#robin reader

[pomegranatelifethis]

New Robin

The Batcave smelled like motor oil, leather, and the faint tang of Alfred’s freshly baked cookies, which you were currently swiping from a plate on the workbench. You, the newest and youngest Robin, were sprawled across a chair, one leg dangling, a cookie in one hand and your phone in the other, giggling at the latest chapter of your very spicy Batman fanfiction. The working title? “Caped Crusader’s Forbidden Night.” Pure genius, if you did say so yourself.

“Shouldn’t you be training?” Dick Grayson, the first Robin and current Nightwing, leaned against the Batcomputer, arms crossed, giving you that annoying big-brother stare.

You grinned, popping the cookie in your mouth. “Training’s boring. Punch, kick, dodge, blah blah. I’d rather write my masterpiece.” You wiggled your phone at him, knowing it’d make him squirm.

Dick’s eyes narrowed. “Please tell me you’re not still writing that… stuff.”

“Oh, I am. And it’s steamy. Wanna read the part where Batman—”

“NO.” Dick’s voice cracked, and he threw his hands up. “I’m begging you to keep that away from me.”

You cackled, loving how easy it was to rile him up. Being the youngest Batfamily member had its perks: you could get away with murder (figuratively, of course). At sixteen, you were a whirlwind of chaos, a Robin who preferred pranks over protocol, jokes over jabs, and daydreaming over discipline. Bruce had taken you in after catching you hacking into the Gotham City traffic system to create a smiley face with the lights. He saw potential; you saw a playground.

“Focus, kid,” came a gruffer voice. Jason Todd, Red Hood himself, stomped into the cave, wiping blood off his knuckles. “You ditched sparring again. I was gonna go easy on you.”

“Easy? You threw me into a dumpster last time!” you protested, sitting up.

“That was an accident,” Jason said, smirking. “Mostly.”

You stuck out your tongue and went back to your phone, typing furiously. “Batman’s cape billowed as he pinned the mysterious stranger against the wall, his gravelly voice a low growl…”

“Yo, what’s she typing?” Tim Drake, the third Robin and resident caffeine addict, peeked over your shoulder, then immediately regretted it. “Oh, God, no. Why is Bruce in this? Why is there romance?”

“It’s art, Timmy!” you declared, clutching your phone to your chest. “You wouldn’t understand true creativity.”

“It’s a crime against humanity,” Tim muttered, rubbing his temples. “Bruce would have an aneurysm if he saw this.”

“Then don’t tell him,” you said sweetly, batting your lashes.

“Tell me what?” The deep, unmistakable voice of Bruce Wayne—Batman himself—echoed through the cave as he stepped out of the shadows, cowl off, looking like he’d just survived a board meeting and a gang war.

You froze, phone slipping from your fingers. “Uh… nothing! Just, um, writing my… mission report?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You’ve never written a mission report in your life.”

“Rude!” you gasped, hopping to your feet. “I’m a great Robin! I stopped that bank robbery last week!”

“You stopped it by rigging the sprinklers to blast ‘Baby Shark’ until the robbers surrendered,” Dick pointed out.

“And it worked!” you shot back, hands on your hips. “Admit it, I’m a genius.”

“You’re a menace,” Jason said, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re supposed to be training. Being Robin isn’t a game. It’s discipline, focus—”

“Blah blah, I know,” you interrupted, mimicking his gravelly tone. “‘I am the night, I am vengeance.’ Lighten up, B! I’ve got this.”

The cave went silent. Dick looked horrified. Tim looked impressed. Jason snorted, muttering, “She’s got guts, I’ll give her that.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, but before he could lecture, Damian Wayne—the current Robin and your reluctant partner—stormed in, katana in hand. “You skipped our patrol route planning again!” he snapped, glaring at you. “You’re an embarrassment to the mantle!”

“Oh, chill, Baby Bat,” you said, ruffling his hair, which he dodged with a scowl. “I was busy creating culture. Besides, I already memorized the routes. West End, Crime Alley, then the docks. Easy peasy.”

Damian sputtered. “You—how dare you call me—Father, she’s insufferable!”

“Join the club,” Tim muttered.

You grinned, undeterred, and tossed Damian a cookie. “Eat a snack, Dami. You’re cranky.”

He caught it but looked like he wanted to throw it back at you. Bruce, meanwhile, was still staring, clearly debating whether to ground you or just give up. “You’re on probation,” he said finally. “No patrols until you complete a full training session.”

