#BUT since their more leaned towards what he's trying to do (clean Gotham up) he pretty much leaves them alone.

[littleredwing89]

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 2

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 2

CEO!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut. Brief Derogatory & Misogynistic language about women.

A/N: Please remember this is a revised version of “The Intern” but swapped out Roman for Jason. Hope you all enjoy the next chapter! :) xoxo

The smoke curled thick around the four men situated around the poker table in Roy’s rich mahogany furnished games room. Jason rolled the crystal glass against the green felt, the rattle of the ice cubes echoing in his mind. He hadn’t been able to think straight all night. You’d plagued his thoughts since the gala, the scent of your perfume still invading his senses.

Oswald flicked his cigarette into the ashtray at the side of him, eyebrow curved upwards as he frowned at Jason, “That's the worst hand you've played tonight”.

Harvey laughed before taking a sip of his whiskey, savouring the woody flavour, “Hey Todd, try betting the ownership of The Iceberg. See if your luck'll change”.

The pair of them waited for a sarcastic or biting remark but Jason stared at his cards, still rolling his glass, paying no real attention to either of them.

“I think we lost 'im”, Oswald cackled.

Roy leaned back in his chair, putting out his cigar, “I think we have”. He grinned knowingly towards Jason.

“Do you think if I take his wallet he'll notice?”, Harvey flipped over his cards, smirking with glee at Oswald’s crestfallen face.

Shuffling the cards again, Roy dealt out the cards swiftly, “Hmmm, likely not but considering he's cleaned out, I doubt you'll actually be able to get anything”.

Jason was aware of the conversation around him but he couldn’t bring himself to join in. Not when his mind was conjuring images of you, spread out on his bed sheets with your hands bound above your head with his tie. He cursed under his breath, feeling the front of his trousers becoming uncomfortable.

Harvey watched as Jason’s cigarette burnt at the side of him, resting in the ashtray forgotten about, smoke billowing wildly, “I bet you anything it's that tight pussy from last week that's got him so worked up”.

“Oh, I remember, that hussy in the red dress?”, Oswald threw his used cards towards Roy waiting for the next hand.

“Yeah! That’s the one. Can't blame him, she's got a sweet ass. Ain't that right, Harper?”, Harvey downed the rest of his whiskey, pouring himself another large helping.

Jason glared towards Roy, silently murdering him with his gaze. He didn’t want to think of any other man touching you, let alone one of his closest friends.

Roy ignored Jason and shrugged casually, “I have no clue what you're talking about. She simply works in my department”, with a devilish glint, he turned towards Jason, “I bet you’d know about it though, wouldn't you Todd?”.

Scoffing loudly, Jason rolled his eyes, “I told you, nothing happened that night”. The lie slipped off his tongue easily although he wasn’t sure Roy believed him. He’d known him long enough to spot the tell-tale signs.

“So that sweet piece of ass is fair game?”, Oswald perked up, his interest piqued.

Jason gripped the edge of the poker table, controlling the twitch trying to spread across his face. His lips wanted to snarl at Oswald and tell him to stay the fuck away. But he had no right. It was just a quick fuck. That was what you both agreed. He swallowed the bubbling jealousy about to answer but Roy barked out laugh.

“You’d have more chance fucking a penguin”.

Harvey spat out his drink, almost choking. Oswald growled something under his breath, flipping Roy the finger.

“I don’t have time to get attached to a tight little pussy only worth a few fucks”. 

As the words left his mouth, the distaste left behind was rotten. It didn’t feel right talking about you that way. The conflict churned his stomach and it was something Jason wasn’t entirely used to.

Roy attempted to slide two cards across to Jason but he shook his head grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the centre of the table, “And on that note boys, I’m going before you take my last $100”.

“Do you have to take the bottle?”, Harvey grumbled.

Jason ignored him, slinging his jacket over his shoulder, digging out his phone from his front trouser pocket. No new messages. He’d been hoping you’d have made the first contact. Possibly trying to coax him into another encounter. Not that he needed much convincing with you.

When he looked up from his mobile, he saw Roy smirking at him with a knowing look. It made Jason uneasy. How did Roy know what he was planning? Or was it just that obvious he was still hooked on you?

“Need me to sort a lift to your apartment, Todd?”.

It was only after years of knowing the asshole, he heard the teasing tone in his voice. Oh he fucking knew alright. He saw right through him.

“Nah, I’ll be fine, I fancy a bit of fresh air”.

Roy chuckled under his breath, “Sure”.

———

You huffed, staring down at your dress. Wade, the foul mouthed head of security, otherwise known as your date, had cancelled on you at the last minute, telling you he had a family emergency. You weren’t entirely sure if you believed it or not. Something didn’t feel right. You stepped out of your heels and dropped them next to the full length mirror, throwing the emerald dress back into the closet. Your eyes lingered over your appearance. You’d made a real effort for him tonight. A tiny lace thong with a matching bra, paired with a pair of black stockings.

Just typical. Now you remembered why you didn’t like dating. You grabbed your silk robe from the end of the bed, wrapping it around you as you wandered into the living room. Take-out and a terrible movie it was. You ordered your favourite pizza via the app on your phone. That way you didn’t have to talk to anyone and mask the sadness from your voice. Perfect.

Lounging back on the sofa you wrapped your fingers around the TV remote, flicking through to find a trashy film or maybe you’d finally finish watching that guilty pleasure TV show you’d fallen in love with. The loud knock on the door startled you. The pizza couldn’t be here already, surely? You pushed up off the sofa and headed through to the front door, opening it without second thought to your attire.

Fuck. Your eyes widened at the sight in front of you. Jason. His charcoal shirt untucked and a little dishevelled, matte black tie hanging loose around his neck and his dark suit jacket slung over his shoulder. Fuck. The smell of whiskey and spice spiralled around you.

You slammed the door shut, pressing your back against it. Your heart hammered wildly against your chest. What the fuck was Jason Todd doing outside your door? You’d been under the impression last week was just a one off. Nothing more than sex. Extremely hot, mind blowing sex. But just sex, none the less.

There was another rap against the door, rattling it gently and you opened it slowly. His forearm was resting against the door frame, his tall stature towering you as he looked down. You stared up into his blue eyes. They were hooded and a little smirk curved his lips upwards, “Who did you think I was?”.

“The pizza guy”.

He laughed and inched his head down lower, eyes scanning over the delicate silk wrapping your body, “Do you always greet delivery people in your just murdered my husband robe?”.

His gaze made your body heat up, shivers travelling down your spine. You shrugged casually, giving him a flirty smile, “Only when I want my food free”. His scowl made you chuckle internally.

You opened the door a little wider and stepped back slightly, “Come in, before someone else sees me like this”. 

Jason made his way into your apartment quickly, brushing past you. You noticed the half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand and rolled your eyes, wondering what or where he’d been before coming to you. He looked around your home with interest, gaze running over your photos by the bookshelf. The whiskey was discarded on the coffee table, his suit jacket tossed over your armchair messily.

“Make yourself at home”, you grumbled under your breath, picking up his jacket and hanging it neatly over the back of one of your dining chairs. You dropped down onto the sofa, sighing happily as the cushions welcomed you.

He laughed before joining you, his arm stretching along the back, fingers brushing along the back of your neck, “Why are you wearing this on a lonely Friday night?”, his eyes raked your figure, noticing the sheer black stockings covering your long legs.

“Maybe I was waiting for you”, your eyes sparkled mischievously as you folded one leg over the other, allowing him a glance at the lace topping of your stocking before letting the silk robe fall down, covering it up.

Jason choked, caught off guard by your forward statement. He swallowed, looking over your face, “Seriously?”.

You laughed, not quite believing you’d managed to reel Jason in that easily. You guessed the whiskey wasn’t helping his brain function. Shaking your head, you grinned, “No, my date cancelled on me unfortunately”.

He frowned, feeling a wave of jealousy twinge in the pit of stomach. You were going to wear that for a date? What were you going to put on, over it? Or was your date just going to come round to your apartment and…he stopped himself, not wanting to picture that.

Jason’s fingers gripped the back of the sofa slightly wondering if you’d wear that for a date with him. He pictured ripping it off piece by piece as you begged him to give you more. He licked over his bottom lip before muttering, “A date?”.

“Yes, a date, I don't suppose that's against company policy?”, you raised an eyebrow looking directly at him. His face was stern, sharp jaw locked tight.

He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his cheek, scratching over his dark stubble, “So, what were you planning to do instead?”.

Running a hand through your hair, you leaned back against the sofa, “Eat take out and watch a film”, you waited for a reaction but he just stared silently, “You’re welcome to watch it with me if you want? But I can’t promise the film will be Oscar worthy though”.

You had to admit this was uncharted territory. You didn’t know what the protocol was. The CEO of the company you worked for, had turned up at your door uninvited and slightly tipsy. The same CEO who you’d slept with last week and hadn’t been able to take your mind off. The same CEO who’d given you the impression it was just a ‘one off’.

“Please tell me this isn’t Titanic…”, he muttered whilst kicking his shoes off under your coffee table.

You smiled, “Nope…it’s a mafia film”.

“Oh, they’re my favourite”, he grinned happily.

It wasn’t that far from the truth. It was about a mafia boss. But, the point of the story was far from mafia dealings. You smirked to yourself and folded your legs under you, settling as you pressed play on the movie; 365 Days.

———

You flicked your gaze across to Jason, hiding the little smile on your face. You watched his features set into a tense frown, eyes not moving from the screen. His entire body was rigid. You had fully intended to turn it off after the first 30 minutes but you’d enjoyed teasing him far too much.

“I thought you said this was a mafia film?”, he ground out.

“It is”, you replied innocently pointing to the dark haired Italian man on the screen, “He’s the mafia boss”.

Jason finally turned to you, his eyes blown black. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and edged closer to you on the sofa, “This is practically pornography”, his voice was thick with lust. Every scene playing on the screen, he pictured in his own mind with you.

“You’re exaggerating! Just sit back and enjoy this cinematic masterpiece”, you waved your hand to him, brushing him off before turning back to the screen, ignoring him.

“I think”, he growled low, “You put this on to tease me”.

When you looked at him again, he was practically on top of you, caging you down onto the sofa. The scent of his cologne engulfed you making you feel dizzy. His arms were resting either side of your head, making sure you couldn’t escape. You gasped and pressed your palm on his chest, feeling his heart pounding.

“You’ve been sat there, all the way through this film, in your sexy-come fuck me-stockings…tormenting me”, he wedged himself between your thighs, spreading them wide before leaning down, his lips brushed against your ear lobe, “Well princess, I think it’s your turn now”.

You swallowed thickly, feeling your entire body reacting to him, craving to be closer. He smirked, letting his hands run up your thighs, the lace topping of your stockings felt perfect against his skin.

“Jason…”, you felt the sparks shooting across you, lighting every nerve on fire.

He tugged at the tie on the front of your dressing gown, pulling it open revealing the expanse of your naked flesh. The high rise thong framed your hips perfectly making Jason wet his lips. He couldn’t drink you in quick enough.

“This all needs to go”, he growled and helped you out of the robe, throwing it to the side carelessly. His fingers snapped the waistband of your thong making you whine his name again. When his fingers dipped under the lace, you expected him to slip the material off you but he didn’t. A loud tearing sound made your eyes flash open, Jason had ripped your panties off you, dropping the ruined fabric onto the floor.

Your face knitted with anger. You went to scold him - those were expensive.

“What the-”.

“I’ll buy you some more princess”, he ground his hips into yours, rubbing his bulge into your core. A frustrated sigh left his throat before he crashed his lips against yours with a fiery passion quelling any of your earlier complaints.

You threaded your fingers through his dark hair, tugging on it and earnt a deep groan from him, which you swallowed readily. The sound shot down to your core, desire slick between your folds. Jason’s hand wound around your back, unclipping your bra before throwing it over your sofa. You purred softly, letting your tongue dance with his as you continued to kiss, desperation peaking between you both.

You arched your back pressing your body into his. The expensive cotton felt perfect against your heated skin. There was something incredibly erotic having him fully clothed, covering your bare petite frame beneath him. The tip of his tie tickled over your sensitive flesh.

He smirked, his ego inflating at the way you reacted to his touches. His rough fingertips grazed down the valley between your breasts and over your toned stomach. You whined when they dipped into the indent of your navel.

“Jason…please”, you begged, circling your hips to entice him. 

He continued lower until he stroked a finger through your silken core. Your wetness coated it. He hummed appreciatively, adding a second finger. You threw your head back against the arm rest, moaning unabashedly. The euphoria buzzed through your veins but you needed more.

Jason flicked over your clit, “You’re so wet for me sweetheart and I’ve barely touched you”. He grinned before continuing with his sweet torture. Your hand gripped his forearm trying to guide him where you wanted him but he resisted with a devilish smile.

The knocking at the door made you both jump. You looked up at Jason through your thick, dark lashes. Your lips were swollen from his bruising kisses.

“Who the fuck is that?”, he grunted.

“Pizza”, you sighed, disappointed at the interruption.

Jason dipped back down, his lips marking your neck eagerly, enjoying the way you mewled and shivered. The knocking sounded through the apartment again making him nip your collar bone roughly. Fingers dipping into your tight core.

“They-”, you panted and dragged your nails through his hair as he continued to thrust into you, “They won’t go away”.

“Fuck!”, Jason tore himself away from your body, growling deeply as he stormed towards the door. The front of his trousers were painfully constricted due to the throbbing of his cock. He threw the door open, glaring at the young teenage boy with the pizza box in his hand. The boy squeaked when he saw Jason, withering under his irritated stare.

“P-pizza f-for Y/N?”, he stuttered and went bright red seeing the pile of tattered lace on the living room floor. Your silk gown strewn over the glass coffee table lazily, bra hanging off the lamp behind your couch. He caught a glimpse of your bare legs before squeaking when Jason huffed loudly. The delivery boy struggled to meet Jason’s gaze, instead choosing to stare at the button at the top of his own shirt. The heat flamed his cheeks at realising exactly what he had interrupted.

“Take this and fuck off”, Jason snapped, throwing a wad of folded notes at him before slamming the door. He ran his fingers through his messy hair, heading back towards you on the sofa.

You had to bite back a smile at Jason’s attitude. He dropped back onto the couch, looking down at your naked body. He groaned, hands palming your tits greedily. His thumbs brushed over your nipples as he leaned down, kissing your throat. You writhed under his touches, burning for more.

“Y-You do know that you just gave him an $80 tip right?”.

“Pocket money”.

Losing his patience, Jason forced your legs apart and unzipped his pants, shoving them down quickly. His cock sprung free, slapping against the bottom of his shirt. Your eyes traced the length of it, mouth going dry at the delicious thoughts. You couldn’t wait to feel the sting of it as it stretched you, dragging against your walls as he fucked you.

He smirked watching the way you eyed him greedily. The look on your face was enough to boost his ego nicely. Using one of his hands to pin your wrists above your head, he guided the head of his cock between your damp folds, teasing your clit with it. You shivered under him and rocked your hips.

“Jason please!”, you whined, sucking your plump lower lip between your teeth.

His fingers dug into your wrist as he sunk his full cock into you, bottoming out. Your head flew back as the burning stretch of his cock sent pulses of pleasure up your spine. He groaned deeply and pressed his face into your neck, continuing his quest to mark you up as his own. His hips started to drive into you wildly.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”, you cried out repeatedly, trying to tug your hands free. You wanted his shirt off. You wanted to trace every muscle on his back and scratch your nails down it. You wanted to hold onto his hair and yank it as he fucked you just the way you needed it.

“No one’s gonna fuck you like this princess”, he rasped in your ear, “Never”.

His words careened in your mind as the euphoria coiled deep in the pit of your stomach. The drag of his cock against your tight wet walls was pushing you higher. He was right. No one had ever fucked you like Jason. Which scared and electrified you at the same time. You moaned his name loudly, forgetting the neighbours, as he changed his angle, hitting you even deeper than before. Your vision became blurry with desire.

“Look at the way your body responds to me”, he gloated, looking down at your breasts, the way they bounced with every thrust of his cock. A damp sheen covered your body as you felt the familiar flush running over your skin.

“You can’t get enough of my cock, can you?”.

You so badly wanted to snap at him but your body betrayed you, desperate to climax. You hooked your legs around his strong waist, pulling him closer to your body. The fabric of his shirt was rough against your overly sensitive skin.

“Oh god!”, your eyes rolled back into your skull as you felt the orgasmic tidal wave start to crash. Your blood ran cold when he stopped. His thrusts became languid, keeping your climax at bay.

“You going to let me fuck your tight little pussy whenever I want?”, his lips curled upwards, smugness radiating off him.

“W-what? Jason- please - I’m so close”, you begged, rolling your hips against his, eager for more friction than he was giving, “Don’t fucking stop”.

“I asked you a question”, he grunted and thrust into you sharply once, before returning to his slow, maddening pace, “Are you going to keep letting me fuck you, princess?”.

You whined when he thrust into you then huffed in frustration when he wouldn’t continue, “Yes!”.

“Yes what?”.

You glowered up at him, cheeks hot with desire, “Yes I’ll keep fucking you”.

“Only me?”.

He was starting to piss you off. You could feel your orgasm ebbing away with each lazy thrust into your sopping pussy. You growled, ripping your wrists free from his grip, locking your hands around his neck.

Yanking him down to your mouth, your lips ran over his, your hot breath mingling with his, “Yes! I’ll only fuck you! Now if you don’t make me fucking cum I’ll kick you out and do it myself!”.

Your words made his eyes darken and he resumed his brutal pace, driving deep into your core. One hand gripped onto your hips and the other held onto the arm of the sofa, helping him thrust into you harder.

Your moans were depraved as he fucked you into the soft plush of the cushions, ripping your orgasm from you possessively. Your nails scratched down his back, under his shirt, enjoying the way his face winced between pain and pleasure. 

The white hot burst of flames exploded behind your eyes as you came, sobbing his name into his shoulder. His thrusts became sloppy and uneven as he neared his own end. Cock pulsing inside you.

Jason groaned huskily as your pussy strangled his cock, tipping him into his own powerful orgasm. He shot rope after rope of hot cum into your core, fingers bitterly biting into the flesh on your hip. You’d definitely have bruises tomorrow. You weren’t even sure if you’d be walking straight tomorrow after the way he’d pounded into you.

His body rested into yours slightly as he caught his breath, his arm propped on the back of the arm rest taking the brunt of his weight.

You stroked your hand up and down his back, regaining your own breath and sanity. Your legs were still locked around his waist, heart beating erratically. 

His lips brushed your cheek delicately and he pushed himself up to look down at you. Your hair was dishevelled, lips swollen from his bruising kisses. You looked delicious. He could easily delve back in for another round but he’d at least allow you to rest first. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Moving off you eventually, he reached out to the coffee table to grab your robe, allowing you to wrap it around yourself as he zipped his pants back up.

“I just want to clarify-”, he started but you cut him off immediately. 

“Please don’t kill the afterglow Todd”, you chuckled and ran your fingers through your messy hair, “I know what you meant. It’s fine. Just sex is all that I want too”.

He went to speak again but you placed your finger over his plump lips, “Yes, only with you”.

Jason licked the pad of your finger, grinning at you, “Perfect”.

You shivered and stood up, not bothering to tie your robe. It fluttered open allowing him to glance over your naked body, “You’re welcome to stay, the night is still young after all”. You winked and sashayed through to your bedroom. You heard him shuffling before catching you up, arms immediately coiling around you from behind.

———

Wrapped up in the sheets of your bed after the second round, you turned to face Jason, stroking your fingertips along the grooves of his muscles, “Where did you put the pizza?”, you pressed a kiss to his chest and murmured, “I’m starving”.

Jason blinked before looking a little sheepish, “Well- I- errr…”.

You watched him before realising exactly what had happened. You groaned and pressed your face into his solid mass, “You paid him and didn’t even get the pizza?!”.

“In my defence I was a little preoccupied”, he winked smugly and tightened his arm around your waist, tugging you on top of him. He enjoyed the way your tiny frame instantly sank into him, not that he’d admit it.

“You owe me new pants AND a pizza”, you huffed and poked his chest playfully, “I honestly can’t believe you”.

He shrugged, “We could just order another one, it’s not like I can’t afford it”.

Whilst his answer sounded arrogant, you knew it wasn’t intended that way. You rolled your eyes and inched your face closer to his, your breath fanning over his lips, “But can you control yourself until it gets here?”.

“That's a tall order princess”, he closed the gap instantly, nipping your bottom lip before rolling you over, trapping you underneath his bulk. You laughed into the kiss snaking your arms around his neck.

--------

#ceo!jason Todd x reader #ceo!jason todd x reader insert #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader insert #jason todd imagine #red hood smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader insert #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader au series

[xmalereader]

Bruce Wayne X Villain! Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Authors Note: Let’s be honest, Pattinson Bruce Wayne is a virgin and if a villain flirts with him he’s gonna become flustered and have no idea how to respond back or what to do, this man is too soft. I also did some adjustments, I tried my best to make the reader a villain but made him sound like more like a mobster boss and someone who is also just starting and new.

Requested: Hello again, i saw requests are open again and can you write a (pattinson) batman x villain reader whos a dangerous villian but flirty?

Warnings: Enemies to lovers and back to enemies, on and off relationship, flirting, Common struggles, teasing, detective, readers alias name is K, mentions of mafia. Reader helps Batman but also wants his attention, mentions of rape, semi dark theme.

Tags: @revivedenzo

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“He did it again.” Gordon hands Batman a note that was attached to their lastrar victim today, the note reading.

‘Hope that helps!’

Batman frowns, reading through the note over and over again, hoping to find something useful or any clues as to why he’s been doing this.

“I still don’t get why he’s doing this—but I’m not so sure if I should be glad or upset.” Gordon tells him, crossing his arms over his chest. It’s been a year since this new person made an appearance in Gotham, he’s been ‘helping’ Gotham with the crime in the last years, capturing guys that the GCPD struggled to find. He maintained the same skills at Batman and it worried Gordon.

For Batman, it wasn’t anything new. He’s dealt with crazier before and can handle anyone. Each person he fought with always held a pattern towards their victims but for them, it was different. It’s like the man keeps everything clean and hides any evidence of him being around.

“We’re you able to find anything else but this?” Batman questions, holding the note up to Gordon who shook his head in response. “Unfortunately that was all—and the beat up dead guy.” He mumbled out the last part. Most of their victims either turn up dead or alive, depending on what they’ve done.

Batman hands Gordon the letter back. “Let me know if you find anything else.”

“What exactly will you do?”

Batman glanced at Gordon. “Find a way to stop him.” He replies, knowing that it was going to take some time on finding them and figuring out why the man was doing this, a good reason needs to be given.

After Batman leaves Gordon he heads back home, hiding underneath the Wayne tower as he removed his cowl, leaving him dirty and tired. He made sure to remove his contacts and taking a look at what he saw today. He’s been often busy after the appearance of a new villain in the city, the man was suddenly killing men and women, proving to him that he too can show the city justice in his own ways. He was always leaving notes behind for both GCPD and Batman.

Bruce kept copies of the letters, trying to figure out a pattern between them but nothing. They were just regular notes, not riddles or cyphers or anything else. Just plain sentences and words.

“at it again?” Bruce looks over his shoulder to see Alfred exiting the elevator. The two have grown a lot closer after the Riddlers situation, keeping each other close and safe since they were the only family they had for each other.

Bruce hums back in response, turning back to the large screen as he makes a copy of the note left behind. “He left another, but still don’t know what he wants.” He mumbled out, handing Alfred a copy of the note, who takes it between his thumb and index finger, placing his glasses on and examining the copy.

“Same as the others.” Alfred sighs. “Nothing looks different or any signs of a difference.” Bruce frowns, leaning back against the desk as he thinks. “Why do you think he does it?” He asks. Alfred slips his glasses off. “The riddler wanted to reveal the truth and this one—well he does things differently, he attacks criminals with terrible criminal records. Most appear dead and others alive, maybe the pattern you’re looking for is hidden in those people he leaves alive.” Alfred points out.

Bruce stands straight, taking in the information as he thinks about the men and women that were arrested due to leaked information about them without the police knowing. He turns back to his computer and types away, bringing up all the victims records and looking into them, slowly finding a pattern.

“Look.” Bruce points out, splitting the victims in groups. “It shows that majority of them committed murder, but those who showed up dead—“ he pulls up the files to show Alfred. “They also committed murders but they were all partners, working together, some even helped out with kidnapping.” Bruce murmurs.

He know a bit more about the victims and their history, knowing that they each had partners of their own and have committed many crimes together. He still doesn’t know why one partner ends up dead and the other is left alive. “I’ll have to keep searching.” Bruce mumbled out, sighing again in frustration as he pulls back, putting his cowl back on and taking the contacts.

“Where exactly will you go?” Alfred questions.

Bruce glanced over his shoulder. “To a professional.” He mumbled the last part, taking his motorcycle and driving back into the dark streets of Gotham. They were still empty but very few people still roamed around. He didn’t know much about this new killer but he did know someone who could try and help him.

Bruce told himself that he wouldn’t get involved with the man again but right now, he has no choice but to ask for help and he was the only one to do that. Upon arriving to his destination, he makes sure to leave his bike hidden away in the shadows as he walks towards a large building that was near the harbor. He grumbly kicks the door a few times, getting the attention of the guards inside who pull it open.

