've been here too, but they all assumed he had probably conked out from exhaustion.
At the mention of one of their brothers, Cassandra slowly lowered the cup from her lips as she stared up at the ceiling, presumably just thinking about the second floor of the manor. She hummed as she rubbed her chin, the whipped cream from the drink lingering above her upper lip, making her almost look like she had a very fancy beard.
"You're right," she finally said something. "Last I saw him... This morning?"
"I saw Drake hurrying back to his room when I had just left mine," Damian chimed in, lowering his sketchbook onto the pillow on his lap as he looked to the side in curiosity.
Now, it wasn't rare to find Tim caught up in yet another weird project or theory, but all of them are always curious about what he's up to. This time, it's no different.
"Why don't you guys just go check on the kid?" Jason asked, a low growl of annoyance in his voice as he looked at all of them like they were all idiots. Which, to him, they all definitely are.
"Well, I tried." Dick tried to defend himself, "But he just— brushed me off and said he'll come down soon. And he looked oddly happy while saying it!"
"Happy?" Cassandra repeated, curiosity now evident in her voice. "That's... weird."
"Right?!" Dick leaned closer to his sister, happy at the fact that someone actually against him.
"Okay, yeah. That's pretty weird." Jason hummed.
"Is Drake going insane in his own room?" Damian questioned bluntly. "He's only been barred from patrol for a night; he couldn't have gone insane so quick."
Cassandra looked like she was about to say something, but stopped herself as she looked to the entrance of the living room, looking almost surprised as she does so.
"He's here."
"Who is here—?" Dick asked, but his voice was interrupted by the loud, thundering footsteps that could equate to a stomp of a wildebeest as Tim rammed into the room like a bull seeing red.
"Whoa, what the fuck?" Jason breathed out, almost jumping out of the couch and grabbing Tim by the scruff before he could ram into a random bookshelf against a wall. Thankfully, Tim stopped himself before he could cause any property damage.
"Tim? Are you alright?" Dick asked, worry evident in his tone as he stood up from his seat. Cassandra put down her pumpkin cup but didn't get up right away.
Tim was breathing heavily, pounding his chest, obviously breathing too little compared to the energy he exerted during that run. Damian only stared at him with a mildly worried but borderline disgusted look.
"He really did go insane."
"Tim," Cassandra's voice cuts through the room, and Tim stopped, finally remembering what he was here for.
The fourth Robin stood up straight like a soldier, before relaxing and turning to his siblings, looking oddly proud.
"Hey, guess what?" Tim grinned, hiding something behind his back as the others tried to sneakily look behind him.
"I'm kind of scared of what you're hiding behind you," Jason murmured, eyeing the... something that is dangling from behind the seventeen-year-old who looked oddly too proud.
"A bag?" Cass questioned, and Tim nodded slowly before finally presenting what he was hiding behind him, holding it out like he was handling a very precious trophy made of pure gold.
The room went dead silent.
In Tim's hands is a black bag, made with fine, faux leather. The front of it is clear plastic acting as a window, and outside is decorated with some gold chains and little accessories. Inside the plastic front is...
Their eldest brother's merch...?
Photocards, badges, a small round plushie of VG/N attached to the chain outside, and other fancy accessories in their oldest brother's vigilante persona's colour palette...
"Is that an ita bag?" Damian questioned, earning a look from Dick.
"Damian, you know what that is?"
"Shut it, Grayson. You're a millennial, you wouldn't know."
"?? EXCUSE ME???—"
"Where did you even get that?" Jason finally croaked something out of his throat after a few seconds of pure, baffled silence.
"Hah, y'know. Who would've thought that there was merchandise of VG/N, right?" He pondered smugly, gently presenting the bag to Cass, who had approached him with awe in her eyes as she examined the bag and gently tapped at the badges through the plastic screen. "So, since I was the first to get this..."
An evil smile crept onto the fourth Robin's lips, making the two previous Robins and the current one narrow their eyes at him. Cassandra only stayed silent, not seeing the need to participate in the boys' argument.
"That means I am Y/N's true number one fan—"
"NO, YOU ARE NOT!!!!"
BONUS!!
You huffed, plopping yourself down on the edge of a tall building as you let your legs swing in the air. Another boring night, another random crime group you stopped. Tonight, the city was riddled with the usual boring thieves and criminals who thought they were invincible with a gun in their grasp.
Booooringgg.
