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ficsilike-reblogged · 2 years

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Mine First – Mine Last

A/N: Well. This is definitely one of the more self indulgent things I’ve ever written. Thank you to a few of my mutuals who let me rage about this in their dms for far too long. I’ll probably write another thing for Battinson soon, a little more light-hearted than this.

Pairing: SoftDark!Bruce Wayne/F!Reader

Rating: 18+/M for DARK THEMES including dub-con, stalking, obsessive and possessive behavior, gaslighting, isolation, canon typical violence, and my attempt at smut

Warnings: Again, dub-con/dubious consent, smut, reader being oblivious, and unhealthy relationships-PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION

Word Count: 9k

Summary: The four times you walked away from Bruce and the one time he wouldn’t let you go.

"Mine first – mine last – mine even in the grave!" - Louisa May Alcott, A Long Fatal Love Chase

Or read on Ao3 here!

You could vividly remember the first time you met Bruce. You were in a pressed black dress and holding your father’s hand as he spoke with a man who softly introduced himself as Alfred Pennyworth. You hardly remembered much else of that day. You remembered the shining black coffins and the strange smell of the lilies that seemed to permeate every corner of the strange room. And you remembered Bruce.

You could scarcely remember if it was a funeral home or something else, possibly some rented out ballroom at Gotham’s finest hotel. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that there was a sad boy, around your age, sitting alone near the pair of coffins at the front.

You let go of your father’s hand as he continued to talk to Alfred and slipped through the slow-moving group of adults and stood in front of him. “Hi,” you murmured. Your voice was soft and low and the patent leather of your shoes just as shiny as the shellacked surface of the coffins. You realized you were maybe a couple years younger than him and tried to smile despite missing one of your front teeth.

Bruce didn’t respond but you sat next to him anyway on the overstuffed chair.

“This is for you.” And then you handed him a single sprig of a purple-blue flower with tiny, soft petals. It smelled much better than the lilies. And, you tapped your nose with a small smile. You hoped it made him smile but he only quietly took the flower, his blue eyes flittering up to yours for only a moment.

You listened to dozens of people say sorry to Bruce, say that his parents were in a better place, all sorts of other niceties that you’d heard hundreds and hundreds of times from faceless people. And Bruce looked at you every time they walked away, almost as if expecting you to say the same. But you didn’t. You simply sat next to him without saying anything as the funeral started and all the noise fell to a dull roar in your ears. When it was over and almost everyone filtered out after murmuring another condolence to him, or whispering about him behind their hands as they looked in his direction, you were still there.

And Bruce still held that little sprig of hyacinth in his hand, his knuckles white around the now-crumpled green stem.

“C’mon, buttercup,” your father said as he stepped up to you, Alfred at his side. “Time to go.”

“Thank you for-” Alfred started.

But your father waved him off. “No thanks necessary. It was the least I could do.” And then he reached out and gently squeezed Bruce’s shoulder before holding out his hand for you to take again.

You looked at Bruce as you slipped off the seat, and watched as he looked at you, still clutching the flower. “Bye, Mister Wayne.”

And then you were gone.

But you would not be far for long. Alfred, apparently, had seen how at ease Bruce seemed to be in your presence at the funeral and had set up a ‘play date’ for his ward once a week with agreement from your parents. They had been happy to have you make a friend, seeing a little boy who needed a friend, too. They stood beside Alfred and advocated for him to have primary custody of the young billionaire in Gotham’s darkened courtrooms and ignored every photog who had tried to snap a picture of the strange dynamic that seemed to sprout overnight.

You grew up together, the years slowly trickling by with Bruce letting you bring him hyacinths from your family garden and placing another brunch of the delicate flowers at his parents’ grave when he didn’t bring any when he came to the Wayne family mausoleum at the top of your family’s hill. You didn’t mind how quiet he was—you were quiet, too, content to just sit with your head in his lap with a book, or letting him tap the beat of another Nirvana song out on your arm as you tried to study.

Bruce was your friend. Your only friend when you really thought about it. Despite so desperately wanting to be liked, wherever you went in Gotham, people whispered. You had been given a cruel and almost-creative nickname in your primary school years. Princess Death. Sure, it made sense with your family owning the only cemetery in Gotham and all the funeral parlors within city limits, but it still had people recoiling as if you carried some unseen affliction that was easily given from one person to the next.

Bruce never recoiled. Bruce didn’t make hushed jokes that you smelled like embalming fluid. Bruce was always kind and sweet and your best friend.

It had been a quiet, happy decade with him at your side.

He had been the one person you had asked to attend your mother’s funeral just after your sixteenth birthday. She had been trying to be a good person—she was always too good—and tried to keep another woman from getting mugged. It didn’t work and she was dead before she hit the wet pavement of the dark alley.

Bruce had been the one to hold your hand when your father was accepting condolences. You knew he knew how it felt and you felt awful for crying as much as you did. He had lost both parents and you still had your doting father. But Bruce didn’t mention it and quietly wiped your tears and kissed your forehead in the shadows of the funeral home. Yes. Bruce was your friend no matter how much time passed.

Soon, you were eighteen and finishing school, spending the warmer months helping your father take care of the sprawling cemetery up on the hill—your family’s legacy. You had told him all about it when he asked. Told him about how your family had history in Gotham almost as long as the Waynes. It was just one of the many things Bruce had found out about you.

“We never really tried to move beyond our…station, I suppose you can call it. And why should we, right?” It almost sounded like mirth as you hid your small smile behind your oversized chai latte. Almost. “After all, we’ll never run out of business.”

You smiled at Bruce’s quiet laugh.

“You’re still taking online classes, right? At Gotham U?” You asked.

Bruce gave a quick nod and pulled a single blueberry from the little bowl Alfred had brought just a few moments ago. “Have you heard anything back from the places you applied?”

Your teacup jostled as you set it down on the saucer with an unladylike ‘clink.’ “Oh, I forgot to tell you! I finally heard back from Central City University—all the others wouldn’t give me the time of day, you know. But they said they got an email from me, stating that I turned down their acceptance. I was on the phone for, like, an hour explaining that I definitely did not send that email and I really wanted to attend.” You pushed out a sigh. “Can you believe that? That someone would pretend to be me just to mess up my life? I’ve changed my password on everything.” It had been a trying week, on top of your last few weeks of high school filled with finals and the like, trying to figure out where to go to undergrad and finding out that someone had deliberately sabotaged something so important to you. Whoever it was hadn’t touched your bank details or locked you out of any of your other accounts. They had only sent the emails to the universities who had said you were accepted into their programs. You watched Bruce lick the remnants of a burst berry from his fingers and quickly looked away as your stomach punched its way to your throat. It was not the first time you realized your best friend was beautiful and you doubted it would be the last but you wished it was just…a little easier to handle. Bruce, obviously, had no interest of that kind in you. You were friends. And friends do not wonder what it would be like to kiss each other.

No, they do not.

“I figured I should get out of Gotham while I still can,” you murmured.

“You want to leave?” It was only the slight uptick on the last syllable that let you know Bruce didn’t particularly agree.

The next sip of your chai left a bit of foam on your upper lip and your heart hiccupped as Bruce’s eyes darted to your mouth as you licked it away. “I’m sure you feel it, too, Bruce. This city eats people alive. It always has and it always will. You and I know that fact better than most. Our families made this city, for better or for worse. And we are expected to carry on with their legacies. I’m going to be the next person to make sure that the cemetery is cared for and everyone is buried with respect. I just…wanted a bit of adventure before that shackle is looped around my ankle, you know? Before I get devoured.”

Bruce didn’t answer and you didn’t pry.

“But,” you started with a smile before you stole one of his berries, “I’ll be back for winter break, thanksgiving, spring break, too, and I’ll have three months to bother you during the summer if you aren’t too busy.”

“You never bother me.”

You could only smile at that. He was still your Bruce.

The rest of the late Spring faded into Summer and you spent it in the shadows of Wayne Tower, trying to press as many of Bruce’s soft smiles and murmured conversations into your mind as possible before the inevitable came. It had been a surprise to see Bruce appear at the airport but your father gave you a knowing wink and stepped away to speak to Alfred and give you a bit of privacy. (The same could not be said for the handful of people with long range lenses skulking from the other side of the ticketing area.)

You grabbed Bruce’s hand and hauled him behind a pillar, smiling at him when you saw his shoulders drop the slightest bit from around his ears.

“You came.”

“I did.”

Tears pricked at your eyes at the sight of his soft smile, the only he only gave to you. “You’re making this hard, you know. It’s supposed to be…it’s supposed to be a fun, exciting time for me and all I can think about is who is going to scream the lyrics to all our songs with me all the way in Central City? Who is going to make sure you eat enough or actually get up in time to go to your online classes? I just…”

Bruce’s warm hands gently reached out and grabbed your hands and laced his fingers with yours. “It isn’t too late. You can stay.”

The rueful smile—the one reserved for when he had to go to a function and smile for the cameras—let you know he was joking. You had all of them memorized. “I promise. I promise I’ll be back. You’ll probably be my first stop whenever I come home and you’ll be so sick of seeing me.”

He squeezed your hands and used your tangle of limbs to pull you a little closer. The movement made your heart leap; you could smell his cologne. It was the one you bought him for Christmas, earthy and warm and expensive—you had been so proud of yourself for picking it out without Alfred’s help. There was just the hint of stubble starting to line his jaw—that damn jawline that haunted your dreams.

“I could never be sick of you.”

The tears came then and you used them as a bit of courage to press a quick kiss to his cheek. And when his breath stuttered against your skin, you internally cursed. You’d gone too far, hadn’t you? “I’ll be back. I promise.” You gave his hands another squeeze and stepped away, leaving him in the shadows of the pillar, away from the still-snapping cameras, to let your father walk you to the security line.

“Call me when you land, okay?” Your father asked, pulling you back to the present.

“Of course, dad.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead with a small smile. “Knock ‘em dead, buttercup.”

You took one step, then two, three, four, and you could have sworn you heard Bruce murmur, “come back to me.” But when you turned to look at him again, he was already walking to Alfred’s side, his back to you.

It must have been your imagination.

You kept your promise. Every chance you had, you came back to Gotham. When you weren’t on the hill with your father, you were at the tower with Bruce. And you knew it was your imagination, your deeply-rooted feelings still rearing their head at every opportunity, but you thought Bruce held you a little tighter each time he drew you into his arms on the pristine couch for movie night, or when he held tightly to your hand whenever he made his once-in-a-blue-moon appearance at some charitable gala for five minutes before he dragged you back to the shadows of the tower. You even snuck out of your house to watch him race in his hand-built car against people who didn’t recognize him. Win or lose, you always bought him the candy you shared at children to split on the drive back into the city. You kept in touch—writing letters back and forth from your dorm in Central City and the tower. Your roommates tirelessly questioned who always made you smile like that whenever you received another letter filled with his tilted handwriting.

But you had graduated, packed up your expensive piece of paper, and then hung it on the wall in your office across the hall from your father’s. You were happy to settle in, starting to earn your keep in your family’s long-standing business.

And it was almost like you hadn’t left at all. Bruce was still your closest, dearest friend and you still prided yourself on the smiles you coaxed from the soft-spoken man. Your feelings hadn’t changed—and you were sure Bruce’s hadn’t either; you were still just a friend. But that would have to be enough. Right? Having one friend in this city had to be enough because you definitely didn’t have any outside of it, either. The supposed best friends you had made in Central City during undergrad had seemingly dropped off the face of the planet. Your texts and phone calls went unanswered…for the most part. If they were answered, everything was short and bordering on agitated, like they were hurrying to get you off the other end of the line. You had quickly been reminded of your mostly-lonely adolescence and the ache it brought behind your ribs.

But…you still had Bruce. Yeah, you still had Bruce.

Bruce had been the first one you called after you spotted someone who looked like they were trying to dress like a bat running over the roof of the building just across from your father’s home. Bruce had been the person you asked for at the police station when you had been loaded up with the rest of the witnesses to give your statement after a band of men in clown masks had decided to rob a bank right before closing.

The man now known as The Batman had saved you. He had shielded you, tackled you to the ground—cushioning the back of your head with his hand as you rolled onto the marble floor—as the first shots rang out. When the dust cleared and the night sky was filled with the red and blue lights of the coming police cars, he was still standing. But you had seen the blood starting to pool from under his armor.

“Hey. Hey, are you okay?” You asked, approaching him slowly, like you would a feral cat. But he needed to be thanked, didn’t he? Who was taking care of him?

The man just turned to you, eyes blanketed in shadow before he all but disappeared.

But you had wanted Bruce when the cop, a kind man named Jim Gordon, asked if anyone could pick you up.

Alfred arrived a few moments later and ushered you into the back of the car, tucking a warm blanket around your shoulders as he apologized for Bruce’s absence. “He’ll be back at the Tower soon. He is on his way.” That had almost been enough for you. You might have been able to get out unscathed (arguably), but again you asked yourself; who was taking care of the man who saved you?

Batman came to your rescue again when a man who called himself The Joker decided it would be “fun” (his words, definitely not yours) to see what would happen if he took an entire hospital hostage. You weren’t even supposed to be there, but one of your “planners” had called out that day and you stepped in to help a family plan for the inevitable as they waited in the hospice wing. You weren’t entirely sure what happened because yet another man with a clown mask bashed you over the head with a defibrillator. But you woke up to a bleeding Batman standing over you, snapping the arm of a man who reached for you. It had been the steady drip-drip-drip of his blood falling onto you that had woken you.

Why did he bleed so much for a city that would only crave more?

After the hospital incident, you simply decided to not go out. Everything could be done online nowadays anyway and you wouldn’t contribute to the Batman’s scars anymore.

The stories still trickled in, over the morning and evening news, over the whispered conversations you heard from bored funeral attendees, from exchanges between your maintenance people and your client advisors. Again and again, The Batman was trying to die for a city who reviled him.

You caught your own glimpses of him every handful of days. On the train ride home. Outside the grocery store. Perched on the entry arches to the cemetery. Again and again, until he would bleed back into the shadows. Maybe he was making sure you weren’t hurt again or maybe you were just…equal parts lucky and unlucky to be in his line of sight time and time again. Whenever you felt the prickle of someone’s eyes on you, you told yourself he was just making sure his previous actions hadn’t been for naught and that you were safe.

It hurt you, like a dull knife between your ribs. Why would a man try to save a city that refused to see its own rot? Was he lonely, like you? Trying to find his place by carving it out with his fists and gadgets? Who was taking care of him? That was the question you asked yourself over and over again. Your therapist had said that you were projecting your own loneliness onto others, that you needed to learn how to stop thinking that everyone else had similar experiences. But why else would someone do…that?

Your thoughts always drifted to your mother. Your mother who tried to do the right thing, who tried to help, and was killed for it. Like some sacrificial lamb. And now this man was trying to do what was right, wasn’t he? He had armor and gadgets but he was still a lamb.

Your phone chirped and you pulled it out from your little handbag, seeing Alfred’s name above the newest text.

Come to the tower. Please.

You glanced at the clock in your office and saw it was well past when you were supposed to leave anyway. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

You opted for a taxi instead of the short walk to the subway station and murmured the address, earning an extra glance from the driver in the rearview mirror. You looked back at your phone, now feeling a bit of anxiety twist your stomach. Alfred rarely texted you. He was one more for phone calls. Something was wrong—there had to be something wrong for Alfred to text you. You urged your driver to go faster but were waved off.

“You’ll get to your boyfriend, lady, there’s nothing I can do about these red lights.”

But eventually you did arrive and punched in the access code you knew by heart for decades to have the elevator take you straight to the penthouse. “Alfred?” You called out as soon as the doors opened. “Alfred?” You walked further into the lavish penthouse and noticed all but a hallway light was on above the main room and you took the stairs two at a time and hurried down the hall. A muffled conversation soon hit your ears and made you pause just outside Bruce’s door.

“…cannot allow you to do this any longer.”

“This is my choice, Alfred. Mine. I have to-”

“You are going to get yourself killed.”

And that was enough for you. You pushed the door open without knocking, ready to see Bruce and Alfred arguing and possibly nursing a bruised rib from a crash; you knew Bruce was still racing. You were not ready to see Bruce decked in black with paint around his eyes.

“Bruce?”

There was the distinct bat cowl on the bed beside him.

“You?” Was all you could say, the single syllable cracking in your throat.

“Why are you here?” Bruce asked, his voice low.

“If I could not make you see reason, I hoped she could.” Alfred said, his voice a soft murmur in the ringing in your ears.

What was happening. What was happening. What was happening.

Bruce rounded to look at you and your heart leapt into your throat.

“Tell me. Tell me what the fuck you were doing.”

Bruce took a step toward you, and then another, and another until he was looming in front of you, blotting out the light of the room to bleed out behind him like some broken halo. “Some of this…some of this was for you.”

“For me?” You parroted, feeling like something invisible was strangling you. You hardly noticed Alfred slipping out of the room. “How could any of this be for me? Why would I want you bleeding and hurt?”

“You wanted to leave this city, leave me, and I just wanted to make it better-”

“You are going to get yourself killed, Bruce! Why would I want that?”

“This city can change. It just needs help-”

“It won’t change! You and I have seen it, over and over again, that it doesn’t get change—not for the better.” Tears started to blur your vision as you looked at him, the black swimming into the golden light. “I can’t watch you do this. I won’t.”