One of them eyeing him up and down as he slowly smirks. “I’m guessing your here to see K?” He asks, but Bruce only frowns. The guard rolls his eyes and steps back, allowing Bruce to enter as he nods down the hall. “You know where he is.” The guard reminds him and gets back to work. Bruce knows he shouldn’t be here and what he’s doing is wrong but it’s the only way to know more.

As he moved down the halls and inside a large room, he looks around to see another group of men sitting near the television, gambling with each other and laughing. He ignores their looks and moves forward, towards a single door that was at the end of the large room. He stands outside the door and lifts his knuckles to knock but is interrupted by a soft voice on the other side.

“Come in.”

Bruce sighs, turning the knob and pushing the door open. He steps inside and closed the door behind him. He looks up to see a young man standing near the large window, his back facing him as he admires the cities view. “I thought you said you weren’t going to be coming here anymore?” K suddenly asks, turning around to give him a smirk, leaning back against the glass windows.

Bruce frowns. “I also said that I wouldn’t hesitate to turn you into the police.” He threatens, but K only pouts, punishing himself off the window and walking towards his chair behind his desk, sitting down and sighing deeply. “What do you want, B?” He says in a tired tone, obviously not having the time for the big Batman. He was too busy dealing with other students and business that he needs to have completed by the end of the night.

As K sits in front of his laptop typing away without a car, Bruce takes the advantage to set the copied notes on his desk. The other man eyes the notes and hums to himself, taking them in his hands as he looks at them. “Let me guess.” K grins, setting the copies to the side as he stands up. “You want me to find your guy and bring him back here so that you can take him to jail due to all the murders he’s committing?” He questions.

Bruce tilts his head. “You know who it is don’t you?”

“Of course I do—he used to work for me until he crossed the line. I killed his partner and let him go, told him that if I ever saw him again that I wouldn’t be so kind on letting him live.” K scoffs out, looking back down at the copies of notes. He knew that handwriting anywhere, the bastard was taking his leads and killing people he really wanted to deal with first before anything else happened.

“You killed his partner?” Bruce hissed out.

“He touched my sister.” K hissed back. “That bastard was planning on doing terrible things to her and I wasn’t going to allow it and killed him, rather have him dead then behind bars—sorry B but thats just how I do things here.”

“But you let him go.” He mentions towards the man running around Gotham committing murders and thinking that he was helping Gotham. That was something Bruce didn’t understand, But knowing Y/n—K, it something menacing he would do.

K chuckles. “Now that I know where he is, I enjoy a good chase.” He leans forward, over his desk to gently poke Bruce on the cheek in a childish way. He leans back and makes his way around the desk, standing close to Bruce, their chests brushing against each other as Y/n glides his hands up his chest and around his neck. “If you allow me to have some fun with him first I’ll return him to you—alive and give you additional information on some drop labs and maybe a high wanted criminal or two?” He offers, all he wants is to beat the guy to death before turning him to the police.

Bruce looks down at K, the offer was intriguing. “No.” Y/n groans. “I am offering you labs and names and more criminals to arrest.” He lowers his arms that were around Bruces neck, frowning at the taller man as he steps back. “You know I can’t allow you to kill him.”

Y/n glared. “Very well. Good luck finding him.” He mumbled, taking Bruce’s copies and shoving them to his chest. “Get out.” Y/n hissed out, making his way back around his desk and sitting on his fancy chair and getting back to work, Inputting orders and communicating with other dealers that he’s been speaking with for awhile now. He ignores Batman’s stare, Gotham’s knight still stands in his office as he grips the papers in hand and gives him a side glance. “What did I say, B?” He says again, looking over his laptop to glare again.

Bruce shakes his head, Turing away from him and leaving the room. Once he is out, Y/n stops typing. A mischievous grin forming on his lips, pulling out his phone he calls in his guards, standing from his desk as they enter. “gentleman, I have an assignment for all of you.” His eyes growing dark as he picks up his laptop and shows them the picture of their next target.

—

“Looks like we found him.” Gordon says as both he and Batman stood below the hanging body from the lamp post. The streets were closed off by police tape and held the crowds back from seeing anything. Bruce glares at the body, stepping closer as he reached up to remove the attached note that was around his wrist, he hears Gordon approach him as the two read the note.

“Think I wouldn’t get my revenge, B?”

Gordon hums to himself. “There’s something written on the back.” He points out, making Bruce flip the note over to see different addresses and names.

“Just as promised.”

It read with a smiling scribble on the side, taunting him.

“Take a team to these locations, your gonna need all the help you can get.” Bruce informs Gordon, handing him the note and looking back at the hanging body. He was furious with K’s actions. He knew to never trust the man, he was cold hearted and never listened. K owned many business and people who can find anyone or anything for him and if he wanted someone dead he wouldn’t hesitate to finish the job himself. Bruce was far too upset that he leaves the scene without saying a word.

Disappearing from the scene and riding back to K’s hideout. When he arrives he kicks the doors open, huffing angrily as he looks around to see the place empty. Everything that was in the building was suddenly gone, making it look like an abandon building. He heads down to his office, checking the rooms for any signs of K, but nothing. He steps inside K’s office to see his desk still there and his closed laptop.

Bruce approaches the desk, standing in front of it as he stares down at the laptop with a stick note on top reading, “Play me.”

He opens the laptop to see a video automatically playing. In the video he sees, Y/n’s silhouette, standing in front of the view as he smiles to himself and turns around to face the camera.

“Hello B, You’re probably all confused as too why I am suddenly gone? Well, you probably already took notice about what I did and how I don’t keep my promises. Something you always fail to notice—you know, I questions myself as to why you keep me alive or out of jail, really.”

He shifts around, sitting in his chair and spinning around with a wide smile on his face. “Is it because you care to much to put be behind bars? Or is this maybe a fun game of chase that you enjoy?” He questions, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t regret what I did and you can be against it all you want but whatever it is you do, it wont stop me and I won’t ever stop. So, tell me B.” He pulls out an USB drive, showing it to him on the camera, he holds it up and opens a drawer on the left side of his desk, dropping it inside. As he says. “You decide if you want to continue this chase—the drive will show you where I’ve moved.” He stands from his desk, leaning down to give him one last smile. “Until then.”

With that the video ends.

Bruce stands up straight, closing the laptop and going around his desk, pulling her left drawer open to see the drive inside the empty drawer, taunting him and waiting to be picked up. He knows that if he takes it he will be giving into Y/n’s wild game of chase and thats something he shouldn’t get involved with. As he continues to stare at it, he can’t help but sigh. Taking the drive between his index finger and thumb, staring at it before chuckling.

“Fuck.”

#male reader #Batman #Batman x male reader #dc #dc x male reader #Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x male reader #the Batman 2022 #x reader #Robert Pattinson x male reader #Robert Pattinson

[finniestoncrane]

Could get an angst to fluff fic with Riddler/Female Reader and 4, 6, 23, and 27? Only if you feel up to it tho.

Hold Me In Your Arms

General!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 850 not me making myself sad naming this after this song and then getting sad and having to watch that one horrible scene in futurama that it features in BUT ANYWAY this is such a cute idea and i loved writing it so much ;-; request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: none just all fluffy and soft

A myriad of sounds echoed after you both as you hobbled, arm around Edward’s shoulder, his around your waist, leading you down some back streets towards one of his various safe houses scattered through the Gotham slums. Bullets, shouting and yelling, destruction left in your wake as you’d tried to work together on another of Ed’s schemes.

“Why couldn’t you just do as I told you? How hard would that have been?”

“Well why can you never trust me to do anything right?”

Ed stopped for a moment, leaning you clumsily against the wall, giving you a moment to breathe as he spread his arms out, exasperated, spitting as he spoke, furious with you.

“This! This exact situation is why!”

Picking you up again, he practically dragged you to the door of his hideout, barren except for one bed, one chair by a tiny table, a tiny fridge and a microwave.

“I love…what you’ve…done with the place.” Gasping in between your words, you hissed as he dumped you onto the bed. You still didn’t have his sympathy. He was really angry. Pouting as he yanked your sleeve up to see the damage, tools and bandages at hand, he looked up at you, quickly averting his gaze back to your wound.

“It’s just a graze.”

“Just?”

“Yes. Just. But you…you could have died back there. Seriously!”

You rolled your eyes at him, trying to shift the mood to one less serious, a lecture being the last thing on your list of things you wanted.

“Hey. I’m still in charge. You miscounted, miscalculated. You stood up and they shot you. Do you know how many narrowly missed your head before I had you back under cover?”

“Ed, it was fine.”

“You literally could have died. And you know how I feel about ‘literally’.”

“Oh I do.”

“So you know how serious I am.”

“Very.”

He finished cleaning the wound, adding a few little paper stitches over it, bandaging it up and removing his tie from above the wound, his makeshift tourniquet discarded in the corner.

“You’re lucky I’m smart enough to be bestowed with more advanced first aid skills than most.”

“Yeah…lucky. That’s exactly how I feel right now.”

“Don’t be facetious. That means-”

“Oh! I know what facetious means, Ed!”

Dabbing at the leftover blood that trailed down your skin, he huffed at your words.

“This is it. This is the last. I can’t do this anymore.”

Suddenly taken back by the sincerity, the emotion behind what he was saying, you felt a glimmer of panic flutter over your chest.

“It’s not that bad.”

“It is.”

“Oh come on! Anyone could have been shot.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t anyone. It was you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means…” Edward looked as though he had changed lanes halfway through his thought, an unusual thing since he spoke with such certainty and conviction “…it means that you and your long history of…messing things up has come to an end. Look! You’ve bled all over my suit, and my safe house, and my plans. You’re done.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Turning over in the bed to face the wall, you felt the mattress shift as he got up, beginning to walk away, your chest swelling, eyes beginning to water, you choked out some words.

“Please stay with me.”

He had stopped walking, there was nothing but the silence in between you, palpable and stifling.

“You can stay here, in the bed with me. Please.”

The lingering desperation and sorrow in your voice wasn’t intentional, but it did more than a good job at convincing Edward to kick his shoes off, sliding in behind you, his body on top of the sheets, yours cocooned under them.

“I suppose this is the lesser of two evils, given that the other option was the floor.”

The words spilled out, telling in their tone, his forced efforts to sound as though he begrudgingly accepted when in reality, all he wanted was to be close to you and make sure you were alright.

“I am glad you’re ok.”

“Why?”

“What a stupid question. Why do you think?”

“Because now you don’t have to deal with the irritating job of having to figure out where to put my body?”

“No.”

There it was again, that oppressive silence that had come to mean that someone was about to say something that might change the course of the evening, or eternity.

“Because I love you.”

And you were both speechless, even Ed himself, shocked that the words had actually come out of his mouth. His hand slid around your body, gripping yours in his. Neither of you were ready to focus on the deeper effect the words might have on the rest of your time together. It was just nice to know that they were there, bold and honest, a glimpse into the human side of Edward. His touch was warm, comforting, as yours was in return. Both of you smiling, unaware of the happiness you were finding in each other, revelling in the ambiguity of the silence until you fell asleep.

#finnie writes #riddler #the riddler #batman #riddler imagine #the riddler imagine #fanfic #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x reader #riddler x you #edward nygma #anon #friends being friends #edward nigma #edward nashton #the riddler fanfiction

[danimorgan2004]

Reasons pt 1

“Alfred, where is everyone?” I ask walking into the room in my Gotham academy uniform 

“Master Bruce is still in Washington, and Mr. Grayson is at ‘work’. I do believe he should be back in a few days” Alfred says as I put my papers in my backpack

I grab my bag and throw it over my shoulder before walking towards the doors.

“Daniella, Maybe it’s time you made some friends” Alfred says stopping me

I bent down to adjust my knee high socks before grabbing my bike helmet off the table and my keys.

“Alfred, I have friends, I'm just not allowed to hang out with them. I’ll see you after class” I said before going outside and getting on my motorcycle and heading to school.

Bruce was never home anymore so I added some upgrades to his bike and used it as my own. Alfred says I should use one of the cars instead but taking the bike makes me feel more free, like I can be my own person and not be under the thumb of Bruce and Dick. 

*Ring Ring Ring*

“Grayson, speak” I said into my headphones

“Where are you going on my Bike?” 

BRUCE

“I’m going to school and it’s my bike now since you're not home anymore. Look I’ve been trying to get a hold of Dick but he’s not answering, Have you heard from him at all?” I ask as I pull up to a stop light

“No. but I have some files I need you to analyze and report back to me before you start slacking off again with school” 

“Fine, I’ll do it when I get home. Gotta go” I said as I pulled into the parking spot at the school

I turned the bike off and took my helmet off and sat there reading a book till my best friend Jason pulled up next to me on his bike.

“Damn how do you always look so much better than me?” Jason says grabbing my hand and spinning me around, causing me to laugh

“Bruce found out about the bike” I said as we walked into school.

Jason started laughing and we just walked into our class and sat down taking notes as soon as class started. Just before class ended I leaned over and asked Jason if he wanted to hang out after school.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I have a few parts I have to pick up for work. But soon, I promise” He says sincerely

I tell him it's okay before getting up when the bell rings. I left class quickly and raced down the hall to the library where I usually spent the rest of my day after my class with Jason each morning. I walked in and went to find a spot to start working on my assignment for my class. I looked for the books to write my paper and I worked on it for a while until I noticed someone sitting down in front of me. I looked up to see my ex boyfriend.

“Can I help you with something, Lucas?” I ask going back to my writing

“Look I just wanted to apologize for what I said before, I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did but you can’t tell me i’m completely wrong here” He said 

I looked up at him out of the corner of my eyes and I adjusted my reading glasses on my nose before looking back at my paper.

“Lucas you told me my father didn’t love me and that I was only adopted because he felt bad, That was pretty fucked up and it’s going to come out bad when anyone says it. You messed up and we broke up and there’s nothing to it and there’s not going to be. Can you please go now?” I said

“Sure, I’ll see you around” He said before leaving

I went back to my work before the last bell rang. I cleaned up my stuff and checked out my books and went to my locker to get my bag and my helmet. I waited for Jason but he didn’t show up so I went out to my bike and put the books in my compartment under my seat before starting my bike and putting my helmet on. I connected my phone to play music and I left. As I was pulling out of the lot I got another call.

“Grayson speaking”  I said, confused that there was no caller Id.

“Dani? It’s Donna” the other voice said.

“Donna, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“It’s about something Bruce said,” she said worriedly.

“And that would be?” I ask confused.

“It’s time to bring in a new Robin” 

“I know but how’s that going to look when there’s no signs of a Batman or Robin for months and now all of a sudden there’s a Robin?” I ask confused.

“Bruce will take care of it. Just find a new Robin Asap. I’ll check in with you soon” 

“Wait Donna, have you heard from Dick at all?” I ask quickly.

“All you need to know is he’s safe. Bye Dani” She says hanging up.

I made it home quicker than usual since I didn’t wait for Jason. I pull into the garage and go inside to look for Alfred and something to eat since I skipped lunch. I walked into the kitchen after dropping my backpack in the living room next to Tim's. I entered the kitchen to find my brother Tim, there reading a paper about something in Gotham.

“Hey buddy” I said

“Hey, have you heard anything from dad yet?” Tim asked hopefully.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader

[weekend-conspiracy-theorist]

in which some congratulations are in order. (an entry in the tim&steph role swap au.)

"Heya, Matches."

A strong, callused hand clapped heavily against his shoulder, and Bruce looked up from his two fingers of whiskey (that he wasn't actually drinking) to meet Walter Banquist's gaze. The man was a smash-and-grab thief and occasional hired hench, and he was smarter than most about keeping his mouth shut and his eyes open. Still, he and Matches Malone had been friendly (bordering on friends) for years, and that meant Bruce could usually coax a tidbit or two out of him.

Walter jerked his head towards the other side of the room. "Stu's here tonight."

"Is he," Bruce said, and he couldn't help the heavy disapproval that settled into his tone.

Stu--AKA Stuart Ridley, AKA a quick-fingered, sharp-tongued teenager who engaged in occasional petty thievery and con artistry. The kid was smart enough to keep his nose clean of anything too nasty, but he did have a tendency to turn up under foot from time to time, at places like this where the people who were involved in the nastier parts of Gotham's criminal underworld came to blow off steam. Bruce--as Matches--did his best to steer the kid subtly towards less dangerous job options whenever they crossed paths.

He couldn't help it. Kids always brought it out in him--as Bruce, as Brucie, as Batman or Matches or any of his other aliases. Nearly twenty years after deciding to raise a traumatized eight-year-old at age twenty-two, that paternal instinct had become too deeply ingrained for him to beat it down for long. Bruce had given up trying to, more or less; had let it become a facet of Matches Malone and made up a story or two about younger siblings to explain it away.

Bruce struck a match against the rough wood of the bar top, letting his genuine frustration bleed into his voice and thicken Matches's already impressive inner city accent. "He old enough to be in here?"

Walter was laughing at him. A little with him, maybe. Bruce knew he was nearly as disapproving of the kid getting himself in trouble as Matches was. "Has he ever been? I ain't even sure that boy's old enough to vote."

Stu probably hadn't even been old enough to drive the first time Bruce had tripped over him. But the kid had grown steadily throughout their acquaintance until he hit 5'9" about two years ago, and he'd more or less stayed there since. That put him older than Walter thought, despite his youthful face; Bruce would personally estimate that Stu was at least nineteen now, and had possibly even hit twenty.

"But it's Gotham," Walter added at a drawl. "Whatcha gonna do? Tell the bouncer?" He snorted.

The match burnt itself out before it reached Bruce's fingers, and he flicked it aside with a scowl. "You ain't heard of anybody tryna hire some new talent or somethin', have you?" he asked, and "drained" the rest of his drink before wiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist. "That kid don't need to get his ass in deep with any of the employers around these parts."

"Nuh uh. Hadn't heard nothin'." Walter leaned his forearms against the bar next to Matches, glancing across the room at the back of a messy head of brown hair. "Everythin's been quiet lately. Too quiet, if you know what I mean."

Bruce did. It was why he was here. It was why the whole bar was just a little on edge--and why it was such a spectacularly bad time for Stuart Ridley to have crawled out of the woodwork.

The kid had pulled a chair up to one of the scuffed tables and sat on it backwards, one forearm leaned on the back and the other gesturing as he talked to a couple meatheaded bouncers who worked for the Iceberg Lounge. One of the men was laughing; the other rolling his eyes. At least that sharp tongue of his had always seemed to make him more friends than enemies, against all odds.

"You know anything?" Walter asked, his voice low. There was a nervous touch to his voice, something pointed in the way he leaned slightly towards Matches, and Bruce's attention flashed back to him immediately.

"Not a goddamn thing," Bruce muttered, matching his volume and his posture. He searched Walter's face and resisted the urge to narrow his eyes. "You know anything?"

Walter shifted. "Nothin' concrete."

"But you've heard somethin'."

Walter breathed out through his nose, near silently. "Harley Quinn's gone to ground. Somethin's got her nervous."

Bruce felt something in himself grow very still. Last he'd heard, the Joker was still in traction. There were plenty of things that made Harley nervous, of course, but few that she'd actually cut and run over. Fewer still that she'd have reason to know about before anyone else. "You don't think...?"

"He ain't been in Arkham long after the last time." Walter's lips pursed. "So, no, I don't think. I don't think he's had time to pull somethin' together, 'specially with the state Hood left him in before Batman busted onto the scene." He spun a slow finger in the air, indicating the room around them, and his eyes were dark and tired. "But other people are thinkin' it. An' it's got 'em real nervous, Matches."

That... may actually be worse. The entire Gotham underworld growing restless in anticipation of the clown's escape could be just as dangerous in and of itself as an actual Joker breakout would be, and it would certainly be even harder to predict.

"Good week to keep our heads down, then," Bruce muttered.

Walter snorted. "When ain't it?"

Bruce opened his mouth. He closed it. He struck a match against the bar top again, more contemplative this time. "All right," he drawled, as he watched the flame dance. "You got a point there, Walt."

With a snort and a second clap of Matches's shoulder, Walter ducked away from the bar, beer in hand. "You hear somethin', you let me know," he muttered as he left. Louder, directed towards the other side of the room, he added, "And tell Stu he still owes me that twenty bucks from the last time we played darts."

"Thought I'd heard he won?" Bruce asked, snorting.

"He cheated," Walter said flatly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night, old man," Stu taunted, turning to flash a smirk in Walter's direction, and--

Bruce froze, just for a moment, midway through flagging down the bartender for a second round.

He knew Stuart's face.

Of course he did; he might not have run into the kid often, perhaps a dozen times total in the last five years, but it was more than enough to recognize him on sight--or so Bruce would have thought, anyway, and he would have been wrong. Because seeing him again, here and now and for the first time in several months, Bruce was dumbstruck by the realization that he had been unwittingly re-introduced to this young man just a week before.

Not as the petty thief dabbling in affairs he was far too young for--but as the mischievously intelligent young private investigator who had called up the Batman and asked him if he was interested in overturning the rules of Batgirl's unwinnable game of rooftop tag.

Tim Drake's eyes flicked toward the motion of Bruce's hand as he forced himself to finish raising it towards the young woman working the bar (Lucy was in her mid-thirties; Bruce was just getting old), and the kid's smirk deepened for just a moment as he met Bruce's gaze. Then he turned back to his conversation with Penguin's men.

"Another round of the same, Matches?" Lucy asked.

"Sure thing, honey," he responded, automatic, as five years' worth of scattered interactions with so-called "Stuart Ridley" rearranged themselves inside of his mind.

The wig and the contacts that Tim was wearing were very high quality; Bruce would never have noticed them if he didn't know they were there. But it was the clothes, the body language, that were the most effective at obfuscating his identity. Bruce was a highly observant man, and one prone to paranoid pattern recognition at that, but he'd never drawn a line between the sharp, restless teenage hoodlum that sometimes turned up in the same dive bars and seedy restaurants as Matches Malone, and the politely earnest young man that sometimes turned up at the same charity galas and in the same conference rooms as Bruce Wayne.

He'd noticed something similar the prior weekend at the Manor, too--that the Timothy Jackson Drake he had known in passing through his parents and their company was a far cry from the Tim Drake who he was introduced to as Stephanie's ex-boyfriend turned best friend. Timothy Drake had largely dropped off of the high society map after his father's death several years prior (to become a private investigator, apparently), so Bruce had written it off as the passage of time (and trauma) and the prevalence of insincere public personas within Gotham's upper crust.

But even if the rarity of his interactions with both Tim's high society persona and his street kid alias meant that he'd failed to draw the connection between the two of them, Bruce should have known better than to dismiss his instincts regarding the disparity between the boy in his memories and the one in his house. Especially since he now knew that Tim had been going home from those galas just to turn around and run rooftops with the Girl Wonder.

(Stephanie had joked about her reticence to admit to having involved a civilian in her cases as Robin, saying, "He'd probably have done it wearing a stupid wig and calling himself Maurice" about Tim giving her away at her future wedding if the details of their friendship had never come to light. Bruce finally understood what she had been getting at; Stuart Ridley was... an impressively well-developed alias, further enhanced by the fact that Tim had been using it since he was at least fifteen.)

Well. Bruce thanked Lucy for the drink with a smarmy line and took a fake sip, eyeing "Stuart" with frustrated bemusement. This did explain a few things--why Bruce crossed paths with the kid oh-so-rarely, why his attempts to talk him into a less illegal career had been so summarily dismissed. Because the two of them only crossed paths when they both happened to be fishing for information at the same times and in the same places, and because Stuart didn't actually lead a life of crime.

(At least, not beyond the fact that Tim was technically operating illegally as a private investigator, having faked the entire existence of the PI whose license he was operating under.)

Hrn. And there was another layer to this that Bruce hadn't yet considered. Between Tim's own deductive talents and the frankly disquieting amount of information Stephanie had apparently been confiding in him over the years, Bruce could only assume that Tim had known exactly who Bruce was this entire time.

Stephanie always did manage to keep him on his toes, even by proxy. He swallowed back a sigh that was far more Bruce Wayne than it was Matches Malone.

Bruce kept his distance for another couple hours, gently feeling out the room for any further information on Harley and the state of the rest of Gotham's criminal underworld, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched Tim Drake do the same. When his conversation dropped off with the enforcers from the Iceberg Lounge, Stuart Ridley headed for the dartboards; and when that ceased, the kid found himself in a corner booth with a woman--her name started with an M, Bruce believed--that Bruce vaguely recognized as a frequent flyer in both Ivy and Riddler's organizations. All the while, a bottle of beer dangled from his fingers.

(Bruce tried not to glower. If he recalled the file that Oracle had put together for him correctly, then Tim was only a few months shy of twenty-one. Besides, if the kid was smart, he wasn't even drinking it.)

Still, around ten that evening Bruce maneuvered himself into Tim's path and caught the back of his neck with one hand to keep him from straying. "Ain't it a school night?" Matches demanded, giving Stuart a gentle shake back and forth.

"Yeah, Matches, for kids who have school," Tim fired back, punctuating the sentence with a solid (but painless) thump of his fist against Bruce's ribs. "I dropped out! And if I hadn't, I'da still graduated years ago."