A small notification interrupted your thought as you fished your phone out of your pocket. Okay, carrying your phone around when you go out to play as an ass-beating, cartel-exploding vigilante probably wasn't the best idea, but who cares, right?
Clicking on the notification took you to a group chat titled "B's Robins", lovingly named by the second Robin himself.
Usually, you put every group chat except for DMs on mute, but you knew why you got that notification when you saw Dick pinging you specifically.
Then, what followed was an image of Dick taking a selfie with the brightest smile on his face while he's wearing... a hoodie with your logo on the front?
Bluebird
"isn't it cute? ヾ(≧ ▽ ≦)ゝ"
You just gawked at your phone screen in silence, before a laugh almost escaped your lips as you finally recovered from your shock.
"What the fuck, they have those?" You chuckled, quickly clicking a heart emoji as a reaction to the image. You've always known people make merch of superheroes and vigilantes—you've seen ones of your siblings' before—but merch of you? Surprisingly, you've never thought of the possibility of them existing.
Cardinal
loud incorrect buzzer
mine's better
Another image followed, this time sent by Tim. An image of his ita bag, and this time, you proceed to gawk at the screen again, and harder.
The level of craftsmanship and understanding on aesthetic from Tim's part is insane, but you couldn't even bring yourself to be too surprised. That is your lovely, insane little brother, and it shows.
Jaybird
Damian bought a VG/N-themed mug but he's too embarrassed to send it in the group.
Robin
Do you ever stfu, Todd?
Jaybird
Shut MY bitch ass up???
Robin
Do not let me see you with your VG/N plushie next time because I will be stealing it from you.
Jaybird
DO NOT DO THAT.
ALSO DO NOT BELIEVE HIM I DON'T HAVE THAT.
Best Girl Wonder
Why are we blowing this group chat up after leaving it for dead for three months and WHAT DO YOU MEAN VG/N'S MERCH?? AND I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT THIS?? YOU GUYS DIDN'T TELL ME???????
Can you imagine what it's like for the batfam to try and decode Damiens texts??
Dick Are you doing anything later?
Damien- After patrol with father I will be stopping by my father's place to pick up something for father. While there I will have dinner with my father.
Dick- 😦
HELP THIS IS GENUINELY SO FUNNY TO ME
to paraphrase what I said in one of the headcanon posts I did for Damian with eldest batbro, the youngest has this speech pattern where he refers to Bruce as just "Father" but eldest bat as "my Father", but he doesn't explain it so the family has to decode it themselves.
Eldest Bat figured it out first, followed by Tim, but it's just that these two fucks don't explain it to the rest of the family either, so they just left them to this eternal torture of playing "who is who" game.
everyone except for those two HATES texting Damian if it's about a topic involving both Bruce and Eldest Bat because what is this ten-year-old TALKING ABOUT.
Jason: Where are you
Damian: I am with my father. I will be eating dinner with him, then after this I will go to father for patrol. My father said that he will be there too to visit you, but in the meanwhile father will probably be searching for me. Do not tell him.
Jason: ??? what.
A groupchat conversation baffles the rest of the family because Damian is confusing all of them but Tim seems to understand everything.
Tim: Damian, Bruce called for you.
Damian: I am at my Father's place. Tell Father that my Father would not let me go until I finish dinner. Father can wait.
Tim: Sure, B might be mad though.
Damian: Father can fight with my Father, he will lose.
Tim: Why are you so confident that Bruce will lose?
Damian: The rage of a father.
Tim: ??? They're both your dad
Damian: My Father is angrier.
Tim: Okay true.
Dick: ???? guys what.
Eldest Bat! Reader: What a week, huh? Pass me the yaoi
Tim: The. The what.
Eldest Bat! Reader: The yaoi?
Tim: You read BL???
Eldest Bat! Reader: What? No, the fucking vodka.
Tim: What???
Tim: *Looks to the side.*
Tim:
Tim: Fuck you.
(he did that on purpose. anyways I made this for no reason I'm just bored.)
I was thinking like eldest bat dying (is this kinda morbid😰) and how the batbros would react (set in an alternate universe ofc. i want them to live happily together on the main one)
anyways
─ Love, Anon🩷🫧
pairing: batfamily x eldest bat! male! reader
the eldest bat is a human at the end of the day, and he's not invincible.
cw: eldest bat FINALLY dying god I hate him (I'm joking... definitely..) / uh uh very poorly written angst geyulps / uses of Y/N / very light description of pain and blood
a/n: screamed and cheered when I saw this request yes KILL THAT BOY / also, I'm so sorry for the late reply. I have so many request left but I'm so burnt out I don't know if I'll ever finish any of them :(
It was a damn easy mission where there was supposed to be no fighting involved. Just infiltrate the building, snatch some stuff, then get out.