“What are you saying?” His voice was still soft but you heard the unmistakable edge to it that you rarely heard. And it never had been directed toward you.

Something cold rippled down your spine but you squared your shoulders and tried to blink away your tears. “I’ve never been able to tell you no and have you listen. So, I’m not going to tell you no or tell you to stop. But I won’t tell you anything. I’m done. I’m out.”

“Out…” Now it was Bruce’s time to repeat.

“I am not going to watch you kill yourself, Bruce. I can’t do it.” You turned on your heel, intent on leaving with your head held high but your hip slammed into Bruce’s desk and spilled a stack of photos against the herringbone floors. You hastily bent to gather them up but stilled as you noticed they were all of you. You exiting the grocery store. You alone on the subway. You standing outside to meet with a client. You. You. You. Your lip curled and you nearly crushed the photos in your hand as you turned back to Bruce, pushing the stack against his chest. “Stop following me.”

“I-”

“Stop, Bruce. Just…stop.”

His hand reached up and covered yours on his chest, your face peeking out from between his fingers on the glossy pictures. “I can’t.”

And now the tears couldn’t be stopped. Of course he couldn’t stop. Bruce never abandoned anything once he put his mind to it. He wouldn’t stop trying to save this damn city. You hissed out a breath as the tears fell and you pulled your hand out from under his, feeling the bat across his chest scrape your palm.

“Goodbye, Bruce.”

You stared down at your laundry and tried to rationalize what you were seeing.

You knew—you knew—that you’d gone through a certain number of panties in the previous week. And now, as you finished folding your laundry, you were missing two pairs. Two. And, because luck wasn’t on your side, they had been two of your favorites. Little cotton things with soft lace around the edges.

Your eyes drifted over to the small bouquet of gardenias on the counter and then back at your depleted pile of panties. Did the same person…?

“The dryer ate them. It eats your socks all the time,” you muttered to yourself as grabbed them and tossed them unceremoniously into the top drawer of your dresser.

It had been a long eighteen months. The Joker had finally been arrested and sent to Arkham but the Riddler took his place soon after and the flood had devastated the city. Of course, your family’s profits had never been higher but it was wrong on about eight million different levels to find anything to celebrate while the city tried to recover. The waters receded and the sea walls had been rebuilt and reinforced.

But the city hadn’t changed, not really.

The only thing that had changed was Batman’s reputation in the public eye. He had become a symbol of hope for the city. When ‘his’ signal hit the perpetually cloud-filled sky, people felt safer. That was what you heard, anyway. You just felt fear. But you shouldn’t, right? He wasn’t yours to worry about. But Bruce’s constant near-death experiences weren’t the only things plaguing your mind.

Six months ago, you started to receive small bundles of gardenias on the welcome mat outside your apartment. Once a week, like clockwork, they would show up. Tied in a black strip of silk. Sometimes there were notes attached, ranging from the innocuous you looked beautiful today to the borderline depraved I could see that pretty little strip of lace you wore—did you wear it for me? But thankfully, the notes were seldom.

The almost-welcomed prickle of acknowledgment you had felt when Bruce watched over you as the Batman had stopped and been replaced by something cold and left you hurrying out off the street with every chance you had. You added another deadbolt to your door.

Someone was watching you. You knew it.

Your father walked with you down to the police station after he caught you tearing up at your desk, tired and scared and suspicious of everyone around you. The person who took your report actually chuckled.

“You’re scared of a few flowers? Don’t ya know ya live in Gotham?”

Your father, bless him, nearly leapt over the desk at him but you talked him down and let him walk you back home.

“It is just flowers, isn’t it?” You asked yourself time and time again. “Just flowers.”

That’s what you told yourself, anyway. It could be worse. It could always be worse. That was why you started bringing the gardenias into your apartment after receiving them. They were just flowers. And you refused to be scared anymore.

You finished your laundry with a sigh, trying to push away any lingering thoughts of your missing underwear. Tonight was the annual Spring Charity Gala and this year’s beneficiary was the organization for the orphans and widows left behind after the flood, and a new friend of yours, a bubbly psychiatrist named Harleen, had sent over a dress for you to wear.

“Consider it a thank you for helping me get that couch up the stairs! I found it in that boutique you mentioned and I knew you needed it.”

She hadn’t been in Gotham long, having grown up in Brooklyn, but she really seemed to shine when she was here and rising through the ranks in Arkham. She was going to change the world, you knew it. And it had been so good to have another friend, and she hadn’t been swayed by any of the whispers Gothamites still made about you. So, having Harleen was all you could ask for, really. She had been the first one to make you laugh when the news once again reported on who the Batman arrested. “I’d love to ask him so many questions,” she had said with a wink. “They don’t make ‘em like that in Brooklyn.”

No. They certainly did not. You hadn’t talked to Bruce since your last night in the Tower. When the flowers started arriving and you started having the suspicion that someone was following you, you briefly thought of asking him of looking into it after the police had laughed at you. But that would have been cruel to ask, wouldn’t it? He couldn’t be in your life. Not like that. And he was surely busier than ever. He had finally taken a seat on the board of Wayne Enterprises and was starting to really find his footing in the business his family had built (at least that is what you had gleaned from a few gossip rags you had peeked at while in line at the grocery store). Too many times you had caught yourself with your thumb hovering over his name in your phone, wanting to hear his voice after a rough day or wanting to share something funny that happened at work. Too many times you had to stop yourself from picking up his favorite food at the grocery store because you knew it was unhealthy and Alfred would never stock it at the tower. You thought of him too much to really be rid of him. You thought of him too much.

You, however, didn’t have time to wallow tonight and checked the time and saw that you had just over an hour to get ready for the gala. Perfect. You started with the lacy underwear that you always relied on when you didn’t want panty lines, and then did your make up makeup; just a subtle shine on your eyelids and a muted lip. Pearl studs were quickly slotted through your ear lobes as you turned to your bed to see the dress Harleen bought for you laid out across your bed. It was a marvel of structured duchesse satin and corset detailing on the bodice. It was probably the most beautiful dress you ever owned.

You reached for it before glancing at your window. The curtains were not completely closed, and never would be because of the wonky curtain rod bolted to the wall, but you were on the twelfth floor—you doubted anyone would be able to see into your room without a telescope. Most of the buildings on the other side of the park were smaller than yours—aside from Wayne Tower and you doubted Bruce would have a telescope or have the want and desire to look at you. You were fine. Whomever was leaving you flowers couldn’t possibly know which window was yours from outside and, again, the only building that could have seen into yours was Wayne Tower.

The zipper was smooth as you closed it, the dress hugging you in all the right places. You let yourself smile and twirl in front of the mirror like you were a girl again, playing dress up in your mother’s glamourous gowns.

With a few spritzes of perfume and your feet tucked into your favorite heels, you were out the door and on your way.

The gala was in full swing by the time you arrived. You said hellos to a few people your father played golf with on every third Sunday—he was unable to make it for the night as he was dealing with the last minute demands the Crowne family had made for their matriarch’s funeral—but kept your eyes peeled in search of Harleen.

There was a string octet on the stage that would soon be filled with the city’s upper echelon, telling everyone in attendance to donate, to go wild with the silent auction, to take advantage of the good champagne and good music. But you hardly cared about any of that. You’d heard it every year for most of your life. It was all just a low buzz at the back of your mind anyway. You perused the stocked tables for the auction but stopped quickly as you recognized one of the lots. It was a smaller terracotta cast of Rodin’s The Kiss. It had been one of the few smaller versions he had created before making the true statue—and you only knew that because you had nearly shattered it when you were fourteen and running with Bruce through the Tower to escape Dory and her wrath because you had spilt grape juice all over a rug.

Donated by Wayne, Bruce

You let your finger trail over his name on the placard beneath the cast and then quickly scribbled your name and your probably overly high bet before turning back to the crowd. “Harleen!” You said with a smile as you spotted her ash blonde hair through the crowd.

You stepped closer and watched as her smile died as she looked at you. “If you didn’t like the dress I picked out, you could have told me.”

You looked down at the dress with a frown and your heart in your throat. “I…this was the dress that-”

She didn’t give you time to explain. Didn’t let you say that this was the dress that had been delivered from the boutique. There was never any other dress. Had the shop made a mistake? But Harleen didn’t care; she drained the rest of her flute of champagne and walked away from you with a less than discreet, “waste of time.”

And just like that, you were back in primary school. Alone and friendless on the playground while everyone else whispered around you. You felt your lip curl as stupid tears stung at your eyes. They started to spill as you heard someone murmur to their dance partner, “pitiful.”

You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth and darted (as quickly as you could without drawing even more attention) to one of the darkened hallways of the building.

“Stop it.” You fanned at your face in a desperate attempt to save your make up. “Stop it.”

A murmur of your name had your head snapping up.

“Bruce? What’re you doing here?” Your voice sounded more than a little pathetic as he emerged from the shadows like some sort of dark angel, dressed in a surely-designer tuxedo.

Before he answered, Bruce reached into his jacket and pulled a handkerchief from inside and handed it to you. It was made from the same material as your dress, almost like the universe was handing you a consolation prize for the ruined night: you matched. “I have to make a speech.”

Before you could stop yourself, you took the strip of fabric and gently dabbed at your eyes. “You hate making speeches. You hate talking to people.” You sniffled. “But I didn’t think you were the handkerchief type.”

“Alfred insisted,” he said, moving to lean against the wall beside you.

That made you laugh, a broken sound at the back of your throat. “When’s your speech?”

“In a couple of minutes.” He paused and you could feel the weight of his stare on you, like a finger tracing down each vertebra. “Will you stay?”

You finally looked at him and a new wave of tears burned at the back of your eyes. God, you missed him. You missed him so fucking much. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I’ll stay.”

Bruce smiled then, in that dark hallway, and reached out for you, long fingers tangling with yours before he hauled you close, wrapping his strong arms around you. Neither of you spoke. You simply held him and let him hold you, until you heard someone whisper his name, stating he was next up for the speeches.

“Save a dance for me,” he said, reaching up to hold your face in his scarred hand. It wasn’t a question or an offer, but you hardly cared.

“Really? I’ve been trying to get you to dance with me for over a decade at these stupid parties. Do you remember when Alfred spent that summer try to teach us the proper way to waltz?”

Bruce’s quiet laughter was your answer.

You remembered that summer fondly. You were sure your hands had been clammy the entire time and you had bruised Bruce’s poor toes with how many times you stepped on them, but it was a good memory.

“Go. Make your speech and get these assholes to let go of their money.”

“A dance,” he prodded, his blue eyes heavy as they rest on your face. “Can you wait for me? Or are you going to disappear again?”

Something twisted in your chest at the jab—of course, you probably deserved it. “You’ll have your dance, Bruce. I’m not leaving.”

That seemed to be enough for him and he stepped back, his hands sliding down your arms before dropping to his sides as something whispered at the back of your mind that something wasn’t the same—but that was because you had left, wasn’t it? You weren’t there to see Bruce step into the public eye again. You weren’t there to see how he handled himself now. You weren’t there.

He was gone in a few strides and you followed him out a handful of moments later, tucking yourself in the back of the ballroom to watch Bruce speak. Even with the distance, he found you. His blue eyes didn’t leave you as he spoke softly into the microphone, pledging to double all the money raised tonight, “for the betterment of this city we all love.”

Something didn’t let you move, or even fidget, under his gaze. He had pinned you from across the room. Bruce was looking at you like…like you were the only one there. You smiled and clapped as he finished along with the rest of the crowd as the music started again and the dance floor was occupied once more while others flocked to the auction tables.

People called after him, congratulating him on the speech, asking him questions, asking for a moment of his time—but his eyes still never left yours as he pushed through the crowd. And then, just as he reached you, his hand took yours and you were tugged to his side again. You knew, almost intrinsically, that you wouldn’t stop at the dance floor. There were too many whispers, and they grew louder when those around you recognized your face. Again, Bruce tugged you into the shadowed hall and the music (and the whispers) were muted as the door swung shut behind you.

“Good choice,” you murmured with a small smile. “No one will see me step on your toes.”

“You’ll let me lead this time, right?”

“Bruce, that was one time.” You felt heat rise over your chest at the embarrassing memory.

He didn’t say anything but curled his free hand over your hip as you set yours over his shoulder. And yes, you let him lead. It was clumsy—more so on your part than Bruce’s—but you saw him smile as you apologized the fourth time for kicking his shoe. He made you laugh as he spun you under his arm as the music flourished on the other side of the door. And, as the song ended, he pulled you close and your heart tried to strangle you as it shot into your throat when his lips brushed against your forehead.

“I miss you,” you whispered, pulling your hands away from his to press against his chest. “I…I miss you so much.” Bruce was quiet as you looked at him but you needed to say this—even if it was selfish and a mess of stream of consciousness. But Bruce was here and he was smiling at you again. “I just…I didn’t want to watch you try to get yourself killed night after night. You were…are my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you, too.”

“Is that what I am to you?” Your eyebrows knitted together at his question and you felt his hands tug a little tighter at your hips. “Your friend?”

“B-best friend,” you answered.

“Best friend,” he repeated, his face nearing yours. His breath skittered across your cheek, smelling of spearmint and sending a shiver down your spine. “Is that it?”

“Bruce? I…I don’t understand. I know I pushed you away and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry and I’ll always be sorry but you have to understand-”

Bruce’s lips brushed against yours and you felt yourself freeze—just for a moment—before you were reciprocating, pressing your mouth firmly against his in a silent celebration and resignation.

You could never leave him, could you?

His hands moved slowly, making their way up to grasp at your face, tilting your chin just a fraction, his fingers pressing into your skin like a firebrand. With a sigh, your lips parted, letting him press his tongue into your mouth.

Bruce was everywhere everywhere everywhere as his mouth started to move against yours.

His hands were on your face, around your neck, trailing between your breasts, and circling your hips. You hardly noticed you were moving until your back hit the cold wall and you gasped against his lips but Bruce was relentless. A broken sort of moan escaped you as Bruce shoved himself against you and you felt the heat of him through his expensive tuxedo and how hard he was. Everywhere everywhere everywhere.

Your hands raised to tangle in his dark hair, just wanting to touch him, needing to touch him and know that he was there. With you.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” He asked, his lips sliding across your cheek and down to the thrumming pulse in your throat.

“I am. Yours.” It was so easy to say. It was something you had been for years, and something you always wanted to be. His.

Bruce crushed his mouth against yours again, his hand move to palm your breast through your dress, tearing a moan from between your slick lips. You hardly remembered the time between Bruce pinning you to the wall and him moving you, pulling you further down the hall and a dimly lit staircase toward the underground parking lot where his car was parked. The car ride was filled with stuttered breaths and trailing fingers—slipping between the slit on your dress to rub and press against your clit over the scrap of lace you had called underwear until you were writhing in your seat with stars flashing behind your eyes. You shivered as his long fingers dipped—finally—beneath the lace to gather your slick and he raised his hand to his mouth and licked it away as he easily turned a corner—not even looking at you as he hummed. When you tried to reciprocate, fingers flittering over the straining zipper of his slacks, Bruce grabbed at your hand and pressed a hard kiss to your palm.

“Bruce,” you nearly whined. You wanted to know what he tasted like. Wanted to make him writhe and groan like he had done to you. Wanted to know what it was like-

“Later.”

The ride on the elevator was also a blur of hard, hot touches and opened mouthed kisses that left your lungs burning. You stumbled once, then twice after the doors opened with a familiar chime and Bruce all but hauled you through the familiar rooms and hallways of the penthouse and into his bedroom.

Bruce’s bed was soft as he pushed you onto your back, and he watched you bounce with a growing smile.

“Beautiful,” he said, just as soft as ever, before crawling over you and claiming your mouth again. Shoes and clothes were removed in a flurry and Bruce’s skin was so warm but you had to stop yourself from trying to wipe the scars away as they brushed against your palms. He was here; wasn’t that enough? He wanted you.

Bruce turned just slightly, curling a hand beneath your leg and pulling it up to sponge wet kisses against your calf, down to your knee, and then around to your inner thigh. The first broad lick of his tongue against your folds had you keening but Bruce’s grip tightened, his hand pinning you against the rumpled blankets of his bed. He pulled you apart easily, had you wailing into the cooled air of his room within a few stretched moments. But he wasn’t done. And neither were you.

Your limbs felt boneless as you reached for him, once again weaving your fingers into his hair as he sloppily licked at you again, and pulled him up, letting the taste of yourself invade your senses as he licked into your mouth again.

Everywhere everywhere everywhere.

His fingers found the crux in your thighs and he rubbed vicious circles against your clit that had you keening and writhing beneath him, your shaking hands sliding down his slick back. But then he was moving again, taking himself in his hand and moving forward. The first thrust pushed the breath from your lungs.

Full. You were so full.

And then he was moving, moving and stuffing you full over and over again, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the tops of your breasts, your neck, your cheeks, and swallowing your moans over and over again as he moved to grasp at your hips, lifting you just enough to drive into you with an efficient drag and pull.

“B-Bruce-” Was all you could say, chanting his name like some sacred, debauched prayer. You had never felt so good, even the tightening coil in your lower stomach felt like heaven.