"Aw, go home, kid." A man--Louis Browning, enforcer for the Falcones--seated at a table near Bruce's elbow waved Tim away. "Ain't you got a sweetheart waitin' for you?"

"Maybe. Or maybe she dumped me, an' I'm drownin' my sorrows," Tim said, with a smile like a shark, but he laughed when Louis did and let Matches steer him out of the bar and down to the sidewalk.

Bruce raised an eyebrow when he felt Tim's fingers slip into the pocket of his coat, releasing his grip on the kid's neck to catch his wrist instead. "Nice try, Stu."

Tim held up a pack of cigarettes in his other hand and wiggled the matchbook pointedly. "Just need a light, Matches, jeez."

They drifted off to the left side of the two crumbling concrete steps that led up to the door of the bar, exchanging nods with the two men smoking on the opposite side. With his back to them, Tim allowed himself to indulge in a grimace as he took a drag off the cigarette.

"Fuck, that's horrible," he murmured, barely loud enough for Bruce to hear.

"Didn't have to be part of your persona," Bruce murmured back, keeping his arms crossed and his eyes focused on the burning ember at the end of the cigarette.

"As a teenage pick pocket? In Gotham?" Tim snorted. "Yeah, it did."

Fair enough.

A quicksilver grin flashed across Tim's face, there and gone, and he added, at a more normal volume, "Community center on Jackson's got all these signs up lately, all doom'n'gloom 'bout the dangers of smoking, but they ain't got me to quit yet."

Ah. Those signs were part of a Wayne Foundation initiative to provide community drug and alcohol education. Bruce was being needled.

He flicked his gaze to Tim's--turned brown by contacts, and in the dim orange lighting of the streetlight half a block down, he couldn't even see the subtle circle outlining the edges of the lens. "As if you've ever listened to anybody with a lick of sense," he drawled.

A quirk to Tim's lips. "Touché." He took another drag of the cigarette, his cheeks hollowing briefly, and then asked, "So, whaddaya want, Matches?"

"You to keep your nose outta trouble. Startin' with whatever it is that's got everybody so on edge--it's a good week to keep your head down, Stu." Quietly, Bruce added, "I'd like to know what angle you're working, if it won't run you up against confidentiality issues with your client."

"Yeah, mom, whatever you say." Tim dropped back to a murmur himself, disguising his words behind the hand holding his cigarette. "No client. I just like to keep my ear to the ground; helps to know where to start digging if you have a sense of the lay of the land. But no one wanted to talk about anything significant with me tonight. They're all cagier than normal."

Walter had been the only one willing to truly talk to Matches either. Bruce matched Tim's volume, his words nearly swallowed by the wind as he told him, "Apparently there's whispers that the Joker's looking to make another break."

Tim's eyebrows shot high. "You're kidding. It's barely been a month. No way he's healed up from the beating Hood gave him."

"It seems highly unlikely. But you know what even a rumor can do when it comes to the clown."

Long fingers tapped the ash off the end of the cigarette as Tim pursed his lips. "You know where this rumor came from?"

Bruce shrugged. "There aren't many things that send Harley Quinn to ground."

Tim had started to take a drag off his cigarette, but he choked instead, holding it off to the side as he pounded on his chest with his other hand, eyes wide. "Jesus, Matches, everybody's this worked up cuzza Harley?" he blurted. "She ain't in hidin' cuz she's scared, man! She's pregnant."

"She--what?"

The other two smokers turned around to stare at them, jaws dropped.

"How do you know?" Bruce asked, just barely remembering to use Matches's voice--even as the memory of a very strange 4 AM phone call from a very excited Selina rose to the surface.

(After an oddly cagey bit of rapport, she'd finally blurted, "What do you get for the woman who has or could steal anything?"

He'd thought she was fishing to figure out what he'd gotten her for Christmas, not brainstorming presents for a baby shower.)

Tim threw his hands in the air, looking exasperated. "How do you not know? She's got half the pint-sized runners in Gotham covering craving duty so she can keep stocked on chocolate ice cream, dill pickles, and Chicken Whizzies!"

Ah.

Street kids didn't typically like to talk to Batman, so he'd been leaning more and more on the Red Hood to cover that route of information, and Jason was still out of town with the Outlaws after the stunt he'd pulled with the Joker. Bruce resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"No wonder Mazza was as confused as I was," Tim groaned, dropping his cigarette butt and grinding it out beneath the heel of his sneaker. "God, I'm gonna go sleep. Somebody--" the pointed gaze he shot at Bruce said that he meant Batman-- "better tell Ivy to make an announcement before the underworld tears itself apart tryna figure out what's goin' on with Harley."

"Harley," one of the smokers echoed, shell-shocked. "Pregnant. I didn't even know she and Ivy was tryin'!"

***

"I think it was an accident," Tim said dryly. "How's that work when you've gotta mix somethin' up in a test tube if you wanna combine your DNA? I got no clue." He spread his hands. "But I try not to ask questions I don't want the answers to, ya know what I mean?"

Bruce knew what he meant. It was his standard operating procedure when it came to his children.

Batman touched down lightly at the edge of Robinson Park around 11 AM, the pouches of his utility belt open to show how conspicuously empty they were and a large carrier bag slung over his shoulder.

"Mazza," he greeted, as the woman Tim had been talking to the night before emerged from the shadow of an unnaturally large fern. He lifted the cover on the bag and tilted it towards her to show what was inside. She twitched, visibly, over the fact that the Batman knew her name, but she did lean forward to peer into the bag.

"Huh," she said. Her dark eyes flicked up to meet the lenses of his cowl through the fringe of her loose afro.

"I'd like to speak to Ivy, if she's available," Bruce said patiently.

Mazza's eyes flicked down to his empty utility belt, and then back to the bag. She straightened, shrugging. "I think she could be persuaded."

He followed her deeper into the park, unsurprised as the foliage quickly grew thick enough to turn a sunny day into perpetual twilight. Plants twisted and writhed out of their way, opening a path towards the center of the green space--and closing it back up behind them.

Bruce had intended to join Robin and Black Bat on patrol the previous evening after having made his appearance as Matches Malone. After Tim's revelation regarding Harley Quinn's alleged pregnancy, however, he'd headed back to the cave instead, trusting the two of them and Batgirl to hold down Gotham without him for the night. It hadn't taken long at all to find evidence of what Tim had mentioned--

Ivy's people had been matching the paranoid suspicion of those around them, but seemed utterly uncertain of its root cause. (Hrn. Unintentional pun. Don't mention that one to Dick.) Children and young teenagers were caught on video at grocery stores and corner markets at random hours of the day, buying ice cream and other junk food with large bills that earned them suspicious side eyes from the cashiers, then pocketing the change and leaving the bags at the edges of Robinson Park. From there, one of Ivy's people was undoubtedly delivering them to whatever safehouse Harley had holed herself up in.

Mazza stepped aside as the path opened into a clearing, and Bruce stepped past her with a nod before turning his attention to Poison Ivy.

She lounged at the center of the clearing, cradled by vines and soft, moss-coated branches. Her red hair spilled down over one shoulder, nearly glowing in the single ray of sunlight which breached the canopy above.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Bruce said, his voice a bit too low to be Bruce Wayne's, but softer than Batman's usual. He held out the bag, its strap hooked over two fingers, and a vine slipped it out of his grip to bring it over to Ivy.

She flipped open the cover, her expression aloof and distrusting, but it softened immediately as she withdrew the family size bag of Pizza Blasted Chicken Whizzies. "I suppose I shouldn't bother to ask how you knew, 'World's Greatest Detective.'"

"There are pre-natal vitamins and a pack of newborn diapers under the junk food," Bruce told her, a curl of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. "I also included an information packet for the Lamaze class at the GCC..." He hesitated. But Stephanie had made him promise. "The Girl Wonder swears by it personally."

Ivy's gaze flicked up to meet Batman's, startled. Her lips parted, but she swallowed back whatever she had been about to say, replacing the bag of chips and letting her vine spirit the carrier bag further into her forest. "Harley's going to be so excited that you brought her gifts that she might track you down just to cry on you," she warned him.

Harley Quinn and pregnancy hormones. The thought made Bruce want to shudder. "Thanks for the warning."

She shrugged, curling her legs up and to the side as she studied him. "But you're not just here as a delivery boy."

"I'm sure you've noticed that the city's a bit of a powder keg at the moment."

Ivy blinked, long and slow. "I have."

"Harley going to ground has people convinced that the Joker's on his way out of Arkham again. I'd appreciate if you could do something to dispel the rumors before someone strikes the match."

Something glittered in Ivy's eyes. "Be careful what you wish for, Bat," she warned. "None of us wants to experience the gender reveal party I caught Harley planning the other day."

Bruce felt his eye twitching behind the cowl. "She knows that explosive property damage is usually an accident at those, doesn't she?"

"She doesn't care."

Of course she didn't.

"How about an announcement in the newspaper?" Bruce asked dryly.

"Is there a reporter you don't mind getting kidnapped?"

"Ivy."

She rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand in his direction. At his back, the path out of the park reopened. "I'll tell the minions to get the word out. Now get out of my sight."

"Thank you," Bruce said calmly. His cape fluttered as he turned to leave.

He made it about ten feet into the gloom before Ivy called after him. "Batman?"

"Yes?" He paused, looking back at her.

"Any parenting advice?" she asked, with a trace of a smile in the corners of her eyes.

"Not until the baby is a pre-teen," he admitted, with a quirk of his own lips. "The youngest I've dealt with was eight."

"The babies," Ivy corrected. "Twins."

Good god.

"I hope I'm retired before they grow up," he told her, quite sincerely, and Ivy tipped back her head as she laughed.

#so this took a wild left turn from what I initially set out to write #but this au continues to be stupid yet fun so who cares #bruce wayne #tim drake #poison ivy #harley quinn #the tim&steph role swap au

[marvelmaniac2000]

The Break In (Batman x reader) SMUT Part III

Summary: Bruce revealed his face after sucking his fingers clean of your juices. Since then you have been constantly looking over your shoulder pandering when the next time he will appear. But this time as Bruce Wayne?…or Batman?…

Subject: Mini smut, sexual intercourse, MATURE CONTENT +18, soft sex kinda thing?

Play talk, dominance,

Characters: Bruce Wayne x Reader (Catwoman), Falcone

Words: 1.2k

Notes: It’s time to soften the scene… a little lol…

Part 1

Part 2

MISSPELLING/GRAMMAR APOLOGIES

“Why haven’t you set up the bar meeting that’s planned for tonight?” Falcone gleamed at you under his sunglasses. “There’s a lot of deals that need to be made and I can’t afford a bad environment to persuade them.” You pick up the empty glasses off of his brown wooden desk. Even though you had hatred for him and tried to cover your emotions, you still felt the control he held over you. Between Falcone and Bruce Wayne you now knew of, there was too much stress that boiled your mind. Nothing scared you about these men however, Gotham has their ways of tearing you down regardless if you tried to be righteous or not.

“ I have no excuses, I promise everything will be perfect by then” You gave him a fakest smile before turning around out of his office. “It better be or else this will be coming out of your tips tonight doll!” And just like usual the threats never stop.

The night club was booming with life and Falcone was satisfied with the party set up for tonight. Everything was going as planned for tonight, nothing out of the ordinary. You were eager just to go back home to figure out who exactly was Bruce Wayne. You knew of him, but what exactly propelled him to become Batman? I guess the same reason why you too, roam the city in a ridiculous cat costume. He was a hurt soul searching for meaning in a life that was taken from him. You wanted to shout from the rooftops to tell everyone that it was yet so obvious that it was him all along, but what good would that do? If anything it just hurt him even more, and destroyed whatever “good” there was left in this god forsaken city. You huffed to yourself and looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Since when did you start caring about rich people?” You whispered to yourself.

“You shouldn’t just judge people by their wealth” a voice woken from behind you. Bruce leaned up against the wall with a black baseball cap on and with all dark clothes. “And you should stop scaring people,” you snapped back. He lifted his chin to get a good look at you. He carefully chooses his words next.

“I’m glad you haven’t told anyone yet which I suspected you wouldn’t, because I know your own secrets.” You opened your mouth to speak but he raised his hand. “But they are safe with me, because the difference between me and you is I know when things are more complicated than they are. Nothing is ever black and white.”

He locked the bathroom door and approached you with his darkened colored eyes. The bags under his eyes were deep but seeing the real “Batman” was still surreal to you. You almost wanted to faint because of everything that has happened this past week but you had to keep your composure. “I mean my secrets are the same as yours but the only difference is I don’t have money like you to stop me from seeking into a bigger hole” you rubbed your forehead and placed your hands on each side of his arms. You hated that you grew to love him because this only made things even more complicated for both of us. Bruce leaned his head against yours. He seemed less tense when he was not wearing his suit. His body language was more open toward affection in public.

“This has to stop.” you looked into his eyes trying to convey desperation. You couldn’t keep whatever this was with him any longer. One minute you lusted over him, but the next instance you wanted to hide from the damage he may cause in your own life (if anyone finds out you were involved with him).

Bruce wanted nothing more but to hold you and fix whatever was happening in your life. He knew exactly what your motives were in this awful place, but he knew you were right for once. All he wanted was to see your face one last time. He couldn’t stay away from the feeling he felt every time he was near you. If this was the only way he could see you, he was willing to take that chance, as long as he had the upper hand in Gotham city.

Bruce leaned his mouth against your ear, and nuzzled your sweet scent. His hot breath blew against your neck feeling every nerve of your body spark. “I can’t stay away from you” he kissed the lining of your jaw and brushed his lips against your soft skin. “I know how stupid this situation is but I kept help thinking about how much I miss being inside you.” He raised his inner thumb to caress your bottom lip again.

“Don’t you miss the way I make you moan?” You closed your eyes feeling his hand travel down your coattail dress. His warm hand rubbed your inner thigh hoping to pump your flower of wetness again. Strands of Bruce’s hair tangled between your fingers as he traveled his butterfly kisses down your neck.

He pushed you up against the bathroom’s counter and wasted no time pushing your dress up. You spread your legs slightly so he could remove your panties. “I hope you haven’t been sharing this sweetness with anyone else '' Bruce pulled your legs a little closer toward him. You grazed your long nails over his chiseled jaw. “I promise I don’t share this kitty with anyone else '' you tongue him before grazing your teeth over his bottom lip. Bruce gave out a husky moan. You knew he loved the slight roughness that would send him overboard. He removed his hat to the side and unbuckled his belt to expose his hard dick. Your pussy throbbed and ached seeing his size again.

Bruce spread your legs apart and slowly pushed the pre cum tip inside your wet entrance. You moan feeling the grazing of your walls fit perfectly around his dick.

Bruce stared straight into your eyes and smirked at your begging expression.

“Are you sure you want to stop doing this?” He slowly pulled out and waited for your response. You whimper in irritation knowing he was being a complete tease. “Just one last time” You grab his shoulder and pull him closer begging him to enter you again. Bruce slowly enter his dick back in and tortured you with slow deep meaningful strokes. You try to quiet down your moans but you couldn’t help how much pleasure you felt him hitting your g spot.

A thumping noise from the bathroom door disrupted you both. You naturally snapped your head toward the door in panic. Bruce grabbed your chin and directed your eyes back to him. “Focus on me kitten, let them hear you moan” he pushed your legs further up to deepen his stroke. You cry out in pleasure looking into the deep dark eyes of Bruce Wayne.

#bruce wayne x reader #fanfic #writing #love story #bruce wayne smut #the batman #batman x reader #batman smut #batman x catwoman #robert pattinson #dc universe #dcmultiverse

[mxtantrights]

The magic-spy and the bird

the best friends brother trope is in my top 5 tropes. but I've also got a thing for angst. So here we areeeee. enjoy! <3

dick Grayson x f!reader

Jason Todd had asked you specifically to ask his brother out. And he did use the word brother, which you made a point to bring up. He shot it down but still decided to push his message towards you. You should ask Dick out. It wasn’t that simple.

“Jay I don’t think you’ve thought this through.” you said.

He chuckled, “Of course I did. I wouldn’t say it out loud if it wasn’t a well-cooked plan.” 

You made a face at him.

“Okay look, all I'm saying is you’ve got nothing to lose. If anything you're way out of his league.” he said and then gulped down the rest of his beer.

You didn’t like beer and so you worked on a Pina colada. You had done the whole beer thing for years now. As a trained spy it was your go-to for missions at bars. Safe to say you were sick of ales, craft beers and everything in between.

“Ah yes, the magic using spy.” you nodded your head.

Jason nodded along with you. 

“Exactly. Bird brains would eat that up.” he said.

“And when would I tell him that I knew about his secret identity? Before I tell him about mine or after?” you asked. 

Jason sighed and raised his hand for another beer. You rolled your eyes at this. Once he had a thought it was very hard for him to let it go. Especially when it included a thought about people he cared for- no matter how much he claimed the opposite. 

“All Im saying is, you never know until you try.” 

“What are you a fortune cookie?” 

“Fuck off. I’m being serious and I do give great advice you can ask Duke.” 

2 DAYS LATER 

You look at Caliban with bated breath. He had just gotten info on a magic-based rebellion. Work was tight when you rolled with the good guys for too long of a time. You blame that on two men on your life, Jason and Constantine. 

“I’ll put in a good word for you.” he says.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. And any-”

Before you can finish telling Caliban that he can call in a favor from you at anytime your surroundings change. In a flash you go from one of the underworld crime bars to a room you’ve never been in before.

You look around and sure enough you see the culprit. Constantine.

“There she is!” he smiles.

Not only did he summon you, he did so in front of an audience. Circled around him is Gotham’s crime fighting family. All of them except Jason, Cass and Duke. All of which know about your secret identity and would’ve stopped Constantine from summoning you. The rest of the family are all looking at you liked you’ve grown a second head.

You look down at what you’re wearing. The long sleeve off the shoulder skin tight black dress was the perfect choice for the club you were supposed to be in. Maybe not so much for a meeting with the Bats and his birds.

You look right ahead at Constantine, “I don’t like being summoned.” 

“Ah, but you’re the best person I know for this job. I had to get you over here.” he says.

You take a quick look at all the other people in the room. Then at the screen behind them. Your information is plastered on it. Well, the information that you’ve decided to let the government think was yours. Your codename was at the top of the screen.

“Constantine says that you’re the best way into the underworld.” Batman says.

You’re confused to say the least. Constantine was Constantine, why would he call you in order to get them into the underworld when he can do it himself? It defeats the purpose of having to call him.

“I’m sorry,” you direct to Batman and then look at your friend, “I need you to state specifically what I’m needed for.” 

Constantine moved from the family over to you. As he did you watched as Nightwing followed him with his own eyes. Now Dick knows you’re not just Jason’s friend from around Gotham. Great.

“Bats got intel that something it going down with this magic group, the-” he starts. “hex mutiny.” you finish.

“You already know about them?” Nightwing says.

“I was just getting someone to put in a good word for me with them before you summoned me here. You’ve got great timing you know that?” you say to Constantine.

He smiles, “Well then it seems like you can be of great service, spygames.”

“And what exactly would I be doing, if I can even get a spot with them?” you throw out the question to the family.

Red Robin crosses his arms, “We need someone on the inside to tell us what they are planning for Gotham.”

“I doubt they’d let a newbie in on their plans.”

“Good thing you won’t be a newbie.” Batman says.

Constantine conjures an amulet in his hand. You want to hit him over the head. He could really be a pain in the ass. You grab it from him.

“With this, you’ll be in the perfect position to get in and get out. Easy.” he says.

You shake your head, “Every time you say that I get a new scar.” 

“I promise sweetheart. No scars this time.” 

“Yeah yeah, you owe me for this.”

EXACTLY ONE WEEK LATER

You knew you would end up wounded. Typically with Constantine it was nothing deadly, or nothing your own magic couldn’t fix. But you knew that your luck had to run out some day. And it wasn't his fault.

After finding out what the group was really up to you couldn’t just let them operate. They weren’t really rebels. No they used that name to paint a narrative. They were fascists.

You held the wound to your waist to stop the bleeding. This would have to be the farthest you could go. There was no way you could run out of this. Not with the blood seeping through the cracks of your fingers.

At least you brunt the members down to the ash. It took a lot out of you. And that’s why you weren’t prepared for a hit that tore right through you. 

“Why aren’t you moving?” Jason, or Redhood, said through the comms.

You leaned against the hallway wall.

At least you’d die someplace pretty. When you first came in you didn't notice how clean and meticulous everything was. There were painting of famous magicians on the walls. Along with some stolen art, a Van Gogh or two. 

You ripped the amulet off your neck and felt the illusion fade. The necklace fell to the floor and you let out a pained breath.

“I think,” you coughed and on the clean wall was not splatters of blood, “this is it.”

You could hear Jason shouting on the other end. He was calling out your name, calling out for Constantine to come and help you. Duke was calling for you too. And you could’ve sworn you heard Cass say your name once. 

With your only free hand you tried to open a portal out of the base. You knew it would be useless as you had a mortal wound and portal magic works best under no stress and panic, or blood loss. The usual light from your hands glowed faintly until it didn’t.

“Constantine can’t summon you?” Dick asked.

At that you let your body drag down the wall until you reached the floor. When you did sit down more blood came out. So you decided to lay down horizontally. 

“Hey hey- I told you I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you.” you hear Constantine through the comms.

You want to laugh, but it ends out more of a chocked gargle.

“I screwed up the mission. I deserve it.” you said.

“You did good. Better than any of us.” Batman said.

“Constantine you need to call in whatever favors you have to get her out of there. Now!” Jason shouted.

“Dont,” you started.

“No. We’re getting you out of there-”

“Jason, I’m not a saint. I never would’ve imagined going out like this.” you said.

Once you were born you were thrusted in this world. All you knew was to use magic as a weapon. To get ahead, to get power, to get the glory. And that lasted you until you turned 19. 

Then Constantine crossed paths with you. He was the one to show you that magic has other uses. Such as helping and healing. You learned the best stuff from him.  And you took what you learned and began to help in ways you could.

You didn’t go on the straight and narrow. Never did you consider yourself a morally correct person. Sometimes the lines were blurred, or they need to be blurred. And so you took down seedy organizations, went on recon missions all over the world.

It wasn’t justice. But it was close enough that you could sleep at night or the odd hours of the morning for more than four hours.

“Sweetheart I don’t break my promises.” Constantine said finally.

You were just beginning to feel your eyes grow heavy. The pain was starting to be comfortably numb. Then above you appeared someone you weren’t expecting in the slightest. 

“Caliban?” you asked.

“You owe me double.”

4 DAYS LATER

When you woke up you felt battered and weak You weren’t used to these feelings and you weren’t used to being so close to death. Everyday was a new experience when you’re the Priestess of Espionage.

You cracked open one eye to find a couple of deviants at your side. Jason, Duke and Cass. The youngest took the chair next to you while Duke and Jason seemed to take the floor. Since they weren’t in their gear you guessed that you were out for longer than a couple of hours.

“Not my version of hell but I’ll allow it.” you say in a raspy voice.

It wakes everyone up.

Jason and Duke bolt to your bedside.

“Why’d you almost die on me?” and “Are you feeling okay?” come from them both, respectively. It makes you want to laugh but when you feel the ache in your waist you stop yourself.

“I’m alive, so there’s that. Positives.” you answer.

Jason shoots his younger siblings a look and they scurry out the room. You try to sit up to ask what it was for but he puts his hands up for you to stop any movement. So you lay back down.

“He would kill me if you tore your stitches.” 

You shut your eyes, “Jason I don’t think Constantine would kill you per say.”

You hear the door opening so you decide to open your eyes. And sure enough you see Jason leaving the room and someone coming in. Dick Grayson, out of his suit as well. 

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t read his face. Besides the clear betrayal that was there. He definitely knew that you knew he’s Nightwing.

“Hi.” you say.

His face softens, “Hi.”

“I just want to say that I would’ve told you about who I am. Sooner that you think actually but this mission kinda derailed all of that.” you say.

With his arm crossed over his chest he nods, “How long did you know I was Nightwing?”

You wince.

“For about two years now. Once Jason told me he was Red it was hard to not notice the similarities of the Wayne family and the Bat one.” 

He laughs at that and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It must be going good if he wants to laugh. 

“And when did he tell you that I like you?” he asks.

“He didn’t explicitly say that.” 

There’s a beat of silence. You’re looking at him and he’s looking at you. But he’s the one who seems to be holding his breath this time. You try to hide the smirk you feel forming on your lips.

“What?” he asks.

“Jason had told me that I should ask you out. He didn’t say anything about you liking me.” you answer him.

The red tint that covered Dick Grayson was absolutely adorable.

He nods his head to himself. Twice.

“I- I’m gonna get Jason for you.” he moved to the door.  And you don’t really know what to say. All your words get jumbled in your brain and you can’t put them together in a way that is smooth enough so you deicide to just try your best.

“If you were to ask me out, I would say yes.” you say.

He looks directly at you. Then his signature smirk appears.

“I’ll bring back some food for later.” he says.

“it’s a date.” you answer.

#dc x reader #Dick Grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #Dick Grayson imagine #nightwing imagine #dc imagine #dc #nightwing #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd x reader #Jason todd imagine

[ragingbookdragon]

If All Of The Kings Had Their Queens On The Throne

Batsis x Ghost-Maker One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst, Mature Themes

Author's Note: This is a direct continuation of the previous fic! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

When the door to The Haunt didn’t immediately open, she frowned and clicked the button. “Hey! Lemme in!”