However, the target gang has just had to join forces with not one, not two, but three other organisations. It was a mess. Everything went wrong. Blades and bullets alike went flying, but those were nothing to vigilantes like the Bats.
...Well, it was supposed to be nothing, too.
So why is there a hole in your stomach? Why are you bleeding out in this dingy, dark alley? Why does the wound have to be so big that they can't press it closed? Why are you bleeding?
Dick Grayson
It was a messy situation, sure, but the thought of someone not making it out of here safely wasn't even on his mind. Even if it was, then it certainly wasn't going to be about his older brother out of all people.
You were—are—the strongest person he's ever known in his life. Sure, you're not Kryptonian-strong like Superman or Superboy, but God, were you resilient. You got scars all over your body, several ones in places he couldn't imagine himself surviving with.
I mean, you got a scar around your neck from almost having your head chopped off. How did you survive that?
So when he heard a gunshot go off in the middle of a fight, he would've assumed it was from Jason or some rookie trying their best to aim at one of them, if not for the source of the sound being right in front of his eyes.
One of the mob bosses, with a gun in his hand, pulled the trigger as the barrel was pressed right in the middle of your stomach.
Blood splattered onto the cold pavement below, and everything was silent for a second. Actually, Dick didn't know if everybody actually stopped or if it was just because his own heart stopped beating at that moment. Still, whatever it was, you were quick to counter by grabbing the mob boss by the hair and splattering his skull right into the ground with the sheer force of your strength.
Hyperbole, of course. You didn't actually kill him; otherwise, Batman would have your head.
Then, like the smart vigilante that you are, you knew you couldn't—shouldn't—push yourself in that state. And as much as you wanted to do so—for the adrenaline, the thrill, the possibility—The one thing you feared more than death was Alfred's anger. Everyone knows how he gets when one of his grandchildren ever gets too close to death's door for any reason.
So you chose the smart decision of escaping.
You ran, your hands throwing poor criminals—obstacles—down to the floor and into the walls to clear your path as the hot, white pain started to set in. It burns, like someone was rubbing sandpaper on your abdomen.
You are bleeding.
"Y/—"
Dick yelled out in panic, but quickly bit his own lips when he almost said your name. Oh, this wasn't good. His escrima sticks felt heavier than they used to in his hands. Why do his hits seem to be lighter? His hands are shaking. Why are his hands shaking? Is he panicking? No!
Okay, yeah, he is. He's trembling out of his skin despite how terrifying he seems outside, hitting enemies harder than he used to.
This wasn't the first time Dick had witnessed you taking a seemingly fatal hit, but God, he'll never get used to it. Why would he get used to it? He doesn't want to. He doesn't want his big brother hurt.
He needs to go see him.
"Red Robin, cover for me!" He yelled, and as quickly as the words fell out of his mouth, Tim came running, clearing out three criminals with a swipe of his bo staff.
"Be more carefu— Ey, hey!" Tim yelled after Dick when he saw his older brother make a run for it, oblivious to what had just happened a mere second ago. Tim was confused by the way Dick seemed almost panicked as he rushed out of the room, taking criminals down along the way. Why?
Where is their eldest brother, anyway?
Ugh, no time to think. Why are there so many of them?!
"VG/N— Ah, fuck it, Y/N!"
Dick's knees hit the cold, dirty pavements in the instant that he got to you. You were already on your knees, curled up with your hands pressing on the wound, but trying to stop the bleeding seems futile with a wound that nasty.
"I'm fine— Bluebird, calm down. I'm fine."
Oh, how pathetic. He was supposed to be the one comforting his big brother, right? You're hurt, you're bleeding, but he's still the same little Robin. Panicking, not knowing what to do. His big brother is bleeding. His big brother is bleeding, and it won't stop.
Your bloody hand is on his shoulder, trying to ground him, but it doesn't help. Not in this moment, not when you're losing so much blood, and not when you're smearing that blood on him too. Like a sick reminder that you could be possibly dying right in front of him.