“Give me another,” he said, pressing the words against your sweat-slick skin. “Let me feel you.” But Bruce never waited for something—and he wanted to feel you cum around his cock. Without missing a beat, his fingers moved down between your breasts, across your stomach, to coil around your clit. The pressure alone had your toes curling and your head pushing back against the overstuffed pillows with a choked sob.

“Br-Bruce!” Is all the warning you gave before you came, shaking in his grip.

But Bruce wasn’t finished, wasn’t finished with you until you were crying and writhing in his grip, trying to pull him closer, trying to push him away from the overstimulation. But then you came again and you felt him smile against your throat as he gave one last thrust and warmth pooled and you felt it slip out and puddle beneath your legs.

Bruce was smiling against your mouth as he kissed you again.

More words were hushed and murmured between unhurried kisses as he cleaned you up with a wet wash cloth and then let you scamper off to his bathroom for a quick refresh. When you emerged, you saw him surrounded by the rumpled, dark blankets and sheets looking at you as the yellow city lights filtered in through the rain-slicked window.

“I hadn’t realized it started raining,” you whispered as you let Bruce tug you back into bed.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, hauling you close after pulling the blankets up around you both, effectively tucking you in.

You turned on the pillow to look at him and reached out to trace a finger down between his brows to the tip of his nose and watched his long lashes flutter against his cheeks. “I am, truly, sorry, Bruce. I should have-”

“You’re here now.” His eyes opened and pinned you, again. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.” Bruce grabbed your hand and tangled your fingers together next to his face on the pillow.

“I-”

His grip tightened for just a moment. “Stay.”

You had to get up early tomorrow morning to deal with a high profile funeral and then have lunch with your father and a thousand other small things but… “Okay. I can stay the night.”

“Stay.”

You spoke about nothing and everything in the whispered tones you remembered from your childhood unplanned sleepovers and late night study sessions. You whispered until your eyelids were too heavy to keep open and you fell asleep with Bruce holding your hand.

And he was still holding it when you woke the next morning, hearing your phone chirp from inside your discarded handbag near the foot of the bed.

You quietly redressed as Bruce continued to sleep, you knew he had always been a deep sleeper, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before scouring the messy floor for your shoes. You found one atop the chair near the door and the other nearly hidden beneath something that looked like a cape. You pulled the piece of cloth up and reached for your shoe, only to stop as you recognized what the cape was hiding.

It was a telescope.

Alarm bells were chiming at the back of your mind as you pulled the cloth away entirely and let out a long breath as you stared at the eyepiece. From the angle it was tilted, you already know what Bruce had been looking at.

You knew that if you bent down to look through, it would be pointed straight at your window. But you needed to know. Needed it. And so you bent and looked; you could see straight into your bedroom, could see your pillow-covered bed. You stood straight with your heart in your throat. You remembered the photos you found. You remembered seeing Batman everywhere you went. You remembered it. All of it. And now you knew it wasn’t him just making sure you were okay and safe. It was more than that. It always had been. Morbid curiosity and dread pulled at you as you crept to the tall dresser near the far wall and you carefully pulled open the first drawer and you bit back a whimper.

You had just wanted your friend back. You had wanted the man you had loved since you were a child.

And, for a night, you had them both.

But it seemed that he wasn’t the man you knew anymore.

In the drawer, beside a careful stack of photos of you, were your missing lace panties. With a shaking hand you picked up one of the photos—it was of you and Harleen at lunch. You were smiling as Harleen told a story, gesticulating wildly with a fork. You had been happy.

Harleen’s face had been scratched out and you flipped the photo over to see a familiar boutique’s name scrawled across it in Bruce’s undeniable handwriting. You pulled out more pictures. Pictures of you at work. Pictures of you back at uni in Central City. Your friends names were on each of the photos, their faces crossed out, just as Harleen’s had been.

And further still was a list of your log-ins and passwords.

Over and over and over again, you saw the same word: mine.

Mine.

Tears blurred your vision as you quietly shut the drawer.

No. Bruce wasn’t the man you thought he was. Maybe he never had been.

You picked up your shoes and snuck out without more than a watery smile sent in Alfred’s direction when he gave you a surprised, “good morning, miss!” You couldn’t speak after seeing the gardenias set in a little vase near the window.

Your thumb jammed against the elevator call button and you slipped inside, turning around to watch the doors close. You barely caught a glimpse of Bruce standing in the shadows before the gilded doors shut.

Bruce had been patient. Over two decades of patience and ruined plans.

The world had taken enough from him, didn’t he deserve something, someone of his own? All he wanted was you.

You, who made him smile.

You, in his bed.

You, who knew him on his darkest days.

You, on his lips.

You, who tasted as sweet as you looked.

You.

He wanted you.

But you had to make everything so difficult. Didn’t you see that he was all you needed? Didn’t you see how much he loved you? And he knew you loved him, too. He knew you had that Rodin statue in your room. He knew you never told your father about your discoveries and still smiled when he asked when you were going to “finally let that boy make an honest woman out of you?”

You had changed your number and moved apartments—not that it was hard to get ahold of this new information. This was still Gotham, after all.

Things had changed. Now Bruce knew what you tasted like. What you looked like when he brought you pleasure. What you liked and needed. He needed you—and Bruce knew you needed him. You always have and you always will. Just like him. And now he was going to show you.

The small bouquet of gardenias in his hand filled the hallway with their soft sweetness as he stood outside your doorway and knocked. They covered the scent of the chloroform-soaked rag in his coat pocket.

If you had been smart and looked through the peephole, Bruce knew you wouldn’t have opened the door. But you didn’t and he watched your eyes grow wide as you looked at him. See? Didn’t you see that you needed him to keep you safe?

“Hello, my love.”

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x reader #battinson x reader #the batman #bruce wayne

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 2 years

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Batman's Future Sidekick | Bruce Wayne x Reader

Prompt: Single Parent(s)

Words: 1198

Fandom: The Batman

A/N: Had this idea in my head for a while now and if I feel like it, I might expand on it more. Dick Grayson’s a preteen in this one. It’s mostly just a breakfast conversation.

Summary: You’re best friends with Bruce Wayne and Batman’s sidekick. When you came back from a business trip, you found that there’s another stubborn and reckless boy you have to help look after.

You knew practically every route to Wayne Tower, the drive over was merely through muscle memory. It had been a year into Bruce’s endeavor as the masked man of Gotham when you found out about him. As much as he wanted you to be far removed from Batman’s business, after you had helped solve a big case of his, there was no convincing you from staying away.

You were crime fighting partners, now, so you both made a promise to tell each other everything. Which was why it came as a shock when you came back from a business trip to see a little boy sitting on top of the stairs.

The boy perked up once he saw you and gasped. “Bruce! They’re here!” he shouted, stomping away to find the man.

Alfred appeared, shaking his head as he watched the boy run up the stairs towards the rooms. “Welcome back. I trust that everything went well on your trip?” he greeted, giving you a friendly hug.

“Everything went smoothly, Al. I’m just glad to be back,” you said, “Who’s the kid?”

“Ah!” He nodded, as if he just remembered about it. “I see Bruce hasn’t told you. That boy, I swear. I told him to tell you as soon as he decided to take him in. You’ve heard about the Flying Graysons incident?”

You nodded. “It was horrible what happened. So, he’s…”

“The only survivor, yes. Richard Grayson, though he insisted we call him Dick,” Alfred said, leading you over to the round table.

Dory came out of nowhere with a plate of cut fruits and tea. “I know you’re exhausted, dear, but I don’t want you sleeping on an empty stomach.”

“Thank you, Dory.”

She hummed with a smile, then made her way back to attend to her other duties. Alfred sat down next to you, sorting out his paperwork, then sighed, looking up towards the staircase ahead. As you popped a sliced apple into your mouth, you heard a ruckus coming from said stairs and saw Dick dragging a sluggish Bruce down, the gap between their energy levels was astonishing but not surprising. Bruce finally lifted his head and smiled at you.

“You’re back,” he said, ruffling Dick’s unruly hair before scooting him aside to get to you.

“I am,” you said with amusement, “And you have some explaining to do.”

Bruce grunted, lazily looking over at the small boy who noisily sat between you and Alfred, stealing some of your fruits. There was a small fond smile on his face as he sat down next to you, watching the boy

“Richard is my new ward,” Bruce simply said, also picking at your fruits.

Dory tutted at them, placing down two plates of pancakes, one chocolate chip with banana slices for Dick and one blueberry with extra blueberries on the side for Bruce. They muttered their thanks before digging in. Your eyebrows raised to your forehead as you observed them and how the young boy drowned his pancakes in syrup before taking a large bite while Bruce poured a little bit of syrup and took one modest bite.

“He eats like how you used to,” you pointed out to Bruce with a smile.

Alfred hid his chuckle behind a file, avoiding the empty glare from Bruce. “This is rather tame in comparison,” he said.

“Ah, right. Bruce used to spread an overflowing amount of whip cream between each pancake layer and then drown it in syrup.”

“That sounds amazing,” Dick said through his mouthful of pancake.

Bruce redirected his glare to you and you had the decency to act sheepish. “See, you’re giving him ideas. If you’re here to bully me and be a bad influence on my ward, you can leave.”

You gasped, holding a hand to your heart. “No! After all we’ve been through?”

Dick looked between you two and grinned. “So, you two are dating, then. Bruce said you guys weren’t but he talks about you a lot. I mean, he barely talks in the first place, but when he does, it’s about work or you.”

Bruce suddenly needed intense concentration on eating his breakfast, turning away whenever he needed to sip his coffee. After a moment, he said, “He’s exaggerating. He wants me to ground him so he doesn’t have to come to the soup kitchen today.”

“Soup kitchen? You’re doing volunteer work now?”

Bruce nodded. “It’s… kind of nice to help out like that. And it’s not like Richard’s going to do any heavy lifting.”

“I don’t mind helping,” Dick corrected him, “It’s just that I want to help in some other way. After they come to the kitchen, they still have to go back to their lives out there at some ratty place with all those bad guys running around. It’s not fair that I get to come back home to a place like this when they can’t. Soup’s not going to defeat bad guys and make them safe, superheroes are.”

You exchanged a look with Bruce. “Superheroes, huh?” Dick nodded excitedly, humming. “Well, not all heroes wear capes, as the saying goes. Help where you can and don’t lose sight of what matters the most. A hero’s purpose isn’t to fight bad guys, it’s to protect people from the bad guys.”

“Eh, what’s the difference?” Dick scrunched up his nose in confusion.

“Heroes inspire hope. Hope spreads like wildfire and burns the darkness away. If you let the hate for the bad guys overrule your will to protect others, it will swallow you up. For example, if a bully pushes down a kid at school, what do you do? Do you go after the bully or do you help the kid up?”

“Go after the bully, of course! If I go after them, they won’t hurt anyone again.”

“But you should make sure the kid is okay first before you go running off,” Bruce interjected.

Dick frowned. “I mean, I guess. But, what if the bully gets away?”

“They won’t get away forever and if you help the kid, it might inspire others to help, too. Bullies target the vulnerable, but if everyone’s working together, they can’t hurt anyone so easily.”

“I think I get it now. So, like Batman or the new mayor, from what I heard. The mayor’s always saying that if the people worked together, the city would become stronger. Is that also why Batman doesn’t work alone anymore? They said there’s another masked person with Batman now.”

You hid a knowing smile. With how the conversation was going, this boy might catch on faster than you thought. You wondered how Bruce had done it, sneaking out of the tower and making sure that the boy was fast asleep in his own bed and not wandering around the halls or looking for him.

“One of the many reasons.”

“Huh. Cool. I want to be his other sidekick!” Dick jabbed his fork in the air with enthusiasm.

Bruce snorted, shaking his head. “Maybe when you’re older, I’ll see if I can get in touch with him.”

You patted his arm in sympathy. “It might come sooner than you think,” you whispered.

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

#writersmonth2022 #writer's month #bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #bruce wayne imagine #the batman imagine #batman imagine #battinson #battinson fic #batman fic #dc imagine #dceu imagine #batfamily is slowly coming together #can you tell that best friends to lovers is one of my fav tropes?

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aikoiya · 1 year

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DC AU - Bruce the Burdened

You know, I wonder how Bruce would've turned out if his parents never died. And if he himself hadn't died like that one universe where Thomas became Batman & Martha became the Joker.

Which, I have thoughts on.

But that's for later.

Generally, I think that he would've just been Bruce from the Animated Series, but with only small hints of Batman in there every once in a while.

Like, he's Bruce, but not the oblivious, idiot Brucie Bruce. More so the Bruce from the animated series but with Batman's innate competence. Because Batman wouldn't exist, at least not yet, he doesn't need to distance himself from it, so he's free to be as intelligent as he truly is.

Now, this is the product of my Legacy 2 idea, which you can find here:

You will have to read the link if you actually wanna understand where I'm coming from here.

But anyway, the idea is that instead of becoming Batman, he sorta becomes a warden of Gotham. He learns the apotropaic magics of his family like he was always meant to & maintains the seals & wards like the Waynes who came before him. He sort of becomes a magic user/supernatural hunter.

However, that doesn't stop all of the problems that continue to show itself in the Batman continuity. Like, the villains might not be the same as in the original.

For one, there's no Joker because there's no Batman.

There's also the fact that Mrs. Fries didn't get Huntington's Chorea, her husband did. So, we get Mrs. Freeze instead.

Harley & Bruce become besties, even date for a bit, but even after breaking it off, they stay besties.

Keep in mind that the Batman Rogues Gallery is still out there basically in tact, just without Batman, so Bruce sees what's happening with his home & comes to the conclusion that he can't just work from the shadows anymore. So, as a teenager, he runs away from home & goes on the same training journey as in canon, but this time, the fuel isn't to avenge, but to save.

As such, when he comes back, he becomes the Nightengale in honor of his ancestry.

He has more of a focus on magic, but that doesn't stop his use of gadgets. Even inventing a sort of magi-tech.

Either way, he's a much more lighthearted hero here. Like, he's still dark & brooding, but not as much as in canon. He actually smiles every once in a while.

Then, he begins collecting kids, but he's got his parents to help him along the way. When Jason comes along, Thomas tells Bruce outright that he shouldn't just give the name Robin to the boy without Dick's permission. It's his title, given to him by his mother. That Bruce has no right to take that from him. So, Jason goes by the name Cardinal because they symbolize strength, courage, & loyalty. However, there is a secondary symbolism that comes in later.

If the guy who became Joker still becomes a villain, it won't be because of Bruce. So, it won't be Joker & more than likely, he'll stick with og Red Hood.

If dude gets as bad as Joker it'll be due to his own choices.

However, if Red Hood ends up killing Jason, then, due to Bruce not having been traumatized at such a young age, he won't even hesitate.

That's the last the world sees of Red Hood, period. Whether it was by the Nightengale's own hands or by him simply turning a blind eye when Nightwing did it to avenge Jason is entirely up to the writer.

At the same time, because of the presence of his parents, he's able to understand shit better & the name on the headstone is written Jason Todd-Wayne.

However, because Robin is not just a symbol here, Tim has to choose his own name too.

When Jason comes back, his vigilante name comes with an entirely new meaning because it's said that when you see a cardinal, it means that the spirit of a dead loved one has come to visit. This one just happened to be very angry & aggressive.

I also feel like due to Bruce being more well-adjusted, he'd have managed to get into a legitimately steady relationship with Selena. Even married. He doesn't try to make her stop stealing, but he does ask for a compromise. Only steal from master criminals &, if she can manage, why not help him to expose their dirty dealings. After all, what better whetstone to sharpen her skills with?

Selena finds that... Yes, that is very much acceptable.

Talia still steals Bruce's DNA to create Damien & when he shows up, it creates turmoil between Bruce & Selena.

Random Stuff Masterlist

#dc #batman #bruce wayne #alternate universe #living waynes au #dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #fenton-nightengale family #aikoiya aus #writing prompt

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argentumcor · 2 months

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Arkhamverse Timeline Notes for My Writing, Post-Arkham Knight Edition

GCPD Lockdown occurs a month after the end of Arkham Knight, are you kidding me?

No! While signs (I don't know what the Office Romance City Story was trying to convey) point to Tim and Barbara seriously dating during AK, there is no way they were married by December of that year.

They didn't elope- it's implied during the epilogue that Gordon is headed to the wedding (Tim texting "don't forget the ring" and Gordon in a tux). It had to take at least six months to plan, probably longer because of Batfamily shenanigans. It took me a year to plan mine and I'm no one in particular. Barbara is the daughter of a serious political figure and Tim was Bruce's ward/assistant (like Terry in Batman Beyond) and likely one of his heirs. It's a society wedding!

On top of this, the inquest into Bruce Wayne's death has been completed with no conclusions by the time of the wedding and Gordon makes clear that it was a thorough and complex investigation. That did not happen in two months.

It makes more sense for GCPD Lockdown to occur a year after AK instead of two or three months after. It occurs during Tim and Barb's honeymoon. A Flip of a Coin has to occur very shortly after that, as the newlyweds have cut their honeymoon short to run down Two-face.

Under the Red Hood is more flexible, though Jason's known kill count says to me that he's been operating as Red Hood for a few months, time enough for him to have hunted down some C-tier villains and large chunks of organized crime families. He's geared up and thinking clearly in the DLC, so I think some time passed between the manor explosion and the arrival of Red Hood on Gotham's streets.