“Probation?!” you whined, flopping dramatically onto the floor. “This is oppression! I’m being silenced!”

“You’re being disciplined,” Bruce corrected, turning to the Batcomputer. “And delete that fanfiction.”

“Never!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet and bolting for the stairs. “You’ll have to catch me first!”

Jason laughed outright as you sprinted out of the cave, Alfred’s voice calling after you, “Miss, your laundry is still unfolded!”

Hours later, hidden in the manor’s library, you were curled up with your phone, adding another chapter to your fic. “The mysterious stranger smirked, tugging at Batman’s utility belt…” You giggled, knowing full well you’d never delete it. Being the naughty, carefree Robin was too much fun—and the Batfamily, for all their grumbling, wouldn’t have you any other way.

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N, the Red Robin, lands on the roof of the stolen cop car…

Duela: (purrs) hey pretty bird

Y/N; stealing a Gotham PD vehicle is against the law, Duela

Duela: (purrs) ooh is little bird gonna arrest me?

Y/N slaps a set of hand cuffs on her…

Y/N; come on. Let’s get you back to the Batcave

Duela: I’d rather you explore my cave

Y/N blushes as red as their outfit…

[justalittleguywritingstories]

🐈‍⬛ The Cat’s Robin. 🦅

Bruce Wayne x Selina Kyle (Male!Teenage!Reader is Selina’s kid).

TW: Death.

Rain fell softly on Gotham’s rooftops the night Selina Kyle found him. The kind of rain that didn’t cleanse the city, just made it shine a little while it bled. She’d been halfway through a job — diamond necklace, old museum, easy marks — when she heard it. A sharp cough, a groan, then silence.

She turned the corner and saw him — a boy, no older than twelve, bleeding out in an alley. The colors hit her first. The red, green, and black of a torn uniform she thought she vaguely recognized.

“Oh, sweetheart…” she whispered, crouching beside him. His mask was half gone, one eye swollen shut, skin ghostly pale beneath the grime.

“Where’s…” he croaked weakly, “...where’s my parents?”

Selina froze.

She looked around — no adults in sight. Just a broken boy left behind by the shadows.

“Don’t worry about them, kid,” she murmured, sliding her coat over his trembling shoulders. “You’ve got someone now.”

He passed out before he could argue.

Four Years Later

Sixteen-year-old Y/N Kyle stood at the window of their Gotham penthouse, headphones in, sketching rooftops across the skyline. His hair had grown longer, wilder. He wore black like a comfort blanket, but his smirk — that belonged to Selina.

“Y/N!” Selina called from the kitchen. “If you’re planning to brood, at least brood with breakfast.”

He turned, grinning. “I’m not brooding, I’m observing. Artists don’t brood.”

Selina arched an eyebrow. “You’re my son. You definitely brood.”

He rolled his eyes but padded over, accepting the plate of toast and eggs. “Thanks, Mom.”

That still made her heart flutter. “Any plans today?”

He shrugged. “Maybe patrol later. You know, keep the alley cats safe.”

She smirked. “That’s my boy.”

Later — Wayne Manor

The grand hall was lit with golden chandeliers. Bruce Wayne stood with his usual composure, though Alfred caught the rare softness in his eyes as Selina entered.

“Selina,” Bruce said, voice warm. “You look radiant.”

She smirked. “Careful, Bruce. You’ll make me think you mean it.”

He smiled — the real kind. They’d been meeting often lately, patching the years with quiet conversation.

“I heard you’ve... settled down a bit,” Bruce teased lightly, pouring her tea. “Word is, you’ve got someone living with you?”

Selina’s expression softened. “Yeah. My son. Y/N. He’s sixteen now. Found him years ago. He’s... everything, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded approvingly. “You’re a mother, huh? I’m happy for you. What’s he like?”

Selina’s lips curved into a proud grin. “Smart. Quick. Bit of a rule-bender — wonder where he got that from.”

Bruce chuckled. “Sounds like someone I’d like to meet.”

“Maybe one day,” she said.

A Week Later — Wedding Planning

Selina sat on the couch beside Bruce, their wedding just months away. Alfred brought tea while they sorted through name lists, decorations, guest invites.

Bruce smiled faintly. “You know, I should probably prepare to be a stepfather. What’s your boy’s name again?”