"I'll get you home." Dick's voice was shaky, trembling thing as he draped your arm over his shoulders, supporting his older brother's body in his arms as he tried to drag you away. "It's okay, I'll get you home. Everyone else can handle it. We need to— I need to get you home. You—"
"No," your voice cut through Dick's shaky one, making the younger male's heart drop. What? You don't want to go home? Why? No. No, you're not dying here from just a bullet wound. No, no, no—
"The manor is too far." You said again, pulling Dick out of his little spiraling. You've always been good at that, huh? Unintentionally grounding people with your words.
"I got a little hide— fuck!" You grunted when Dick's hand squeezed too close to your stomach, making the blood gush out just a bit more. His hand trembled when he registered his mistake.
"I'm sorry. I- I'm sorry—"
"It's okay. Calm down, Bluebird." You quickly squeezed his shoulder again, shutting him up before he could start having a panic attack on you. He could have that later, when you guys are out of here, at least. "I got a little hideout just around the corner. You know where it is. You crashed there a dozen times."
Okay. Yeah. Yeah! He remembers that place, of course. That place is closer; it has all the stuff he'll need. Yeah, he's panicking over nothing—
Hey, why did you go limp in his arms? You're not there yet!
Hey?
Jason Todd
Jason was probably the most used to guns and violence and blood out of all his family, him being Red Hood on top of his childhood too— I mean, Crime Alley, not the best place to raise a kid in, was it?
Still, just like his family, he never gets used to his oldest brother taking damage. Y/N is reckless, Y/N is a thrill-seeker—it's totally normal for the Eldest Bat to come home bleeding from his head with an unsettlingly happy smile on his face, despite it making everyone panic every single time.
Eldest Bat is used to almost killing himself every other day; everyone in the family is not.
So when he heard a gunshot ring out amidst what had been so far just a physical fight that wasn't from him, Jason's first instinct was to hide and find the source of the sound. He was expecting some poor criminal to be holding the gun with trembling hands, scared of getting their ass beat by any of the vigilantes, and not— not this.
Jason’s heart stopped when he saw blood flying out from behind Y/N, a bullet hole blasted clean through his stomach. Red Hood’s mask may hide his expression, but it sure as hell couldn’t hide the way his whole body goes tense like he was the one who got shot.
No.
“VG/N!”
Before he could stop himself, Jason shouted for his older brother. The synthesized version of it that came out through his mask alerted anyone who was nearby, one of them being Dick.
Jason sprinted out of his hiding spot in a panic when he saw Y/N escaping—it’s a good decision, but Jason was just being… Jason.
Scared little Jason, who loves his older brother.
“Go!” Dick yelled out, cutting Jason out of his little trance as the second eldest grabbed a criminal who was trying to block Jason’s way and lock him in a chokehold with his escrima sticks. Dick’s expression wasn’t any better; his domino mask could do so little to hide the frown on his face—in fact, Jason could practically see the panicked look even through the whites of his eyes.
No. Panic later, Y/N first.
Jason wasted no time running for the same exit, abandoning any possible weapon in sight and using his bare hands to take out anyone who thought it was a good idea to get in his way. They’re not worth a bullet.
“Y/N— god fucking damnit..” Jason rid himself of his helmet, which suddenly felt too tight around his head, nearly throwing it onto the ground as he crouched down in front of his older brother.
His eyes shake when he finally sees the bullet hole that tore through your stomach. So much blood, his older brother’s blood, and Jason had to force his eyes shut before opening them again to stop his vision from blurring out of panic.
You’ve gone through worse, he rationalized. You’ve been dunked into the Lazarus Pit for fun, and you’re still fine; you’ve almost been beheaded, and you’re still fine; you’ve practically got your heart torn out once, and you’re still fine.
Objectively speaking, this is nothing to you. If not for the existence of Alfred and the possibility of the old butler scolding you to death and possibly grounding you at your big age, you would’ve still been fighting with that wound.
But Jason is still scared.
Scared, little Jason.
“We have to go.”
Jason hates the way his voice trembled, hates the way he can’t hide the same tremble present in his hands as he tried to support you back to your feet. He needs to get you somewhere safer, somewhere that isn’t this dingy, dark alleyway.
“I’ll get you somewhere safer. There’s.. There’s a warehouse where I.. I have—”
“It’ll be okay.”
Your voice, scratchy but so, so grounding and steady, cut through his panic. Jason freezes over as he feels your hand, bloodied yet somehow not trembling, grab onto him like he was the one who got shot. Why are you comforting him? You’re the one with a hole in your stomach, you’re—
But God, his heart shakes at the reassuring words. He’ll always believe the things that you said.