There are no further canon follow-ups to AK, so we have nothing else to fit in the timeline. I have spoken.

Other things:

Arkham's Red Hood design is the best of any I've seen. I don't have time, money, or interest in funding modern DC enough to look into the comics much, but relatively recent stills seem to have Red Hood looking like a latter-day Mortal Kombat sub-boss which is ridiculous. I dislike all the designs for everyone, indeed the art style, of Gotham Knights and Red Hood is no exception. His more common design, the simple jacket over black armor with the red masks, is fine and fitting, but the AK design is just top tier. It's just so cool and conveys so well just how he operates. The white armor in contrast with the darker colors of the Batfamily (even the Robin uniform is darker in Arkhamverse), the belts of pistol magazines on his thighs, the very cool belt with the flashbangs, the street level-cool of that jacket, the way his logo is painted on...it just works so well. I love the designs of the AK overall, but this one is the best.

The Red Hood logo is a filled-in red version of the Arkham Militia logo with bat wings added. I really like this.

#arkhamverse

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as-is-above-so-below · 1 year

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In the Middle of the Night (Jason Todd x OC)

Masterlist

Chapter 7, Chapter 9

story summary: Melanie Withers and Jason Todd do everything together - including but not limited to stealing tires off Gotham's famous vigilante. The newest additions to the Wayne family begin their journey, learning how to navigate their new family, life as vigilantes, adolescence, grief, and rebirth.

chapter summary: Teenage fluff, sibling bonding, and Dad!Bruce

Shoutout to @lethalchiralium for beta'ing this chapter :)

July 2012

Bruce checked his cufflinks in the mirror before buttoning his jacket, meeting their eyes in the reflection. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone.”

“I can’t believe it. Another date with Selina Kyle,” Melanie teased, her hands on her hips. Bruce had been fretting over his appearance for the last hour, rifling through his suits to pick just the right one (they all looked the same to her), meticulously combing his hair, and asking for their opinions on about a dozen different ties. “Why are you so nervous? You’ve been together for years, it’s not like you have to win her over.”

“You always have to impress. Every time,” he advised, taking the massive bouquet Alfred offered to him. “Whether it be a grand gesture or something small. Having a long history with someone doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be lazy. Remember that advice.” He bonked the top of her head with the flowers, stray water from the stems clinging to her face. She sputtered, wiping the droplets with the back of her hand. “And as you said, Bruce Wayne hasn’t taken Selina Kyle on a real date in a long time.”

Alfred then passed along two small boxes with a ‘W’ impressed onto their face. Jason snorted and reached for one. “Seems a little soon for a proposal, Bruce,” he pointed out, then the box was swiftly moved out of his reach. He pouted frowned and went to pounce when Bruce cleared his throat.

“These aren’t for Selina. They’re for you.” He handed the confused teens their respective gifts. “You were meant to get these months ago, but I decided to have them specially made, which took longer.”

They briefly made eye contact before cracking open them open. A thin gold chain with a ‘W’ pendant, about the same diameter as a penny, lay in hers. Jason’s contained a thicker necklace of the same material, sans any charms.

“When I was about your age, my parents gave me one. My father said ‘a gold chain should be a staple in every man’s wardrobe,’” he explained, patting the spot where his necklace rested under his collar. “When Dick became my ward, I had some of my parents’ jewelry melted down to make a chain as my father did for me. Now I’m doing it for you. I made yours thinner to be more feminine, but if you’d like something else I can change it.”

“No, I love it. Thank you.” Melanie pulled the delicate piece loose from its holder and held it out to Jason. “Can you help?”

He smirked, took it from her, and motioned for her to turn around. Her wavy hair already tied up and out of the way, Jason gingerly draped the necklace before moving closer until he could see the tiny clasp enough to fasten it. His fingers brushed against the soft skin as he fiddled with it, sending sparks up his fingertips. He did his best to ignore it, and finally, the latch caught, and he lingered for split second before tapping her shoulder.

When Jason’s touch was gone, Melanie finally allowed herself to shiver, the spots where he had grazed her burning underneath her skin. She quickly did the same with him, the clasp on his chain bigger and easier to work than hers had been.

“Perfect,” Bruce beamed when they faced him again, smiling themselves. “I have to get going. Remember, no patrol, and try not to–”

“Cause too much trouble,” the teens droned at the same time.

“Exactly. Just have to make sure you were listening.” With one final adjustment in the mirror, Bruce made for the door. “Be good!”

They were, indeed, not good.

After Bruce left, the pair settled into their routine of Melanie typing as Jason recited the synopsis of a book she was supposed to have read for her paper. He watched over her shoulder, occasionally pointing at the screen to tell her where to make corrections. When he wasn’t talking with his hands, he was drawing light circles on one of the elbows resting on his thighs.

Melanie was smart, but God did she hate Literature class.

Jason is mid-explaining what the green light in The Great Gatsby means when Dick appears in his bedroom doorway, knocking twice. Melanie peeked around her laptop, where her body was nestled between the length of his legs, head resting on his stomach. “If Dad sent you to check in on us, we’re fine. We’re behaving,” she told him, before going back to finishing her (read: Jason’s) thoughts on the electronic page.

“Behaving?! Absolutely not. I won’t have it. Let’s go.”

“So Bruce didn’t send you to babysit?”

“A little birdy told me that tonight’s date night, figured I’d see what you guys were up to. Clearly, you need my help.” Dick winked at them before jumping forward, grabbing Jason by his ankles and effectively yanking them both down the bed.

Jason glowered at the ceiling, irritated at the man for ruining his alone time. It was hard enough getting Melanie alone nowadays, with schoolwork and training and gymnastics, without their brother interrupting what was supposed to be a night off.

“Suit up, we’ve got places to be,” he said, holding up…the keyfob for the Batmobile?

Melanie closed her computer and placed it higher up on the mattress, then rolled off of Jason. “Dad said we can’t patrol without him,” she pointed out, leaning back on her hands.

“We’re not patrolling, just doing some sightseeing!” Dick sang, twirling the keyring on his index finger. “Beats this snooze fest.”

Jason rolled his eyes as he sat up, legs still splayed in front of him. “For your information, dickwad, I like school. And we were enjoying a quiet night off,” he grumbled, then stretched forward until his hands wrapped around his feet, stretching his muscles and spine. Jason had quickly put on weight with regular homecooked meals and frequent exercise. From what he could tell from the files on the Batcomputer, he had already surpassed Dick in size when he was the same age. Growing pains were bothering him, but it wasn’t anything a bit of stretching couldn’t fix. “I’d kill to drive the Batmobile, but–”

Dick snapped his fingers and pointed with finger guns. “Sold!” he said, like an auctioneer, with a wicked, mischievous smile.

The black-haired boy tilted his head up from his stretch, brows raised. “You’re not serious. Bruce will kill us.”

“Bah, what Bruce doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. Besides, if he does find out, he can’t ground all of us. We just have to stick together.” He offered his hands to pull each of them off the bed. “Remember, young grasshopper: I exist for the sole purpose of raising his blood pressure. You must learn to ask forgiveness, not permission.”

“Whose bright idea was it to interrupt my evening with an alert that the Batmobile was activated?”

The thick heel of Bruce’s loafers clicked on the hard floor of the Batcave as he paced back and forth, echoing over the profound silence from his children. Dick, Jason, and Melanie were lined up in their uniforms, arms behind their backs like soldiers, eyes straight ahead. All three sported tousled, wind-swept hair, Melanie’s tangled in bushy knots over her shoulders.

“I admire your solidarity. Truly,” Bruce admitted with pursed lips. He stopped in front of Jason and leaned into his face. “Very touching. I don’t want to punish you, lad. This could all be over if you just tell me which one of you decided to take the Batmobile for a joyride.”

Dick nudged him with his elbow. “Hold.”

Bruce shot a nasty glare in his oldest son’s direction. Dick had gotten into plenty of his own shenanigans growing up, especially when the League created the Titans for their partners. The loyalty between the Titans only went so far when it came to getting grounded. However, as Selina had pointed out months ago, he wasn’t prepared for sibling collaboration.

He straightened up and buttoned his jacket. “No one? Last chance.” After another stretch of silence, he sighed deeply and shook his head. “Alright, I warned you. I don’t want to do it, but I guess I’ll have to ground all of you.”

“I don’t even live here–”

“Grounded.”

“But we have to patrol!” Melanie whined, waving at her costume. Her hair fell into her eyes, which she blew back in annoyance. The strand floated back down unceremoniously.

“You climbed onto the hood while going sixty miles an hour!” He turned to Jason next. “You drove the damn thing! You are thirteen years old!”

“Almost fourte–”

Bruce cut him off by addressing Dick. “And you encouraged it! You used your vocal ID!” He pointed at each of them with every statement. Bruce sighed yet again and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something along the lines of Thirteen years old and Still stealing my cars. These kids were going to be the death of him. “Fine,” he growled. “You can patrol. But otherwise, you will stay in your rooms. You will only come out for meals and patrols for two weeks.”

“Dad, come on! That’s not fair!”

“This is not a discussion! I’m tempted to revoke everyone’s access to it in the first place!”

Melanie promptly snapped her mouth shut, having decided it would be best not to make the situation worse. Dismissed to the locker room after a thorough reaming and the promise of an extensive refresher on emergency vehicle use and driving safety, they all stripped out of their suits and into the comfy house clothes in their lockers. They stared at each other for a moment until Jason choked. Melanie immediately lost her composure, cheeks red from trying to hold in the fit of giggles that inevitably ruptured.

Dick dropped his entire weight onto the locker next to him and wheezed helplessly as his siblings melted into a puddle on the floor. “H-Holy shit, he-he’s pissed,” he croaked, covering his tear-filled blue eyes. “I don’t–know if I’ve ever m-made him so mad!”

High-pitched screams filled the air, Jason gripping his stomach. “I c-can’t breathe!”

“‘A-Almost fourteen’, I can’t believe you–”

October 2012

Bruce let the glass door to the conference room shut behind him with a soft rush of air. After his phone buzzed for the third time in his pocket, he briefly excused himself from the Wayne Enterprises board meeting. Dick had called twice, and now Alfred was the one who had tried to reach him. Probably because they know he always picks up for Alfred. “It’s one competition, Alfred. There will be plenty more.” Bruce checked the time again, not wanting to take too long. “Look, I really have to get back-”

“Master Bruce, I’m afraid I must insist. It’s not just a competition. This is her first.”

“Melanie said it was fine. She knows this is an important meeting. She told me not to come.”

Alfred sighed on the other end of the line, and Bruce could picture the exasperated look the butler was most definitely wearing. “Sir, if I may,” he offered. “You do realize Miss Melanie is a teenage girl, correct?”

The man paused, lips pressed into a thin line as he looked over his shoulder at the board members expectantly waiting for his return. “…Dammit.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Can I make it?” he asked, referencing his watch again.

“If you leave now, you just might be able to sneak in.”

Bruce promptly hung up and poked his head back into the boardroom. “I’m sorry, everyone, I’m such a ditz. I completely forgot that I have a family event tonight. You’ll have to excuse me. I appoint Lucius as my proxy.”

“But Mr. Wayne-” A dark-haired woman in a pantsuit stood near the end of the table, looking completely appalled at his sudden departure. Oh well.

“I really have to go. Apologies again!”

Melanie dismounted the beam and hit the final pose of her routine, facing the judges’ table before quickly turning on her toes to the crowd. She had competed on the uneven bars and done a floor routine before finishing on the balance beam.

It had taken quite some time for Dick to work something out and get her into competitive gymnastics. Not being associated with a particular gym provided its challenges but Dick’s reputation from volunteering as a gymnastics teacher at local community centers in Blȕdhaven (and, obviously, as a Wayne) lent a helping hand. They paid their dues and were allowed to compete, but not without some media backlash.

Many parents and media personalities expressed their distaste. Some called Dick’s presence an ‘unfair advantage’, given his pedigree as one of the world’s top trapeze artists. Others claimed their father had to have paid panelists and association members off and that there was no way that a street rat from Crime Alley could bear actual talent in less than a year.

Who knew the performative sports world was so vicious?

Dick clapped wildly and pumped the air from the coach's area. She beamed, waving both hands and scanning the crowd for her family. A sharp whistle caught her ear, and she finally found them in the front row further down. Jason removed his fingers from his mouth and then resumed his jumping and hollering; Alfred applauded politely next to him. Then, Melanie realized–

He really didn’t come.

Her shoulders and expression dropped minusculely, disappointment evident only to those who knew her well. While she did tell Bruce that it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he missed the competition, Melanie had held out hope that he would make it. Alfred nodded to his left, and she followed his direction along the courtside bleachers. Still in a sharp suit, clapping quietly by the door to not draw attention, was–

Dad!

Melanie’s smile brightened impossibly before she moved to the sidelines, hugging Dick tightly as he lifted her off the ground.

After the award ceremony, Jason’s body smacked into hers, nearly knocking the wind out of her. He rocked them back and forth on each foot, her shoulders locked into him by his arms. Jason pressed a small but lingering kiss on her rosy cheek, about an inch from the corner of her mouth. Cameras clicked and flashed in the background as she grinned at him, about to speak before she saw her dad coming toward her.

She handed Dick her trophy and took off in a sprint, then launched into Bruce’s arms when she was within range. “You came!” she squealed, squeezing his neck as her legs wrapped around his waist. He held her easily, swaying as he hugged her. “Look!” she exclaimed, holding her medal up to him. “They put my name and score on it and everything!”

“I knew you could do it, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, letting her gush over the engraved details.

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writercole · 2 years

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Satin & Lace

Squares: Snowdropper @anyfandomdarkbingo // Escort AU @writing-in-the-dark-bingo // Escort AU Red Hood Mini Bingo // Fake Dating @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo Words: 2675 Warnings: Smut 18+, Male masturbation, dark elements, kidnapping, panty stealing A/N: Truly, I don't know where this came from but...I really enjoyed it. Jason Todd/Red Hood is my favorite Batman character, hell my favorite DC character. He's complex and flawed and deeply human. It's wonderful.

Jason Todd stared at the invitation left in his mailbox with distaste. Damian’s handwriting adorned the front, Jason’s name written in his tidy script. It was an invitation to the annual Wayne Foundation Gala, something that Jason had despised for years, even when he was Robin. But Damian must have wanted him to attend, otherwise why send the invitation?

It had to be Damian’s request. Bruce didn’t know he was still alive.

Damian was the annoying little brother he never wanted. He was Bruce’s blood, the result of a brief love affair with Talia Al Ghul. When Talia had revived Jason in the Lazarus Pit, he spent time at the compound with her, and in turn, with Damian. They weren’t close but Jason did care for the kid.

Maybe he could make an appearance at the gala. Since Damian requested his presence. It would definitely send a ripple through the family that Bruce Wayne claimed so much to care about.

But he couldn’t go alone.

A new request dinged in her inbox, a special notification set up for her work email. She yawned as she opened the message and skimmed through the details, the person requesting accompaniment to the Wayne Foundation Gala. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the signature.

“Jason Todd,’ she hummed, “that sounds familiar.”

She searched the name on the web, finding a lengthy obituary for a young man that had been Bruce Wayne’s ward. Several articles after mentioned that Mr. Wayne had become reclusive after the boy’s passing.

She quickly decided that it couldn’t be the same person.

She typed out her usual response with fees and boundaries, telling the man that she’d be sitting at a small coffee shop at 3 PM, the table in the back left corner under the Van Gogh print. If he showed, they’d talk over the expectations and get to know each other a bit.

If he didn’t, well, she got a good cup of coffee and a few minutes to relax.

Jason trudged through the streets of Gotham with his head hung low, his dark hair covered with the hood of his jacket. He was fairly sure he would be unrecognizable by nearly everyone in the city, but he couldn’t take the chance. Even Damian knowing he was alive was a risk.

He stood outside the café windows and scanned the room, finding the painting he was told about. His gaze wandered to the person occupying the booth, his eyebrows raising and his mouth falling open upon first glance.

She sat quietly in the back corner of her favorite coffee shop watching the interactions of the other patrons. There was a couple that looked like they were on their first date, awkward smiles and tentative glances being exchanged over their beverages. There was a pair of friends laughing and chatting as they caught up. An older couple sat near the door, snuggled together, just enjoying each other’s company.

Her eyes darted to the door when it opened, a young man in a hoodie stepping through. He kept his head down as he walked towards her table. She watched him as he maneuvered the area, appraising him as he approached.

He was tall, broad, muscular. He hunched forward with his head down as he zig zagged through the tables. It was obvious to her that he was trying to obscure his identity from someone.

He sat in the chair with a sigh of relief, relief that he’d made it without being recognized. His heart was still pounding but that had more to do with the beautiful woman sitting across from him than the paranoia of being seen.

“Jason?” she asked with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah. Jason Todd,” he replied, “nice to meet you.”

“That’s impossible,” she whispered as her eyes took in every inch of his face.

“What is?”

“I googled you. You’re supposed to be dead!” She kept her voice low in case anyone was too close or chose that moment to become invested in their conversation.

“Eh, semantics,” he said flippantly, waving his hand to dismiss the conversation. “I need someone to come with me to the foundation gala. The family won’t make a scene if I have someone with me.”