Selina’s smile widened. “Y/N. Y/N Kyle.”

Bruce froze. The teacup nearly slipped from his hand.

“...What did you say?”

“Y/N Kyle,” she repeated, puzzled. “Why?”

Bruce’s eyes went distant — haunted. “I... I had a son once. My second Robin. His name was Y/N. He... he died years ago.” His voice cracked slightly at the word died.

Selina blinked. “Oh, Bruce… I’m so sorry.”

He reached into his wallet, pulling out a worn photograph — a boy with a bright grin, mask tilted slightly askew, standing beside Batman.

Selina’s heart stopped.

That face. Those eyes.

“Bruce,” she whispered, voice trembling. “That’s— that’s my kid.”

“What?”

“That’s him. That’s Y/N. That’s the boy I found in the alley four years ago.”

They both stared at each other, realization dawning like a sunrise after years of darkness.

The Reunion

The Batmobile rolled to a silent stop outside the penthouse that night. Y/N was sprawled on the couch, watching a crime documentary, when the door opened.

“Mom?” he called. “You’re home early—”

And then he saw him.

Bruce Wayne. No — Batman.

His breath caught in his throat.

Selina stood between them, her hand on his shoulder. “Y/N, sweetheart… there’s someone you need to talk to.”

Bruce took a hesitant step forward. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Y/N…?”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, flickering between shock and disbelief. “No. No, you— you left me.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched, emotion breaking through the stoic mask. “I thought you were gone. We searched for weeks. There was blood, the wreckage— I thought I’d failed you.”

Tears burned behind Y/N’s eyes. “You did.”

Selina squeezed his hand gently. “He didn’t know, baby.”

Silence stretched, then Bruce said quietly, “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

Y/N hesitated — then, slowly, stepped forward. His voice cracked. “You really thought I died?”

Bruce’s lip trembled. “Every day since that night.”

And that was enough. Y/N threw his arms around him, burying his face into the Kevlar chest. Bruce held him like he might vanish again if he let go.

Selina stood a few feet away, arms crossed, trying to hide the tears forming in her eyes. “My boys,” she whispered.

Weeks Later — The Wedding

The manor gardens glowed under fairy lights. Gotham’s most elusive pair — Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle — finally stood hand in hand before their friends and family.

Y/N stood proudly between them, his tux crisp, his smile shy but genuine.

When the vows ended, Bruce looked at him and said, “We’ve both lost enough time. From now on, you’ll never question where you belong.”

Y/N nodded. “I know. I’m a Kyle... and a Wayne.”

Selina chuckled softly. “Perfect mix of trouble and heart.”

As they turned toward the crowd, the new family hand in hand, Gotham’s skyline shimmered behind them — dark, dangerous, and finally, just a little bit brighter.

Later that night, Y/N perched on the balcony, staring out at the city. Bruce approached, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Thinking about patrolling?” Bruce asked.

Y/N smirked. “You know me too well.”

Selina’s voice called from inside, teasing, “If either of you ruin my wedding night with heroics, I swear—”

Bruce and Y/N exchanged identical grins.

“Like father,” Selina muttered from the doorway, “like son.”

And for the first time in years, Gotham’s dark knight and its cleverest cat finally had a family.

EXTRA:

The manor was quieter than usual that morning. Alfred had taken Selina to the city for errands, leaving you and Bruce with a breakfast table far too large for two people who preferred rooftops.

You were halfway through a plate of waffles when Bruce set down his coffee and said, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to do.”

You glanced up, wary. “That sounds like something that’s gonna make me sweat or cry.”

He smirked faintly. “Maybe both.”

You tilted your head. “You’re terrifying when you’re vague.”

He didn’t answer, only stood and motioned for you to follow.

The Training Wing — Wayne Manor

The door opened to the training room — but it wasn’t empty.

A man in a blue suit leaned casually against the wall, twirling his escrima sticks with a grin you didn’t expect to recognize until your heart stopped.

“Hey, kid,” he said softly.

“...Dick?”

His grin faltered, replaced with something softer — like relief. “It’s really you.”

You froze in place, years of pain and memories colliding at once.

“B...Bruce didn’t tell me you—”

“He didn’t tell anyone,” Dick interrupted gently, setting the sticks down and taking a hesitant step forward. “We thought you were gone. We buried you.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight. “Guess I didn’t stay buried.”