“And you better get me there fast, I’m bleeding out over here.” You joked, a small laugh escaping your lips as your knees buckle when the pain shoots through your body again. God, it feels like the bullet is still lodged in your body.
“C’mon, let’s go.” And of course, you were the one who said that, knowing well which warehouse your little brother was talking about as you guided him onto the path, and Jason stumbled after. As if he wasn’t the one who was supposed to be leading the way.
“Don’t move so fast, you’re bleeding—!” The dual-coloured hair male finally registered what was going on, and he immediately growled at you, grabbing onto you tightly before finally leading the way, hurriedly but also so slowly—as if he’s scared he’ll hurt you.
“Don’t scold, I’m hurt here.” You joked again, trying to light up the mood with a small laugh as Jason huffed in irritation. The sight of the abandoned warehouse came into sight not too long after, and Jason immediately pushed you inside.
You were forced to sit down on whatever nearest surface there was as Jason rummaged through the supplies he had there with a scowl on his face, grumbling under his breath like he was twelve again, and you had accidentally eaten his favourite snacks and not instead shot point blank right in the abdomen.
“Stop fuckin’ joking. You might be bleeding, but that doesn’t mean you can act like you’re not. You’re not fuckin invincible,” Jason huffed as he sat in front of you, tugging your uniform up until your bare abdomen was revealed to him. He cringed, seeing the nasty wound inflicted on it. He could only do so much, but he’ll try. “You always act like you’re immortal. How about you start learning how to not almost get killed every other night?”
Jason angrily treats your wound, but his motion slows down when he realizes something is wrong. Just as he was about to wrap bandages around your abdomen, he finally realized you weren’t responding.
Huh?
He finally looked up to see you resting your head against a crate behind you, your eyes closed. Are you sleeping? You must be. You must’ve fainted due to exhaustion and blood loss.
“Dumbass…” Jason muttered, sitting there for a second before slowly—hesitantly—reaching out of your hand. Just to check.
…Have you always had cold hands?
Tim Drake
A closed parking structure, levels abandoned halfway through construction. Concrete dust, oil stains, the smell of rust, and rain. Safe enough. Temporary enough.
Tim skids to a stop first when the trail of droplets of blood stops, and a puddle of deep, dark red begins.
Blood, a lot of it—It’s dark, soaking through the Eldest Bat’s suit at the stomach, spreading in a way Tim does not like. Not arterial spray, thank god, but still too fast. Too much.
“Hey,” the Eldest Bat says lightly, like he just tripped and is not clutching a hole in their stomach on the ground. “You should see the other guy.”
Tim’s hands are shaking, and he hates that. He hates that more than the blood.
“You were shot. You were shot,” he says, voice climbing despite his best efforts. “Point blank. I told you not to rush—”
“—You tell me a lot of things,” the Eldest Bat interrupts, settling against a concrete pillar with a wince they fail to hide. “And— I know, I know. I ignore most of them.”
Tim drops to his knees anyway, already tearing open the med kit—of course, Timothy Jackson Drake has that somewhere with him at all times—with too much force. Gauze skids across the floor. He fumbles for gloves, only to forget to put them on.
Pressure. Apply pressure. He knows this. He knows this.
His hands are shaking.
“I need you to stay awake,” Tim says, the words almost tumbling into one with how fast it fell out of his mouth. “You’re losing blood. We’re calling Alfred, I don’t care what you say, you’re not walking this off—”
“Tim.” The Eldest Bat reaches out and catches Tim’s wrist—his grip is still strong, Tim noted. That helps. A little. “Kid. Look at me.”
Tim looked, and he immediately regretted it.
Your face is pale, even with the mask barely clinging on. Your lips are just starting to lose color, but your eyes, even behind those whites of your mask, are sharp. Calm, and infuriatingly gentle.
“You’re doing great,” He says. “Textbook response. Ten out of ten—or nine out of ten, minus points for yelling at me.”
“I am not yelling,” Tim snaps, then his voice cracks immediately after. Traitorous thing. “You’re bleeding out and you’re making jokes.”
“Well, yeah,” He shrugs weakly. “If I stop joking, you’ll cry. And then we’ll both actually have a bad night.”
Tim presses down harder, maybe too hard, as an annoyed growl leaves his lips.
“Don’t you dare,” he mutters. “Don’t you dare talk like this is—like it’s normal.”
The Eldest Bat huffs a quiet laugh that turns into a breath he has to steady.