“The family? You’re…you’re worried about the family? What about the press?” She was starting to think she made a mistake when she answered the email. This had to be some kind of sick joke that one of the other escorts had planned.

“Bruce doesn’t allow press at these events and besides the family, no one else has any idea that I even existed. They’ve always been so far up their own asses that they didn’t remember me when I was alive,” Jason explained.

She pursed her lips and considered what he was saying. She had never seen pictures of the charity galas and dinners hosted by the Wayne Foundation. Sighing, she said, “what do you need me to do?”

After they discussed the details of the arrangement, they sat and talked, a little pre-event getting to know each other thing. It was something she insisted on, wanting to make it less obvious that she was a hired date. Jason agreed.

But there was a problem. As they talked, he could feel himself becoming infatuated with her. He knew this would be even more problematic when they spent the evening charming guests in formalwear.

As she threw her head back laughing at something he said, he knew that the part of his mind that fueled his rage and darkness would not rest until she was his.

Jason was restless. He paced his apartment, he patrolled as Red Hood. he tried to find something, anything to distract himself from what was coming but nothing helped, not even when he’d broken into her home trying to be close to her. He thought he had it under control until he opened the drawer containing her underwear - and her collection of sex toys.

He left her apartment after snatching a pair of black lace panties, tucking them inside the pocket of his brown jacket for safe keeping. They sat heavy against his chest the entire ride back to his place, occupying his thoughts as he navigated the motorcycle through the streets of Gotham.

He rushed inside, locking the thick wooden door behind him. He threw down the helmet and ripped off his mask, anxious to get his bare hands on the fabric taunting him from his pocket. His gloves and jacket were tossed to the floor haphazardly, unimportant and unnecessary for what was coming.

As he rolled the black fabric in his hands, he felt his cock hardening in his tactical pants. He brought them up to his nose, hoping to get a whiff of her scent but all he smelled was laundry detergent. His cock was straining against the zipper, a not wholly unpleasant pressure against his crotch.

He palmed the bulge with his free hand, moaning into the delicate lace at the friction he was desperately craving. Unable to handle it any longer, he freed his throbbing member from its cloth prison, his hard length bobbing out of his pants. Spitting into his hand, he wrapped his fingers tightly around the swollen, red tip of his dick, stroking softly, whimpers escaping his mouth.

Jason spit down onto his cock again, using his thumb to spread his saliva down to his tip, mixing with the precum gathering. As he stroked, he took the lacy panties and wrapped them around his shaft with his other hand, gasping at the contrasting sensations, the roughness of the lace and the glide of his hand. His balls contracted as his breathing quickened, on the edge of release.

Jason called out her name as he came hard into the stolen panties, his release trickling through the lace, through his fingers, splashing on the floor next to his boots. He panted hard as he held his softening cock in his fist. As the blood began flowing to the rest of his body again, he felt a strange emotion flood his chest.

Where shame and embarrassment should reside, he felt peace and pride. The monster was silent for now.

The night of the gala arrived with haste. She slipped on the red satin dress that she kept in the closet for formal events, simple and plain aside from beading along the deep V of the halter neckline.

As she stepped into her shoes, her phone alerted her that a car was downstairs for her. She smiled at her reflection and headed down to meet her date. She was stunned when she stepped out of the elevator and spied Jason standing beside the car, a black tux clinging to his muscular body. She took a moment to compose herself before starting towards him. His eyes darted up quickly as she moved, widening as he let his gaze trail her body.

Jason swore he had never seen anything more beautiful than her walking towards him in that red dress. His heart stopped beating and he had to remind himself to breathe. Red. She chose to wear red, not knowing anything about his alter ego.

The monster felt her presence. It began shouting in Jason’s head, demanding to smell her, touch her. Taste her.

Jason struggled against it, determined to have a nice evening at the benefit. He smiled widely as she stepped out of the building, offering his hand to help her into the car. He took a deep breath as he walked around the vehicle, thankful for the time to get his cock to stand down.

As they stepped into the finely decorated banquet hall, Y/N slipped her hand through Jason’s arm and smiled up at him, slipping into the character of his adoring girlfriend. Jason was overjoyed at the way her hand felt wrapped around his bicep. He tried to keep himself calm as he approached the table that his family was seated at.

“Damian, Bruce. Dick,” he greeted. “How are you this evening?”

Bruce and Dick were stunned into silence as they looked up at the second Robin, the one that had been blown up in a warehouse, the one that should have been dead.

“Todd,” Damian greeted with a nod. “Pleased you could make it.”

“I appreciate the invitation. It has been quite some time since I’ve seen the family and this is a wonderful opportunity to introduce you all to my girlfriend, Y/N.”

She raised her hand timidly, slightly unnerved by the expressions on the faces of the family sitting at the table in front of her. Jason pulled a chair out and helped her in before sitting beside her, Dick on her other side.

Dick quickly snapped out of his shock and began small talk, learning about her and how she’d come to know Jason. Damian joined in the conversation from time to time as well, his eyes constantly darting around the room. The pair of them welcomed her warmly, treating her as a sister nearly instantly.

Bruce remained quiet and stoic the entire evening. The words that he did manage to speak to her were kind, making her feel like she was safe in their bubble. When she wasn’t looking, however, Bruce shot questioning glances at Jason, who pretended he didn’t see them.

The brothers had a unique relationship, constantly going between affectionate ribbing and hostile chatter. It was entertaining as she watched the banter, sipping on champagne as she watched the family.

Jason handed her a third glass of champagne almost absentmindedly as he chatted with Damian. After she had finished the glass, Jason stood and extended his hand to her, pulling her to the dance floor for a slow dance.

She began to yawn during the dance, his warmth and the gentle swaying relaxing her.

“Ready to head home?” he muttered in her ear as he continued to lead her on the dance floor.

“Yes, please,” she whispered.

Jason wrapped his arm around her waist as he led her out the door to the waiting car, settling her in her seat before making his way around to his side, a devious smile etched on his face.

Jason dismissed the driver as soon as they dropped her off. He ducked into the alley next to her building and retrieved the bag he’d stashed with his costume. He changed quickly and settled the helmet onto his head. She couldn’t know who was under the hood just yet.

He perched on her fire escape and watched as she let her dress fall to the floor. His cock twitched as she strode to her dresser in her red lacy panties, ones that matched the ones he had in his bed at home.

She slipped a shirt over her head and settled between the sheets, turning the lamp off as she settled into bed.

Red Hood - Jason - waited silently for an hour to ensure that she had fallen asleep before he picked the lock on her window and slipped inside. He scooped her up, thankful that she hadn’t questioned the last glass of champagne, the one he’d dropped a sleeping pill in. She didn’t stir as he carried her to the car he had waiting.

She woke slowly, fighting through the grogginess, her limbs heavy and her brain fuzzy. The room was dark when she opened her eyes, something she was intensely grateful for with the way her head throbbed.

She struggled to remember if she had drunk enough to have a hangover. All she remembered having was three glasses of champagne. She definitely shouldn’t be hung over.

She tried to swing her legs over the edge of the bed but was stopped by a tug on her ankles. Moving her legs, she heard the distinctive sound of chains rattling.

Her breathing quickened and her heart started beating erratically. She tugged on both chains, pulled with all her strength, but nothing budged. Her hands flew to her mouth and she screamed into her palms as tears started flowing down her cheeks.

A sliver of light began to move across the room, widening until the silhouette of a tall, broad man blocked it. Her eyes fixed on the doorway that had appeared as she tried to process what was happening.

The human figure stepped further into the dark room and Y/N was able to identify who was walking into the darkness.

“Jason,” she shrieked, “Jason, I need help. I don’t know where I am.”

A wicked smile crossed his face, the shadows in the room increasing the iciness of his glare.

“Oh, you’re right where you’re needed,” he said as he stepped to the side of the bed, setting a sandwich and bottle of water on a nightstand.

He sat next to her and took her hand in his, his thumb rubbing up her left ring finger, bumping into something hard and cold. She looked down at their entwined hands and gasped as her stomach threatened to spill its contents.

On her left ring finger was a diamond wedding set. And Jason wore a matching band.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” he asked. “I knew that you were meant to be mine the first time we met. The way my family treated you at the gala confirmed it. We made it official this morning.”

“No,” she whispered as she tried to pull her hand away.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he cooed as he reached for her cheek. “You’re my wife, for better or worse. And it can’t really get any worse.”

Her eyes were wide with fear and her face paled as she gazed at the cold, blue eyes that held a strange combination of adoration and insanity. She just wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

“You’re not dreaming,” he stated plainly, as if he could read her thoughts. “You’ll learn to love me. I’ll treat you like the queen you are and you’ll never want for anything. Just wait, baby. You’ll see.”

Everything: @thelastpyle @deangirl93 @downanddirtydean @katelyn--renee @fictional-affairs @lassie-bird @paintlavillered @buckys-zomdoll @polireader @b3autyfuldisast3r @welcometothefandommultiverse @mlovesstories

#writercole #jason todd #red hood #afdarkbingo #writing in the dark bingo #tell me a story bingo #custom bingo card #batverse #dark fic #spicy pepper

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ecmlol · 2 years

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Part 5 Clark adventures in Gotham

It's Sunday.Bruce is terrified what has he gotten himself into??He thought to himself. He can handle being kidnapped and drugged by the league of assassins. No problem. Riddler piece of cake! But dinner with his boyfriend parents. Fuck and it was his idea.

I'm Batman for Pete sake bruce says to himself as he figures out what to pack.

Clark insist that he flying them to his parents house. Batman hates to fly and Superman knows it. He promised that he wouldn't bridal hold him all the way there. So that mean he's wear the Bat suit but he also needs clothing to go with him. There's a knock on the door .

Come in bruce says.

Standing in his doorway is his ward dick who is 12 years old .

Big date huh.dick say

Just dinner with his parents bruce says

So am I ever going to meet him?dick ask

When ever clark comes to visit. Dick was under the weather the first time . Visiting a few friends from the circus second time . Bruce let him camp out in the batcave for three other times and the other times bruce let him play video games all night so he sleeps all day . The only reason he even knew about clark was he notices a extra toothbrush in bruce bathroom and condom wrapped in the trash cans . Dick asked Alfred about it and he told him that bruce was in a relationship.

Bruce stops packing and turns towards dick

Would you like to meet him tonight.Bruce ask

It was only days ago that Bruce told clark about dick. Clark knew about dick because he went back and read everything that was ever written about bruce Wayne . Clark wasn't mad he actually understood him wanting to protect his ward .

He really wants to meet you. Bruce says

He does? Who is he. Dick ask

It's a surprise you will find out soon enough. Go get clean up he will be here at any minutes now.Bruce says

Dick almost frown but then gets excited because Bruce never does anything small . This guy must be really cool.

He bounces down to his room.

A seconds later there is a tap at Bruce window. Bruce couldn't help but to smile briefly at Superman hovering outside his wind. Bruce disengage the alarm on his window and opens the Windows. Bruce stands back to let him in .

Right on time . Bruce says with a smile.

Superman grabs Bruce by his belt and pulls him into a quicker then normal kiss.Leaving him to want more.

So where is your little one?clark ask

Little one ? He would take offense to that after all he is my side kick. Bruces say

About that you don't think it's too dangerous he's only 12? Correct? clark says

Clark you are allow input when we decide to have children but until then please keep your comments to yourself. Bruce say as he zips up his go bag.

Ok ok I get it shut up Superman. Superman say

Bruce stops what he's doing and blankly looks at his boyfriend then rolls his eyes. There's a knock on the door.

Is it save to come in I don't want to see anyone naked. Dick yells through the door

Superman face lights up.

Your going to let me meet him? should I change ? Superman say nervously

You're fine as you are I try not to keep too many secrets from him but he has no clue who you are .Go ahead and open the door Bruce say

With a smile Superman opens the door

Dick is stunned

Holy shit Bruce your fucking Superman! Dick say

At that moment bruce wanted the bat sign to start beeping or the floor to open up and swallow him whole

Language! Dick. Bruce says as he crosses his arm .

How do you know it's not the other way around . Superman say

Bruce shots Superman a look.

Don't encourage him!

Sorry bruce dick says

Superman shrugs

What we do is our business dick . Unless you like a lesson on the birds and the bees dick Bruce says

I think I'm good I hacked the parental control on the internet I know how everything works. Dick say

For a second bruce was proud of him.

Well if you think you know it all then expect a quiz on when I get back from dinner. Bruce say

Come on !!! Dick whines

Seriously Superman says

See Superman on my side bruce dick says

Bruce can feel a headache coming on

Fine no quiz

Dick cheer and smiles at Superman

Hey Superman can I tell you a secret dick say

Superman kneel down and dick hurries over to him and whispers into Superman ear

You are my favorite hero don't tell Bruce oh and thank you for dating bruce he's a little less cranky now dick tells him.

Sometimes I think he just nears a hug once in a while . Can you do that for me ? Superman say dick shakes his head yes.

Go on Superman say

Dick smile a walks over to Bruce

Yes can I help you dick? Bruce says

Dick quickly hugs him and runs off

No running in the house dick!

Man you're seriously uptight Bruce

What's new Bruce say

Superman walks over pulls him into a hug and then a kiss.

Thank you for letting me meet him.

Your welcome now can we get this over with Bruce says

This was your idea if you didn't want to meet my parent then we shouldn't do this

Are you getting cold feet ? You know I don't like to fly with you. We can take my plane I know how to fly it. Bruce says

No I want to show you how much fun flying with me can be.

Bruce sighs and heads to the bat cave with superman in tow.

Superman picks up batman in the bridal hold.

Kent Batman say as a warning

Fine it's just easier Superman says

He sets him down and puts his arm around him like he was a giant football .

No batman says

Superman looks dumbfounded. Batman hook his arm around Superman's neck then hooks a core on to his glove and connect it to a loop on his belt .

I'm ready batman says

Trust issue much

Seatbelt batman says

Superman puts his arm around his waist and flys off

It took 10 minutes to get there. Superman lands in the barn so they could change cloths

See that wasnt that bad clark says

I perfer my jet next time bruce says

Fine have it your way . Clark says

Bruce is holding a bouquet of flower that was in his go bag it's small but he didn't want to call me empty handed

Are you ready bruce ask

As I will ever be

Bruce is able to get over his fear of flying now he just has to stay calm to meet the parents of his boyfriend.

Clark opens the door and calls out to his parents

Mom dad? We are here.

Marth kent walks out of the kitchen drying her hands.

I didn't hear the car drive up .

We flew bruce say sounding like a grumpy bat

Martha looks to Clark then to Bruce . She thinks about it for a split second.

Oh my bruce Wayne is standing in my living room . It's so good to meet you. Clark has told me all about you.

He has ?bruce looks at Clark with a question on his face.

Martha hugs him after giving her the flowers he brought her.

Come come dinner is ready

After you Clark says

No after you lead the way. Bruce hold his ground and stares clark down.

Fine clark say and leads the way. Bruce follow him into the kitchen .

Clarks dad is sitting at the head of the table in a blue flannel shirt. He smile and gets up to greet his son.

Hey my boy Jonathan say with a hug smile and a hug.

No wonder why Clark is big into hugging.

Bruce Wayne it's real nice to meet you you are all our Clark talks about.

Jonathan hugs bruce it's awkward at first but then bruce hugs him back. He sees Clark smiling at him. Everyone takes a seat. Martha says grace. Everyone settles down to eat . Clark notices that Bruce has slip into his playboy persona. It sorta makes clark frown but everyone seem to enjoy the story of being a big city business man .

Are those big fundraiser always so stuffy? Martha ask

Actually clark and I are going to a a white party gala for the Trevor projector .

That sounds nice what is the Trevor project Martha ask

And what's a white party? Jonathan ask

Clark slides a little closer to bruce and puts his hand on his shoulders .

Do you want to explain everything to your parents ? Bruce ask

Sure well Trevor project is a suicide hotline for the lgbtq community.

Oh ok that's wonderful. Martha smile and looks to Jonathan

Bruce places his hand on Clark's hand and gives it a little squeeze to encourage him to keep talking. When he does bruce says

And I asked clark to be date. Bruce say

And I said yes clark said

Finally .Martha said.

We have been waiting for this day for so long. Jonathan says.

Bruce actually laughs out loud and smiles.Bruce thinking clark must be in shock .

But how? How did you know I was gay?clark ask

A mother knows my baby Martha says as she hugs both Clark and Bruce.

Jonathan doesn't say much but he does smile and hug them both

I caught you staring at a farm hand when you where a teenage a little to hard.

Bruce couldn't help but to smile at a embarrassed clark. After that the evening when by quickly. When it was time to leave Martha packed up a large chuck of pound cake for dick and made them promise to bring him next time. They dressed in the barn then walked out in to the moonlight. Superman is facing batman and he has a devil look on his face. Her steps even so closer to him and picks batman up by his thigh and wraps his legs around his waist

What are you doing kent?

This will be much more comfortable I promise now wrap your arms around my neck so I can get us back to Gotham quicker . I want to get on my knee and do things with my mouth that you would let me do in the barn

With a sigh bath wraps his arms around him

Make this quick please . Batman say

Of course I'm faster then your plane.

Being this close made them both hard and wanting. To Superman surprise batman started to kiss and bit up his neck. It's was Superman turn to complain

No marks please.

