#it just makes Damian seem so much smaller and more soft

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

this goodness hurts (and I'm drowning in it)

carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only) - series masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.2k

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: damian is trying so hard to be an emotionally functional adult. he's not doing perfectly. reader definitely isn't, either. there might be too much world building in this oops

a/n: what if damian wayne was an adult and was trying so so hard to heal, huh. what about that.

"Beloved?" Damian's voice is quiet and tired, but it cuts through the silence of your shared apartment all the same. Your gaze snaps up to him from your spot on the couch, your back straight and your shoulders back as if you're a guest in someone else's house.

"Hey… what are you doing awake?" you say gently.

"Looking for you," he says matter-of-factly as he kneels on the floor in front of you, switching a small lamp on and bathing the two of you in a soft glow. He uses the light to look you up and down, eyes scanning for any sort of issue or ailment. "You weren't in bed… what's wrong, my love?"

"Nothing, I just…" you sigh, shoulders slumping and hands clenching. Damian takes your hands in his gently, rubbing soothing circles on the backs of them with his thumbs as he waits for you to continue. "Sometimes it's just… hard." you finish weakly.

"What is, beloved?" he presses ever so gently.

"Just… this. All the good we have now. Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in it." Damian makes a noise of understanding at your words and slides himself onto the couch next to you, wrapping his arms around you and breathing a slight sigh of relief when you relax into him.

"Why don't I bring you back to bed, hm? We can talk about this more, or I can help you back to sleep and we can discuss this later. Whatever will help you right now, my love." He says quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

You sigh and lean forward to press your head into your hands, conscious of Damian's soothing hand rubbing up and down on your back.

"Do you ever feel this?" You mumble, not sure if he can even hear you.

"Yes," comes his immediate response, though. "I feel this, too. You…" Damian stops there, his voice faltering in that way that means he's stepped into unknown emotional territory and he's only realizing now that his feet are firmly planted there. You lift your head to look at him suspiciously and he smooths your hair back with gentle touches - a loving diversion that you're familiar with.

"Damian," you say softly. "Tell me." There's an importance there that's making your words heavy - your relationship with Damian, built on so many years of hatred and bloodshed, relies now on this openness that you're asking for. It's your loyalty to this that keeps the two of you together, that helped you move past the sworn enemies that you once were and towards this - something better, something softer. Home, Damian often calls it - this love that you two share.

He thinks of this now as he stares at you, weighing his words heavily in his mind. He's still so unsure, in many of the ways he knows you are, as well. 

"I… do feel like this," he says carefully, pulling his hands into his lap so that they can grasp onto each other tightly - a stoney alternative to fidgeting. "I feel this with Father and the others. It seems to come very easily to them, living normal lives and loving and looking out for one another normally. Over the years that I've spent here, that feeling has grown smaller and less significant, but I'd be lying if I said I never feel it at all anymore."

"But they're not the only ones who make you feel that way," you say quietly, a sombre ache in your voice. Damian inwardly curses how well you know him and feels his heart drop as you look up at him with furrowed brows and pained eyes. "Am I still hurting you, Dames?"

"No," he rushes to say, his hands moving to cup your face so fast you huff out a breath of surprise. "No, my love, you don't… that's not what I mean. I do feel this way with you, sometimes, but to no fault of yours. You're… good. You are the goodness I feel I don't deserve, beloved." Damian thinks he should at least be grateful that his words have swept the pained look off your face, but your current expression leaves him shifting in his seat, instead, your brows shooting up and your mouth open in disbelief. 

"Oh…" you say slowly. "Oh. I hadn't… I'd never thought of it like that."

"Sometimes I think of what it would have been like without you," Damian continues, leaving your mind to spin at his words. "If the prophecy hadn't existed… if you hadn't existed. I don't think I would've gotten here. I don't think I would've gotten this goodness." The last part of his confession is quiet, his eyes trained on the floor as you stare at him. His feet shift over the rug there and he thinks back to when the two of you bought it, a mark of the domesticity that neither of you realized you'd craved so much with each other until you'd gotten it.

"I think you would have," you say softly. "There's goodness in you, Damian. There always has been. Even back then… you had good in you." You reach your hand over to his, prompting him to loosen the white-knuckled grip he has on his pajama pants and intertwine his fingers tightly with yours, instead.

"If my goodness is inherent then yours is, too, you know."

"I don't know about that," you huff at Damian's declaration.

"I do," he says firmly, his eyes boring into yours, mouth downturned in a show of stubbornness that you know well. You sigh, squeezing his hand in yours and leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead in a show of surrender, a we can argue about this tomorrow whispered against his skin. The furrow disappears from his brow at the action and he pulls you against him once more, wrapping his arms around you.