For a moment, there was nothing, then she heard, “Apologies Miss Wayne. Ghost-Maker is busy training. Shall I alert him?”

She sighed. “Nah, just let me in and I’ll get him.”

“Of course.”

The doors split open, and she walked into the base, immediately rolling her eyes at the colors, or better yet the lack of color at all. She had no idea what spurred him to pick white as one of the main colors in everything he wore and used, but God if it didn’t make him look like a psychopath. A snort passed her lips at her little joke, and she wandered around the desk setup and through one of the curtained areas until she heard boxing gloves meeting a punching bag.

Gently tugging the curtain aside, she paused, leaning against the doorway, and watched his back. He was shirtless and had headphones in, as he usually was and did when he trained alone, and his muscles rippled each time he threw a powerful strike. She couldn’t help but watch him; he’d always been so diligent when it came to his training, and if she hadn’t known him better than she did, she would’ve assumed all he did was train. She was very fond of it though. Very fond of him.

“You going to stand there or are you going to get a set of gloves and spar with me?”

She shook herself from her thoughts to see him rounding the bag, throwing a devastating kick; she snorted. “No thanks, Ghost. I just got over having a cracked skull.” Walking over, she neared the space, but stayed just far enough that she wouldn’t get struck.

“I’m actually here to invite you over to the manor tonight.” She said, watching as his eyes flitted to hers behind the mask. “I take it you know.”

“About the little pool party Bruce throws for everyone? Yes. I keep hearing about it over the Ghost-Net.”

She smiled. “It’s a lot of fun, Ghost. You’d have fun.”

He scoffed. “What? Being surrounded by every single hero this side of the galaxy? No thank you, (Y/N). I’d rather not.”

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed the punching bag and held it, looking at him. “You’re not going to make any friends if you spend all your time cooped up in here.”

“I’m not looking to make friends,” he retorted, throwing another punch that sent shock-waves through her arms to her core. “I’m here to clean up Gotham.”

(Y/N) gazed at him. “Sure I can’t persuade you?”

“Positive.”

She shrugged. “Then you leave me no choice.” Leveling him with a strong expression, she warned, “As the newest member of the Batfamily, you have to attend the pool party. It’s tradition and anyone who doesn’t, has to take patrol routes for everyone for a month straight.”

Ghost-Maker stopped dead in his tracks and looked at her. “You’re lying.”

(Y/N) sucked in a breath dramatically, “Ghost, I never lie.” She looked to the ceiling. “Icon, run the conversations from my phone named, ‘Bat-Chat’ and tell him I’m not lying.”

After a moment, the AI’s voice came over, clear and positive. “Miss Wayne is correct, sir. Record texts have shown that those who do not attend the parties thrown by the family for the other superheroes are subject to various torture techniques.”

“What!” (Y/N) shouted. “No, we don’t!”

“You said on June eighth that your brother Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be swirlied for missing the party.”

She sputtered. “I was joking! We don’t swirly each other. We just force our patrol routes on each other.” (Y/N) glanced at Ghost-Maker. “If you don’t come, you’re going to take patrol from me, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Duke, and Damian. You really wanna patrol all month by yourself? All that territory? Think of the time and energy it’ll take, Ghost.”

Ghost-Maker stared her down for a minute, mulling over his choices, then he finally sighed, resigned to his fate. “Fine. I’ll come over tonight.”

(Y/N) grinned. “Nope, you gotta get ready now. We’re arriving together.”

“You annoy me.” He griped, bypassing her to the doorway, and she followed him towards the stairs and to his bedroom where he entered the bathroom and got in the shower. She waited on the bed, gazing around his room while he showered.

“Who all is attending this party? That you know for sure.”

(Y/N) blinked, taking a moment to think. “Uh, all of the Justice League, the Titans and Teen Titans, the Outlaws, a few Green Lanterns…and probably a few anti-heroes but we’ll see.” She shrugged. “So pretty much everyone we interact with on a normal basis.”

“I heard Harley is coming too.”

“Yeah, she’s technically part of the family at this point.” (Y/N) said. “She’d be upset if we didn’t invite her over.”

Ghost-Maker stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and she stood from the bed, wandering in behind him as he lathered his face in shaving cream.

“Trying to show out in front of everyone, Ghost?” she joked, leaving back against the door-frame of the small cabinet behind them.

“Bruce doesn’t keep himself kempt all the time. I do,” he remarked, flicking out the straight razor; he raised it to his jaw, and she hummed warningly, causing his brown eyes to meet hers in the mirror. “What?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “I’m just worried you’ll cut yourself.”

“I’ve been shaving my face since I was fifteen, (Y/N).”

“So that scar on your cheekbone isn’t from cutting yourself?”

He gazed at her. “You know why I have that scar.”

“I do.” She answered, then leaned away from the wall, shifting until she was sitting on the bathroom counter in front of him. Taking the razor, she tilted his chin up and carefully, scraped it down his cheek before rinsing it. “I gave it to you when you called me a coward.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to hit me that hard.” Ghost-Maker replied, coffee eyes focused on her face; she felt exposed under his knowing gaze.

She chuckled. “I think that was the first time I really surprised you that I wasn’t just my brother’s twin sister following him around to make sure he was safe.”

“You can’t blame me for thinking you were. You never joined in the training.”

“I learned better watching then doing.” (Y/N) rinsed the razor and tipped his head back as she drug the instrument down the exposed skin of his throat. “Most people are fearful when someone holds a razor to their neck,” she murmured, carefully shaving his Adam’s apple.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Her hands stilled ever so slightly as she gaped at him. Normally he would’ve said, “I don’t feel fear” but now he said he wasn’t afraid of her. She wanted to hope it was because of what had occurred the last month, her confessing her feelings, him replying that he couldn’t love her like she did him—he’d not totally ruled out caring for her, at least that’s what she saw his words being. They’d not talked about it more than that night, merely going back to work, but she could tell that Ghost-Maker’s demeanor towards her had changed a minute amount. He watched her more. Was…softer with her.

(Y/N) smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.” She rinsed the razor and looked over his face for a moment, then she grabbed the towel and wet it, gently brushing over the shaving cream still on his face. Patting his face dry, she nodded. “Looks good. No nicks.”

“Thank you,” he approved, but didn’t move, keeping his eyes on her and she couldn’t help but look down, suddenly nervous under his gaze.

Her eyes widened when she saw the expanse of his chest though and she reached up, fingers delicately tracing a jagged and raised scar in the middle of his chest. Even healed it looked angry and a bolt of sadness hit her in the heart.

“You’re sad.” He noted. For a psychopath who didn’t feel empathy, he was actually good at discerning when people felt sad—or maybe it was just because he’d known her so long.

(Y/N) nodded, whispering, “There aren’t many scars on mine and Bruce’s bodies that look like this one.” Her fingers moved to one on the right side of his ribs and she frowned. “We’ve always had someone to stitch us up, or we did it for one another. But I can’t help but wonder…” her eyes met his. “Who did it for you? Who stitched the ones you couldn’t reach and do yourself?”

Her chest hurt. “Who was there for you when I wasn’t?” she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the center of his chest. He was so warm, and she sighed, willing herself to not tear up. “I’m sorry, K.”

“For what?” he questioned, a hand coming up behind her, palm resting against the back of her neck.

“For leaving you behind,” (Y/N) answered, deciding then to wrap her arms around his waist, turning her face so her cheek rested to his chest. “I should’ve stayed with you.”

Ghost-Maker made a noise in his throat, and she wasn’t sure if it was agreement or bitterness. “And if you had, you wouldn’t have raised your family.”

She sighed. “Yeah…I know…but even during that time I couldn’t help but wonder how your journey was going. How you and your tech were evolving throughout the years.” (Y/N) pulled back slightly and looked at him. “I used to imagine what it’d be like to be there with you. To fight beside you. To live out your dream with you.”

His hand shifted from the back of her neck to cup her cheek and he tilted her head up, leaning down to kiss her. She closed her eyes, arms shifting from around his waist to wrap around his neck and his free hand gripped her waist, pulling her against him. Ghost-Maker shifted, pressing his lips to the underside of her jaw as his fingers dipped under her thigh, pulling it up until (Y/N) got the hint to cock it around his hip.

“K,” she breathed as he sunk his teeth into her neck, biting hard enough that it had her inhaling sharply, fingers twisting in the dark hair at the nape of his neck. She felt him smile against her skin.

“What do you want?” he asked, pressing surprisingly gentle kisses to where he’d bit as the hand that was on her cheek lowered to push up the blouse that stopped at her waist. His fingers dipped underneath, rubbing against her skin and he asked again, this time firmer, “(Y/N), what do you want?”

Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she could barely think, could barely form words. “I—”

A shrill beeping startled the two of them, well, her more than him, and she finally got herself to breathe. “That’s Bruce calling.” She uncurled one of her hands from his neck to reach for the phone in her pocket, but he caught it.

“Call him back.” Ghost-Maker said, grabbing a fistful of her blouse, starting to pull up.

(Y/N) shrugged his hand off. “If Bruce’s calling, it means he needs my help.” He pulled away and giving her a look, one she met firmly. “I need to take it.”

They gazed at each other for a moment and then he harrumphed, pulling away from her, and walked from the bathroom to his closest.

She sighed and pulled out her phone, answering it. “Hello?”

Are you on your way yet? The party’s already started and everyone’s asking where you both are.

Clearing her throat, she replied, “Yeah, he’s getting his swim trunks.” She glanced out the doorway. “You own trunks, don’t you, Ghost?”

“Do I somehow give you the impression that I’m incompetent?” he shot back, and she rolled her eyes.

“Ass.” She put the phone back to her ear. “We’ll be there in fifteen.”

Be careful. Love you.

“We will. And I love you too.” She ended the call and hopped off the bathroom counter, flicking off the lights as she walked out, seeing him throwing a bag over his shoulder.

“I’m ready to be bored out of my mind.” He grunted and she rolled her eyes again.

“Oh, shut up. You’re going to have a great time. I promise.”

Ghost-Maker glared at her as he pulled the white and black mask over his eyes and nose. “And how do you know?”

(Y/N) grinned, shoving him in the stomach as she walked past him. “Because I’m going to be there all night.”

***

“See!” she chirped as he sunk into the hot tub. “This isn’t so bad.” She handed him a drink. “Free drinks, laughter, and swimming. Fun, huh?”

He grunted, sipping the margarita she’d given him. “Your family and their friends are loud.”

(Y/N) looked over his head towards the other pool, grinning as her eldest nephew threw her youngest into the pool, then turned and threw his best friend. Laughter peeled from the entire group in the pool.

“Yeah…but that’s how you know they’re having a good time.” Her eyes drifted to Bruce who was fondly watching Jason and Roy grill, occasionally laughing as one of them told a joke. “Feelin’ good, Bruce?”

He took a sip of his brandy, sinking until his shoulders were covered by the running hot water. “Feeling great, (Y/N).” he held out his drink. “Put some ice in there? Please?”

She smiled and pulled her legs out of the hot tub, and really, it wasn’t exactly a hot tub because most were above ground, but Bruce being who he was, had redesigned it so that it and the pool were both in ground and connected.

Taking his glass, she rose and wandered over to the bar where a few of her friends were pouring drinks and chatting. “Hey Clark. Diana. How are you both tonight?”

Diana smiled and raised her wine glass. “I am well, (Y/N). How are you?”

“Can’t complain.” She said. “Clark, put an ice cube in here, would you?”

He did as she asked and dropped one in with the tongs. “I’m still surprised you got Ghost-Maker here. I assumed he wasn’t going to come.”

Her eyes flicked back over to the hot tub, and she watched Bruce tip his head back as he laughed, Ghost-Maker chuckling too; she smiled. “He’d never admit it, but he’s glad he came tonight. Anti-social as he usually is, he likes being included in things.” (Y/N) smiled at them and winked, walking back over.

She took her seat back on the side in the middle between Bruce and Ghost-Maker, handing her brother his brandy. “Clark licked all over the rim of your glass, Bruce. Just letting you know.” Feeling particularly childish, Bruce raised the glass to his lips and licked all around the glass. “You’re a child.” She remarked, then glanced to her side, seeing one of the Green Lanterns coming down the way.

“Kyle!” she greeted. “Join the fray!”

The artist smiled, then looked at the men in the hot tub. “I don’t want to intrude,” he said, and Bruce waved.

“Come on in.”

(Y/N) patted the wall between her legs and Kyle walked down the steps, shifting until his back pressed against the wall and she dropped her legs over his shoulders, fingers carding in his hair. “How’s it been going on Oa?”

He shrugged, sipping his beer. “It’s good. Can’t complain too much about saving the universe.”

She smirked. “Uh huh…and what’s this about you and Soranik?”

Kyle choked a bit on his beer, coughing slightly as she giggled. “It’s uh—complicated.” He tipped his head back, resting on her thighs so he could look up at her. “What about you? How’ve you been?”

(Y/N) sighed wistfully, combing back his hair. “Ain’t nothing changin’ but the weather…and the usual telling off the men in front of you for continually betting each other who can do the more stupid shit.”

At that, Kyle’s head tipped up and he first looked at Bruce, then to Ghost-Maker who merely drank from his margarita. “Uh…who’s that?” he asked quietly, and she snorted.

“Kyle, this is Ghost-Maker. Ghost, this is Kyle Rayner, the torch bearing Green Lantern.” She smushed his cheeks. “Isn’t he adorable?”

Ghost-Maker gave her an amused puff. “He is handsome, I’ll give you that.”

Kyle was glad the water had already flushed his skin because the way the man had flirted had made his cheeks warm. “Thank you.” He glanced back at her. “Is his name…?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he takes anonymity to a whole new level.” She tugged at a strand of his hair. “Did you know that only me, Bruce, and a few others know what he looks like and what his entire name is?”

He blinked in response. “That’s…hardcore secret identity, right there.”

“That’s because he doesn’t have any friends.” (Y/N) shot Ghost-Maker a grin. “But you can call him Ghost for short. It’s easier than the mouthful of Ghost-Maker.” The vigilante in return merely rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. “So, Kyle, have any new graphic novels in the works?”

“I do actually. Haven’t written them down but here’s an idea.” He brought up his hand out of the water and a green flash appeared in everyone’s vision. “See how you like it so far?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh in disbelief. “This is so cool.” She grabbed the construct comic book and flipped through it. “Who’s the main?”

“Haven’t named her yet. But she’s a transgender, pansexual Native American who solves crimes as a superhero.” His cheeks flushed. “I know it’s ironic because we’re superheroes, but I couldn’t help it, you know?”

She nodded, seemingly impressed. “Figured out which tribe yet?”

“I was thinking possibly Cherokee. Or Mohawk.”

“I’ve got a MTF Kanienʼkehá꞉ka friend who lives in Quebec.” She said. “I’ll give her a call about working with you on this.”

Kyle lit up like the morning sun. “Really, (Y/N)? You’d do that?”

She looked down at him and shifted her thighs a bit, bumping his head. “Of course. You’re one of my best friends.”

“I love you, (Y/N).” he grinned, and she chuckled.

“I love you too, loser.”

Suddenly the speakers thumped, and her head shot up, looking towards Tim and Bart who were giggling. She pointed at them. “HEY! THIS IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE SONG!”

They merely giggled more and suddenly everyone was singing along to the raunchy song, well, the teens and young adults were but not her and the older people.

(Y/N) shoved Kyle off as she got up and ran towards the speakers. “WAP IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE SONG TO PLAY AT A POOL PARTY! THERE ARE CHILDREN PRESENT! TIMOTHY JACKSON, YOU GET BACK HERE WITH THAT IPHONE! TURN IT OFF!”

***

She smiled sweetly at her family and friends passed out in the living room, pillows and blankets thrown everywhere, arms slung over bodies, heads on stomachs and backs. It was nice to see them all so comfortable with each other, so tightly knit; it reminded her of a better time.

Most of the adults had gone home though some had stayed in extra rooms. She was sure that her brother and him had gone down to the cave to have it out just for the hell of it, but she was rather tired and decided to call it a night—though it was actually one am.

Closing the door behind her, she didn’t bother to go shower, planning to do it in the morning as she started stripping. First went the swimsuit cover, then the top and bottoms. She kicked her flip-flops off into the corner of the room and stretched her arms above her head, a quiet groan passing her lips as her joints and bones popped.

As she lowered her hands, a hand clamped around her mouth and another wound around her waist, tugging her back and she gasped against their palm, starting to struggle when she heard them chuckle. The sound, combined with the familiar smell of sandalwood wafting up her nose told her who it was, and they smiled against her ear. “Worried?”

She reached up and yanked his hand from her mouth, hissing, “You’re lucky I didn’t turn around and punch the shit out of you, K.”

“Promises, promises,” he murmured, pressing a kiss behind her ear and she shivered against his chest.

“What are you doing in here? I thought you and Bruce went to go spar?”

Ghost-Maker hummed, the hand around her waist starting to squeeze the flesh of her side. “We did. He said he was tired and went to bed.”

“And you didn’t go home?” her voice kicked up a notch when his other hand slipped from her grip and slid down her front.

“I didn’t want to go home.” He pressed his front against her rear and she gasped, one of her hands coming back to grab at his thigh, digging her nails in to keep him there. He smirked as she ground back against him. “Seems like you don’t want me going home either.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly. “Something’s up with you tonight. You’re being a lot more…passionate than usual.”

He nipped at her neck, fingers delicately dancing over her abdomen. “I don’t like that Green Lantern friend of yours.”

“Who? Kyle?” she questioned confusedly. “Why?”

“He’s very free with himself towards you.”

At that, it was crystal clear, and she spun in his arms, looking at him, though she had to strain to see his face. “Are you jealous?”

“No.” He griped, though the way his jaw set, told her the truth.

“You are!” she laughed. “You’re jealous that I’m close with other men. That’s adorable.”

Ghost-Maker stared at her for a split moment, then he bent down and grabbed her legs, throwing her over his shoulder. (Y/N)’s gasp turned into a laugh as he marched towards the bed and tossed her onto it, watching as she rolled onto her back and laughed some more at him.

“God, you’re green, K.” she giggled, watching with hooded eyes as he shucked the swim trunks down to his feet and crawled onto the bed.

“I’m not envious of a glow-stick who’s never gotten this far with you.” He countered, grabbing her ankles; he yanked her down the bed and underneath him and she gazed up at him.

“Do you wanna know how many men have gotten this far with me?” (Y/N) challenged and Ghost-Maker stared into her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter how many because once I’m done with you, you won’t remember anyone but me.” He lowered his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her stomach, trailing downwards and she panted in anticipation when,

CRASH!

They started, and this time, he did too, both turning to the door, then to each other.

“What the hell—”

“OH SHIT! SOMEONE PUT OUT THE FIRE!”

(Y/N) grunted. “Oh my God, what did they do?”

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE! OH MY GOD SOMEONE CALL NINE-ONE-ONE! OR THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!”

“AUNT (Y/N)! DAD!”

She rolled out from underneath Ghost-Maker, ignoring his grabbing for her and she hurried to her door, yanking the bathrobe from the hook on the back. Slinging it on, she turned and pointed at the man. “Once I’m done out here, I’m coming back and you’re not going anywhere for a few hours.”

He smirked as he collapsed onto his back, taking himself in his hand. She almost burst into flames at the sight, and he purred, “You might wish to hurry, (Y/N). Wouldn’t want to miss anything.” His words tipped into a groan as his hand shifted along himself, and she scowled at him as she pulled the door open, his erotic frame illuminating in the hall light.

“You’d better watch it, K. We both know how mean I can get when I miss out.”

#batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x batsis #batfamily x batsis imagine #batfamily x batsis imagines #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batsis x batfamily imagine #batsis x batfamily imagines #batsis x batfamily #batsis imagines #batsis imagine #ghost maker imagine #ghost maker imagines #ghost maker x reader imagine #ghost maker x reader imagines #ghost maker x reader #ghost-maker x reader #ghost-maker x reader imagines #ghost-maker x reader imagine #ghost-maker imagines #ghost-maker imagine #ghost-maker #ghostmaker #ghost maker dc #ghost maker #dc comics #dc imagines #dc imagine

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

You’ll Have To Come and Find Me - fic

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne Summary: Damian runs into someone on his way to the League of Lazarus’ tournament. The last person he wanted to see. The last person who should have been looking for him. A/N: Just a thought in my brain that wouldn’t quit. Dialogue heavy. Shittily written idk. ‘Polarize’ by TwentyOne Pilots is such a Damian song to me, and was in my head while writing this, so inspired the title. Might continue this idea a little bit as the Robin series continues, who knows.

~~

He was counting the money from his fight with King Snake as he walked into the café. That’s why he didn’t notice. That’s why he didn’t see.

That’s what he told himself.

But after he walked in the door, he found himself freezing as he looked up.

No.

He’d been so careful, so deliberate. He didn’t leave any traces. He knew he didn’t. There was no way they could find him.

And of course, he couldn’t even back out now. Couldn’t sneak back out of the restaurant, back into the darkness. Because Timothy Drake was already lowering his cup of tea and raising his head to look at him.

They stared at each other for a second. Two. Three. Four. Five. Faces blank, mouths shut.

Then Tim smiled, turned towards the café’s counter and waved. The barista nodded and started on a drink.

Nope. No turning back now.

“How did you find me?” Damian demanded as he stomped forward. Tim motioned to the empty, waiting, chair across from him. A glass of water was already there, as was an empty plate.

Tim shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard.”

“Liar.” Damian spat. “I covered my tracks. I made sure-”

“You made sure Bruce couldn’t find you.” Tim countered, pulling his napkin onto his lap. “And I am not Bruce.”

“…Oracle is smarter than you.” Damian tried.

“Absolutely.” Tim took another sip of his tea. “But I know you better.”

“You don’t know me at all.” Damian crossed his arms. He nodded a thanks to the waiter as he brought Damian’s drink, and a basket of bread. It was tea, like Tim’s, and he could see two sugar cubes dissolving in the bottom.

…His preferred preparation.

He never told Tim how he liked his tea. He never told Tim he liked tea at all.

He glanced up to the elder. Tim smiled behind his own cup and raised his eyebrows. See?

Damian huffed, taking the drink. “What do you want?”

“To find you. Duh.”

“To what, mock me? Remind me of my failures? Rub it in my face that once again you prove you’re better than me?” Damian listed. But as he spoke, Tim’s amused face fell back into stoic, blank.

“No. I wouldn’t do that in the first place. Not…” He lowered his cup once more, stared into the liquid. “Not now, anyway.”

Damian narrowed his eyes, gaze bouncing around Tim’s face, trying to read it. Trying to figure his predecessor out.

“Really?” Damian drawled in disbelief. “So, you’re not here to gloat about how Father gave you Robin back?”

Damian was surprised to see Tim’s face darken, just a little. “I didn’t want it back. He forced it on me in a weird grief-fueled crusade after you disappeared.” Tim glanced up. “A lot’s happened since you left.”

“I’ve been back since I renounced Robin. All this tracking me and you didn’t know that?”

“No, I mean, even since then.” Tim sighed. “…Did you know Dick had regained his memories before you helped save him and the family?”

Damian pursed his lips, stared at the basket of bread. “…No.”

“…How are you feeling about that?” Tim asked softly.

“I don’t need your pathetic brand of therapy, Drake.” Damian snapped.

“I’m not trying to play therapist, I’m just trying to make sure my little brother is okay.” Tim shot back just as harshly. “Especially since he’s running off to some secret tournament that he could die in.”

Tim’s mouth clamped shut then, and Damian watched him. “…How did you know about that?”

“That’s not important, here, okay, I just-”

“It is to me.” Damian countered. “Tell me or I’m leaving.”

Tim glowered back at him. “I’ll follow you.”

“Not if I break your leg.”

“Why do you…!” Tim cut himself off in a sigh, slumped back in his chair. “I got word Talia was in town, followed her tracks. Saw the security footage from her apartment when you went and met her. Heard about that League of Lazarus thing and looked into it.”

“How did you look into it?” Damian asked. “Even I didn’t know about it. And if Mother wasn’t forthcoming with me, I can’t see her being a source of information for you.”

Now it was Tim’s turn to cross his arms and look away.

Damian studied him for a moment, then let his eyes go wide. “…You didn’t.”

“Look, I said it didn’t matter-”

“You did not contact Grandfather for information.” Damian practically begged. “Drake!”

“You know as well as I do he’ll give me anything I want if I’m the one to reach out to him.” Tim reassured quickly. “And sorry if my brother’s safety is a good reason for me to contact an enemy!”

Damian glared at him for a moment before looking at the clean white plate. “…Stop calling me your brother.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Damian-”

“Because after what I’ve done, I don’t deserve the title.”

Tim paused then, stared right back. Sighed and leaned forward to grab his tea again.

“What happened wasn’t your fault.” Tim whispered. “Definitely not Dick, not Alfred…especially not Alfred…I know you think it is, and trust me, I get that. I felt the same back when my dad died. Bruce.” A moment. “…You.”

Damian glanced up at him.