What can't have a hickie while saving a cat from the top of a tree? Bruce bites him lightly on his ear. Superman spirals in the air .

Ok ok I'll stop

Flying at night in the middle of no where is great Superman says

It does have its perks.so what did you say to dick?

It's a secret.

I won't say anything

Let's just say when I'm not around you might get a few more hugs. I can't be with you alll the time . Superman hugs him a little tighter and thenkisses him long and slow. By the time batman pulls away Superman is flying into the bat cave and up the stairs

Stop here I need to put the suit away . Batman jogs to we're puts his suit at and strips down and then puts his other clothes on. By the time he's done superman is clark again. He steps pass him to get into the house. Bruce places the cake on the table and then head to his bedroom. They quickly strip down and get to the main event with clark on his knees in between bruces legs stare up at him while he gives him head. After that they rolled around until clark was pin to the mattress by the time they both climaxed Bruce was mentally making a note in his Head to add padding to the back of the head board. Just before drifting off to sleep . Clark hears crying.

Bruce we have a problem?

What's wrong

It's dick he's crying

Bruce shots up and gets dressed

Clark does the same. Clark follows him out .

You don't have to come he's my responsibility.

No it's ok I don't mind.

Bruce gets to the door and knocks gentle . Alfred answers it .

Master Bruce you're back

Yes we are bruce says as he pushes his way into dick room .

Hi bruce dick says

Are you all right ?

I had a nightmare?

Again Alfred said

You can go back to bed Alfred .

As you wish master bruce

Next time please inform me Alfred

You were indisposed master bruce alfred looks to Clark

Doesn't matter knock on my bed room door alfred

As you wish but I didn't know you were back master Bruce

Alfred leaves

Bruce sits next to dick on the bed .

Dick eyes clark

Clark waves

Dick smiles

My mom sent you cake maybe if you ask nicely bruce will let me get you a piece .

It's too late to eat dick but how about for breakfast.

Alfred isn't going to like that .

My house my rule

Dick laughs

Why are you way over there? Dick ask

I'm just here as moral support. Clark smile

Can I have a nother hug dick ask

Funny enough bruce hugs him thinking he was talking to him . Clark hugs them both.

I have a joke want to hear it? Dick say

Sure Clark say

Alright go on bruce says

What are we?

No clue Clark

A sandwich? Bruce say

Close we are a hero sandwich get it's ? I'm the meat in a hero bun .

Clark chuckles

Bruce smiles

I think the riddler would have laughed at that Bruce say

He pats his back and tucks him in.

I'm glad your here . Dick tells Clark

Happy to be here kiddo Bruce closes the door and heads back to his rooms

Thank you for putting a smile on his face .you would make a wonderful parent Bruce says

Don't say that around my mother. She will start asking you went the is wedding.

They both strip back down and get back to bed Clark is the big spoon and kisses Bruce's scared back

You have nightmares to Clark says

Why would you say that

I sleep with you and I have seen you have them.That's why I like to wake you up with head .

Oh I thought you could get enough of me

That too but it also earns you a little extra tlc from me .

Bruce turns in Clark's arms and just stares at him for a second before burying his face in his neck. He sighs and quickly falls asleep to Clark gentle rubbing his back.

Next morning Bruce is up before clark. He's working out in the batcave with dick. When alfred called them for breakfast . Clark is already at the table waiting for them .

Hi Clark dick goes and hugs him

He kiddo Clark says as he winks at bruce walking pass him. Bruce smirks at him

Clark watches alfred as he place a piece cake as dick chair.

Dick seems shock to see the cake sitting in front of him.

Don't get used to it master dick

Dick didn't seem to care he dig in with a huge smile on his face.

This is so good you will have to tell your mom thanks for me dick say

You can tell her your self in two weeks bruce say

My mom wants to have you to dinner does that sound good with you?

Sweet I can't wait are you flying us their dick asked

No bruce is taking the plane next time clark say

Ah man I want to fly through a cloud

How about this maybe if I ask bruce he might let me fly you around the farm when it gets dark enough

Please ..pretty please bruce

How can I say no to both of you . Bruce says

Thank you dick hops up and hugs clark.

Bruce finally understand what people say about watching the s/o with their child . It makes you imagine a future with other kids and making them. It's a warm feeling that makes you smile behind a coffee cup. Then dick hugs bruce to Bruce's surprise.

Careful bruce say looking at his spilled coffee.

Sorry dick says

Isn't it time for school bruce say as he checks his watch.

Yes

Go on shower and brush your teeth and be ready in 20 minutes so alfred can take you to school.

Dick shoves the rest of his food into his month and hurries off

Bruce stares at Clark over his juice glass.

Is there something on my face?clark says

Not at all just admiring the view bruce says unfortunately I need to deal with some business matters

I should go too I have been away from work long enough.

I look forward to the gala

Me too but I have no clue what to wear.

Don't worry about it I'll have something waiting for you when you arrive

Thanks I appreciate that.

They finish breakfast and part ways with a long kiss on Clark's part and a hugs.

#dc comics #bruce wayne #clark kent #superbat #superman #batman #dick grayson

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flashflashhundredyarddash · 3 years

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wally west is NOT that scared of batman but he is terrified of bruce wayne because bruce wayne is a crazy person who compartmentalizes really well, so when they're working they can be completely professional but as soon as wally comes by to pick dick up for a date bruce acts like a fucking psycho about it

#batman #bruce wayne #wally west #birdflash #YOUNG JUSTICE #the burd squawks #batman: completely normal strategizer for the justice league who does not let his emotions distract from his mission #bruce wayne: you TAKE my ward on date???? JAIL FOR WALLY!!! JAIL FOR WALLY FOR ONE THOUSAND YEARS #like oh jesus fucking christ dude #bruce be like oh yes remember how i was in a murder cult for a few years? fix your tie west #the funny part is that bruce actually KIND OF LIKES WALLY #BUT HE CAN NEVER LET WALLY KNOW #dc

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galatially · 3 years

Text

❝𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬❞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭 x 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 2K

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — you move into titans tower after being outed as a meta-human and seem to have caught the eye of one snarky half-kryptonian

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — strong language, conner being chill and cute

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i'd like to thank the lovely @fruitiseavey for requesting this! hope you enjoy!

i don't have a tag list but i do have a library where all of my works live,@galatially-wrote so please check it out! reblogs and comments are much appreciated ♡♡♡

You pushed the strap of your overnight bag higher up your shoulder as you made your way to the front steps of Titans Tower.

What were you even doing here? All you’d done was help some people from getting mugged. You’d managed all of your life to keep your powers to yourself. Kept your head down and steered clear of any situation where you’d risk exposure.

Then last night happened. You’d been walking home after a long shift and saw a strange scene in the corner store you’d frequent in your neighborhood. The owner, Mr. Lim, was on shift like normal, but his movements through the window were off. You lowered the music in your headphones and walked into the store.

“Oh, Y/N! How are ya!” His usually jovial tone was strained and his posture rigid.

You leaned up against the counter. “‘Sup, Mr. Lim. You doin’ okay?”

“Ah, you know me, kid. Workin’ hard or hardly workin’.” His laugh was weak. His eyes flicked to something behind you for a split second that he didn’t think you’d caught. “You want your usual? You just got off work, right?” He nodded to you and went to the far end of the store to make your sandwich: turkey, provolone, tomato, dijon mustard, and Italian mustard. When you were younger, you’d loved watching him make the sandwich for your mother from behind the window.

You nodded, careful to keep your composure. Your thumbs danced along the counter as you played coy with the other figure in the store. They were watching you, circling the aisles as you waited for Mr. Lim to finish making your food.

“So, Mr. Lim, did I tell you about this guy that came into the restaurant today?” You walked towards the deli counter. “He was so rude, y’know? Bossin’ me and the other girls around like he was the owner or somethin’, right?” Your gaze flickered to the other patron, the gleam of his pistol catching the light. You paused, eyeing them as they moved towards you. “How’s that sandwich comin’, Mr. Lim?”

“It looks like I’m outta provolone, Y/N,” he stuttered. “I have to go check the back cooler.”

“Take your time. You know me.” You were facing the other man now, your hands warming. “Matter o’ fact, why don’t you stay back there? I have some business to handle with your friend here.”

The fight didn’t take long; two, three minutes tops. You’d subdued him and saved your friend, but not without some damage to the store and the GCPD snooping around after you ducked into the cover of night. By the time you’d made it to your apartment building, three cruisers sat in front, your super talking to one of the officers.

You were stuck.

So, you bit back your pride and called your best friend, Donna, and asked to crash at her and her team’s place. What better place to hide out than with a group of superhero teenagers?

“Y/N! You made it!”

Donna Troy — tall, dark-haired, and gorgeous — had been your best friend since you were a sophomore in high school and she’d saved your class from a villain attack at the Gotham City Museum. Not far behind was Dick Grayson, eldest ward to Bruce Wayne. They weren’t dating (as far as you knew, anyway) but they were the closest thing you’d had to family in a long while.

She launched herself into your arms. “You didn’t have a hard time finding the place, did you? Dick, grab her bag for her.”

“I can carry my bag, Donna, it’s fine.” You nodded to Dick. “Nice to see you again, Red.”

Dick chuckled and pulled you into a hug. “You must be exhausted, Y/N.”

“Me? No. It’s been a great twelve hours bein’ a fugitive,” you joked. His mouth lifted into a smile as he took your bag from your grasp. “Are you guys sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to impose.”

“Given the fact that your apartment building is still being watched by the GCPD, this is the safest place for you.” He raised a brow. “Though I don’t know why it took you so long to call us.”

Your features canted into a glower. “‘M sorry.”

Donna smacked Dick’s arm. “Can you for, like, one second stop interrogating our friend? She’s tired and probably hungry and over everything.” She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you into the Tower.

Anxious knots tightened your stomach. You had nothing against supers or other meta-humans like yourself, but you never saw yourself among their ranks. Ever since you were a child, you’d taught yourself that no one would accept you. Seeing other metas on the news — good or otherwise — brought out the worst in your parents and you vowed that you’d hide who you were. Keep it hidden and keep your head down.

“Guys, this is Y/N.”

Two pairs of eyes focused on you from the couch in the common area.

“Y/N, meet Kory — ” A tall, orange-skinned, curly-haired girl gave you a bright smile and an energetic wave, “Vic’s the big guy sitting next to her.”

“Cyborg. You went to school with a friend of mine,” you said, nodding at him.

He waved his flesh hand to you. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Where is everyone?” Dick asked.

“Gar and Raven are in their rooms, Wally’s out with Barry, and Conner’s…somewhere,” Vic answered.

You wrinkled your nose. “Who’s Conner?”

“Conner Kent,” Donna said. “He’s staying here for a little while.”

You hummed and shifted your weight onto your left leg. “So…where do I sleep?”

“Right! Uh, I’ll take your bag to your room and show you where the bathrooms are.” Donna took your hand and led you out of the common area. What you loved most about Donna was that she knew when to take over the dynamic between you two and when not. You were never good with certain social settings and tended to retreat into yourself and coming to Titans Tower was no different. This was foreign territory for you, diving headfirst into the unknown.

“Here’s the bathroom. Leave your clothes in the laundry basket and I’ll wash them for you, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Donna. I really appreciate this and I promise I’ll be out of your hair in a couple days, a week maximum.”

She shook her head. “You can stay as long as you’d like. Who knows? Maybe you’ll join the team.”

“Oh, yeah,” you deadpanned, “you guys would love to have the unstable, moody kid on your team.”

“Wouldn’t be any better than the rest of us when we all started out,” she said, shrugging. “Just get cleaned up and I’ll make you something to eat, all right?”

You nodded and closed the door behind her as she left the bathroom. You quickly stripped and ducked under the cool spray of water. As the water warmed, you felt your resolve crack. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks and breathless sobs wracked your body.

What were you going to do? You’d always made sure to be careful. Never drawing any unnecessary attention to yourself and keeping a profile lower than the ground beneath your feet. Now, look at you: homeless and on the run.

I’m such a fuckin’ idiot.

You took in a deep breath and lathered the lavender body wash over your skin and cleaned the tear stains from your face. You turned the shower off and wrapped yourself in one of the fluffy towels they had. You poked your head out of the bathroom door, steam escaping from behind you. After a few seconds of not hearing any footsteps, you tiptoed down the hall and opened the first door that you saw.

“Can I help — holy shit!”

You stiffened at the voice and glanced over your shoulder. Blue eyes half-hidden behind black curls stared back at you. His hands were wrapped around the wireless headphones he pulled off of his ears.

“This…isn’t my room.” You let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m so sorry. I’ll just…”

“You’re that girl that Donna was talkin’ about. Y/N, right?”

You nodded. “And you must be Conner.”

“In the flesh.” He nodded to you. “You need me to take you to your room?”

“Oh, no.! I’m sure I can remember where Donna pointed out my room.” You turned back to the door, fisting your towel against your chest.

“It’s not a big deal.” His mattress creaked and his feet padded against the carpet. “Come on.”

If your nakedness bothered Conner, he didn’t let it show as he opened his door and waved his arm toward the hallway. You nodded and stepped out. He walked ahead of you, long-legged and unyielding.

“I’m sorry for disturbin’ you.”

“You didn’t.” He glanced over his shoulder. “It ain’t every day that half-naked girls find themselves in my room.”

Your face warmed. “It’s not a habit I make often.”

“I believe you.” He put his hands in his pockets and slowed his pace some. “I read about what you did. At that corner store in Lower Gotham.”

“I was just tryin’ to help a friend.”

“I get it. Sometimes helpin’ just makes things bigger than they need to be.” There was solemnity to Conner’s voice, a tired calm that came from experience of doing the right thing one too many times.

“Yeah, well, I’m just glad that Mr. Lim’s safe. His wife and kid love him and he’s a big part of my day, y’know?” You smiled to yourself. “But it was fun seein’ the look on that bastard’s face when I launched him into one of the coolers.”

“How’d you do that, by the way? You a telekinetic or somethin’?”

“Yes and no. I can move things with my mind but it’s not the only ability I have.”

He glanced over at you and you noticed the thin, gold rim of his glasses. Had he been wearing them this whole time? Were you that focused on not looking at him?

“So you didn’t throw him into the coolers?”

“Oh, I did,” a smirk quirked at the edge of your lips, “but I also fried the electrical system in the whole store.” You tightened your hold of the towel with one hand as you raised your palm out in front of you. Electric currents ran along your skin and the lights flickered above you. “I’m still kinda learnin’ how to control that part, hence the runnin’ away.”

A smile spread along Conner’s lips. “I like it.”

You cleared your throat and locked your hands together. “Thanks. I think.”

“You wanna know what I can do?”

“I’d assume fly since your name’s Superboy and all.”

Conner laughed — a low, husky sound that warmed your bones. “Close, but no cigar.”

You raised a brow. “So you don’t fly?”

“Oh, I fly.” He gave you a mischievous dimpled smile. “I just do a lot more than that.”

You stifled a laugh and shook your head. “You’re somethin’ else, Conner Kent.”

He stopped in front of a door and leaned up against the wall, facing you head-on. “This is you. If you need something, I’m the last room at the end of this hall.”

You nodded and shifted your weight to your right leg. “Thanks.”

“And don’t let this get you down, yeah? As someone who went through all of my growing up in the public eye, it’s shitty and it fuckin’ sucks sometimes but it gets better. Donna and the team are good people and they’ll take care of you.”

“And you? Are you not good people?”

Conner snickered and leaned forward. Your noses were centimeters away and you sucked in a breath.

“I’ll be as good as you want me to be, sweetheart.”

#galatially #just friends #conner kent #conner kent x black!reader #conner kent fic #conner kent fluff #conner kent drabble #superboy #superboy x black!reader #superboy fic #superboy fluff #superboy drabble #reader request

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j3ssisam3ss · 3 years

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This idea won’t leave me alone...

In short: A Dickinette/BioDad!Bruce/Enemies to Lovers fic featuring:

Marinette “If God gave me strength you’d all be dead” Dupain-Cheng

Dick “Don’t make me use my Batman voice” Grayson

Tim “Give me coffee or give me death” Drake-Wayne

Damian “I’ll gladly give you death” Al Ghul-Wayne

Jason “It’s not trauma it’s humor, quit looking at me like that” Todd.

I can’t write a Dickinette fic at the same time that I’m writing a BioDad!Dick fic. I just can’t. But this idea won’t get out of my brain, so here I am writing it down and hoping it’ll leave me alone after this.

Marinette finds out she’s Bruce Wayne’s biological daughter when she’s summoned to Gotham for the reading of his will.

Because apparently the universe can’t give her even a single month to deal with the fact that her boss was a secret supervillain. Or the fact that the partner that had betrayed her, attacked her, sexually assaulted her, repeatedly, was the same guy she’d spent years crushing on.

It’s fine though. She’s fine. She’s not fine. No trauma or trust issues here.

She’s expecting money from her absentee father, maybe a cool car or something. Instead, she’s made co-CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and co-guardian of two kids.

Because apparently her biological father was something of a serial adopter. Apparently, he had no interest in reaching out to her, but adopted four boys and served as a mentor or guardian to countless other kids. She’s not bitter about that. Really, she’s not. She is.