“It is normal. For me. Not for you, though.”
That’s when it hits Tim.
Not the injury, not the danger, but the indifference.
He's been here before; he bled just like this before; he knows how this feels.
Tim doesn’t.
Well— actually, maybe. Yeah, he's been shot, but he doesn't do this every other Thursday.
“I can fix this,” Tim says, more to himself than anyone else. “I just need—if the bullet didn’t fragment, if it missed the liver—”
“Hey,” the Eldest Bat murmurs. again. His hand slides up and cups the back of Tim’s neck—warm, real, alive. “Timbin. Genius. Boy wonder. You don’t need to fix everything.”
“I do,” Tim says, instantly. “That’s literally my thing! And also, you're— fucking bleeding, so I do need to fix this!”
The Eldest Bat smiles at that, a dry chuckle leaving his lips—yeah, that's the Tim he knows.
“You’re scared,” he said, gently, because it's a fact.
No, I'm not, Tim wanted to retort back, but he only swallowed. His hands are shaking, his vision occasionally gets hazy from how little oxygen is getting into his lungs every other breath— Yeah, he's scared.
"..No—"
“Buddy,” The Eldest Bat said again, leaning down to look Tim in the eyes. “I knew you alphabetized my arrest records when you were twelve. You are one terrible liar.”
“You’re my big brother,” he says, finally, voice small and shaking in the concrete cavern. He doesn't sound seventeen; he just sounds thirteen again, and suddenly, the warm hand on his neck starts getting unbearably hot. “You’re not supposed to—”
“Get hurt? Bleed? Almost die?” the Eldest Bat finishes, before chuckling in a joking manner, as if that helps. “I'm starting to question if you really know me.”
The Eldest Bat squeezes Tim’s neck once, grounding him, and fuck it, it works.
“But listen to me—I’m still here. I've had worse injuries from falling off a fire escape in ’03. This sucks, but it’s not the end.”
Tim hesitates. “You promise?”
The Eldest Bat exhales, breath shaky like something is blocking it, then says honestly, “...Yeah.”
It’s not a forever promise, Tim knows that, but it’s the only one he’ll ever give.
Sirens wail faintly in the distance. Alfred’s voice crackles through Tim’s comm, calm as a metronome. Backup is coming—help is coming.
Tim presses the gauze; his hands stopped shaking a second ago.
“Okay,” he says, swallowing the panic down into his throat. He feels like he's going to puke from stress, but he'll do that later. “Okay. Don’t move. And if you pass out—”
Just as Tim was starting to calm down, his head shot back up when his eldest brother's grip on the back of his neck got just a tad bit looser than it should. The Eldest Bat's eyes are suddenly droopy— Did they spend too much time bantering? No, no, his big brother is stronger than this. Blood lost is nothing to him, it's—
"Y/N? Y/N!" Tim almost shouted, one bloody hand flying up to grab his older brother's face just as his hand that was gripping Tim's neck fell. His big brother's not responding— no, he's stronger than this.
The Eldest Bat is the damn strongest man he's ever known.
"I can't— You need to stay awake! Y/N, keep your eyes open! Y/N!"
Damian al Ghul - Wayne
In this case, no one noticed.
The first gunshot that rang out, straight through your stomach, was real. It didn't lodge in your abdomen, it flew straight out the other side, and goddamn, you're fucking bleeding—but you held on. No one was near you enough, the exit was too far away, and with so few enemies left already, it's more efficient to just beat the shit out of them.
It was fun—exhilarating!
When was the last time you felt like this? Twelve? When was the last time you were let free, fighting like you're trying to put holes (back) into your enemies, like you're trying to force them six feet under the dirt yourself, even when you're bleeding, hurting?
It's fun! Well, the enemies weren't really that challenging anyway since all of them are a bunch of pushovers who go down with one good move from you, but at least it's some fun.
So no one noticed, and you didn't care. No one noticed the blood that was starting to soak your suit when you're busy yapping, teasing your younger brothers like any other night—
Then you slumped.
“—hey,” Damian says sharply, gripping your arm since you decided it was best to slump against him. “Do not do that. You were speaking.”
No response. Why?
Blood has soaked through Damian’s gloves now. He didn’t realize how much until he looked down and saw red smeared across bright green like a desecration.
Blood is a familiar sight for Damian al Ghul; blood is home for Damian al Ghul.
But Damian Wayne's hands are too small for this.