"Maybe we should go back to bed," you murmur, your face tucked against his neck. He hums in agreement and drops his own kiss to the crow of your head, letting you settle against him for a moment before he gently nudges you to your feet, keeping one hand tightly in yours as he leads you both back to your bedroom. Your eyes flicker over the interior of your shared home as you go, over the photos and artworks and all the things that make it home. By the time you get back to your bedroom and Damian is delicately getting you under the covers, tucking blankets around you and fluffing pillows, you're looking at him with a lovesick expression that makes him freeze.

"Beloved?" He says tentatively.

"I love you," you respond firmly. A smile stretches across Damian's face, a giddy boyishness flashing across his features that makes you soften. It's not a sight anyone is faced with very often, even you. 

"I love you, too." His gentle words are muffled by him pressing his lips to yours, hands cupping your face the thumbs smoothing across your cheeks. "Inevitably."

"Inevitably," you repeat back, smiling against his lips. His reminder of how the two of you twisted a hateful rivalry into love and home and safety makes your heart thump against your ribcage, breath hitching as your eyes mist over. Damian smiles gently - knowingly, and you can't help but notice the rapid blinking of his own eyes, as well.

As he slips into bed beside you, turning to hold you in his arms, you consider the fact that maybe the two of you always were meant to end up like this. Maybe goodness really is inevitable. 

#smsn.writes #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne fluff #damian wayne fanfiction #damian wayne headcanon #damian wayne angst #damian wayne robin #robin x reader #robin x you #robin imagine

[haveihitanerve]

i apologize in advance.

Dick stared at the suit. The suit stared back. But no eyes filled the white holes. No straight lipped smile greeted him. The suit was empty. Its ears seemed wilted, though Dick knew that was just his imagination. He swallowed. “Y'know, it wont magically wrap itself around you.” Drawled a voice. “You have to actually put it on.” Dick turned to face his younger brother, Jason. But even with the cocky words and aloof demeanor, Dick could see it hurt Jason, hurt him deeply, perhaps not as deeply as it hit Dick, but he felt the empty suit just the same. Dick gave a shallow nod, not bothering the remarks with words. Jason swallowed. “Its what he would have wanted.” He offered quietly. Dick turned away. He didn't bother to contradict him. To tell him that despite what the others might believe, Bruce, his father, had never intended for any of them to don his suit. Although he had planned on them burying him. Not the other way around as had happened too many times. The soft padding of feet was the only sound of Jason’s departure. It was uncommon, nowadays, for the second Wayne child to leave without words of goodbye. But today… Dick understood today. He swallowed, and with shaking hands, opened the glass case.

The Batcave was silent. Not unusual, but it was unusual with all of the kids in it. The Batcave was never silent if the kids were present. It was something Bruce had always claimed he hated, but he had always smiled so fondly, so none had taken him seriously. But today it was. Steph was leaned against the desk, Tim in the Batchair next to her, his eyes on the Batcomputer, though he wasn't typing. For once, he was completely still. Cass, on the other hand, was pacing, her usually silent footfalls now making little scuffing sounds on the floor. Amplified by the lack of sound from the other kids, it echoed around them, almost as a steady heartbeat. The kids swallowed back their bile. Jason was propped on his motorbike, helmet held loosely in his hands. His guns were nowhere in sight. Damian sat at his feet, fidgeting. Duke, for once, was awake this late, and was twiddling his thumbs, gnawing on his bottom lip as he leaned against the far wall of the Batcave. Babs sat in her wheelchair next to where Cass was pacing, her laptop opened in front of her, but the screen was dark. Had fallen dark long ago. Selina stood, watchful, at the edge, watching all of them with keen eyes, but did not say a word. Could not find any. Alfred was in bed. He had not left it since… since the funeral. Finally, Cass’s pacing slowed, and she turned to the door, hearing things the other kids could not. All at once, the atmosphere changed, became even more charged, and they turned to the door. Steph, Jason, and Damian stood, and Duke pushed off the wall. They formed a small half circle facing the door, linking hands. As though they needed each other to get through this. Finally, the sound of walking alerted the others to what Cass had heard so much earlier. The steps were smaller, almost sluggish, but as they neared the door they picked up, almost as if forcing cheer and pep into their step. The sounds slowed and finally stopped just before the door. “Ready?” he called quietly. They locked eyes, and slowly nodded. Batman stepped into the Batcave, and promptly keeled over, vomiting. 