Nevertheless, dealing with things she didn’t sign up for is practically Marinette’s calling card by now, so she takes to running Wayne Enterprises and raising her siblings like a duck to the water. Half the WE employees jumped ship after Bruce’s death? Not a problem, she’ll bring in new hires and inspire cult-like loyalty with her professionalism and efficiency. Her kids charges (and the rest of the Wayne family) moonlight as Gotham’s vigilantes? We’ve all been there. She starts immediately on new suits - ones that will have some magical extra protection and won’t make her barf every time she looks at them. The dead sibling is actually alive and just as salty with Bruce and his family as she is? She’ll make friends with him and force a reconciliation sweeter than the macaroons she used to bribe him.

The only issue she can’t solve is one Richard John Grayson. As Bruce Wayne’s far too attractive eldest ward - not son, apparently that’s a sore spot - the executors of Bruce’s will have named him her partner in this whole kid-raising, business-running mess. Which would be fine, except for the fact that he seems to have made it his life’s mission to oppose anything and everything she suggests or does. Marinette is running a fashion empire, trying to teach centuries-old monks what the internet is, raising two kids, and leading a multinational corporation. She doesn’t have time for this nonsense. And yet it’s her problem.

And then Gotham decides that she and Dick are in love and everything gets so much worse. Is it too late to take the Miracle Box and fake her own death?

Dick, on the other hand, has spent the last six years trying to break out of the shadow of Batman and Bruce Wayne alike.

With Bruce’s death, it feels like he’s taken three steps forward and fifty backwards. He’s twenty-four. He’s a police officer, with hopes of becoming a detective. He’s not prepared to run a multi-billion dollar company. Not prepared to raise his siblings. Not prepared to abandon his identity as Nightwing to become the Caped Crusader.

And yet, he has to. Because Tim and Damian need him. Because family comes first. Because it would destroy his siblings to become Batman. It will destroy him too.

When the court introduces Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Bruce’s biological daughter and his partner in sibling-raising and company-wrangling, his immediate reaction is relief. Maybe now he can get a little sleep. Maybe Damian will actually listen to her and will have a semi-normal childhood. Maybe she’ll be able to convince Tim to ingest something other than coffee. Maybe he won’t have to completely give up being Nightwing. Maybe between him, Tim, and Marinette they’ll be able to convince the world that yes, two young adults and a kid can run a successful business. Maybe one day she’ll grace him with a date.

These dreams are brought to a screeching halt when Dick realizes: Marinette Dupain-Cheng has no understanding of what a partnership entails.

She speaks for both of them to the board, to the media, to the kids, without so much as asking his opinion. She makes decisions and changes and informs him when it’s too late to protest. When he tries to bring it up, she gives him an innocent look of confusion and changes the subject. It’s infuriating maddening frustrating. Somehow, he’s doing more work trying to keep up with her than when he was running WE by himself.

And that’s not even getting started on the secrets she’s keeping. Her personality is all sunshine in public, but at home she’s as cynical and distrustful as Bruce himself. He hears voices coming from her room when she claims to be asleep. She has too many skills that don’t match with her background or age. Skills like disarming a gunman before the security guards even realize he’s there. Like successfully running a multinational corporation with no prior experience. Like knowing exactly how to deal with the media, despite being raised as a baker’s daughter.

Dick is taking on the mantle of Batman, raising his siblings, trying to learn how to run a multi-billion dollar company, and making regular appearances as Nightwing. He doesn’t have time to deal with this drama. And yet it’s his problem.

And then Gotham decides that he and Marinette are in love and everything gets so much worse. Is it too late to dump Bruce’s body in the Lazarus Pits and force him to deal with this mess?

@maribatmarch-2k21

Maribat March - Day 23 - Enemies to Lovers

#maribat #fic ideas #dickinette #marinette is so done #cynical marinette #guardian marinette #dick grayson is batman #everyone is traumatized #just realized this works for MaribatMarch #MaribatMarch2021

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

Holiday Party

Damian Wayne x reader

He’s about 16 yrs old here.

Warning: Christmas? Kissing

Christmas series 4

You were early. Damian looked out his door to see no one around and he rushed downstairs to meet you at the door. You were being dropped off by your older brother who gave Damian a look from the front seat of his car that all but said he’d mess Damian up if he hurt you. Funny to think about your brother trying to beat him up but he would never consider it. Damian opened your car door for you.

“Beloved, you’re early,” he said with a grin. Your brother gave a rough hey and Damian’s face dropped and he gave a curt nod. “I’ll have Alfred drop her off so you won’t have to pick her up,” Damian told him. Your brother nodded again before leaving.

Damian barely held your finger with his own as he walked you up to his room. He didn’t want his brothers to see him being affectionate. He pulled you into his room and engulfed you in a huge hug. He wasn’t short little Dami anymore but had been hit by puberty like a bus and was almost 6 foot tall. He smelled like cologne and his sweater was so freaking soft. You felt the fabric on his chest with your hand and he stiffened and coughed a little. Oh yeah, he could feel that. You flushed.

“So you want to watch a movie?” Damian said pulling away.

“Yeah. Sounds great,” you said sitting on his bed pulling your shoes off. You slid up the bed to lay on his pillow as he grabbed his laptop.

“Drake doesn’t know but I’ve set it up that every film he downloads, I get a copy too so I’ve got a bunch. Though his taste is pretty sappy for some of these,” Damian said wrinkling his nose.

“Probably to watch with his girlfriend. Or maybe he’s a sap,” you laughed. Damian climbed on the bed and laid the laptop on the other side of you. His arms temporarily caged you against him and you couldn’t help but think of him on top of you. Damian laid back as the film started playing. He put two pillows behind his head to watch from behind you. You laid on your side and he wrapped an arm around your waist loosely.

The film was probably great. All you could think of was how close your boyfriend in the softest boyfriend sweater was right beside you. You slid farther back until your back hit his chest. He inhaled audibly but didn’t move. Damian cursed himself. You had definitely heard that.

You ran your hand along the arm of his sweater as the movie went on. He smelled a little like soft cologne and spiced tea. Everything was fine until there was a sex scene. Nothing graphic but enough to where you were both very aware of your situation. Damian slid his body a little back from you making a little space between you and him.

You turned to look at him and he couldn’t help but brush his lips against yours. You slowly turned in his arms until you were making out while laying on your side. Damian held your face softly with one hand. Your fingers slid into his hair. His tongue slipped into your mouth gently just exploring you.

The door to his room opened.

“Master Damian, your father needs you in his study at your earliest convenience. Also... do take care with your visitors. You are only 16,” Alfred said, looking pointedly at the ceiling before leaving. Damian flushed on his tan skin. you covered your mouth and giggled, embarrassed.

“At least it wasn’t your dad,” you said. He nodded as he stood up.

“I won’t be long. Just watch the movie and I’ll be back as quick as I can,” Damian said and you noted that his lips were pink and maybe even a little swollen from kissing.

“Yeah, no problem.”

It took all of 1.7 minutes for Bruce to notice his son’s lips. His eyes narrowed a little and he looked critically at Damian who was staring at the computer screen.

“Damian, you are of the age where sexual education is important. You are practicing safe sex, yes?” Bruce asked in an even tone as if almost casually but really he wanted to seem calm. Damian twisted so fast to look at his father.

“I am not,” he said quickly.

“You aren’t??” Bruce asked shocked. “That’s very dangerous-“

“I’m not having sex. At all,” Damian said completely red. Bruce calmed.

“None? Because condoms-“

“Father, I’ve been taught. And if I do have sex I will be safe but I’m not now,” Damian said. He refused to look anywhere but the screen. “How did Alfred tell you so fast?” He complained.

“Tell me? Is there something to tell me? You know what? Don’t answer that. I trust you. There is a bowl of condoms under the sink in the bathroom off my study. All of the boys use it and it stays full. No questions asked. And the family doctor is very discreet for any questions you might have,” Bruce said delicately.

“Okay. I got it. Thanks. But please stop. Tell me about the case,” Damian practically begged.

——————————

It was not a few minutes but a full 2 hours later that Damian came back to his room. You were asleep. A movie played in the background and you hug his pillow. Damian smiled a little before waking you. It was almost time for his brothers to arrive. You sat up quickly. You’d never fallen asleep at his place.

“Sorry I was so long. Family stuff,” he said vaguely. He did that all the time. “It’s almost time for the party.”

“Oh I need to get ready,” you sat up. You’d planned to get started a little earlier. You didn’t dress fancy around Damian; he didn’t care. But his family’s Christmas was fairly formal.

“Is this okay?” You asked 20 minutes later. Damian nodded with a little smile.

“You look beautiful in anything, beloved. But this is exceptional,” he said and you flushed. His way with words. “It’s time to go down stairs.”

Damian took your hand and you walked downstairs. His eyes lingered on you longer than necessary. Somehow Tim and his girlfriend and Duke had beat you both downstairs. Damian pulled out a chess board and Tim and Bruce once again dragged work into every room they entered.

“I won’t go easy on you,” Damian warned. He was far better at strategy but your moments on the board were incredibly erratic to the point that he couldn’t predict your next move.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else. If you did, I’d expect a body snatcher,” you said and he hazarded a small smile. Damian didn’t want to appear too pleased. Bruce was watching him while maintaining conversation. You understood his weird stoic family dynamic enough to ignore it.

Damian won 3 out of 4 games. You could admit that your win was more luck than skill but you took it. Dick and his girlfriend arrived and the party moved to the dining room.

After a few minutes, a man you had never seen showed up humming to introduce himself and his date. The butler seemed very happy and for a minute you wondered if it was his son. No, this was the mysterious brother who was always fighting with the family.

“Dami, who is that?” You asked whispering.

“Jason Todd, one of my father’s wards. And I suppose his girlfriend,” Damian said. You nodded and watched as they sat down. Later in the evening, the eldest, that Damian had even called his brother, proposed to his girlfriend.

You were given a small glass of champagne and you looked at it quietly. Did they forget you and Damian were 16? Not exactly legal. But you didn’t say anything and you both drank the tiny amount of alcohol with everyone else. Damian squeezed your hand and gave you a tiny smile.

The party moved to the parlor with a billiards table and a dart board on the wall. The adults were served more alcohol and pudding was served informally. A tasty sticky cake that you dare not asked the ingredients was quickly eaten. You and Damian sat on a loveseat in the corner where you could watch the others play billiards and other games. Tim and Jason played a heated game of 9 ball. Jason was a natural. Tim was all strategy.

You leaned against Damian’s shoulder as the storm raged outside. You were full and the room was warm.

“It’s far too dangerous to drive out tonight. It’s turned into a blizzard so you all will stay here. There are plenty of rooms and beds for everyone and anything you could need,” Bruce announced to the group. Jason sighed and Damian opened his mouth. “I’ll call her parents to let them know. Don’t worry Damian.”

Damian relaxed and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You began to doze as the pool games played. He ran his fingers along your outer arm and watched from the corner of his eyes as you fell asleep. He enjoyed your body warmth and soft sweet scent subtly.

An hour later you woke as you were slowly being moved. Strong arms cradled you and you could smell Damian’s pleasant unique scent strongly. You gripped his arm as he carried you out of the room. He hushed softly to let you go back to sleep.

“You got him shot?!” One of the women in the room yelped and you jolted awake.

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep, beloved. Don’t mind my stupid brothers,” Damian said quietly. He gently laid you on his bed and pulled you in the covers. His soft sheets quickly lulled you to sleep.

While you slept, he grabbed blankets and settled on the floor. Half an hour later, right as Damian was falling asleep, Bruce opened the door quietly. He saw the boy on the floor, nodded, and shut the door.

#fns #christmas series #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #robin x reader #dc #damian wayne imagine

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c-nstantine · 3 years

Text

1950 (Cass Cain x POC!Reader)

Inspired by the song by King Princess

Warnings:None

Length:770+ words

Description: Even though you were a rich heiress, Cassandra Cain was something you couldn’t buy.

I hate it when dudes try to chase me,

If we're being completely honest, being a teenage socialite sucked. There are only so many galas and charity functions that one can take before suffocating from all of the botox in the room. The baby boomers of old money Gotham rarely had kids your age. What they did have were slimy thirty-year-old sons who thought all a girl needs is a strong man.

"You should really smile more. The magazines say you're bratty." The son of some mediocre businessman spoke to you.

"The magazines say you're suffering from male patterned baldness and that you're father lost two million in stock this week. Also, Commissioner Gordon was at my latest birthday party, I wonder if he remembers my age," You said while grabbing your champagne flute filled with apple juice. You were going to walk away but someone had grabbed your arm.

But I love it when you try to save me

"I'd watch my back if I were you, Y/N L/N," He said pulling your mouth closer to your ear. You flinched away in disgust. His breath smelled like dirty gym socks and your face cringed in disgust from the smell.

"You should leave," Stood before you was your guardian angel in a red Louis Vuitton dress. Her black hair was cut into a short bob and her eyes were a warm brown. The girl in front of you was Cassandra Cain, one of the latest wards of Bruce Wayne.

"Thank you so much, "As quickly as the girl appeared, she disappeared. You were determined to find your Princess Charming.

Did you mean it when you said I was pretty?

'Just ring the doorbell and give the gift to the butler.' A very simple plan that you had worked out in your head. So you did the first step very smoothly. No issues. What you weren't expecting was one of her brothers to appear opening the door.

"You Tim's friend? Tim, your friend is here!"You assumed he was one of the older Wayne boys.

"No, I -um. I'm here to give this to Cassandra. It's just a-uh 'thank you' for last night." The older boy's blue eyes looked into yours. It felt like he was trying to decipher your purpose. You just kinda stood outside the most elegant manor in all of Gotham awkwardly because you developed a crush on the adopted daughter of the most powerful man in town. In a way, this is completely your fault.

"Master Grayson, we invite guests in, not stare at them from the door." A British man said while shooing Dick Grayson away from the door.

"No, that's not necessary. Can you, uh, give this to Cassandra for me?" You asked the old man who looked to be wise beyond his years. He simply nodded as you handed him a small black box that contained a simple string bracelet. Even though you didn't know Cassandra for long, you got the sense she wasn't the type to wear jewelry often. Also, in the box was a small piece of paper with your name, number, and socials on it.

Later that night, before you went to bed, you noticed an interesting alert on your phone.

CassCain followed you.

CassCain liked your photo.

CassCain commented:"pretty❤️"

I'm surprised when you kiss me

Trying to ask Cassandra out on a date didn't go as smoothly as you hoped. She invited you over to Wayne Manor soon after you had delivered her gift. Unfortunately, half of the time one of her infinite brothers was there. At this point, you were pretty sure Damian can teleport into rooms.

But you did it. It took being interrupted five times but you did it. Sometimes Gotham can be beautiful when it's not being overrun by manic clowns or a mobster penguin. So you took her star gazing. Since you lived in a penthouse, it was a little above the smog in the air of the city.

It was a surprisingly quiet night. There was the melody of Mitsiki's Francis Forever playing in the background and the subtle honking of cars. The stars were out while you and Cass sat talking about anything and everything.

It was so cold out you hadn't noticed how closed you've gotten to her. Her smile was wonderful and it was the best thing you've seen in your entire life. Her cheeks were rosy from the bitter cold while you were trying to make circles with the fog from your breath. Cass noticed how quiet you had gotten before pulling you closer and putting her lips on yours.

#cassandra cain #cassandra cain x reader #cass cain #cass cain x reader #poc!reader #batman #dccomics #cassandra cain fic #c-nstantine

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squiddybeifong · 3 years

Note

Can I ask for the batsiblings reaction to Damian pacing so much he wore a hole in the floor? Doesn't have to be a fics, maybe headcanons?

Sorry for the rather long wait. Kinda wanted to make this a fic

Here's the floor pacing fic

On Ao3 here

Alfred hadn’t outwardly reacted to Damian’s obvious lie as to why he had paced the floorboards uneven, but the butler absolutely took action for amending the tripping hazard in the boy’s room. With the floor repairman on the line and a measuring tape in hand nothing was amiss, of course.

Dick had already kept him up-to-date with the gossip about the two Titan birds, so Alfred hadn’t been surprised whatsoever. His position in the family meant that he’d watched the awkward budding romances of most everyone who’d called the Manor home. Damian being frustrated at his feelings for a teammate was nothing compared to a (very grown) Bruce being moody after Selina rebuffed his kiss while ‘on the clock’ or Dick’s increasingly creative attempts at sneaking around with Kori before the ‘no dating metahumans or aliens’ rule had been lifted. Honestly, watching the pun-laden flirting that Steph ladled out to both Tim and Cass on a near daily basis was more awkward than his youngest ward taking his repressed emotions out on the floors.

Unfortunately for Damian, the butler arranged for the floor repairman to show up during the day. Most notably, the repairman arrived at exactly the specified 1:35 p.m., not wanting to be late when called upon to fix anything belonging to Bruce Wayne.

Why Robin had believed that (like everyone else in Gotham) this worker would be fashionably late, he didn’t know. What Damian did know was that he hadn’t heard Grayson open the door. Nor had he heard his brother head up with Alfred and the repairman into his room. And he especially didn’t hear as Alfred slyly mentioned that he believed Dick’s gossip was coming to a head, if the worn path in the floor meant anything.

