Yandere! DC x Reader

| Bruce Wayne |

I'm imagined the reader being black/African American when I wrote this.

The version/look of Bruce I imagined for this is from Batman: The Telltale Series. You don't have to, but that's how I'm picturing it. Also, none of the bat brothers have been adopted/born yet.

Yeah, I know that this technically is supposed to take place in the 1990's or some shit. I, frankly, don't care. You can imagine this in present times if you would like.

Word Count: 3398

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As the daughter of a CEO, you were taught to be a perfect woman in every aspect possible. Your personality was edited, how you talked seemed to be altered and auto tuned, your opinions were never yours, and your smiles tended to be fake, especially around rich people and the media. You couldn't act a certain way or the stereotypes about black women would start flying. You'd be called Ghetto, hood rat, angry black women, etc. That's what your mother told you.

It wasn't until you were about 13, where you realized that being rebellious was something that you wanted. And your father, who hated seeing you act like a robot, told you to go all out. So you did.

Now, you weren't going out partying and acting crazy, binge on drugs, sex and booze. However, you weren't going to smile when you were sad or pissed off. You weren't going to hide your personality from business partners or the media. You weren't going to say opinions you know weren't yours. And you sure as hell weren't going to hold back your tongue when a paparazzi or who ever else pissed you off. You could be a classy lady, but you didn't let anyone, no matter who they were, boss you around or give you bullshit.

Your father loved it, it showed how independent you were. Your mother, a spoiled pompous woman, hated your "immaturity", as she called it. She openly blamed your father, saying that he gave you too much freedom. I mean, you could be doing so much worse. You could be an alcoholic, a crack addict, a sex maniac or dead. You didn't know why she was complaining.

You were 22, and despite being a whole adult with your own place, your mother nagged you about the smallest things.

Like now.

"What did you do to your hair?!" She screeched. Your father was behind her, smiling at you, slight surprise in his brown eyes. Your older sisters, Janelle and Harriet, stared in utter shock, but you knew it was to fool your mother. You could see in their eyes both pride, admiration, and slight envy.

You smiled, a smile of happiness and slight smugness, as your rubbed your freshly shaved head with your brown hand, feeling the small pricks of your extremely short hair.

"What does it look like I did?" You tittered. "I shaved my head, I'm starting over. Completely." You'd always wanted to wear your natural hair, but your mother was extremely persistent when it came to straightening/relaxing you and your sisters' hair. Eventually, so much of the heat and chemicals made your hair succumb to heat damage and thinning due to the chemicals.

So, what was the best way to achieve natural, curly, non chemical ruined hair and still make it low maintenance and look good?

The Big Chop. Where you cut off all your hair and rock a buzz cut, which eventually allows your natural curls to grow in. Knowing that it would horrify your mother and cause a swarm of the media made you want to do it even more. Then you would tell them to piss off and that you didn't give a glorified shit about what they thought.

"Y/n! That was foolish of you! Do you know how masculine people will think you are?! You're supposed to be a lady! Imagine what the paparazzi will say!!" You mother screeched.