He hates that. Hates that his arms suddenly started shaking, that his heart is trying to escape his ribs.
“Wake up,” Damian orders, voice tight. “You are not permitted to stop.”
Still nothing.
The Eldest Bat’s head lolls slightly, chin dipping to his own chest. Too still, too slack. The familiar rhythm of rise and fall of the Eldest Bat's chest is something Damian knows well; he's memorized it. From the many nights he spent sleeping with his father, cuddled in his embrace like he'll always be ten years old and protected from the world like a soft little lamb.
The Eldest Bat's breaths faltered.
No.
No no no no—
Damian drops to his knees, hauling them down with him, cradling their upper body like he’s done a hundred times after sparring injuries, but his is wrong. This is not sparring. This is not something Damian Wayne can control.
“Brother— Baba,” he says, louder now. “You are losing consciousness. Wake up! That is an order—”
His voice breaks just for a fraction of a second, and that's enough to terrify the boy.
He presses his forehead against their mask, breathing hard.
“You said you would not leave,” he whispers, the words ripping themselves out of him before he can stop them. “You said.”
Damian has known death. He has been trained in it, raised alongside it, taught to wield it with precision.
But this—this is different.
This isn’t an enemy. This isn’t a lesson taught to him by his grandfather.
This is his father. This is the man whom he idolized and loved and cherished. The one who taught him how to be sharp without being cruel, how to laugh and live like a kid and not a machine, and how to love and let himself be loved because that is life. To be alive is to live—
“Please,” Damian says, and the word tastes foreign and humiliating. “You are not allowed to die. I forbid it.”
Nothing.
Damian could hear the panicked voice of a man from afar—it sounded like Tim, but he didn't care. Drake will call for help, but right now, his world has narrowed to the terrifying stillness in his arms.
He presses his hand to his father's chest. Counts.
One.
Two—
His heart is still beating. Weak, but still there.
Damian gasps, a sound halfway between a sob and a snarl.
“You frightened me,” he says, furious now, tears burning hot behind his eyes like it was your own fault that you were dying—and, really, maybe it is. “When you awaken, I will make you regret this.”
The growl in his voice sounds too shaky and too high-pitched to be terrifying. He sounds nothing like the intimidating man he wanted to be, and all like the little boy scared to lose his father that he is.
He leans down, presses his forehead to his big brother's again.
“You promised you would stay until I no longer needed you,” he murmurs. “I am not finished needing you.”
There are sirens in the distance, followed by one familiar footstep—Bruce.
“I have him, Damian. He’s alive. I assure you.”
Damian doesn’t let go until he’s forced to.
As Bruce lifts the Eldest Bat back to the Batmobile, Damian grips their glove with white-knuckled intensity, walking alongside until Bruce gently—but firmly—pulls him back.
Damian turns away so no one sees his face, but his fingers stay curled, because a scared little boy would never want to let go of his dad.
Because even the son of Batman is not prepared for a world where his eldest brother doesn’t wake up smiling and calling him "little tyrant" like everything is fine.
He won't let that be taken from him.
a/n: I used to be able to hit 5k words easily now I'm taking so long to write on request and barely hit 4k I'm crying... I don't want to lose the passion for writing but I'm so burnt out and I usually take so wrong to recover too. I don't want to just up and leave you guys 💔
would u perceive eldest bat reader be like good looking in an androgynous way? like he could’ve had long hair at some point in his life and dick really liked and might’ve learned to braid so he could braid his elder brother’s hair, jason too maybe
i bet he’d look really good in those loose braids
they’d probably had a meltdown when eldest bat cut it off the next time dick and jason saw him and eldest bat doesn’t understand this meltdown just bc he cur his hair, even bruce might be a little upset about it
Oh, yes, Eldest Bat definitely is quite androgynous. Right now (in my head at least, since the Eldest Bat is you and you can look however you want), Eldest Bat has short hair, so people would preferably perceive him as handsome, but he has a healthy balance of "pretty" and "handsome" in him naturally.
Eldest Bat would honestly not do well with long hair. He can hardly take care of himself sometimes, so having to constantly care for his long hair is just an added burden, but there was a time period when he did have long hair.
There was probably a time when Dick was still Robin when Eldest Bat had medium-length hair, and Dick found it so cool that he wanted to have longer hair as well.
The longest he has probably had was probably when Dick was Nightwing and Jason just became Robin, which is also when he discovered Damian. Dick and Jason were the only ones to really remember and actually loved the eldest when he had long hair, so right before the horrors happened to Jason, when the Eldest Bat visited the manor again, and his hair was short...