No, Damian heard none of it. Not when he was busy brushing BatCow and making sure that every square inch of the barn was properly ventilated so she couldn’t possibly overheat in the approaching summer weather. So when the youngest Bat stalked into the Manor, he’d been all but ambushed.

It didn’t take a detective to realize why he’d been pacing so much. Even without Alfred’s confirmation, it was unlike Damian to avoid going back to the Titans early if he could help it. Batman hadn’t looked up when Robin had elected to stay another week when they were in the BatCave, but his siblings sure had. And while Bruce didn’t outwardly ponder about how intense things had to be for Damian to go out of his way to avoid a certain someone, this new information had Dick positively enchanted at the prospect of his baby brother being in love.

“I’m not in love with Raven,” Damian hissed out.

Jason snickered as he reclined in his seat, his face full of mirth at the flustered crack in Damian’s voice. Cass was sitting upside down with her legs resting on the couch’s back, her smile wide as she took in her youngest brother’s irritated, embarrassed body language (nevermind the barest hint of an actual blush on his face when vehemently denying any feelings he had towards his fellow Titan).

Babs’ smile was wide and cheerful as she pointed out, “Who said anything about Raven?�� Duke perked up from his spot next to Cass, immediately adding on, “Yeah, Dami. We thought you were just falling for her?”

Steph snorted, “Falling over those footprints in the floor, more like it.”

Tim laughed behind his gulp of his coffee, sleepily (and loudly) drawling out to the blonde, “A Robin and his Raven. Guess you can say they’re a real pair of lovebirds, huh?”

Damian glared at them all, fighting the urge to pinch between his eyes. Why were all the Bats at the Manor? Shouldn’t they be on patrol instead of bothering him?

Jason clicked his tongue and rested his arms on the table. He met Dick’s gaze, saw the way his older brother’s eyes brightened up with mischief and scratched at the streak of white in his hair. Deciding that messing with Damian was by far the most fun he’d have in the Manor that morning, Jason asked, “So, Lil’ D… What’re you gonna get your girlfriend? Can’t come back empty handed.”

“She’s not my--”

Babs interrupted him, nudging Tim with her elbow, “Do not tell me he wasn’t planning on getting her anything.”

Steph lazily rested on the chair’s edge. The blonde leaned over to rest against Jason’s shoulder, her fist pressed to her face. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek; it wasn’t likely she’d be much use for knowing how Raven would want to be wooed. She had heard of her but she had yet to actually meet Damian’s mystery crush, after all. She let out a hum, “What does Raven like? It’s gotta be something personal!”

Damian clicked his tongue as his siblings were suddenly oh so chatty at Spoiler’s suggestion, their unwanted ideas filling the room.

“What if he paints her something?”

“Doesn’t she like old books? Maybe one of those first editions that Alfred was thinking about donating last year?”

“Wait a sec-- Dick, isn’t she goth? B did get that set of obsidian jewelry at the last gala.”

“Hell, if we’re going that route I’m sure Selina has some nice rings somewhere--”

“Maybe something that isn’t stolen, Tim.”

“Just be honest with her.”

The room went quiet at Cass’ simple instruction. Still in her Orphan suit from her early morning patrols and reclining in her inverted spot on the couch, the brunette somehow kept a serious face as she stared at Damian upside down.

Seeing that no one was going to add-on to her suggestion, Cass blew some of her bangs out of her face and shrugged, “You like her for a reason.”

Brown eyes slyly glanced around the room, gratefully falling on Babs as she piped up, “Cass is right. I really don’t think Damian of all people would fall for someone who’s all about dating mind-games.”

Ignoring Damian’s exasperated lie of “I haven’t fallen for her!” in the background, Steph slumped down on the couch next to Duke. Her face was contemplative, “Then maybe we should invite her here?”

Dick let out an excited laugh the same time Tim clapped his hands and grinned at their resident computer whiz, “Babs could absolutely get her up to speed on patrolling Gotham for a bit, right?”

The redhead looked excited at the idea. Pushing her glasses further up her nose before they fell, Babs teasingly asked, “What is it about Gotham and bird-based superheroes?”

Duke shrugged, a hand cradling his chin in thought. “Not sure, but Dami obviously won’t confess if we’re not around to kick him into doing it.”

Jason clicked his tongue at the possibility of the youngest Bat listening to them and raised a brow Dick’s way, “Any chance at all that she’ll make the first move?”

Irritated at the topic, Damian turned on his heel and retreated to the kitchen. Ignoring the chorus of “C’mon, Dami” behind him (and planning on fighting Todd later for the childish boos that the antihero was aiming at his back), Robin set about grabbing some snacks for his pets when he heard two sets of footsteps approach.

He bit back a groan as Dick practically skipped into the room, Cass on his heels. “What now?”

Nightwing let out a laugh at his brother’s sneer, “You do know that we’re only trying to help, right?” He took a few pears from the fridge and handed them to Damian, knowing that they were BatCow’s favorite. Hearing as Cass opened the cabinet doors to find where the rawhide bones and cat treats were stored, Dick pressed on, “I know she already knows me but it might be easier introducing everyone as a segue into talking to her about other things…”

Cass let out a quiet snort at his suggestion. She shook her head and offered a better idea, “Alfred first.”

Dick tilted his head, nodding in agreement a moment later. He ignored the violent way Damian was cutting up the pears and said, “That’ll probably be for the best. Living with the Titans is one thing; we gotta ease her into our particular brand of madness.”

Tossing aside the stems and peeled off stickers, Damian sulked, “None of this is necessary.”

Cass hid her smile with her hand. Dick hummed out, “You don’t want your girlfriend to meet your family?”

“She won’t be my--” Damian couldn’t say the potential title just yet. He clicked his tongue, “Just because you all think I have feelings for her doesn’t mean she’ll reciprocate.”

The older two visibly paused at his words.

Her head tilting in concern, brown eyes studied Robin for a moment. Damian glared at Cass but she ignored him. Dick leaned against the wall, the worried furrow in his brow betraying his nonchalant stance. He spoke out the obvious, “Do you really think she’s not interested?”

“She thinks I’ve been avoiding her--”

Cass shrugged, “You have.”

Damian continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “--so I doubt any feelings she may have towards me are positive right now.”

Dick let out a hum, “You didn’t answer the question.”

Ophan’s suit somehow didn’t shine in the kitchen’s fluorescent light as she crossed her arms, “Yes or no?”

Damian bit the inside of his cheek. It was quiet in the kitchen for a moment as he thought over all the moments he and Raven had shared, the comfortable quiet pauses between crimefighting, training, and avoiding their teammates’ noise. She never seemed to dislike his company, but she was stoic enough that he could never tell if her heart leaped into her throat whenever she noticed that they were alone.

He suppressed a jump as Cass entered his personal space.

Olive eyes were reluctant as she poked his cheek. “You’re not stupid,” She figured it was progress when he didn’t try to swat her hand away, but she couldn’t keep the beam off her face at the boy’s blush. A hint of smugness crept into her voice, “So she is?”

“I don’t know.”

Cass looked to the Manor’s main entrance, knowing that in half a week’s time the entire structure would be full of lights, flowers and who knew what else B’s planners would bring. A spring gala with flowers and enough hidden corners for a pair to get lost in the crowd.

In other terms: the perfect setting for a first date.

She met Dick’s gaze and grinned at the knowing look on his face. His hair nearly fell out of its bun as he let out a whoop, wrapping an arm around Damian. Thoughts of finding Raven a gala-ready dress (and maybe a matching suit) in mind, Dick couldn’t keep the excitement out of his movements.

Ignoring the aggravated yet cautiously hopeful way Damian shrugged off his brother’s arm, Cass clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Only one way to find out.”

#damirae #damian wayne #dick grayson #cassandra cain #batfam #my writing #asked and answered #mistkissedmoon #g o d it's been a While hasn't it? but I really hope u like it!!!#but yeah. batfam is gonna batfam if dami's got a crush. a whole lotta teasing at his expense *but* they are gonna try to help #but its bc they loooooooooooove him. he's the baby bat ofc they gotta get cheesy with it #I was thinking of headcanons but this gives me an excuse to write a first date/gala shenanigans so #I figured why not? I've been slacking in producing ridiculous damirae fluff

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

Text

Phantom Children Ch.4

In Which: exposition for exposition's sake exists, and Vlad looks way more suspcious than he ought

| AO3 | Prologue | 3 | [4] | 5

VLADIMIR MASTERS. Human male in his mid-forties, and most notably the founder and CEO of VladCo, a billion-dollar industry that mostly specializes in manufacturing weapons and technology. Graduated summa cum laude from the University of Wisconsin despite having to drop out due to a lab accident in his second year, landing him in the hospital. Despite being based primarily in Wisconsin, he made an unexpected move to Amity Park Illinois shortly after reuniting with his college friends Drs. Madeline and Jack Fenton.

Not even a year later, Masters ran for mayor of Amity Park and won the election by a landslide. Suspicious, considering Masters being an unknown and the former mayor Montez being quite popular. It’s during Masters’ tenure in office that reports of ghost attacks to the Justice League steadily died down.

“Why?” Damian asked.

Barbara shrugged, pulling up a few files on the screen. “I originally had a theory that related to VladCo’s buyout of Axion Labs—a technological research and manufacturing company that’s mostly local to Amity—being a factor. Within the last couple of years, they had been experimenting with highly volatile chemicals with hallucinogenic properties. Amity had always been known for being extremely superstitious with its ghosts, and if Axion Labs had somehow accidentally released that chemical into the city, well…” She leaned back into her chair, hand twisting in the air. “You could bet how that ended up. The hysteria around ghosts only grew worse in the last two years, with suspected sightings from once every few weeks to multiple in a single day. Early attempts to capture sightings were unsuccessful, and soon enough Amity Park was just written off.”

Much like the mass hysteria surrounding the urban legend of the kuchisake-onna in Japan in the late 1970s, Bruce thought. He pulled up some news footage from Amity Park dated a few years back of citizens being interviewed about their ghostly encounters. Beside these videos were a few photos taken by a shaky camera, showing bright blurs of light streaking across the sky or vaguely humanoid shapes rising from the ground.

“So VladCo., bought out Axion Labs, improved its security, and slowly helped detoxify the town?” Damian shifted his weight onto his other leg and crossed his arms.

“That’s what I thought, but—”

“But the ghosts ended up being real.” Bruce pulled up a video of a field reporter-slash-weatherman taking cover as a figure dropped from the sky, breaking through the walls of a building. The figure—features distorted by an eerie glow—shot out of the rubble just in time before a green blast hit it.

Oracle enlarged other news footage with a few taps on her keyboard. Beings zooming through the air. Massive plants erupting from the ground. Technology coming to life. Each video more worrying than the last, and most showing some footage of a figure bathed in a white glow. “I’d be hard pressed to call any of these faked.”

It begged the question as to how Amity Park survived this long unscathed. Since, if he remembered correctly, even the Dark Leaguers tended to avoid Amity Park like the plague. “They have their own heroes, then?”

“Think along the lines of vigilantes with unofficial support.” A few more files popped up on screen. One showcased a female in a full-length black and red body suit on top of a hover board. The other was a male; young, perhaps a teenager, with white hair and a black and white suit. Hazmat? “The Red Huntress and the Phantom of Amity Park.”

“Partners?”

“More like enemies working on the same turf. Sources place Phantom as appearing first, though it seems Red Huntress has more government support in the end despite there being no official statement. They seem to be the most effective ghost hunters in town, though far from the only ones. The Fentons of Fenton Works are also acting as ghost hunters, though their track record of success leans more towards their anti-ghost tech than any hunting. The town’s even attracted visitors from the Ghost Investigation Ward; a side branch of Cadmus though a now defunct organization.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Damian said. “If anything, this should be more than enough reason for a League intervention. Why the Justice League didn’t come sooner is the real question here.”

Bruce’s lips thinned. “That’s because we were warned off it.”

“What?”

While there was no rule against heroes entering another hero’s city, there were certain unspoken rules that demanded that JL members avoid claimed cities or stay just outside of city lines until given permission to enter. Some were especially strict about it such as Batman’s ‘no metas or outsiders’ rule. Others were more lenient, simply requesting a warning before entering.

Amity Park, despite having no listed heroes in the database, was marked with heavy ‘Do Not Interact’ warnings for humans and metas alike.

“Justice League Dark said that under no circumstances should the League interfere in Amity. The situation was never explicitly laid out for us except to say that everything was being handled.”

“Oh yeah,” Oracle chimed. “Constantine even had it bolded, underlined, italicized, and in all caps. The occult community was very clear about everyone staying away—and apparently this decision had support from Amity Park too.” She pulled up another document. “That’s probably what led to the decline in their ghost reports, actually. Amity’s claims were considered bogus and brushed aside. No one outside their town—not even their sister town of Elmerton—believed them, so they simply stopped asking for help.”

Strangely, it reminded Bruce of Gotham. Both cities existed in its own isolated sphere, unwilling to let any outsiders interfere in its business.

“It’s safe to assume, then, that whatever Ra’s al Ghul wants with Amity, it has to do with these ghosts. Do we have anyway to contact the town’s vigilantes?”

Oracle shook her head. “Ghost attacks within the past few months have slowly died down along with sightings of Phantom and Red Huntress. Your best bet is asking Masters directly.”

Damian glowered. “Masters blatantly sent out an invitation for Batman to my father. How do we know that Masters hasn’t somehow found our secret identities?”

“Unlikely,” Bruce said. “Vlad Masters, despite his wealth, has done well to keep a low profile. He’s met Bruce Wayne a total of three times within the last decade and Batman not at all.” That, and with the kind of spyware Batman has, he’d be able to tell when, where, and who was trying to dig deep into Batman’s past. Masters hadn’t even registered as a ping.

“Besides, there’s always a few rumors of Wayne Enterprise’s involvement with Batman. All this tech has to come from somewhere, no?”

“How long is Masters staying in Gotham?”

“Umm…” Oracle leaned forward in her chain and flipped through a half-dozen windows. “Going by his reservations at the Gotham Royal Hotel, he’s leaving tomorrow.”

Bruce pivoted on his heel, heading deeper into the Cave. “We better make this count, then.”

------

According to Oracle’s intel, Vlad Masters was staying at one of the executive suites in the Gotham Royal Hotel. A titanic structure with forty-eight floors, two towers, and the gothic aesthetic that never seemed to leave Gotham’s architecture.

Scaling the building as well as entering the suite proved no challenge for Batman and Robin. But upon entrance, it was abundantly clear that the room was vacant.

“Are you sure you guys are in the right room?” Bruce could hear the clicking of Oracle’s keys through their comms. “Masters had reserved the suite on the west tower.”

“Yes we’re in the correct room, Gordon,” Robin hissed.

“Codenames only, Robin.”

Robin clicked his tongue, sweeping the common room for any hidden bugs or cameras as Batman scouted out the rest of the room. The bed was made to hotel standard and the bathroom towels all completely replaced. There were no clothes in the hotel closet or dresser.

The only thing left that indicated occupancy of the room was an unmarked manila envelope unsubtly tucked within a pillowcase.

Robin tensed at the sight of it. “A detonator of some sort?”

Batman rotated the package, holding it up to his scanner. “Doesn’t seem to be. Regardless, it might be better to take it back to the Batcave and locate Masters ag—” The envelope started ringing. A standard ringtone found in most phones. Quickly, but carefully, Batman opened the manila envelope and dumped its contents onto the bed. A ringing burner phone and a flash drive came tumbling out.

Batman threw the flash drive at Robin before answering the phone, holding it up against his ear but saying nothing.

Silence. Then, Masters’ voice filtered in through the phone with a strange echo-like quality. “Good evening, Batman! I’m so glad my invitation managed to get passed along.”

Batman growled into the speaker, “What do you want, Masters?” He signaled Robin to do another sweep of the room for any signs of Masters they might have missed.

“I sincerely apologize for not being there to meet you myself; incredibly rude of me, I know. But it cannot be helped, the shadows are growing ever bolder.”

“So, you are aware then, of the League of Assassins’ presence in Amity Park?”

“A league of assassins? What a terrifying notion that is.” Batman frowned. It was unlikely that they had misread his words at the gala, so why was he acting unaware now? Could he be watched? “Why such a group would appear in my little town, I wouldn’t even dare to guess.”

Robin came back into the room and signaled back ‘negative.’

“Why did you call for us, Mayor Masters?”

“Do you know what is so very tragic, Batman?”

“This is strange,” Oracle said. “I can’t pick up his signal. He’s not appearing on any of my cameras, either.”

“When someone so young dies much to soon.” A pause. “Could you even imagine such a thing? A parent burying their own child.”

Batman could. He had no need to even imagine it because he lived it.

“Some very close friends of mine have been weighed down by the shadows of death and I require help in providing them the closure they need.”

“Are the Fentons the targets, then?”

Masters paused. Then let out a breathy laugh over the phone. “Oh, if only it were that simple.”

“So a different target.”

“Everything you need to know is in the flash drive I’ve enclosed in that envelope Whether you take up the case is entirely up to you—though I do hope you take it. Regardless, if he is not returned soon then I assure you that a disaster unlike any you have seen before will arrive.”

Batman narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat, Masters?”

“No,” He laughed. “That was no threat. That was promise.”

The phone line disconnected just as Oracle exclaimed that she finally found Masters boarding his flight back to Amity Pak.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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