“I get that you think it was. Because you were there, because you’re supposed to be a hero, that’s what the world thinks you are, but…It’s not, Damian. It never was. You’re just a kid. A kid in a shitty, traumatic situation.” Tim hesitated, and Damian watched as he swallowed a lump in his throat. “And we just want you to come home.”

“Why?” Damian asked quietly. “I’ll do nothing but hurt all of you.”

“Can I make a counterpoint to that?” Tim asked. “What do you think you’re doing to us now? Disappearing? We don’t know how you are, or if you’re even alive. Don’t you think that’s hurting us too?”

“…It shouldn’t.”

“Well. It does.” Tim sniffed. “That’s why I’m here. That’s part of why Babs became Oracle again. That’s why Dick wants to use the fortune Alfred left him to find you.”

“Forget about me.” Damian shook his head. “You’ll all be better off. Grayson especially.”

“A matter of personal opinion. An opinion I highly disagree with.” Tim shrugged. “And just because Dick, arguably, loves you the most, therefore is the most heartbroken with you not there, doesn’t mean he’ll be better off if you just…vanish from his life like you weren’t ever there in the first place.”

“He thrived without any memories of me as the cab driver, so we have proof that he would be.” Damian explained. “Besides. Time heals all wounds. Or whatever. You’ll all forget about me if you give yourself the chance to.”

“And I think you dying is proof that we won’t, and can’t.” Tim leaned forward more, reaching for Damian’s hand. Damian allowed him to take it. “Which is why I’m here.”

“I’m not going back to Gotham, Drake. I can’t.” Damian murmured, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m not…I can’t be there. Right now.”

“I know. I know I said we want you home, but I never said I was taking you back. I told you I’m out here to find you.”

“Well. Congratulations.” Damian said bitterly. “You did.”

Tim smiled. “Great.” He squeezed Damian’s hand and released it. “So, where’s this island? For the tournament?”

Damian furrowed his brows. “What?”

“I’m not taking you home. I promise.” Tim let his grin widen, become just a little too shit-eating. “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you.”

“…You’re not serious.”

“My goal was to find you. And not lose you again. The only way to do that is to not leave you, in my deductions.” Tim winked. “Besides, you were right – this Lazarus Tournament sounds interesting. And concerning. You’re gonna need backup. More than the folks we know who are gonna be there already, anyway.”

“…How do you know who’s in the tournament?” Damian asked slowly. Tim just pursed his lips, blinked, and grinned. Damian sighed. “After this tournament, I’m making sure my grandfather never contacts you again.”

“Hey, sometimes it’s nice having a super-villain obsessed with you.” Tim shrugged. “Helped me get you back, after all.”

“All the more reason I’ll have to kill him.”

Tim laughed at that, took a piece of bread for himself. “…You okay with me tagging along?”

Damian sipped his tea. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good.” Tim glanced at his watch. “About an hour until your boat arrives. That’s enough time for you to rest a little while we figure out an outline of a plan to take out this League of Lazarus.”

At that, Tim turned, digging in the backpack he had hanging off his chair. Damian watched him as he pulled out papers and notebooks, dropping them on the table between them.

And he didn’t want it. Didn’t deserve it. His family deserved better. Drake deserved better. Drake had better things to do than chase him, a failure, across the world, and hardly for either of their own sakes. All for the sake of their family. Because Tim loved them. Because Damian loved them. Because Tim loved Damian too.

“…Drake?” Damian whispered. Tim glanced up. “…Thank you for finding me.”

Tim blinked, and let his face drop into a smile. “Any time, little brother.”

#Damian Wayne #Tim Drake

[themaribatpit]

Hanging by a Thread: Chapter 3

Rated M: DC canon-typical violence, suggestive threats

Author’s Note: Neither of us are actually American, and DC Fanboy has some gripes with certain American habits.  Please feel free to tell us how uncultured we are in the comments, and try and explain yourselves to non-Americans.

Ships: Jason Todd/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Dick Grayson/Barbara Gordon (side ship).

Taglist:

@aespades​, @neakco, @ladybug-182, @seraphichana, @zalladane, @luminous-carrot, @jayjayspixiepop, @cap-noodles, @livelifeauthorstyle, @thepaceperson, @moongoddesskiana, @vroomtaka, @laurcad123,  @prettylittlebutterflie

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4​

Chapter 3

Dick slumped down on a chair when they returned to the Belfry.  He ripped off his domino mask and let out a sigh. “Damn he’s good, then again he was taught by the best.” 

“Dick!” Barbara gave him a dirty look. They both looked towards their French guest to see her still lost in thought. 

Ladybug transformed back to Marinette, and then slowly walked over to get herself another cup of hot chocolate to cheer herself up. As she operated the multi hot drinks machine in the Belfry, she thought about how incredibly convenient the device was. Barbara and Dick mentioned that unless it was winter, no one else used it for hot chocolate. 

Hot chocolate dispensed from the machine, and as she picked up the paper cup, a shadow loomed over her. She was able to make out the silhouette of an imposing figure with demonic pointed ears. She squealed in shock, spilling her hot chocolate on the figure. 

Dick rolled off the chair laughing, “Oh, better fly away home Ladybug.” “How long have you been waiting to use that joke?” Barbara said without looking away from the screen.

“Since the moment I met her, Babs,” Dick retorted.

After the initial shock, Marinette was able to see the figure clearly and realised she just spilled hot chocolate on Batman. The Batman. Marinette paled at what she had done, she fumbled around looking for tissues. All the while apologising profusely as she tried to find anything to wipe the Caped Crusader clean from this chocolatey mess. Her mind ran at a mile a minute, thinking of what Batman would do to her for spilling hot chocolate on him. She thought of how Batman would squish her like a bug, or perhaps he would break all of her limbs, and send her on the first flight back to Paris while tied to the cargo hold. Her mind was catastrophizing and going into a full panic as she stumbled around the kitchenette. 

Marinette found a damp cloth and began wiping Batman vigorously from head to toe and hoping it would somehow lessen her punishment. She looked up to see that Batman continued to stare at her with his infamous glare. Seeing that her attempts to clean up her mess had no effect, she ran back towards the main room and grabbed Dick, holding him in front of her as a shield. 

Batman slowly followed, without saying a word he stomped into the main room and came to a halt right in front of Dick. “Uh, hi.” Dick awkwardly greeted Batman. Marinette shakingly peeked her head out from behind. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, also known as Ladybug.” Batman’s low voice boomed with authority. “What are you doing here in Gotham?” 

Marinette yelped and went back to hiding behind Dick. Barbara interjected, “She’s here to investigate a recent use of the Lazarus Pit, mainly the Red Hood. From what we gather the creatures that give her power were also the ones who created the pits.” She explained on Marinette’s behalf. 

An uncomfortable silence hung in the room as Batman contemplated her answer. “Fine,” he relented. He turned and walked away. 

Marinette released a sigh of relief as she saw Batman leave. Dick took out his phone and began tapping on it, he just had to notify the rest of the Bat Family of what had just transpired. After a few moments he put his phone back in his pocket and walked away, “I’ll get a mop” he yelled back at Marinette and Barbara. 

Marinette then slumped on the dining table, hands in her head. Completely embarrassed at how she made a fool of herself in front of one of the world’s greatest heroes. Barbara calmly patted her back in consolation. After she calmed down and got herself another cup of hot chocolate, Marinette decided to head home.

On the way back to the apartment she shared with Zoe, she checked the messages that Zoe sent her during the past couple of days.  “Hey, are you okay?” The first one read.  “I haven’t seen you in the apartment for a while now,” she said, followed by a message that said “Please don’t be dead, I can’t afford rent by myself.” Marinette sent a quick reply saying, “I’m okay, I’ve just been busy taking care of some things.  See you tonight.” she said. When Marinette got home, she logged onto her computer to see a few messages from Alya, asking her of how she found Gotham City. Expressing worry for her friend, especially with the notoriety of Gotham's crime rate.

Marinette typed up "Hi Alya! Gotham is all right, I can take care of myself, you know that."

Alya decided to video call Marinette and her face appeared on screen. "Hey!" Alya waved her hand to her friend.

"Hi" Marinette gave a tired wave back.

"Everything okay?" Asked Alya.

"Fine, just tired from moving into the new place." She explained.

"By the way, could you open up a portal with Kaalki to my room?" asked Alya.

Marinette complied with her friend, as she put on the horse Miraculous and opened a portal. Soon a paper bag dropped from the ceiling and landed on the floor. "I had a feeling you might want something to cheer you up, I went to your parents' patisserie earlier."

Marinette opened up the bag to see several treats from the bakery.  She thanked her best friend profusely, and began eating them “How are things back in Paris?” Marinette asked, taking a macaron out of one of the boxes, she smiled as she took a bite out of it.  It was almost like she was 13 again, and her dad had given her a box of macarons for the first day of school.  

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Alya said, winking at her. “So, have you met any of Gotham’s vigilantes yet?” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck.  “Well, yeah,” she might as well tell her some of the things that happened.  “I accidentally spilled hot chocolate on Batman’s cape,” she confessed. “And you’re still alive?” Alya’s mouth hung open in shock. “Well, he does have a pretty strict ‘no killing’ policy,” Marinette told her. “Okay fair enough, how are you still in one piece?” Alya asked, still somewhat shocked.

“He just kinda glared at me, and I hid behind one of his sidekicks.” Marinette told her, “So, that’s how.” “Ah so you’ve met the sidekicks then,”  Alya gave her another knowing smile. “Some of them, Nightwing being one of them.” Marinette told her. “Did you get a good look at his assets?”  Alya gave her a wink, and Marinette rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure his assets were spoken for,” Marinette said, and before Alya could say anything more she quickly added “and no, I am not telling you who the lucky person is.” “You’re no fun.” Alya pouted mockingly, but she couldn’t stay angry at her friend.  Alya noticed the faraway look in Marinette’s eyes at that moment, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Marinette wondered how best to phrase it, “do you know anything about the Red Hood?” she asked.

Alya’s eyes widened in shock, “You’ve met him? Are you and Zoe living in his territory?”

“No, at least not that I know of, I just…” Marinette assured her, “Do you know anything about him?” “Give me a moment,” Alya said, quickly turning away to search for something on her laptop screen, “must have heard something about the guy…” she muttered.  Marinette never really told Alya about her soulmate bond, and she wasn’t about to start now.  “Says here he’s a crime lord that operates in Gotham City, that he took over Black Mask’s crime syndicate not too long ago…” Alya told her, “Pretty brutal to those who cross him, by the sound of things.” “Good to know,” Marinette muttered. “Marinette, are you sure you and Zoe are okay?” Alya asked. “We’re fine, just that Ladybug ran into him while working with Batman’s sidekicks.” Marinette told her. “I should have been there, it would have been a fun interview for Ladyblog.” Alya chuckled, and Marinette raised an eyebrow.  “I mean, after the fight of course, or maybe I should just stop talking.” “Try pitching the idea to Vicki Vale or Lois Lane, I’m sure they would jump at the chance.” Marinette joked.

"Just you wait until I get my Journalism degree, I'll bother you everyday for a scoop." Alya retorted. The two of them continued to laugh and joke with one another before Marinette went to bed.

The next morning, Marinette was woken by someone gently nudging her awake.  “Get dressed dummy, we’re going out.” she heard a voice say. Marinette looked up and blinked a few times before Zoe’s face came into view.  “What time is it?” Marinette groaned. “9am,” Zoe told her, “we are going to go out and get some breakfast together.” Marinette groaned in response, but slowly got out of bed.  Zoe leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms and smiling.  She chuckled slightly at the sight of Marinette’s tousled hair, Marinette smiled slightly in response.  “All right, all right, give me some time to get dressed.” she said and Zoe left, closing the door behind her. 

The two friends sat down to eat breakfast at a nearby diner, and Zoe began telling Marinette all the ways in which America was very different from France.  “First of all, they call the 24 hour clock ‘military time’, I never understood that.” she explained before taking a bite of her pancakes.  Americans made pancakes a lot thicker and fluffier compared to crepes, was another thing Marinette noticed.  “Oh, no more 2 hour lunch breaks, and as a French person, you will get made fun of for having more time off work than the Americans.” she said.  

As the two finished breakfast, Zoe paid the bill and left a tip. Marinette raised an eyebrow at Zoe for paying what was higher than the bill. “Marinette, remember, always tip whenever you go eat at a restaurant or a diner.” She explained. 

“Why? Isn’t there a service charge added? Don’t the servers get paid?” Marinette asked.

“Not at all.” Zoe deadpanned. 

“What?” Marinette exclaimed in shock, she quickly covered her mouth as eyes turned to face her for her outburst. 

 Zoe beckoned Marinette to follow her, “Come on, I’ll show you all the hotspots in Gotham City.”

 The two walked out onto the street and across several blocks.  Zoe stopped as the two reached their destination. She then pointed to an old gothic tower, “That there is the old Wayne Tower, creepy isn’t it? Built in 1888 by Cyrus Pinkey for the Waynes right at the heart of Gotham City. It’s been closed for a few years now, since Wayne Enterprise moved to the New Wayne Tower in the financial district.”

 Marinette’s eyes widened in recognition, it was where the Belfry was located. She remembered the gothic tower, but she had no idea it was the old Wayne Tower. She decided it would be best to keep quiet about this revelation. 

 The two continued sightseeing as they ventured into Robinson Park. “This park is amazing, the biggest park in the heart of Gotham. Also it's very close to Gotham U, I’d love to come here everyday after class to unwind.” Zoe explained. The two calmly walked across the park, enjoying the scenery and stopping by to feed some ducks.

 “Anyway I need to get some things on the way back,” the two then walked to a nearby grocery store and bought groceries. Being on a budget, Marinette eyed the price tags frugally, calculating how much it would cost her. Zoe smirked at Marinette, knowing what would come next when the two went to the cash register. Marinette was thrown into a loop as the total amount did not match the price tags. Marinette tried to ask for an explanation from the cashier, but they were not helpful. The cashier only said that it was tax, “Why isn’t tax included in the price tags?” she pleaded to the cashier.

The cashier gave Marinette a light shrug. “That's just the way things are.” 

Marinette pulled her pigtails in frustration as to why the final price doesn’t match the price tag. “Ok fine, what's the tax in America?”

Zoe took the chance to intervene and explain it to her friend. “It depends, it varies between states, counties and even cities.” 

Marinette banged her head against the counter in frustration. “Why? Why is it so crazy here?” 

Zoe and the cashier laughed at Marinette's antics. The cashier asked “You new here?” 

Marinette did not lift her head up, “How could you tell?” 

The two made their purchase and walked home, Marinette had to do a double take on the loaf of bread she bought. She stopped Zoem and said that they needed to go back to the grocery store for another loaf of bread, because this one had expired. Zoe snatched the loaf from Marinette’s hands and took another look. “Nope it's fine, remember America uses Month/Day/Year here.” Zoe explained. Marinette’s eye twitched as the two walked back to their apartment. 

The semester began the following Monday at Gotham University. As a Fashion & Design student, Marinette had long studio classes which usually kept her busy during the day.  She would have to spend even longer hours in the studio if she had a project due.  When Zoe wasn’t attending lectures, she had a part-time job that kept her busy as well.  So Marinette didn’t see much of her by the time she managed to return to their apartment.

Over the course of the next few days, she would go to her classes by day and go out every night to search for her soulmate. However, the Red Hood had proved to be elusive, always alert to the movement of the red thread that tied them together.  Marinette found that the thread changed wildly.  Some nights she stopped by the Belfry, exhausted and dejected. Barbara had noticed this and decided that she had to know about Jason, it might change her mind or it might not. She deserved to know if she was going to go looking for him every night.

One night when she entered the Belfry, Barbara gestured to Marinette, “Come over and pull up a chair.” Marinette followed and brought a chair to the computer. The two sat side by side, “Mari, you deserve to know more about Jason...the Red Hood.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at the mention of her soulmate, “Please tell me more about him.” she begged.

“Marinette, I’m sorry, we knew more about him but we didn’t tell you.” Barbara apologised.

Marinette was hurt at how they were withholding information about her soulmate from her. “Why?” was all that she was able to say.

Barbara took a deep breath, “Because Jason was the second Robin.” 

Marinette’s jaw dropped at this bombshell, her soulmate used to be Robin. It would explain the skills he displayed out in their last encounter. Marinette wondered how tough his life was, how he suffered at the hands of the criminals of Gotham at such a young age. Some of the things he said back at the dockyards were now sounding like they came from experience.  “What was he like?” she asked, wanting to know what her soulmate was like before his death. 

“Angry, rebellious, Jason always felt like it was him against the world. He was caught trying to steal the wheels off the Batmobile, that's how Batman found him and brought him in.” Barbara explained. 

“How did he die?” Marinette asked.

Barbara grew silent at the mention of Jason’s death. “He tried to pursue the Joker, but it was a trap. The Joker caught him, tortured him for god knows how long. I saw his bruises, it-it was as if he was beaten over and over again with a crowbar.” Marinette covered her mouth and her eyes welled with tears as she heard the gruesome details of her soulmate's unfortunate end. 

“To make matters worse, he locked Jason in the room with a bomb.” “What about the Red Hood?” she asked. “We...we buried a mannequin in a wig,” Barbara explained, “the real body was taken by the League of Assassins, trying to make up for what happened.”

Marinette stood up and rushed to the guest room, she had heard enough.  She could not imagine the pain and suffering her soulmate had been through his entire life.

Jason had been constantly on the move, knowing that his soulmate was out looking for him.  He tried to shut off the part of him that wanted to get close.  He was honestly surprised the Bat clan hadn't told her every horrific story they had about him.  Either they didn't know they were soulmates or she was knowingly walking head first into the lion's mouth.  If she didn't find him, then she might stumble upon a group of his men at work, and they might be a lot less forgiving.   If he was constantly checking over his shoulder, making sure the girl wasn't close by, things were bound to start slipping through the cracks.  

He himself had various safehouses scattered around the city, but he couldn't keep running forever.   It was getting ridiculous, he had faced crime lords, assassins and even gone toe-to-toe with Batman multiple times.  Yet here he was, running and hiding from a girl who was about a foot shorter than he was.  He knew why, of course, he wasn't afraid of her but she should be very afraid of him.  He had hoped that she would give up the search, as she drew closer and closer to finding out the truth about what happened to him.  But life had never been that easy for Jason, and sooner or later she was going to get too close to the untamed monster beneath.  If she got hurt because of him, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.  Not even his old self could forgive that.  He would have no trouble protecting her from other criminals, not that she really needed it.  However, whatever came crawling out of the pits was something else.

After putting a swift end to some people who were causing trouble in his territory,  his mind wandered back to Ladybug.  Specifically, the sad look in her eyes when he explained how brutal and unforgiving Gotham could be.  He tried not to think about it, because that look made him want to hold her close, and reassure her that everything would be okay.  Thoughts of how the idea of her gave him hope all those years ago would come bubbling to the surface.  It made him want to protect her, to ensure that this world wouldn’t hurt her the way it hurt him.  When she looked at him with those eyes, it made him want to believe that she trusted him to do just that.  He shook his head, and told himself that what he was also the very thing she needed protecting from.  

Most nights Jason had nightmares about failing to save her.  There were even nightmares where she died by his hands.  Her blue eyes would become lifeless and vacant, her skin would feel ice cold, and he would end up cradling her limp form in his arms.  Batman would just love it if those nightmares came true.  It would only prove to him that Jason was nothing more than an unhinged monster he couldn’t cage.  It wasn’t as though the Bat had much luck caging the real monsters in Gotham anyhow.  Most days, Jason’s skin crawled as he remembered the feeling of the Lazarus pit’s waters.  The creatures she was palling around with were the ones who made it. They probably didn’t give a damn about the evil they had inflicted on the world because of it.   For all he knew, being around her little fairy friends would make the effects much worse.  Still, when he snapped back to reality, he would see the string glowing red, just as it had always done.  Occasionally moving and twitching as his soulmate searched high and low for him. Maybe the time had come to have a little talk, soulmate to soulmate...

#maribat #jasonette #ml x dc

[rainycat2]

Though I Could Not Stop For Death

Chapter Four: Execute the Plan / The Plan Goes Awry.

Gotham? 

Fucking whack.

You couldn’t even see the stars, for Ancient’s sakes. And it wasn’t like Danny wasn’t close to the sky, or anything, no, the hotel Vlad put them up in, Wayne Hotel, honestly, was one of the biggest and fanciest in the whole city.

And it was still clogged with god fucking damn smog.

Honestly, it was an affront. Not just to Danny as a ghost with a space obsession, because really, humanity needed to get it together and stop poisoning the Earth before that shit started leaking into and affecting the Realms, but as a Wayne.

The fuck is Bruce even doing with his billions?

(Being Batman is the obvious answer, but still. Switch to clean energy, for fuck’s sake.)

Regardless. If Danny was spiteful enough, he could have asked Undergrowth for a favor to pop out some clear skies for one night, but it wasn’t worth it to have the Ancient with a favor over him. So instead, Danny suffered, sitting on the ledge of the hotel roof, looking down at the city below contemplatively. He was far enough up that he could hear the city buzzing, most of it intentionally tuned out of his enhanced hearing, but not so much that he couldn’t hear anything. 

The fact that the woman appearing next to him on the ledge was silent enough that he didn’t notice her until she spoke?

Danny fully almost fell off the roof in surprise.

“Hello, young Prince--”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Danny yelped, scrambling as he slipped, flight instantly kicking in to keep him from dropping. 

“No, just me,” Lady Gotham laughed, brushing her skirts down as she sat elegantly next to him. Though he’d never seen her before, he recognized her immediately-- soft, faintly glowing blue eyes over a black 1800’s-era mourning gown, a broach at the delicate lace collar around her throat. She smiled at him as he plopped back down, leaning over to smooth his hair back. “Goodness, you look so much like your father.”

Danny hummed slightly, tilting his head. “You know, I can’t really see it, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Lady Gotham just hummed, gently cupping his cheek as she studied him. “So much like your brother, but I can see the differences clearly. He looks like your mother, but you? Oh, so similar to my beloved Knight-- and not just in looks,” she teased. “You’ve come a long way since Clockwork came to me, telling me that my Knight’s son would need guidance.”

Danny blushed, the tips of his ears going a pale green. “Okay, okay,” he laughed, swinging his feet lazily. “So, you wanted to talk to me, right? Is it regarding the Bats, because I’m really trying to not piss off Batman.”

“In a sense,” Gotham hummed, looking over the city. She’ll point out a section of city, gesturing to the more dilapidated, beat-up buildings. “That section, called Crime Alley--”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I am not, now let me speak.” Danny’s mouth clicked together so fast you could hear it. “Crime Alley, or Park Row as it is officially called, is the territory of a young liminal, the Red Hood. I believe that he could be a potential Fright Knight for you, but I would ask a favor of you.” Gotham looked back to Danny, worry in her eyes. “He struggles with the corrupted ectoplasm of a Lazarus Pit, and I… I cannot help him. It is all I can do, at times, to provide what clean ectoplasm I can.”

Danny paused, looking towards Park Row contemplatively. “So… this guy’s got basically poison in his system, and you want me to go put him on basically a juice cleanse?”

“More or less,” Gotham acknowledged with a shrug. “You do rather have the tendency to cleanse the ectoplasm in your immediate area.”

“Fair.” Danny got to his feet, stretching lazily. “Okay, but a favor for a favor. Please, if you get the opportunity… Let me know if the Bats are getting too close, okay? I really don’t want to have to hash out the legality of my existence with my own dad.” He reached out, offering the City Spirit his hand. “I’ve had my fair share of awkward family dinners, but that would take the cake.”

“I will abide by your request, but do remember-- they are family,” Gotham says softly, taking his hand and gliding to her feet on the ledge. “Trust in them, and you will see it is not misplaced.”

The Prince smiled.

===

Damian, frankly, hated this goddamned family. It all started with a text from Gordon, making a joke about a “secret lost brother” and a photo posted in a chat with the so-called BatClan.

It was obvious that the clone - for in fact, what else could it be, Danyal was long-since dead - was a poor, failed attempt at getting into Damian’s head. The eye color was off, the freckles in the wrong places. And really, Danyal would have better fashion sense than that.

No, it was clear Talia was doing her best to “test” him, though… really, he’d thought they’d moved on from clones at this point. Holding the memory of his dead twin over his head, and not even having the decency to do it correctly?

Now that was just rude.

Wayne Family Dumbasses:

Captain Stabby: Obviously this is a clone, and a poor attempt at it.

Captain Stabby: to think, the great Oracle has fallen so far.

Eyeinthesky: you sure about that, baby bat?

Eyeinthesky: you really wanna say that?

Captain Stabby: I believe I may have made a mistake.

===

No time like the present, taunted the green sticky note on Danny’s laptop screen. 

No time like the present his ass, Danny grumbled as he shuffled a few things onto his person. Day One of Gotham City, and he needed to investigate. He grabbed a jacket and a bookbag from his suitcase, tossing his computer, a thermos, a few emergency shots of ecto, and a good-sized ecto-pistol in easy reach, set to stun mode. First things first, Danny needed some Ancients-Damned coffee, and if he’d learned one thing, it was that cities were stuffed to the brim with coffee shops. 

“Jazz, I’m gonna go get some coffee and research,” he said softly, poking his head into Jazz's suite. “You want anything?”