Dick laughed weakly through tears. “No, you never did like following orders.”

That broke the tension. You laughed, and before you knew it, you were hugging — arms tight, tears spilling freely, the kind of reunion that made the years between you dissolve.

“You got taller,” Dick murmured.

“You got old,” you shot back with a grin.

He barked a laugh. “Okay, yeah, fair.”

The door opened again, and a familiar younger voice spoke from behind. “Wait—what’s going on here? Bruce, why’s Nightwing crying?”

You turned to see Tim Drake — dressed in casual clothes, coffee in hand, confusion written all over his face.

Bruce crossed his arms. “Tim, this is—”

“Y/N,” you interrupted, smiling softly. “Guess that makes me your older brother.”

Tim blinked, eyes darting between you and Bruce. “Wait. What?”

Dick chuckled, wiping his eyes. “Yeah, surprise sibling reveal. Classic Wayne family move.”

Tim’s brain visibly short-circuited. “But—how—where have you been—”

You shrugged. “Long story. Selina found me years ago. Raised me.”

Tim’s eyes widened. “Selina Kyle? As in—Catwoman?!”

You smirked. “The one and only.”

Dick clapped Tim on the shoulder. “Welcome to the family chaos, little brother. We’re gonna need a bigger group chat.”

Later — The Batcave

You were suiting up again for the first time in years. Not as Robin — that costume was gone — but something new. A blend of both worlds: black and deep red, lined with subtle silver stitching that Selina had sewn herself.

You were tightening your gloves when a sharp voice echoed behind you.

“So you’re the miracle child Father can’t stop talking about.”

You turned to see a small boy with piercing green eyes, scowling like he’d been born angry.

“Let me guess,” you said. “Damian.”

He crossed his arms. “You’re my older brother.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound thrilled about it.”

“I simply question the necessity of another Wayne in the field,” he said stiffly. “Father already has me.”

You grinned. “Oh, trust me, I’m not trying to steal your spotlight. You seem to have plenty of ego to share.”

His glare sharpened — but then, to your surprise, the faintest smirk crept across his face. “At least you’re not boring.”

“Neither are you, kid.”

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “If we spar, I’ll win.”

You shrugged. “Maybe. But you’d have to catch me first.”

Dick’s laughter rang from the balcony above. “Don’t challenge him, Dami — he’s got Selina’s footwork. You’ll be swinging at air.”

Damian groaned. “You’re all insufferable.”

Bruce smiled faintly from the Batcomputer, looking at the four of you — the family he’d once thought broken beyond repair — now together, laughing, alive.

That Night — Rooftop of Wayne Tower

You stood beside Dick, the city lights reflecting off your visor.

“Feels weird being back up here,” you said quietly. “Used to think the rooftops were home.”

Dick nodded. “They still are. But now, you’ve got a few people waiting at the bottom, too.”

You smirked. “Yeah. Mom’s probably tracking me right now.”

He chuckled. “Selina Kyle tracking you? Never thought I’d see the day.”

You grinned. “Guess we both got lucky. You with Bruce. Me with her.”

“Family’s weird like that,” Dick said softly.

You looked out over Gotham — your city, your family’s city — and felt, for the first time in years, whole.

The next morning, Alfred found a note on the kitchen counter, written in your quick handwriting:

“Out with the boys. Don’t worry, Mom — I’ll bring them home in one piece. -Love, Y/N Kyle-Wayne.”

Selina smirked as she read it, sipping her coffee. Bruce glanced over her shoulder, his faint smile betraying pride.

And somewhere in the skyline, four shadows leapt across the rooftops — one blue, one red, one green, one black — Gotham’s brothers in the night.

[steller32]

I did NOT sign up for this.

Platonic!BatFam X Robin!Reader

Summery: You take the job of being Robin. Now you’re discording the things you have to do, that you DID NOT SIGN UP FOR. Just a bunch of head cannons on what I think it would be like to be robin.

-When Bruce first took you in and you slowly sound out what they do at night, you wanted no part in that. AT ALL. Why would you willing try to get yourself killed overnight, staying up late, having a messed uo sleep schedule, not getting any credit for what you do. And lastly getting hurt and acting like very everything’s okay?!

-When Bruce just wanted to train you a bit you sadly agreed hoping that would get him off your case, but unluckily for you, you learned the moves quickly and you were a little too determined.