Well, Jason just stared in horror while Dick screamed in terror. Like, actually screamed.
No more bonding time where they can yap and braid their older brother's hair...? Day: ruined 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀
The Eldest Bat let his hair grow until it was sitting on/past his neck or shoulders a bit, just so his siblings could make tiny braids in his hair.
Jason got to do that one time before he died, and Eldest Bat never really changed his hairstyle after that until his resurrection.
(he wanted Jason to braid another tiny braid in his hair again, even if it seemed impossible at that time.)
Eldest Bat let Dick play and braid his hair a lot after that, and it's such a good way for the second oldest to calm down. Sometimes Dick doesn't even play with his hair; he just stops and goes limp against the eldest, because this man lives on hugs and physical touch, and it's best given by his older brother. Also, it makes him not as sad.
Angst aside, Cass and Tim never really knew that the eldest used to have long hair, and Damian had no recollection of the memory when he was a baby. (And by long, I mean like, waist-long.)
When Dick or Jason, maybe even Bruce, showed them the pictures, they were also immediately distraught. Like, oh my god, the eldest was gorgeous, not like he's not currently, but like. Like. LIKE.
They want to braid his hair into big, puffy braids, too.
...But little braids will do just fine.
Cass sits him down and braids/styles his hair the most, especially after patrol/mission, but she's not too tired to the point that she doesn't want to do anything.
No matter the length, as long as the eldest's hair is long enough, Alfred loves brushing them. Especially when the Eldest Bat stays over for the night, and the next morning he just woke up with the ugliest bird's nest hair ever.
Bruce acts like he doesn't care—it's just hair, after all—but he loves watching his children bond by playing with their big brother's hair. It's at least one more nice thing for them to do.
Eldest bat!reader would probably like and (still proceed to) consume the orange juice and toothpaste combination for shits and giggles,,,,, i wonder what batfam has to say about it
excuse my dogwater grammar👉🏻👈🏻
yeah, eldest bat still ragebait his entire family by doing shit parents would yell at their five-year-old baby not to.
cw: uses of he/him and Y/N to refer to the reader
a/n: I don't know if I understood this in the way you meant but no matter how I tried to make sense of it it's still funny to me cause yeah that's so eldest bat of them / pretty short but I hope you like it gng 🌹🔋❤️🩹☀️🩹 / oh my lord I'm going to tweak out I KEEP FORGETTING THE TAGLIST
headcanon/bullet point form because I need to spit ideas out randomly
idk if I understood this correctly, but if you meant if the eldest bat still does that thing where you eat stuff after being fresh out of the shower with the taste of mint toothpaste still in your mouth, then yeah the fuck he does.
fresh out of the shower with only pants on and a towel over his shoulders, he'd jog into the kitchen, gulp down a whole carton of orange juice when he just finished brushing his teeth five seconds prior, then jog out.
what???
Jason HATES, and I mean HATES, him for it because Y/N deceived him into trying the orange-juice-after-brushing-your-teeth combination when he just got adopted by Bruce, and Jaybin was genuinely tweaking out on the ground.
Jaybin has never experienced such torture on his taste buds before in his life.
Eldest Bat also does that thing where he eats chocolate after brushing his teeth and he just goes "wow, it actually tastes like mint chocolate!"
He does this specifically around Tim just to see the second youngest of the Wayne house tweak out like "what do you mean "wow it actually tastes like mint chocolate" OF COURSE IT DOES, YOU ATE CHOCOLATE AFTER BRUSHING YOUR TEETH WITH MINT TOOTHPASTE IT HAS THE SAME TASTE BECAUSE OF THE CHEMICAL INTERACTIONS OF THE—"
Yeah just let him talk himself out of it, it'll be okay. He gets like that sometimes.
Eldest Bat also probably eats kids' version of toothpaste for shits and giggles, too.
NOT, like, every day, of course.
He has this bi-monthly, if not longer, craving for this specific thing, so he'd just buy a simple, small strawberry-flavoured kids' toothpaste and eats it.
It tastes okay, kinda tastes like strawberry ice cream, but not as good.
It gets the itch out though, so that's all that matters.
Damian is horrified when he found out.
Okay but he low-key gets curious and kind of wanna try too, IN SECRET OF COURSE, he can't let anyone know...
It tastes horrendous to him, he'll just stick to brushing his teeth with normal toothpaste...