A mop of red hair peeked up just barely over the edge of the decidedly-too-fluffy comforter. “...latte. Croissant.”

“Gotcha. Anything else?”

“...locator,” his sister said after a moment’s consideration, muffled by the goose-down pillow. “Keep it on.”

“Obviously,” he chuckled, closing the door behind him quietly before slipping out of the hotel room, tossing his bag over his shoulder after one last check. The hotel was quiet at this time of morning, hardly after five, not quite daybreak, but the city outside? Oh, it was beautiful-- people walking briskly down the sidewalks, cars honking and revving and swerving around each other. Danny’s ears twitched slightly, his head tilted to the side before he pulled out his phone. 

“Coffee shop, coffee shop… Aha, here we go.” A mom-and-pop shop, a little ways down the road. Enough for a good walk. Danny plugged his earbuds in, turning on a playlist before putting his hands in his pockets. It only took a few minutes before he arrived, tugging out an earbud and pausing the objectively-too-loud punk rock playlist. “Uh, hi, so this is kind of a weird question, but… what’s the legal amount of caffeine you’re able to give me?”

“I don’t think there’s a legal limit, but you can only get, like, twelve shots I think,” the barista hummed thoughtfully. “Your shots would taste horrible, though-- doesn’t stop one of our regulars, though. I can get you one of his drinks?”

“Sure, why not. New city and all that,” Danny laughed, digging for some cash in his wallet. “I’m just here on business for a little while.”

The barista raised her eyebrow. “You seem pretty young to be on business.”

“Family business,” Danny clarified, handing over the money. “Oh, and can I get a caramel latte and a croissant?” 

Twenty minutes later, Danny was given a freshly-baked croissant and latte, and an absolutely terrifying-looking concoction. An iced coffee with the slightest bit of milk and sugar, so full of espresso that the milk hardly made a dent in the color. 

Danny took a sip, grinned, and left a 10 dollar bill on the counter before he headed out.

The barista just stared, then shook her head. “Fucking Waynes, am I right?” she muttered to her colleague, getting a laugh.

===

After delivering the latte to a decidedly grumpy not-morning-person Jazz Fenton, Danny pretty damn quickly booked it out of the hotel, idly checking his Twitter as he walked down the street, sipping on his latte. There was a local trending tab, and… well, shit.

 A decent quality photo of him paying for the coffee, his hair up out of his face in just. The worst possible shot for his plan to lay low. Already the hashtag #newwayne had 200,000+ tags, primarily users gossiping between each other with a few gossip magazines speculating. 

Really. One photo.

One.

Let it never be said that Danny, a fifteen year old idiot, had impulse control. He took a quick selfie, grinning as he took a sip of his coffee.  @halfdead : man, i just wanted a coffee.  TAGLIST: @mynameisnotlaura @fisticuffsatapplebees @screamingtofillthevoid @lizisipancardo @digitizedworld @dahliasandrosemary

NEXT CHAPTER: ==>

#ticnsfd #dpxdc #dp x dc #dpxdc fanfic #rainycat writing

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Tear in the Fabric

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, fingering, oral, binding.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and dark!Clark Kent and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Universes collided as a malfunction brings an unexpected visitor.

Note: This is my first DC/Superman fic and a rare crossover fic. I really hope y’all like it but tbh it’s filth.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your office shook. Rather, quaked. The glass vase in the corner broke on the table and a flash rippled through the air. You clung to your desk to keep from falling out of your chair. You waited a moment as an eerie lull followed. Then voices and rushed footsteps followed.

You got up and followed the several other bodies towards the labs. You were of the dozen or so people permitted beyond the doors and you slipped past the rest of the confused employees of Stark Tower. Natasha met you at the door and you both peered inside, the door at your feet.

Peter was in a heap, another body beside his. He groaned as he rolled over beside the other man and screamed as he faced him. He scrambled away and pushed himself against the wall. Nat grabbed your arm and you looked at each other. The man on the floor was unfamiliar and peculiarly dressed. He fell flat on his back and his eyes opened.

“Parker, what did you do?” Tony pushed between you and Nat as he strode in. His hair was askew as he straightened his tie.

The dark-haired stranger sat up and was on his feet so quick, Tony and Peter flinched. Nat stepped inside, ready to fight, and you lingered by the door. He was tall, broad, and he wore dark blue gear with a red cape slung from his shoulders. His blue eyes flashed as he spun in bewilderment. His hands were fist, as ready as Nat for conflict.

“I was just-- I--”

“Who are you people?” The man asked. “Where am I?”

“Calm down, Schwarzenegger,” Tony raised his hands. “We’re all friends here… and we’re wondering the same about you.”

“I’m…” The man’s eyes bounced from person to person. “...Superman?”

“Are you asking me?” Tony scoffed and brushed past him. “Kid, what did you?”

“I was just… looking at the particles--”

“Looking?! And maybe some touching?” Tony shouted. “I told you they’re not toys.”

“I know. I was just-- I figured something out and--”

“Broke every window on the floor!” Tony interjected. “And zapped in Adonis 3000 over here for good measure.”

“Um,” The dark-haired man looked around. “Can someone please tell me where I am?”

“New York. Stark Tower.” Tony hissed over his shoulder as he stormed towards Peter.

You glanced over as you heard footsteps echo behind you. Steve, Bucky, and Sam were nearly tripping over each other and skidded to a halt in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked.

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” You kept your voice down. “Peter--”

“Peter, of course,” Bucky huffed as he crossed his arms.

“Who’s the muscle man?” Sam nodded to the stranger as he stared with consternation at one of Tony’s contraptions.

“Good question,” You passed through the door and Steve caught your arm. 

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Well, since Tony can only manage to yell at the kid, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

“He could be dangerous,” Steve said quietly.

“And I’ve got the most dangerous heroes all around me.” You brushed his hand from your arm. “I think if he meant to do something, he’d already have.”

The man seemed even bigger the closer you got. As you neared, you recalled you were the only one in the room without combat training, a special suit, or enhanced abilities. You were just the one who did the paperwork to clean up after all the rest. You cleared your throat.

“Um, hello,” You tried to smile and the man turned to you, blue eyes blazing. “That’s a, uh, nice cape. Were you by chance at a costume party or--”

“I’m Superman.” He repeated, this time firmer. He looked at you as if you were dumb.

“Yes, okay, well you are at Stark Tower… in New York? Where are you from?”

“Metropolis,” He spoke again with the same obvious tone. “Stark Tower? Never heard of it.”

“Tony Stark?” You blinked. “He runs Stark Industries.”

“Ah, like Wayne Industries,” He said. “Maybe he knows Bruce.”

“Wayne Industries?” You wondered. “What’s--”

“In Gotham City. Bruce Wayne; the world’s most infamous playboy?” He said with venom.

“Actually that’s my title,” Tony turned as he finally quit berating Peter. “Never heard of this Wayne guy.” 

The man scowled and turned to Tony. “Well, you sound like him.’

“I hate to break it to you, beefcake, but you’re a long way from home.” Tony crossed his arms. “Without precise data, I’d surmise a few thousand dimensions away.”

“Dimensions? That’s--”

“Look, I could go into the science of it but I think that might be a bit over your head. To put it simply, we have these magical little particles that can affect the fabric of space and time. Maybe throw us back a few years here or there but it seems my… protege here decided to go sideways instead of backwards or forwards.” Tony explained. “What I’m trying to say is that whoever you are, Capeman or whatever, well, this isn’t the world you’re used to saving.”

“But you ended up in the right place,” Nat intoned. “Seems we have the same interests in mind.”

“Keeping people safe,” Steve added. “Right?”

“Of course,” The caped stranger spun around. “Forgive me if this isn’t a bit… unbelievable.”

“Buddy, I wish I could say it was just a dream,” Tony sighed. “Or a nightmare. However you wanna see it. The good news is, if I can get the kid to do exactly what he just did, we might be able to send you back.”

“Well, um, Mr. Stark…” Peter piped up from behind him. “I kinda… well, the stabilizer isn’t… working anymore.”

“Someone get the kid out of here,” Tony pinched his nose. “Please. I can’t look at him. I’m going to close my eyes and count to ten and he better be gone.”

“What does that mean?” The strange man asked. “Stabilizer?”

“It means,” Tony ignored Peter as he was ushered out by Natasha. “That you’re stuck here for a while… hopefully not forever.”

“Stuck?”

“Don’t worry. We’re not gonna toss you out on the street to terrorize the public.” Tony assured. “We’re just going to--”

The man raised his index finger and touched his temple as he hushed everyone. His forehead wrinkled as he listened and his hand formed a fist. He was suddenly gone as he darted out in a blur of blue and red; a speeding, flying blur.

You looked around as Tony stood with his mouth open and the three men around the door grimaced. Steve frowned and turned to rush out after him. You followed but barely reached the end of the hall, where others watched from the other side of the clear walls. The lot of you were stopped by the reappearance of the man in a furious gust.

“What the hell was that about?” Stark snorted as he caught up.

“Robbery. Ten blocks down. Suspect subdued, waiting for police.” The man confirmed with an arched brow.

“Tony,” Sam turned to look at his boss. 

Tony nodded begrudgingly.

“So, Superman, is it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind cooling it while we try to figure out how to get you back home?”

“Cooling it?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t stop you from saving this world,” Tony chuckled. “Just… try to loosen up.”

“Mmm,” The man grumbled. “I’ll try.”

Tony winked at you and beckoned to the three other men. You knew that look; ‘take care of it’. Bucky and Sam crossed to Tony and Steve squinted at you before reluctantly following. You turned back to the stranger who called himself Superman and held out your hand and introduced yourself.

“Guess it doesn’t matter so much if you know my name,” He took your hand in his large one. “Clark. Clark Kent. Reporter.”

“Oh,” You smiled. “I always wondered what it’d be like to be a reporter.”

“Boring, most days,” He shrugged. “What do I do now?”

“Well, it’s kinda my job to get you situated.” You turned halfway between him and the other men. “Tony is the one you were talking to, the blond is Steve, the one in the middle is Bucky, and then you have Sam. Natasha was the one who took the kid, Peter out. And there’s a few more back at the compound.”

“Compound?” He wondered.

“Most of the Avengers live there. For response purposes, in case of emergency, they need to be able to mobilise,” You explained.

“You’re not an… Avenger?” He asked.

“I’m… a glorified babysitter and some would call me little more than a secretary,” You shook your head. “But no, not one of them.”

“Hmm,” He lowered his chin and thought. You peeked over at the others and Steve’s gaze met yours before it strayed to the large man across from you. “Well, where do we begin?”

“I’ll have to figure that out,” You replied. “Just this way.”

💥

One week. One week and it was a shit show. Tony still couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the stabilizer, even with Banner’s help, and Peter was in virtual exile. You were left to watch over your visitor and the rest of the lot. For the most part, they were friendly but wary. All except one who seemed entirely suspicious of the man in the red cape.

The very one sat across from you. Steve stared at the tablet as you went through his last mission report and the numbers attached to the collateral. You hated it but Tony demanded it and you knew it wasn’t for his own needs. He had government agencies and the military breathing down his neck every day.

You leaned on your elbow as you went through your usual schtick, scribbling down Steve’s explanation and aligning them with the events noted in the report. You were roused by the knock that killed the drone of Steve’s voice. Your door opened and you smiled at Clark as he peered through shyly.

“Sorry, to interrupt. I guess I’m early. I’ll just wait out here.”

“It’s fine. We’re almost done,” You replied. “It’ll be about five minutes.”

“Thanks,” He backed up and shut the door.

You looked at Steve as he crossed his arms and frowned.

“Why’s he here?”

“Tony’s thinking about giving him missions. He’s going to be given access to training rooms and I told him I’d show him around the Tower.” You explained. “Anyways, the factory--”

“Oh? You and him… you his chaperone now?”

“As much as I am yours,” You half-sang. “Steve, let’s just get this done with.”

“We don’t know him. We don’t know if he is who he says he is.”

“I think we would know by now.” You countered.

“Wherever he’s from, how do we know he’s a good guy there?”

“How does he know we’re the good guys?” You returned. “Steve, come on. He’s… nice.”

“To you,” Steve said pointedly.

“And you?” You wondered.

Steve shrugged. He tapped his fingers on his leg and huffed.

“A car was diverted through the factory wall so that I could keep a civilian from getting hit instead. I did my best to aim it away from the building but was able to prevent casualties.” Steve recited. “Human life is worth more than concrete.”

“Mmhmm,” You stared at him a moment before you wrote down his explanation. “Alright, then, I guess we’re done.”

“I can show him around,” Steve stood. “If you want. You must be busy.”

“I need to register him in the system--”

“So do it. I’ll give him the tour.” Steve insisted. “I’ll give him a chance.”

“You sure?” You asked. 

“Eh, we could use a fourth on poker night,” Steve said. “And you can catch up on work.”

“Deal.” You closed the folder and slid the tablet aside. “You’ll see, Steve. He’s a good guy.”

Steve pressed his lips together and nodded. “I’m sure.” He neared the door and grabbed the handle. “If you say so.”

💥

You strode through the halls of the Tower on your way to drop off your weekly rundown to Tony. Your eye was caught as you passed by the transparent wall of the Tower gym. At the compound, there were several but a few people used that at the Tower when they had business on site. You stopped and turned to find Clark waving at you through the plexiglass

You let yourself in and crossed to him as he sat on the weight bench. His thick muscles peeked out from beneath his grey tank as he smiled up at you.

“I haven’t seen you much lately,” He greeted.

“Yeah, lots of work,” You waved the folder in your hand. “How’s life in the compound?”

“Different. Still.” He said. “Tony says it should be much longer.”

“You miss home?” You asked.

“Well… sometimes. A lot happened before I ended up here that makes me think, well, maybe I’m better off.”

“I’m sorry,” You said. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No, it’s… nice to have someone actually ask me how I’m doing.” He stood and went to the bar, carefully unscrewing the large weights. “Everyone here is nice, I guess, but… you’re nicer.”

“Heh, well, that’s half my job,” You chimed. “Smiling in the face of adversity.”

“I don’t think I’m very good at that,” He laughed and you both looked over as the door opened. “Not at all.”

“Hey, Steve,” You called to the new arrival.

“Hey,” He was evasive as he went to another machine.

“Case and point,” Clark placed the weights on the rack one at a time as he spoke.

“What?” You looked over at Steve again then back to Clark. “I thought-- didn’t he show you around the other day?”

“Oh yes, he did,” Clark finished up and clapped his hand on his shorts. “He told me how things were around here.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve done it--”

“I can take care of myself,” Clark assured you. “It was nothing. Can I walk you to… wherever you’re going?”

“Sure,” You smiled as he grabbed his bag. “I… I interrupted, though.”

“If you don’t mind my sweat, I don’t,” He affirmed. 

He opened the door for you and you glanced back at Steve as he sat on the squat machine. He looked back at you and lifted a brow. You smiled and his gaze flicked over to Clark and he scowled. You hid your confusion and continued down the hall. 

You’d never seen Steve like that; usually you admired how amiable he could be. Always smiling, always helpful. Perhaps Peter had done more than tear a hole in the universe.

💥

It was rare that you weren’t kept late on Friday. Even more unexpected that Steve would invite you to a movie. Sure, it was a pastime that you, along with Bucky, Sam, and sometimes Nat, would get together for, but it was so last minute you felt entirely unprepared. As you had felt for much of the last few weeks.

As you headed out from the Tower, you found yourself diverted by the scene you found in the hallway. Clark stood, hands in pocket, reading a glass plaque on the wall. There were several through the offices; each explained a different milestone in Stark Industries. He leaned closer and adjusted his glasses; those were Clark’s, not Superman’s he clarified.

You neared quietly and gripped your bag. “Learn anything interesting?”

“Not particularly,” He stopped reading and turned to you. “I like Tony, despite the obvious but… well, I don’t think anyone could ever like him as much as he likes himself.”

“He prefers people to think so,” You said. “What are you doing here?”

“They said they might have fixed the machine or whatever,” He explained. “They didn’t. The particles… They need more of those too. Said something about calling someone to get more? I don’t know, they seem to think I’m too stupid to understand any of it. You know, even my earth isn’t my home. I just happened to fall there… like I did here.”

“Krypton,” You offered. He’d told you a little about it, not much. “I’m sorry you--”

“I don’t miss it. I never knew it.” He shrugged. “I think what’s bugging me is I don’t even miss the place I should. My earth; Metropolis.”

“You had parents there?”

“Had…” He frowned.

“Anyone else?” You prodded.

“At one time but she-- Sometimes things just don’t work out.” He gave a grim smile.

You were silent for a moment. You looked over at the plaque, at the translucent outline of the helmet that topped the famous Iron Man suit. You fidgeted and glanced back at Clark.

“You wanna see a movie?”

“A movie?” His brows drew together.

“Yeah, kinda something we like to do around here when we’re not crammed in here like ants in a hill,” You said. “Bucky, Steve, Sam; they should all be there.”

“Ah,” He nodded hesitantly. “Well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Is it Steve? Don’t worry about him. I’m inviting you as my guest.”

“Well, in that case,” He smiled, genuinely that time.

You nodded down the hall and he gestured you ahead of him, following with his arm almost against yours.

“You know, you and Steve, you got a lot in common.” You said. “Now I’m not saying you have to be best friends but he was once you. One day, he was back in the forties and the next he’s stranded in the next century. I always thought it sounded lonely.”

“Really?” Clark asked. “I never… I didn’t know that.”

“Bucky too but… that’s a long story,” You led him to the elevators and hit the button. “I know they’re stubborn, always have been but I think you’ll see, you’re a lot more alike than you think.

💥

You walked into the movie theatre, staring at your phone as you texted Steve to let him know you were there. Clark grabbed your arm before you could collide with another moviegoer and you thanked him as you awaited a response. You stood awkwardly near the entrance, watching the scores of people and adrift in the smell of popcorn.

“Arcade,” Steve finally replied. “Claw machine.”

You told Clark to follow and dove into the crowd. You followed the current to the arcade and broke off. You stepped past the racing game and the electronic poker and spotted Steve’s broad shoulders as he fought with the stick of the machine. You neared as he bent to grab his prize from the open door beneath.

“Hey,” You chimed.

“Hey, just in time,” He turned with the stuffed rabbit in hand, “This is for--”

His voice died as his eyes settled on Clark. He grimaced and cleared his throat. 

“For you.” He finished and kept his glare above you. “Clark.”

“Thanks,” You took it hesitantly. “Where is everyone else?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“I thought… Oh, well, I just, we usually, all of us,” You found it hard to complete a sentence. “I invited Clark so he wouldn’t be alone and--”

“Cool. That’s cool.” Steve said tersely. “I was waiting to ask you what you wanted to see so… didn’t get tickets yet.”

You smiled and looked down at the rabbit. You realised you might have misread Steve’s text. Yet you didn’t want to assume he meant this as anything more than your usual friendly get together either. You were certain he was just mad that Clark was there because for whatever reason, he just didn’t like him.

“Well, what’s playing?” You asked.

“The only thing still available is that horror movie, Crimson, or that comedy about the mime.” He said. “I’m not big on scary movies but--”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect ya, buddy,” Clark chuckled. “I think a scary movie might be fun.”

“Do you?” Steve challenged.

“Alright, alright, you two, let’s go grab some tickets, maybe some snacks, and calm down,” You urged. “Do you think you can make it through two hours?”

“Easily,” Clark grinned.

“It’s not a problem,” Steve uttered stiffly. “I’ll grab the tickets, why don’t you wait by the gate?”

You gave a pathetic smile and grabbed Clark’s arm. Steve’s eye caught the movement before he stepped away with a scowl. You dragged Clark away and past the rows of game towards the admissions stall. You hovered there, releasing him only to wring your hands together.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-- It’s usually a whole lot of us,” You said nervously. “I just don’t know what his problem is. He’s usually so nice and--”

“Ego.” Clark said. “I’ve dealt with it before. He’s the big hero, he’s used to being the best, the one in charge. He doesn’t like that I don’t bow to every demand. That his buddy Stark doesn’t make me.”

“I don’t… know,” You looked over as Steve neared. “Just promise me you’ll try to be nice even if he’s not.”

“For you,” He said. “Of course.”

💥

You usually enjoyed the previews but not that night. On either side of you sat a large, tense, and silently fuming man. You felt trapped between them as their arms took up much of the armrests. You held an extra large popcorn that no one seemed interested in and stared up dumbly as the deep voice announced upcoming titles. You should have just gone home and stared at the ceiling. That would be more enjoyable than this.

Then the theatre went silent as the screen turned black. The sonorous soundtrack droned before the screen lit up again. A mosaic walkway with lines of blood running along the cracks. Slowly the camera panned in until the entire screen was a sickly shade of red and the word Crimson appeared in large black letters, the music stopping on a high, terrifying note.

You really wish you had argued for the comedy. Yeah, it would’ve been stupid but with your anxiety already running high, you’d rather roll your eyes than bite your tongue. 

Twenty minutes in, you rolled up the top of the popcorn bag and set it on the floor. A waste of overpriced kernels but the gory scenes made you anything but hungry. You winced and flinched as the movie carried on and felt a subtle shift from your left. 

Steve’s hand fluttered over yours and he squeezed. You looked over at him and smiled. He leaned in until his arm was flush against you.

From your right, another subtle movement. It was until Clark’s arm slipped down from the top of your seat and dropped over your shoulders that you realised what was going on. He whispered in your ear. “Spooky, huh?”

You nodded as you were trapped in the hot tension of their bodies. You blinked and focused on the screen but you couldn’t decipher the words of the characters, barely even registered their screams. Clark played with the shoulder of your shirt as Steve’s thumb brushed over your skin. You didn’t like whatever battle they had declared.

💥

After the movie, you walked out and shoved the bag of cold popcorn in the trash. Steve was ahead of you and Clark behind you. As you came out in the cool night air, you shivered but basked in the refreshing chill it sent up your spine. The two men were silent.

“Did you like the movie?” You asked, suffocating in their wordless standoff.

“It was alright.” Steve muttered. “Bloody.”

“I liked it,” Clark said. “Been a while since I’ve been to the theatre.”

You nodded and dug your heel into the pavement. You glanced up at the streetlight and down the tarmac at the shine of yellow and white.

“I should get a cab,” You said quietly.

“Here,” Steve raised his hand to hail a taxi. “I’ll share. Make sure you get home safe.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Clark insisted. “Besides, it’s you and me who are headed to the same place.”

“You never know in New York,” Steve watched a cab pull up and open the door. “Nothing wrong with making sure.”

“It’s fine,” You raised your hands in a plea. “Really. It’s okay. I’ll be okay. You two just go… home.”

Clark gave a crooked smile and Steve frowned as he gripped the top of the open cab door. You got in looked up at them. 

“Good night,” You grabbed the door. “I’ll see you two on Monday.”

“Night,” Steve’s hand dropped and he backed away.

“Good night,” Clark called to you. “Let me know when you get home safe.”

“Will do,” You said as you pulled the door closed. 

You sighed and gave the cabbie your address before letting your head flop back against the leather seat. You couldn’t decide who was dumber; you or them.

💥

Monday came and you had a peculiar butterfly flapping around in your stomach. Friday night hung over you like a shadow. The thought of facing either man was unpromising. The idea of facing them together was worse and made you squirm. There was something you were missing and you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Or you were just being willfully and stubbornly ignorant.

But at the Tower, neither of them appeared. Well, they didn’t need to be there everyday. They probably got more done at the compound with its bigger and more accommodating facilities. You were thankful for the unexpected respite. Still, you were anxious. There was always Tuesday.

You buried yourself in paperwork and spent a little too long on the phone with intelligence. You skipped your lunch and by the end of the day, you were thoroughly exhausted. Yet you still had work to do. A lot of work. So you hunkered down for a few hours of overtime and went over field reports as you paced around your office, trying to stretch out the kinks in your legs.

You were startled by a knock. The Tower had grown quiet, most of the employees gone, even Tony as he had plans with Pepper. You slid the folder onto your desk and went to the door. Clark beamed at you from the other side.

“You’re here late,” He said.

“You too,” You stuck your head out and peered up and down the hallway. “I didn’t know you were even here.”

“Well, you know, the compound can be a bit… much so I come here at night to work out.” He said. “It helps me relax.”

“Oh,” You looked up at him confused.

“I just… I could hear you walking around in here and if you need a break, I’ll be in the gym. That’s all.” He said.

“Okay,” You nodded. “Sure, um…” You glanced back at the office. “Maybe I’ll take a break now. I could use it.”

“Alright,” He said happily. “Well, um,” He rubbed his neck as he backed up. “Should I lead the way?”

You stepped out into the hallway and looked down towards the next. He turned and you followed just behind him. You frowned as you realised he wasn’t really dressed for the gym. Well, maybe he still needed to change. You kept on, happy at least to be out of your stuffy office for the first time all day.

He opened the gym door and you stepped through, only noticing that another was already there as the door clicked shut behind you. Steve sat, hands together, on the weight bench. He wore a tee shirt and jeans. Like Clark, he didn’t look as if he meant to use the equipment. You spun to looked back at Clark.

“Um, what’s going on?” You asked. “You two--”

“We have our differences,” Steve said from behind you. You turned back to him as he stood. “That much we’ve figured out but we’ve also found that we have one glaring thing in common.”

