|The D.C Collection | Imagines, One-Shots, Preferences, and More |

Batfamily Preferences | 2 | Worst Scar

Preference: The boys discover your worst scar.

Request: I was thinking about how much I hate the Joker ya know and I came up with a request that I find relatively interesting. Imagine one of the Batboys (whichever one you want, Ivy!) not knowing you had an encounter with/were kidnapped by the Joker until they walk in on you changing and they see a medium-sized 'J' scar on your back/somewhere on your body. (Sorry, that's really long, I just wanted make it specific 😅)

Notes: I know you said a single fic for one of the boys, but I decided to make it into a preference just in case I choose one you weren't fond of. Enjoy, love! =D AND I'M SURE WE ALL HATE THE JOKER HERE LMAO

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Bruce Wayne:

It was an accident. He was never supposed to find out until you were ready, and needless to say, you weren't.

Everyone in the family—correction: everyone in Gotham—had all had at least one run-in with the Joker before, and they never ended well. He took to you most as one of the bat's greatest weaknesses. That was only supported by this week's events, even if Bruce and Cassandra had managed to get to you in time.

"I got it," Bruce told Alfred a bit too sternly. He then dropped his tone with a sigh, resting a hand on the butler's shoulder,"Take the night off. I can bandage the rest."

"Of course, Master Bruce." Alfred nodded. He offered you a concerned glance before he parted,"Have a good night, Ms. Y/N. And please, get some rest."

You could only hum numbly in acknowledgment, picking at one of the bandages fastened around your wrist. Bruce gently took your hand to keep you from unraveling Alfred's work, studying your body and determining what wound he should tend to first. You were too tired and too broken to remember what scar was in view. So when Bruce's fingers graze the small, slashed J on your ribcage, the one that had healed, your gaze shoots up and you cover the scar with your hand.

"That one is healed. From at least a year ago." Bruce's brows are threaded, especially after your reaction. His expression settles into something full of darkened concern. You close your eyes and feel his coarse hand cup your cheek and your body welcomed into his.

"I'm not going to ask." Bruce whispered into your hair,"But just know that I will never let it happen to you again. Understand?"

Your voice comes out in a broken wheeze, and you can only nod and attempt a,"Thank you."

Bruce cups the other side of your face and uses them to pull you forward, laying a kiss on your forehead. Wordlessly, he continues on, and you find yourself smiling despite everything as he gets to work on another cut. He will keep his promise, even if it kills him. And you know that.

Dick Grayson:

The aftermath of your high is still settled on your shoulders by the time Dick has thrown your sheets in the wash and slipped back under your covers. Deftly, he slides his arms around your waist and pulls your naked body into his, nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. You smile and encase his wrist when Dick begins to lazily plant kisses up your spine, shivering with his tenderness.

Dick smiles into your skin,"You're doing clean up next time."

You turn your cheek hopefully,"They'll be a next time?"

"A million next times," Dick promises,"Half of which you'll be cleaning up, and the other half I'll be cleaning up."

"Deal." You bargained, giggling into your hand.