-Bruce would not stop trying to convince you to become robin. You tried to tell him no kindly but he wouldn’t listen so much to his surprise you agreed randomly.

-When you agreed it was a long day at school, everyone was pissing you off and Alfred wasn’t home today which was a shock, so you had to find leftovers of whatever your family had when they came back from patrol last night, and you were just trying to have a few more moments of peace before your family came home. And Bruce asked, Bat costume and all. You were tired and bored so you agreed.

-The first day you started it was a mess. You kinda didn’t listen to orders, you were having to much fun on the grappling hook he gave you, and running from building to building with a care behind you. 

-After a few more patrols you decided to lock in.

-If one night you got hurt, or if you made the tiniest bit of pain through your com, everyone is after you. (Well if they can make it) You are the baby of the group. In their eyes at least. 

-Be prepared to be benched for a week or two. If you try to reason with them they end uo taking turns taking care of you. It’s best to shut up and enjoy this time that you have.

-After patrol you always get a snack or food with them. They’re more of a BatBurger people than you are, so you mostly go get what every you want to eat then you meet them up.

-When you all get home from patrol, and if you all stay home. Its movie night, Alfred made the snacks and go the movie room prepared. Dick is bringing everyone together. You’re trying to dodge it, but dick or Jason ends up pulling you out of your room. It’s rock paper scissors between Steph and anyone who wants to go against her to pick a movie out.

Request are recommended!!

Borders from @httpssturns

[maskeddevotion]

Butterflies

A work in progress: a shorter form Dilf!Grayson novella with an age gap ship grounded in anguish and heightened by bittersweet yearning. Hoping to have the first chapter written over the next week or so, but recovering from illness and staring down a heatwave here. Fingers crossed!

When does the cycle of pain end?

Everyone knows, of course, that it begins in childhood.

It begins at your mother's bedside, weeping for a soul that won't return.

It threads through memories of school, pigtails pulled, kisses stolen in secret.

There on the rooftops, overlooking the darkness, you saw it raw and flat, painted in blood-red tones and pale white skin. The shattered remains of a friendship with the girl you wish you'd known better. Wish you'd been able to save. A life ruined in fragments of bone and hollowed out souls.

Pain seeps into you, day by day, until you feel life and death grip you tight, strung between them like a puppet.

And you say, no more. I am nobody's pawn. I am the master of my fate. I am the bird who flies free.

Life and death step back, and beneath a star strewn sky, give you their blessings.

You were eighteen when you first developed your powers. A night of pain turned to glory, revelation and salvation. You flew on those wings, right into the life of the Robins.

A formidable force for good, you wielded your healing power amongst their ranks, training beneath the one true Batman: Dick Grayson.

Until one night, a tired voice, cracked and worn, weighed by time and burdened with guilt, calls you on a private channel.

“I'm… sorry... I've failed you...”

The steady mist of rain doesn't so much fall as permeate the air, softening footsteps upon roofs, carrying the stench of alleyway excrement and a chill that runs deeper than skin. Gotham's impolite like that, a messy creature hobbling along the boundary line between unhygienic tease and insalubrious lech. Right now, it's tipping into its more monstrous form. Jagged highrises are cast in sharp neon light, but shadows and blood are painted into the cracks of its foundations. The city remembers, even if its vigilantes are younger, keener, sharper, fresher.

Your heart is racing beneath the gaudy, vintage suit. Stark greens, reds and yellows belong to a past better forgotten, but somehow have come to be drawn along combative lines, an homage to the heroic shadows that came before you. Your form is sleek, compressed for battle, draped in the preparations of a war you've joined only in recent years. Robin 64. It's been your name for three years, now- a gift from the one true Batman. The only Batman who matters.

"I'm… sorry…" His voice cracks across the comm link, catching you in the dark, holding you still even as your heart pounds at a million miles a minute.

Dick Grayson.

Apologising to you. The world is wrong. You know this, you can feel it in the echo of static, a tremulous thread you hardly dare to breathe for, lest you break it. "Don't... don't ping my bracer." It's instinctive. Your fingers drift, rain speckling the bright blue display as you hover, as you consider your options. "Run. They're searching... searching for you... Take shelter... get to the Bat Tower..." "Not without you. Where are you? Tell me, Di-" The weak, rattling cough cuts through your little act of rebellion. "It's still Batman to you..." He manages, and you catch yourself before you can growl a retort. You could ping his bracer. Track his last known location. You could go to him, you could be useful, just as you wanted. Just as it should be. "Robin, go home. Bring the Titans..." You could be his Robin. You have the training, the powers... you have the fortitude to fight back, and a gift to share with the world. To give to him. "I'm coming to find you." You murmur over the line. The silence is more damning than any of his gentle scolding or his mild-mannered disappointment. It sticks in your chest, settling between your ribs, making you sick with worry. There's no time to waste. Batman needs you.