You narrowed your eyes, dizzy and you looked between them.

“You,” Clark said.

Your heart dropped. You gulped, speechless. Then you laughed. It was unbelievable. Ridiculous. You were misunderstanding them.

“Funny?” Clark asked and you choked on your giggles.

“Well, which one is it?” Steve asked.

“What do you--” You blinked. “We’re friends. That’s all.”

“Friends?” Steve scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“Is this a game to you?” Clark asked. “Huh, you like to lead the boys on and then act innocent when they want more.”

“No, I never-- I was just being nice,” You snapped. “I don’t-- We saw a movie and-- I didn’t do anything to--”

“You didn’t stop anything either,” Steve stepped closer and Clark mirrored him. “Would you have? If my hand had slipped a little lower? Or his?”

“You two… this isn’t funny anymore.” You spun between them as they closed in.

“Choose,” Clark said. “Him or me? It’s obvious you want one of us.”

You were silent. You picked at your nail as you looked back and forth between them. 

“Or both?” Steve smirked and his eyes met the other man’s over your head. “I mean, you’ve been trying to make peace between us. What better way?”

“I…” You shuddered. “I got work to--”

You tried to sidestep Clark and he caught you around the waist. He flung you back and you collided with Steve. His arm wrapped around you as you struggled with him. You stomped his foot but he merely grunted and Clark neared as you kicked out at him.

“Stop, stop!” You cried. “I didn’t mean for-- You’ve misunderstood-- I never--”

“Shhhh,” Clark caught your feet and you hung between the two men. “It’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“The opposite, in fact,” Steve added as they moved you to the weight bench and forced you across it.

“Hold her still,” Clark flicked your heels off and they bounced across the floor. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s not play this game.”

“Steve,” You gasped as you looked up at the man holding down your shoulders. “Steve, please, why are you--”

He slid his arm across your chest and smothered you with his palm. Your legs flailed and Clark trapped them between his as he stood over you on the bench and tugged at the waist of your skirt, busting the zipper as he tore it past your thighs. You writhed as the fabric fluttered to the floor and he grabbed your panties. He slipped them down your legs, past the sheer thigh highs and the dropped atop your skirt.

“Don’t let her up,” Clark ordered and left you to kick against the bench. 

He returned with a skipping rope and wound it around your waist and arms, securing you to the bench. He nodded to Steve who ripped open the front of your blouse, the fabric pushed back over your shoulders to bare your bra. He snapped the front of it and it fell away from your chest, agape like your open shirt. 

Clark grabbed another skipping rope and wound it around your shoulders and neck. Steve let you go and you squirmed against the tight rubber cords.

“Please,” You begged.

“Do you want me to shut her up or--?” Steve asked.

“I thought you called the shots around her,” Clark snapped as he removed his glasses.

“Do I?” Steve neared him. “If it was up to me, you wouldn’t be here.”

“If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be drooling like a lovesick puppy,” Clark sneered. “Shut her up, then.”

Steve snickered and turned away from him. He winked at you as he neared and undid the front of his jeans. You grunted as you tried to roll off the bench but only caused the rope to dig deeper into your flesh. You pushed your feet onto the bench and kicked, trying to break the ropes. Nothing.

Steve came around your head and pushed open the denim. He rolled his jeans down with his briefs as he pulled himself out, stroking his already hard cock. You shook your head, barely able to as the rope squeezed your neck. He gripped your chin tightly, pressing until you opened your mouth with a whimper.

He bent his knees and shoved himself inside. You gagged around him as he forced his cock down your throat. Your body spasmed at the suddenness of the intrusion and your fingers clawed at the bench. He pulled back but not for long as he slid back in, your throat contracting around him.

“Mmmm,” Clark purred as he wrenched your legs apart and sat between them. He dragged his fingers along your folds. “So sweet… well, that’s what you like people to think, isn’t it?”

You could only groan around Steve as Clark teased you. Rubbing you until you felt the wetness spread. He poked a thick finger inside of you and your legs tensed against him. Your legs were trapped against his as he held them wide apart with his knees. He added another finger as Steve pushed himself as deep as he could go.

“You just gonna play with her all night?” Steve rutted down your throat between thick breaths.

“I’ll do what I want,” Clark clasped your thigh roughly with his other hand. 

He turned his fingers and curled them. A pressure built at his fingertips. You were ashamed of how easily your body responded to him. You gripped the side of the bench as it seemed to strain beneath you.

Clark hummed and drew his hand away. You couldn’t see him but could hear him suck his fingers. It added to the sickness that curdled your stomach as Steve fucked your mouth. The sloppy noises that came from you echoed across the airy gym.

The bench shifted as you sensed movement at the other end. Clark lifted your legs and slid closer. He rested your ankles against his shoulders as his hand brushed your cunt, then his cock. He lined himself up with your entrance, poked inside a little, then pulled out. 

He slicked himself along your folds, rubbing against you and once more pressed himself to your entrance. He sank inside of you slowly. He let out a long groan and the deeper he got, the louder he grew. He jolted you as he lost his patience and impaled you entirely. 

Steve’s cock poked the back of your throat as he bent over you and sped up once more. Clark began to thrust from your other end, your walls stretched around him painfully, and you arched your back against the tension of the ropes. You were lightheaded, barely able to breathe, your eyes rolled back as you quivered between the men.

The heat bloomed within you, building and building, the fire flowed through your veins as the room faded away. You shuddered and gasped for breath around Steve’s cock. Large hands clung to your thighs and lifted your ass just slightly as Clark hammered into you harder and harder.

You legs shook at the sudden snap inside of you. You unraveled in an instant and murmured as you spasmed wildly atop the bench. Your orgasm washed away all your fear and doubts and your lips hugged Steve’s cock even snugger as it slid in and out of your mouth.

Then it stopped. All of it. The ropes loosened and you were suddenly very empty. The only bound that remained was that around your neck which grew tight. You opened your eyes as they turned you onto your stomach. Your arms and legs dangled over the sides of the bench and the rope, a noose at your throat, drew taut as your head was forced up.

Clark held the other end of the skipping rope as he poked at your lips. He slid his cock into your mouth and down your throat. Steve settled behind you and titled your pelvis as he felt around for your entrance. His cock filled you swiftly as he slid closer. His hands gripped your hips as he began to slam into you, forcing Clark’s cock further down your throat.

“Fuck,” Steve snarled as he crashed into you over and over, jerking your entire body as he did.

“She’s… good,” Clark breathed as pulled the rope tighter. “Very… good.”

“Shit, I’m almost there,” Steve slapped your ass as you began to quake again. “Look at her, she’s cumming again.”

“Mmm, such a good girl,” Clark’s large hand grasped your head as he hammered into you. “Yeah, oh, that’s it.”

Suddenly, he pulled out and dropped your head, the spit dripping from your lips. You felt a warmth on our back as he came between your shoulders, his groans deep and dusky. Steve followed shortly, pushing himself back as he slipped out of you and rubbed himself through his climax against your thigh.

You remained, weak and whimpering, on the bench. You couldn’t move; stunned, drained of every ounce of strength. You panted wildly and your fingertips felt the cold floor blindly.

“Get her up,” Clark ordered as your vision began to clear. 

“You.” Steve countered sharply. “You said it yourself,” Fingers danced over your spine and made you shiver. “I’m in charge.”

#steve rogers #clark kent #dark!steve rogers #dark!clark kent #dark steve rogers #dark clark kent #steve rogers x reader #clark kent x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark clark kent x reader #dark!clark kent x reader #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #crossover #au #one shot #superman #captain america #mcu #marvel #dc #dcu

[redhoodssweetheart]

Moonlight II

Genre: DC/Marvel Crossover

Relationship: Older!Damian Wayne x Adopted Stark!Fem!Reader

Requested: No (Only a few requests are open, please see pinned post for details)

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, swearing, canon typical violence

Description:  You are the adopted daughter of Tony Stark, Damian is the son of Bruce Wayne.  Your two fathers hate each other which by extension should mean that you and Damian are on less than friendly terms.  The issue?  You’ve been dating for little over a year and have been keeping it a secret.  What will happen if your fathers figure it out?

A/N: I actually hadn’t planned on this ending the way it did, but as I was writing it this is just how it happened.  Enjoy! 

Morning light shown through your window the next morning a few minutes before your alarm went off.  Your mind drifted back to the night before with Damian sneaking into your room and inviting you out for an afternoon with his brothers.  Excitement coursed through you at the thought of finally meeting them.  You quickly got up and began preparing for your day, you were almost done when there was a knock on your door.

When you opened it you discovered Pepper standing there with a bright smile on her face, “Good morning honey, Tony and I were just about to have breakfast, did you want to join us?”

You glanced back at your clock and saw that it was only eight thirty, you had plenty of time to eat before going to meet Damian, “Sure Mom.”

You grabbed the rest of your things before joining Pepper.  It had taken you awhile before you had started calling Pepper “mom”.  When Tony had first adopted you, you weren’t sure what he and Pepper wanted.  It had been some time since you had had a family and you weren’t sure what Tony’s motivations were.  Did he just want to look good to the press?  Did he want to ease a guilty conscience?  Did he just actually want a kid?

Then Morgan had come along.  You thought for sure that that would be it for you, they had their own kid now, they wouldn’t want you.  But that they hadn’t treated you any differently and you came to think of Morgan as your own sister.  You were fiercely protective of her and she loved you to death.  She was currently staying with Peter while you and your parents were in Gotham.

Tony greeted you with a hug and a kiss to your temple and began blabbing on and on about the gala the night before.  Your mind drifted to Damian and how good he had looked in his suit.  Then it went to the stairwell and the night before in your room, you only broke out of it when Tony cleared his throat, “Earth to Y/N, you still with us kid?”

You chuckled nervously, “Sorry just got a little lost in thought is all.”

“Care to share with the group?”

You shook your head, “Oh I was just thinkin’ about all the things I want to get done today.  We leave in two days so that’s not a lot of time to see the city.”

“You could always come back later with your friends,” Pepper suggested.  “I’m sure a vacation would be good for you.”

You smiled at her, “Yeah, you’re right, it would be nice.”  You glanced at the clock on your phone and saw that it was creeping closer to nine thirty, you had to be at the park by ten to meet Damian.  You stood and said, “Thanks for breakfast, but I want to go ahead and get a headstart on today.  I’ll see you at dinner.”  You kissed Pepper on the cheek and gave Tony a hug before dashing out of the hotel room.

Tony looked at the door you had just exited from and said, “I don’t think she wants to be around us any more.”  Pepper merely patted his arm and went back to her breakfast.

You on the other hand were rushing to the park that Damian had mentioned.  You were a little worried that someone may see the two of you together, but you honestly also couldn’t care less.  Sometimes you were tired of hiding the truth from everyone.  You loved Damian and you wanted the world to know that fact, but you worried about what Tony would think or do when he found out.  You also wondered if Bruce would be understanding or if he would forbid his son from seeing you as well.

You shoved those thoughts from your mind, you didn’t want them affecting your mood any.  Today was going to be a good day.  And when you made it into the park you immediately saw Damian, he had a baseball cap and sunglasses on trying to hide who he was, but you knew.  You could spot him anywhere.  He had spotted you as well and you noticed a smile growing on his face as you raced over toward him.  Your arms wrapped around him and he gently lifted you off the ground a few inches.

“Hello beloved,” he whispered in your ear before placing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Hi,” you said, a grin stretching across your face.

Someone cleared their throat and you could have sworn your heart stopped.  You had been caught.  It was too good to be true.  “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Dami?”

You looked over his shoulder and saw his three brothers standing there all three of them with amused expressions on their faces.  Damian practically growled at their words.  Knowing that his brothers knew about the two of you made things a little easier.  It was like Peter knowing that you and Damian were dating.  The two of you needed someone to turn to when things were tough.

You had almost told Pepper one day when you and Damian had had a fight.  You needed a motherly figure to go to, but you weren’t sure how she would feel about the two of you together.  She wasn’t like Tony, but would she lie to Tony?  You weren’t sure, so you decided to keep it a secret.

You had gone to Natasha despite never really talking to her.

She was in the training room at the Avengers' Compound and you approached her nervously.  “Nat, could I talk to you for a moment?”

She had paused what she was doing and turned to you, giving you her full undivided attention, “What can I do for you Y/N?”

You rubbed your arm and said, “If I share a secret will you promise not to tell Dad?”

Natasha’s interest was piqued, “I mean as long as you aren’t in any danger then yeah I can promise not to tell him.”

“I’m dating Damian Wayne,” you said and you watched as her eyes lit up.  “Oh God, please tell me you’re not going to use this against me?”

She chuckled, “I promise not to tell him or anyone else.  How did this even happen?”

You launched into the tale of how you and Damian had been sworn enemies, always competing against one another and how it had turned to friendship and then to what it was now.  You told her about the fight that you couldn’t even remember now, and she gave you her opinions.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you all,” you told them with a bright smile.  “Damian talks about you a lot and I’ve been begging him to let me meet you all since you found out about our little affair.”

“They were supposed to give us a few moments alone before ambushing you,” Damian said, his tone clearly stating how unamused he was with his brothers.  “But clearly they didn’t take my feelings into account.”

“You’ve been keeping her to yourself for over a year now,” Dick said, his easy going smile never slipping from his face.  “We just wanted to meet her.”

Tim nodded his head in agreement, “Don’t get mad, Dami.  She’s only here for a few more days and then she’s on her way back to New York.”

You poked Damian on the side, “They have a point, Damian.  I don’t mind meeting them now, we have plenty of time to be alone together.”

He still looked disgruntled but you let the boys show you around Gotham.  They had an SUV with tinted windows to hide who was inside.  The boys were recognizable and so were you.  The five of you would be on the front page of all the gossip magazines by tomorrow and everyone and their mother would know that maybe you didn’t play into the whole feud your fathers had going on.

You could see the headlines now:

Real-life Romeo and Juliet with Children of Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark

Y/N Stark and Damian Wayne Making Headlines as Secret Affair

How Long Have These Star-Crossed Lovers Been Together?

You wondered how long it would take Tony to kick you out of the house and never speak to you again.  It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell Tony, he deserved to know.  It was just that you didn’t know what he would do when he found out the truth.  You knew how much he hated Bruce Wayne, and to be fair Tony didn’t think straight on a lot of things when emotions ran high.  He would definitely say something that would hurt and he might regret later.

But knowing your father he would be too proud to admit that he was wrong.

Damian noticed the look on your face and nudged you, “You okay?”

You smiled and took his hand in yours, “Yeah just thinking.”

“About your dad?”  He furrowed his brow, the two of you had had many talks about your fathers and their reaction to the two of you coming clean about how you weren’t really enemies.

You leaned your head back and blew out a breath, “I’m just… worried.”

Damian squeezed your hand and said, “Whenever you want to tell him, I’ll be there to support you.  And if you want to tell Father first we could while you’re still here.  He may put on a show of hating Stark, but I don’t think he’d begrudge you.”

“Damian’s right,” Dick said from the driver’s side.  “Bruce looks like he would be the type to throw a fit and tell Damian to get out, but he’s actually not that big of an asshole.”

You laughed, “You saying Stark is an asshole, Grayson?”

“If he doesn’t I will,” Jason turned and grinned at you making you laugh.  “No offense.”

“None taken, I know my father can be less than welcoming and let his mouth get him into trouble.”  You didn’t have enough fingers to count the times your father had gotten into trouble because his mouth had gotten the better of him.  “I just wish I knew if he would be okay with us.  That he wouldn’t let the feud get in the way of realizing how happy I am.”

Leaning over Damian kissed your cheek.  “So should I set a course for the manor?”  Dick asked.

“It’s up to you,” Damian said.  “Father will be discreet.”

Taking a steadying breath you said, “Let’s do it.”  The boys cheered and Damian once again squeezed your hand to let you know that he would be with you every step of the way.

#Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader #Damian Wayne x Stark!Reader #Damian Wayne x Reader fluff #Damian Wayne x Reader angst #Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne fanfic #Damian Wayne fanfiction #Damian Wayne fluff #Damian Wayne angst

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 2

First part

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Perma tag: @nathleigh

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades

Tim wheeled his bike into the alleyway nearby and set the alarm to call him if someone messed with it beyond the normal ‘must touch cool thing’ instincts.

Once he was sure that his bike couldn’t be easily stolen, he turned back to where Marinette was waiting for him.

She struggled with her phone with her gloved fingers. His lips twitched into a grin and he took a moment to school his face into a neutral expression before he started over.

After a second, her head turned to look at him and she flashed a wink, pocketing her phone.

“Cheers!” She chirped, flashing him a wave.

Tim raised an eyebrow at her behind his domino mask. “I hate to break this to you, but that’s a British thing.”

He could only see the top half of her face, and yet he was sure she was pouting. “Kwami, this is Canada French all over again.”

“Canada --?”

“They speak the language all wrong,” she said, as if that made it make more sense.

“I feel like you’re implying that I speak English wrong.”

“Would you rather I say it outright? ‘Cheers’ is a cute word and it sucks that Americans don’t use it.”

“Is this really a hill you’re going to die on?”

“Not just a hill I’m going to die on, it’s the hill.”

He scoffed lightly at that, then turned to get the door for her. The moment they stepped inside they tensed. The silent stares pressed in on them on all sides and he felt Marinette shuffle just the slightest bit closer to him as they took their place in line. The Gothamites continued watching them -- no, they were watching her -- warily, and of course they were (new people in costumes usually meant pain for them).

Well, he could assure them she was safe, at least.

He slowly, carefully, threw his arm over his shoulders. Marinette’s hand twitched towards the arm on instinct to throw him off, but otherwise she didn’t give much indication that what was going on was weird. There were a few more tense seconds before people turned back to what they were doing, visibly relieved by the fact that she was apparently on the good side. Chatter started back up.

Marinette relaxed slightly under his arm and he gave her shoulder a little squeeze in a weak attempt at comfort.

“Kwami, I forgot how much being a new hero sucks.”

“Vigilante,” he corrected her absently.

She rolled her eyes. “At least try and make it sound like you’re not a cop with a bird theme.”

He sputtered, pulling away to cross his arms over his chest. “Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes!”

She rested her hands on her hips.

“We break laws!”

She snickered. “So do cops.”

Tim… didn’t have a retort for that. Luckily, he didn’t need to have one, because it was their turn to order. Neither of them hesitated and within a minute they had their drinks and were out the door. They waved for the few cameras pointed at them on their way out, false smiles lighting up their faces, and then quickly ducked back into the alleyway to have their drinks in privacy.

“I’m going to start going places as Red Robin more often since it seems to mean I’ll get served quicker,” joked Tim as he leaned against the wall.

She gave him a puff of laughter and then pulled the bottom of her mask up to take a sip of her caramel frappe. He watched her expression for a moment and then decided that it must have been good because she didn’t instantly recoil. He pulled his coffee to his lips and took a confident gulp, only to choke.

“Shit,” he hissed, fighting the urge to spit it out.

Now that he knew what to look for he could see the pain behind her eyes.

“It’s really bad,” she informed him, purposefully just a moment too late in her warning.

He huffed a little, looking at the cup in his hand. It’s an iced coffee! How do you even mess that up?

There was a beat as the two vigilantes considered their options, before giving each other shrugs and downing their drinks. It may have been bad, but at least it was caffeinated. Marinette, lucky her, had an easier time of it because she’d gotten whipped cream with hers. He was tempted to snatch the drink from her hands to have something to wash down the cup threatening to sully the good name of coffee for him…

But he didn’t have to. She smiled and offered him the last of her whipped cream. He squinted at it suspiciously as if expecting it to be poisoned. After the coffee incident just a moment before he wasn’t about to take any chances.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s actually good, promise.”

“If you’re lying I’m taking back vouching for you to Batman,” he told her.

Her eyes crinkled with mirth.

“I’m serious! If it’s terrible I’m marching back to the Batcave --!”

“All the way back?”

“Yes! All the way back to the Batcave! And I’m going to revoke my vouching!”

“Oh noooooo, not the vouching!” She said, bringing her hands to her cheeks in mock terror. When he continued to ‘glare’ at her she snickered and assured him that: “It’s fine, I’m pretty sure it’s from a can.”

He squinted at her, because canned whipped cream was still far below his normal standard, but he did end up taking it. It was… okay.

“See? Not poisoned.”

“Very suspicious thing to say unprompted but okay.”

She grinned, reaching over to swipe some cream off his nose. “You’ll die in exactly four hours”

He rolled his eyes. “Hm. I guess I should go home and work on making an antidote, then.”

“Yeah. Good luck with that. I’ll see you later.” She leaned forward and pressed her mask to his cheek in a sort of kiss before heading off.

He watched her leave, smiling to himself. He leaned back against his motorbike absently, thinking.

Well, he supposed he didn’t need to watch her to make sure she was safe anymore. She was Ladybug, she could take care of herself in a fight…

But then a thought occurred to him: she couldn’t detect him when he had been watching her earlier. He bit his lip anxiously. Sure, he was trained to evade detection but did he really want to chance it? In a place like Gotham the ability to tell when you’re being watched is an absolute must.

Okay. Fine. He’d watch her just a little longer…

~

Marinette frowned when her phone rang while she was doing some late-night work.

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, M’lady?”

A wide grin stretched across her face and she fell back in her bed. “Chaton! And here I was thinking you would never call!”

Adrien laughed. “Well, our time zones don’t exactly match up and I forgot that your sleep schedule is less of a schedule and more of a suggestion.”

“Fuck you, too, then.”

He laughed and she could hear him shifting around on the other side. She heard him zip something up on the other side and she lit up. “When’re you coming over?” He sighed and that was all it took to let her know that he had bad news. The momentary silence afterwards as he tried to figure out what to say was a good indication, too.

“I can’t, unfortunately. The Son of Hawkmoth moving away right after he gets jailed isn’t a good look. The United States Government isn’t that eager to have me, either.”

She wasn’t about to give up that easily. “Just steal the horse miraculous from Fu and come over illegally.”

He snorted. “Yeah, no, straight up disappearing is even more suspicious, thanks.”

Marinette frowned. She supposed that made sense…

She pulled her cat plush over so she could rest her head against it. “It’s so boring without you.”

“You’re making new friends, right?” He questioned, concerned. “I saw on the news that you’ve met the other vigilantes already.”

“Yeah, I guess… but they clearly don’t trust me.”

“Well, did you trust me when we started out?”

“No…”

“So give them time. They’ll realize you’re the best person on Earth soon enough.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, obviously. They’d have to be blind not to notice that.”

“Well, one of them is called Batman --.”

“I’m hanging up on you.”

He laughed at her and she smiled as she burrowed into her plush.

“Thanks, Chaton.”

“Anytime. Now, go to sleep.”

She rolled her eyes and hung up on him without promising him anything.

~

He leaned against the concrete of the roof, head on his arms to prevent scratching up his chin as he watched her through the window. He kind of worried about her having the blinds open like that, anyone could look in at her, but at least she closed it at night.

Still, he couldn’t deny that it certainly made things easier for him. She did most things by window light -- to save electricity, he theorized -- so he didn’t have to work all that hard to keep track of her.

Currently, she was working on stitching some pieces of an outfit. Her tongue poked out of her mouth a little when she concentrated, he had learned. A tiny part of him wondered if she did that as Ladybug, too, and he just couldn’t see it under her mask.

He kind of wished he could ask. Maybe one day he would (if they ever got close enough for him to reveal he’d been watching her without her knowledge, of course).

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts, and he groaned to himself as he synced his earbuds and picked up.

“Yeah, B, what do you need?”

~

Listen, Marinette liked her job. She had the privilege of designing most of the outfits she did and that was a lot of fun -- certainly more fun than working solely on commissions -- but… sometimes she just wants to be told what to do. Artist’s Block is real and it fucking sucks.

Thankfully, Gotham gave quite a bit of inspiration. The difference between Gotham and Paris was striking. Paris was pristine; lots of tourists meant keeping the city in a constant state of newness, all bright colors and surfaces so clean you can see your reflection in them. Gotham, on the other hand, felt exceptionally lived in; graffiti, decaying buildings, cracked sidewalks…

She found a nice vantage point that overlooked the city and looked out over the horizon. That was another difference between the two: the height of buildings in Gotham was far more varied than those of Paris. It was more interesting to look at, she thought.

(It had been a point of annoyance at night as she could no longer jump from rooftop to rooftop with ease, but that’s not the point here.)

Maybe she could do something inspired by all the different heights. Audrey would probably like a dress like that.

She smiled walking to a nearby gargoyle. Red graffiti dubbed them Charlie, and who was she to not use his preferred name?

“Hello, Charlie, may I sit on you?” She joked quietly.

Charlie did not answer, not that she really expected him to.

She perched herself on the gargoyle’s back and pulled her sketchbook from a secret pocket in her leather jacket. She hummed tunelessly as she sketched out the shape.

Layers of different lengths -- and different colors, too, of course, she thought as she pulled out some colored pens (what’s the point of different layers if you don’t make it rainbow?) -- and oh it definitely had to trail a little in the back for the drama…

Artist’s block hit her like a too-high wall on patrols as she stared at where the bodice needed to be. What should she do? Obviously it needed to be relatively simple otherwise she risked the dress being an eyesore but…

It was just her luck that the moment she came to a decision about what to do for the bodice and accessories is the moment the first water droplet hit her sketchbook. She pulled her gaze to the sky and noticed the storm cloud overhead.