[aspen78]

Masterlist: "How it all Byrnes"

This all began in an alleyway. By locals of this by-all-definitions “dark and gloomy” city, this alleyway was infamously dubbed “Crime Alley.” With a name like that, truly nothing good could be expected to come out of it. And, as it happens, we may be witnesses to a mugging at this exact moment.

You may think you know this story already, but I can guarantee you have yet to bear witness to it. As familiar as it may seem, it's quite jarring how a difference in classification can change a story. For this is not a story about a flying mammal [person], rather a story about a flying ave…[person].

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11 (wip)

--

lmao p much robin (if batman dipped) meets invincible :p

also heres a link if you want to be added to a taglist :]

[hunterwritesstuff]

Platonic Alfred and robin reader? :3

FINALLY SOMEONE ASKS FOR BEST BUTLER HELL YEAH /pos

🍷 When Bruce introduces you to him, he's concerned. The past Robins haven't had the best results, but he trusts Bruce's judgement.

🍷 Alfred, of course, informs you of your duties as a Robin, but also(unlike times in the past, but now he's wary) informs you of what happened to past Robins so that you know to PLEASE BE CAREFUL.

🍷 You two are pretty chill, he sometimes tells you stories about when he was a spy, you tell him how your patrols went and if you saw anything cool while you were out with Bruce.

🍷 If you break any bones while out, Alfred gives you a lecture to be more careful.

🍷 If you're on the younger side, he lectures Bruce to not take you out on as many missions, just so you can still be a kid. If you're on the older side, he trusts you to make your own choices.

🍷 That being said, if Bruce takes you with him on a mission regarding the Joker and you go with him eagerly, you're BOTH getting a lecture from Alfred.

🍷 "Master bruce, I know you are an adult and can make your own choices, but I do not believe taking ROBIN with you to deal with THE JOKER is a wise decision."

🍷 "I will take away your car keys, Master Bruce."

🍷 He genuinely enjoys your company, as much as he lectures you.

🍷 He's just genuinely concerned about your wellfare as the survival rate of Robins is dubious at best.

🍷 If you're sick and try to go out on a mission, no you are not.

🍷 He isn't above locking you in your room until you're better.

🍷 Safe to say, he's very protective of you and sees you as(yet ANOTHER) a grandchild. :)

Hope ya enjoy! :D

[gothamsworst]

What about more dork squad and "new robin/sidcick" headcanons? Im in love with that topic😍 thank you!!!!

Jonathan Crane:

His nickname for you is “Mockingbird.” After all, you wear the face of a hero so well, but he knows what’s really beneath. You’re just like him, aren’t you? Evil.

The man has no idea how to flirt out-of-costume, but he gets a lot more bold when he’s in-costume. He’s not as...hesitant, to get “handsy” while you fight.

He’s certain that one day he’ll be able to show you the truth about the world. That fear conquers all. And on that day, he knows for sure, you’ll finally be his.

Edward Nygma:

Is he flirting with you because he actually likes you, or because he knows it gets under The Batman’s skin? Could be one, could be the other--could be both! It’s hard to tell sometimes.

You’re his newest fixation. Sometimes you’re the “prize” in his games, sometimes the “guest,” and sometimes the “trap.” Yet, somehow, you always manage to come out unscathed (he makes sure of that).

The fact that you still even play his games gives him enough reason to keep pursuing you. Honestly, you’re enabling him at this point. But what else can you do, in order to protect the city you love?

Jervis Tetch:

Twinkle, twinkle, little bird, might you spare him just a word? Why, of what company can bats be to birds? When he has a whole Wonderland at his disposal for you to explore!

Granted, he might have to clip your wings first, just to be on the safe side. But that’s no real matter when he’d gild you a golden cage most worth the sacrifice! If you were to agree, that is.

Needless to say, he’s had his ass handed to him more times than he can count. And yet, something about you just draws him in. He’ll have you yet, little birdie, just you wait.