Shit, it was starting to rain.

She looked back down at her sketchbook, irritation spiking under her skin.

Option one: tough it out and continue drawing so she doesn’t risk forgetting the idea she’d had.

Option two: don’t risk her outfit (or her health, she guessed) and just head inside like a sane person.

… Marinette chose option one. She wouldn’t be herself without the occasional bad decision.

She drew her jacket over her head and hunched over her sketchbook as she continued sketching out her design.

Except, after a few minutes, she didn’t feel the beat of the rain on her jacket. She blinked a few times because she could still hear the rain nearby and she started to wonder if she had died somehow before she caught the sound of someone moving just out of her seeing range.

She turned her head to see a man holding an umbrella over her head, her jacket falling back to rest on her shoulders.

She gave him a once over. It was a little paranoid, she could admit, but she was in Gotham; it paid to be cautious. He was wearing a thick trench coat and gloves, which was a big red flag. He also had open posture -- more open than was natural, actually -- what with his slight slouch and hands spread wide in a somewhat placating gesture. The only good thing was that he was keeping a respectful distance, even standing a bit in the rain in order to avoid crowding her.

… well, he had an umbrella, at least.

She gripped the gargoyle tighter with her legs just in case he decided he wanted to try and push her, then turned to face him more.

“Hi,” she said carefully.

“You know, it’s illegal to be up here,” he said, flashing her an almost blindingly white smile.

She grinned. “You’re breaking the law, too, then.”

“Yeah. I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me.”

She reached a pinky out and, after a second’s hesitation, he returned the gesture.

Deal made, he wiped some of the water away with gloved fingers and took a seat beside her.

He clearly trusted her more than she trusted him, even allowing his legs to hang over the side of the building. She wondered why, vaguely, but she couldn’t exactly go and ask...

So, instead she smiled and said: “Thanks for the help. Water stains are a bitch to get out of leather.”

“You’re welcome, but I really can’t believe you went out without an umbrella in this city of all places.”

She shrugged sheepishly. “I’m a little new here, to be honest.”

She watched him carefully out of the corner of his eyes. The man frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by her laughter.

“I’m kidding, I’m not stupid enough to genuinely tell someone that. I was just going for the Manic Pixie Dream Girl aesthetic.”

His shoulders relaxed in a way that would have been imperceptible if she hadn’t been trained to check body language. She let herself relax her grip on the gargoyle a little as well; he had been concerned about her right then, he was probably pretty safe. Safe enough to not strain her legs too much, at least.

“Well, I do like your aesthetic,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “The Manic Pixie Dream Girl stuff, my outfit, or what I’m drawing?”

“All of it. But mostly the outfit.”

She felt a faint blush rise to her face but she brushed him off with a: “Yeah, thanks, but I’m not about to start taking fashion advice from a guy in a trenchcoat.”

He gasped and brought his free hand to his chest in mock offense. “Excuse you, this is peak Gotham fashion!”

“It’s shady, that’s what it is.”

“That’s what Gotham fashion is!”

She couldn’t have rolled her eyes harder if she tried. And she did try.

Her gaze fell back to her work and she sighed as she pulled out her pens and started working on finishing up her sketch.

“So, what’re you up here for?” She asked because she didn’t want to risk him getting bored and leaving with the umbrella.

“Hm? Oh, I do photography in my spare time. Figured I’d scope out some new areas.”

“Know all the best places in Gotham?”

“You have no idea.” The man flashed her a grin. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone in person, though, so I figured I’d get some update shots.”

“Well, if we both need to go sightseeing around Gotham for our things, why not do it together?”

He raised an eyebrow at her but she could see the way his lips twitched downwards with concern. “Trust me that much already? We’ve just met.”

“Well, you seem like a nice guy...” She smirked. “And I could totally beat your ass.”

He scoffed and unbuttoned his trenchcoat to prove to her that he did, in fact, have muscles hidden beneath all those layers and she laughed before she noticed the shirt he was wearing.

Holy shit. She’d made that shirt. He was wearing one of her shirts. She could see the gold stitching partially hidden beneath his collar, and fuck maybe she was concerned about all the wrong things.

Her eyes narrowed in on him just slightly. He clearly wasn’t actively hiding the shirt and didn’t seem concerned that he had shown her, which meant he:

a) didn’t know she was MDC,

b) saw her as just another artist,

or c) was showing her on purpose so she could make an informed decision about being his friend.

So… he didn’t seem to be a threat to her.

Maybe she could do some checking up on him, though, just to be safe.

She smiled. “I realize I never got your name. Probably would be a problem if we’re going to be spending more time together from now on.”

He grinned. “Yeah, it’s kinda hard to be friends with someone if you don’t even know their name. I’m Tim Drake.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said, watching his expression carefully.

He remained impassive. She wasn’t sure what that meant -- or if it meant anything at all, for that matter.

She pulled out her phone and offered it to him, taking the umbrella so he could type his number in with both hands. That done, she stuck the phone back in her pocket and smiled up at him.

“I’m stealing your umbrella, by the way,” she informed him, grip tightening on the handle in case he tried to take it back from her.

He grinned and made no move to do so. “If you must. Can you at least walk me inside the building before you run off with it?”

She giggled. “I guess I can do that, yes.”

~

It had been a long time since Tim had fanboyed this hard.

If he was any younger, he would have fallen back on his bed and squealed like a person in those old movies. As it were, he still wore a dopey smile.

He had MDC’s number! And not her work number, because he’d already had that, this was her real number!

And, even cooler, she might just let him go with her to get inspiration! Who wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to watch one of their favorite artists do their thing?!

… oh, yeah, also the protection thing, obviously. That was the whole reason he was doing this, after all.

It would be so much easier to protect her if he went out with her on these excursions. Just being around men tended to ward off potential assailants. It was perfect!

Which meant he wouldn’t have any reason to follow her for her own protection anymore…

Wait, what about when she needed to go out for chores like groceries? She’d still need to be safe for that! Gotham is a scary place! What if someone tried to follo -- what if someone tried to mug her or something dangerous like that? No, she still needed his help!

Yeah, no, he has to do this. It’s for her own safety.

#haha this took forever dont @ me #timinette #timari #shutterbug #timmari #tim drake #red robin #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #maribat #stalker x stalker

[hood-ex]

For a batfam prompt: Dick as Nightwing, fear toxin, and Bruce?

Dick was in the middle of trying to stanch the bleeding from his nose when his comm started beeping in his ear. He sighed at the terrible timing and quickly wrangled off one of his blood coated gloves to receive the call. 

“Talk to me,” he said, voice sounding high and distorted as a result of pinching his nostrils closed. 

“Whoa,” Babs said. “What the hell is wrong with your voice?” 

“Got a bloody nose,” Dick explained quickly. It was really uncomfortable trying to breathe and talk only through his mouth. He was definitely going to need a huge glass of water after this. “What’s up?” 

“The Owls are what’s up. I need you to get your tush to the cave ASAP.” 

Ah, fuck. 

“What kind of trouble are our freaky electrum filled friends getting up to?” he asked, already tugging his glove back on and booking it back to where he’d left his bike half a block away. He knew he looked fucking ridiculous running while holding his nose, but it seemed pretty insignificant compared to the idea of Talons running loose and slaughtering people. 

“Just one friend, actually,” Babs said. The lack of urgency in her voice made some of the anxiety in Dick’s chest dissipate. It also made him realize that they were talking about a member of the Court and not the Talons. 

“Oh yeah?”

“She was schmoozing it up at the Aparo Auction House with Brucie Wayne and a hundred other rich people.”

A feeling of disgust settled in his gut, his mind replaying the time he infiltrated one of the Court’s underground auctions. The same auction that had tried to sell off the crowbar Joker had beaten Jason with. 

A shiver traveled all the way down to his toes as he leapt over a puddle that was in the middle of the sidewalk. His bike was now in his sight. He could tell it was his because of the way its blue accents gleamed in the moonlight. 

“Looks like Scarecrow and the Court have been doing business with each other,” Babs said in that slightly distracted way of hers that Dick was used to hearing when she was trying to talk while rubbing at her eyes. It was something she did a lot since her eyes were always strained from looking at computer screens for hours on end. “Fear toxin was released through the vents at the auction. It caused an absolute shitstorm of chaos, as you can imagine.”

“Damn,” Dick said, straddling his bike. He was secretly glad he was wearing his thermal suit so he wouldn’t have to ride to Gotham on a cold seat. The only thing he was annoyed about was that he was getting blood all over his handle bars and helmet. “Is B okay?” 

“Yeah... about that...” 

The anxiety in Dick’s chest cranked back up tenfold. Irrational images of Bruce lying dead in a red-stained tuxedo flashed through his mind. He shook his head, mentally yelling at himself to cool it. If something like that had happened, Bab’s wouldn’t sound as casual as she did now. 

“He keeps thinking you’re dead,” she said, and for a second, Dick thought he misheard her over the sound of his tires peeling off down the street. “Red Robin says he keeps switching between rationalizing that you’re alive and thinking you bit it.”

“Huh,” Dick said, not really sure what to make of that. It wasn’t the first time Bruce had delusions of him or someone else dying while on fear toxin. Dick was just slightly surprised because it had been years since he was the sole subject of Bruce’s fear. He wondered if it was tied to Bruce knowing that a woman from the Court was at the auction. Bruce might have associated her with Dick in his mind since the Court had been after Dick for the last few years. 

“All I’m saying is that you might want to hurry home quick, Hunk Wonder. Robin and Red Robin are out distributing an updated antidote to the people who got dosed at the auction. B’s antidote won’t really kick in for another thirty minutes.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“It should take you longer than that,” Babs said suspiciously. 

Dick grinned under his helmet. “It would if I wasn’t making my way there like Sonic the Hedgehog on a caffeine high.” 

“D-Nightwing!” 

“Gotta go, O! I’ll catch you at Cass’s birthday party next weekend!”

Dick disconnected the call, knowing full well that Bab’s hated when he did that and was sure to give him an earful the next time they talked. But that was a problem for future Dick to deal with. 

The ride to the batcave was filled with a lot of weaving and a few angry honks directed his way. Dick was pretty sure he might have even shaved off his expected arrival time by two minutes. He was very decidedly not going to share that with anyone else except for Roy. Roy was the only one who would appreciate it without giving Dick the third degree about safety precautions. 

The cave was about as lit up as it could get when Dick’s bike came to a screeching halt next to one of the batmobiles. Alfred had probably turned on all the lights since they’d learned over the years that shadows and fear toxin really didn’t mix that well.  

Dick left his helmet on his bike and hurried over to the cot Alfred always had them lie on when they were sick or injured. Sure enough, that was where Bruce was currently sitting, his feet bouncing in agitation against the floor. He was already out of his batsuit and was dressed in a soft looking blue shirt and gray sweatpants. 

Bruce’s eyes were squeezed shut and his arms were wrapped tightly around himself, his knuckles white. Dick wasn’t really sure what the correct way was to approach him, but he figured letting Bruce know he was there was probably a good first step.

“Hey, B, I’m here,” Dick said, walking slowly up to his dad to try and give him enough time to work out what was real and what wasn’t. 

Bruce’s head jerked at the sound of his voice, his bloodshot looking eyes immediately seeking out Dick’s own. He looked... well, not okay but not terrible either. Mostly just pale and a little shaky. 

It was the way Bruce was staring at him that made Dick feel nervous all over. His eyes were wide and haunted looking as they soaked Dick up like a sponge. It was the kind of raw look Dick had only ever seen on parent’s faces when they realized their baby wasn’t coming home. 

It was Bruce after Jason’s death. It was Bruce after Damian’s death. It was Bruce after T—

“You want to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?” Dick asked quietly, becoming more alarmed as he noticed Bruce was breathing so quickly that his chest was practically heaving. 

Bruce’s voice cracked as he murmured, “Dick?”

Bruce’s increasing panic didn’t make sense until Dick reached out his hand to comfort him and saw all the blood coated over his glove. 

Oh wow. He was a fucking asshole, wasn’t he?

He jerked his arm back to his side and whirled around so that Bruce couldn’t see all the dried blood on his face.

“I’m okay, Bruce. I’m okay. I got a bloody nose from patrol and... just wait, okay? Let me clean this off.” 

You’re such an idiot, Dick thought as he jogged towards the shower area, ripping off his gloves as he went. Once he was hidden from Bruce’s sight, he quickly peeled off his suit because, yeah, he found that blood had dripped on it as well. No wonder he was staring at you like you’d actually... like you were really...

He grabbed a clean towel from the pile they kept on a rack, and then he wet it and went about scrubbing all the blood off his skin until his face looked raw and the towel looked rusted. He was shivering by the time he was done. The cave was always cold and the water definitely wasn’t helping with that. 

Dick looked in the mirror and made sure there was no more blood on him before he went to their extra clothes supply rack. Weirdly, the shirts and hoodies from his own pile were missing. He barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes, knowing Tim and Damian had probably been taking his stuff again. Tim always forgot to replace the clothes he borrowed after washing them, and Damian usually hoarded the clothes in his bedroom. 

Bruce and Jason’s stacks were still pretty well stocked. Dick made a considering sound in the back of his throat as he looked between them. Jason would definitely blow a gasket if he realized someone had taken his clothes, and contrary to popular belief, Dick really didn’t like fighting with Jason. On the other hand, wearing Bruce’s clothes was kind of weird. 

Says the guy who wore his batsuit, his traitorous brain reminded him. 

Shrugging, Dick grabbed some red gym shorts from his own pile and a black t-shirt and hoodie from Bruce’s pile. He did end up taking Tim’s Nike slides because his own slip on shoes had been stolen by two kleptomaniacs.

By the time he’d gotten himself dressed, he saw that Alfred had returned from upstairs and was coaxing Bruce into eating an artfully prepared sandwich. Dick wouldn’t mind eating one as long as there was no sign of cucumbers in it. 

“Ah, Master Dick,” Alfred smiled, looking both happy to see him and also relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with Bruce by himself. Bruce whipped around to where Dick was, and their eyes locked briefly before Bruce dropped his gaze like he was embarrassed about needing to reassure himself that Dick was actually there. 

“Hey, Alfie,” Dick said with a small smile of his own. He plopped himself on the cot next to Bruce, and before Bruce could protest, he grabbed Bruce’s fingers and forcefully pressed them against his wrist where his pulse was beating steadily. Bruce’s fingers trembled against his skin from the effects of the toxin, but he didn’t try to move them away. Instead, his shoulders relaxed into a more comfortable position, and he ended up leaning some of his weight against Dick’s shoulder. 

“You gonna eat that sandwich?” Dick asked Bruce who had closed his eyes and seemed to be silently counting the beats of Dick’s pulse. 

Alfred would normally intervene at a time like this and insist that he could go get Dick his own sandwich, but this time, Alfred stayed silent and watched them both with a knowing look. 

“No,” Bruce shook his head lightly. “You go ahead and eat it.” 

“Are you super-duper sure? Or just super sure? Or just duper sure? What level of sure are you?”

Bruce finally cracked the tiniest of grins at the game Dick used to play with him back when their worlds were a little smaller. Back when Casa de Wayne only had a population of three. 

Score, Dick thought with a smile of his own, feeling proud of himself. 

“I’m super-duper sure you can eat the sandwich,” Bruce said. 

That was essentially code for: I’ll throw up all over the floor if I have to eat even a bite of that sandwich. Dick took it as a sign to back off. 

“Well, as long as you’re super-duper sure,” Dick said, making grabby hands at Alfred for the sandwich in question. Alfred only looked mildly exasperated as he handed it over. 

Bruce’s fingers tightened around Dick’s wrist. “Trust me, I’m good.”

When Dick looked over at Bruce, he realized that Bruce’s eyes were open, and this time, they looked much clearer. The antidote seemed to have finally made its way through his system. 

“Good,” Dick said, playfully jostling Bruce’s shoulder. 

There was no stopping his surprised laugh when Bruce jostled him back. 

#Dick Grayson #Bruce Wayne #Barbara Gordon #Alfred Pennyworth #IT'S FINALLY DONE MUAHAHAHA #my fic #chestnutcats

[pink-bird-30]

Missing Moment

Okay, I've been sorta fed up with Titans not giving us these in between scenes where Kori and Dick interact and they find out things about each other.  So I decided to write a missing moment that would have happened in 3x06.

(I don't think this story has spoilers, but I guess read at your own risk if you haven't seen 3x06)

You can find the full story here at my FF.Net

As always, happy reading!

---------------

It’d been a rough couple of days. Between Hank blowing up and Dawn leaving for Paris….things were not the same. Kori often finds herself in the kitchen cleaning whatever nonexistent dishes were in the sink, taking the time to focus on something she can control.

Kom was here, that was a new development. And Dick was not happy about that.

Kori scoffs as she tosses the soaked sponge back into the sink and grabs the blue dish rag on the counter, drying her hands. Deep in her thoughts, she missed the lithe steps coming from down the hall.

“Hey.” She jumps slightly, caught off guard at Dick’s sudden presence. She looks up at the black clock on the wall.

1AM.

She tosses the rag on the counter and brushes past him to the living area, not wanting to hear what he had to say to her about Kom. She has to deal with her shit and he has his to deal with, and by the looks of the time, she figures he may have “figured out” his issues with Barbara given the late hour, but she won’t let her mind drift there.

He sighs, “Kori-“

She turns, giving him a sharp look. Her green eyes slightly flash bright, “What? More judgements, Grayson?”

His thick brows furrow in confusion before relaxing in understanding, “Look, I was being-“

“A dick.” She cuts him off, a smile gracing her lips.

Dick rolls his eyes at the comment, nearly hearing it more than he’d care to admit. But he couldn’t help the laugh that leaves his chest.

How does she do that?

“Sure, whatever. I was rude and didn’t respect you when you told me something was going on and I’m sorry.”

Kori’s eye widen, “Wow, Dick Grayson is apologizing.”

He bashfully grins. “It’s known to happen on occasion.”

Kori arches her brow at him and shakes her head, causing her curls to flutter at her shoulders. She doesn’t miss how Dick looks at her, but she pushes that light feeling down.

Not yet.

He walks over to the fridge and pulls out two beers, “Here.” He slides one across the counter, she catches it gracefully and pops the cap with her thumb as she watches Dick reach for the bottle opener on the fridge.

They take their drinks to the living area and settle on the sofa. They didn’t speak for a few moments, just savoring the few silent beats near the raging fire. Kori noticed Gotham was a very cold place. Hardly any sun during the day and the night a deep shadow of darkness. No wonder no one goes out at night.

“When I first came to Wayne Manor, I tried every way I could to leave.” Dick started. His beer rolling between his hands, peeling at the red label. Kori noticed this as a nervous tick of Dick’s, always fiddling with his batons or scratching the back of his neck. Whatever he was going to say, it was in confidence to her.

“Being back her has been…” he takes a swing of his drink. “It’s been tough. I feel myself reverting back to who I was before I left. Back to the guy who goes off on his own and acts like-like”

“Like Batman.”

He looks over at her and nods, “Yeah.”

“You know you’re not him, right?”

“Hm.” He doesn’t seem to believe her.

Kori leans forward, her thigh brushing against his lightly, “Listen to me. You are not him. Okay? You’re Dick Grayson, leader of the Titans. Sure, you have your flaws-”

“Hey!” his face brightens up at the jab.

“But you’re you. No one can take that.” She sips at her beer and settles back against the couch. “Besides, I think you’d look ridiculous in the Bat-suit.”

Dick lets out a hearty laugh making Kori smile.

He should laugh more.

He stares at her for a moment, his dark eyes gazing at her. She knows that look, it takes her back to the last time they were alone like this.

But now isn’t the time.

She clears her throat, breaking his gaze to stare into the fire lighting the room.

“I’m sorry about your parents, Kor.” She wasn’t expecting him to bring it up, hell she hoped she could chug the rest of her beer before having to continue this conversation.

She shrugs her shoulders, “I don’t really know how I feel about it right now.” It was her turn to distract herself from the inevitable. She lets her long fingers tangle in her curls, wrapping and unwrapping them from her fingers. She hadn’t seen her parents for a few years now. And even if she had, she doesn’t remember. Her memories have come back randomly, but not completely. If anything, it makes her feel even worse. Not remembering the last time she saw them.

She first feels the couch dip next to her and then Dick’s warm, callous hand wrap around hers, pulling it free from her hair. He rests their clasped hands on his leg, his thumb running slowing over her knuckles.

“Hey,” he tilts his head slightly, giving her that typical soft Dick Grayson look. The same look he gave her when they decided to figure themselves out first before seeing what this could be. It breaks a small part of her, not meaning to, but a small tear falls down her cheek. Dick, being who he is, wipes it away without thought.

Kori takes a deep breath and close her eyes, letting herself feel comforted. Usually she’d just suck it up and be a tough bitch. But after a while…it builds up.

She lets her head rest on his shoulder, taking whatever comfort he’s offering.

“Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Who were you before this, before Wayne Manor?” she feels his hand tighten in hers. She can feel him contemplating what to say. She didn’t expect him to tell her everything, but she would like to know him better.

“It’s-it’s complicated.” He sighs, the rush of air moving through him.

“Then uncomplicate it.”

He shakes his head grinning slightly, “You’re a pushy person, you know that?”

“Stop stalling, Grayson.” She looks up at him seeing his eyes brighten looking down at her and then looks towards the fire place. But then his eyes became clouded, like he was preparing for something horrible to happen.

“When I was a kid, my parents and I were part of the circus. Hayley’s Circus. We’d travel from city to city preforming all over…” his eyes glazed slightly, watching the fire intently. Kori lets her free hand settle on his heart, letting him know she’s there.

It was enough to help him keep going, “We were called ‘The Flying Graysons’. Our act was the main attraction because we wouldn’t use a safety net…” Dick takes another sip of his nearly empty beer and sets it on the side table.

“Our first night here, in Gotham, a mob boss named Tony Zucco threated Mr. Haly to hire protection while the circus was in town, but refused. Later on during our act…” Dick stops, needing a moment before continuing. “Zucco hired someone to tamper with the trapeze ropes, so when it came to my parents swinging towards me, they fell.”

“Oh, Dick…” Kori’s heart never felt so broken. She could feel Dick tighten his hand around hers, holding on to whatever life line he had here in the present, while working through his troubled past. She could feel his heartbeat fast under her hand. His face was impassive, solely focused on the light of the fire, but his body was reacting for him.

He seemed to come back to himself after a moment, closing his eyes and opening them again to peer down at her. “I was angry for a while after, but then Bruce showed me how to transform that anger into something else. But it took me a few years to realize he turned me into a weapon.”

Kori nods in understanding, not trusting her voice to say much.

“But after I left Gotham, went to Detroit to start over. I hadn’t changed much. I was still doing the same shit just in a different city. But when Rachel came along things changed. I felt myself change. I think I actually had hope things might get better again.

“And they were. Well, besides all the Trigon bullshit and Slade. I think things have been good.”

“Until you came back to Gotham.” Kori added. Dick nods in agreement.

“Yeah, before I came back here and fell back into old habits.”

“You mean going off on your own, finding old friends to fight with and getting shot at? Yeah, sounds about right.” She grins at him, lightening the mood.

“Yeah, that’s me.” His face changed again. Kori is surprised that someone that is well trained to be impassive, he shows all his emotions through his eyes.

“And you?” he asks. Kori looks at him questioningly. “What’s going on with you and Kom?”

Kori scoffs, “Trust me you do not want to know that mess.”

“Try me.”

She contemplates it for a moment, trying to figure out where to start.

“Well…um…” she huffs in frustration. “Listen, the relationship between me and Kom has always been strained. She always had issues following the rules and listening to our parents. It often led her to getting in trouble all the time. She’s my older sister and she always had to rebel.

“As for me, I followed the rules. I did what was expected of me and since I’m-“ Kori stops, realizing she was about to tell Dick she’s a princess, technically a “queen” of Tamaran. But she keeps it to herself.

“I’m just not sure her true intentions here, but I also couldn’t leave her down there with the scientists for the rest of her life. It wasn’t right.”

Dick nods in understanding, “What do you think she’s up to?”

“I have no idea, but I hope she’s changed.” Kori knew it was foolish to believe that, but part of her wants her sister to be better, to do better.

“For the team’s sake, I hope so too. We can’t have a possible threat living with us.” Kori rolls her eyes and untangles herself from Dick’s side, letting go of his hand in the process. She can already feel the cold feeling of loneliness creeping in already, but she shakes it off.

“I should head to bed.”

Dick runs his hand through his hair and stands up, “Shit—Kori, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“Yes, you did. And you’re right. We have to be careful.”

She turns to leave the room, but not before glancing back one last time. “Thank you for telling me about your past.”

Dick grins in return, watching as Kori ascends up the stairs to her room.

Part of him wants to follow her, missing the warmth he knows she can provide. A warmth the deepest parts of himself remembers all too well. But he shakes himself from the thought and tips back his beer for one last sip before heading to bed.

#DC titans #fanfiction #dickkory #brenton thwaites #mame anna diop #dick grayson #koriand'r #somewhat spoilers? #starfire #nightwing