Selina rushed to Dick’s side in an instant, but the other kids couldn't move, frozen in place. Even Selina hesitated as she neared, slowing to a shuffle. Before she reached him he had straightened, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He raised himself to his full height and made eye contact. Damian started shaking. Jason fainted. Tim looked green. Babs spun her wheels, turning away. Steph had her hands curled under her chin and silent tears streamed down her cheeks. Cass’s head was shaking side to side, ever so slightly. Duke swallowed. Selina took a step back. Staggered back. Catwoman staggered. A smile, so fake it almost looked like it hurt, blossomed across Batmans face, but it did the trick. Now Dick looked more like himself. The smile faltered, but then returned full force, still straining with its lack of conviction. “Oh Dickie.” Selina whispered. But even with all the compassion and heartache in her voice, she did not take another step towards him. Did not dare step near that suit. The door to the Batcave opened and everyone tensed, then relaxed slightly as Wonder Woman and Superman walked in, quietly. Clarks eyes roved over all of them, before landing on Dick. An expression they had never seen before crossed his face, emotions spasming, before the alien had Dick pinned against the wall by the throat, snarling in his face. “Take it off!” he growled. Dick stared at him, unflinching. “Before he was your friend,” the oldest Wayne child said lowly. “He was my father.” The alien dropped him to the floor, taking a staggered step back. Dick flinched. Everyone staggered back from him. From the suit. From him in the suit. “Are you prepared?” Selina asked him softly. Dick stood taller, not bothering with the forced smile this time. The expression nearly took her breath away. Dick and the other children could deny it all they liked, but they resembled their father whether they wanted to or not. And had it not been for the fact that Selina had seen him die, knew he was taller, knew his face better than she knew her own, she could not tell the difference, in that moment. Between the boy, the man, that stood before her now, and the man who she had fallen in love with. “Come.” she bade him softly, turning away so she did not have to look, did not have to look at that face that was him and yet not. Dick built steel into his spine, into his step. Did not stop to think about how his line was drawn in the same grim line he had so often seen his father make. Did not focus on his siblings who all shrank away from him like he had the plague, tears and pleas and threats in their eyes. Instead he followed Selina, his steps steady. She stepped aside quickly, eyes averted, as though looking at him physically hurt her, and Dick took a deep breath, stepping in front of the mirror. Then he promptly turned, and threw up. 

#batman #batfam #batkids #selina kyle #no bruce wayne #this is... after bruce's death #and dick has to put on the suit #in case that wasnt clear #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #barbara gordon

[nyxyooni]

Honey Ties

sooooo this is for @bruciemilf bc every single time they bring up civilian!bruce wayne i feel like going insane. so i hope this is to ur liking!!! 

–/ Next

——

"At the very least, we get to spend the whole day together," Bruce bounced Damian in his arm, kissing his soft cheek when the baby turned to look at him, "it'll be fun!" Kissing the baby one more time Bruce began making his way downstairs, sure it was far too late for either of them to have barely woken up, especially for Bruce. However, the entire week had been on the busier side, what with a sudden spike of rogue attacks which meant that the ER had been that much more active. Then there had been trouble at the company with some of the WE Board members suddenly deciding to make Tim's company life difficult...

All in all, Bruce was tired and just wanted to get some good sleep, thankfully his kids seemed to have picked up on his desire for rest since the moment he got home from the hospital last night and almost immediately crashed onto his bed not once was he woken up. A miracle considering just how many kids he had and how much they loved his attention but they were good kids so, of course, they would want the best for their dad.

Smiling Bruce turned to look at Damian who turned to look at him at the same time, it was for only a moment that they looked at each other before the baby laughed brightly and rushed to look away as he brought his hands up to his mouth, it was a developing habit of his, covering his mouth whenever he laughed. Bruce found it ever endearing, chuckling he bounced the baby all the while he walked to the dining hall.

"What is it? Hm?" Nuzzling Damian's soft cheek with his nose Bruce asked, "why are you hiding?" His voice was but a whisper and although his eyes still felt heavy and sticky, and there was a certain ache to his muscles that throbbed all the way down to his bones Bruce's hold on his baby was secure and warm. "Baba is the happiest when his sweet baby is," pressing one final kiss onto Damian's cheeks he pulled back.

By now Bruce was basically shuffling through the doors of the dining hall. Adjusting Damian against his ribs he zeroed in on one of the only two places at the large table that had been set up with just the right amount of food.

Making his way over Bruce kissed the top of Damian's head as he lowered him down onto the baby's highchair despite it not being that old it appeared to be in desperate need of repairs. If he had known how excited Damian would get with utensils in his hands then Bruce would've asked for stronger, durable wood but alas...

"I'm not going anywhere..." his voice was soft as he placated the baby when he started to whine, it was always like that when Damian left his arms, "see, I'm right here, sweetheart." Settling in his own chair Bruce smiled fondly at the baby when he noticed tears beginning to gather in his eyes, "it's just until we finish breakfast," barely leaning over he rubbed right under the baby's teary eyes, crooning gently as he did. "There we go..."

"I see that the baby isn't too fussy today," Alfred's voice reached both of their ears at the same time that his footsteps did, "maybe he's finally getting used to eating in the highchair while you're present, Master Bruce." He spoke as he poured the man at the table orange juice, "At least I hope it's that."

Smiling Bruce picked up the glass and drank from it, watching as Alfred poured some watered-down apple juice into Damian's sippy cup so he could emulate his father to his little heart's content.

Smacking his lips softly Bruce set down his glass so he could pick up a small bowl of oatmeal with an even smaller spoon in it, turning to Damian he laughed quietly when he saw the baby's bright expression. Towards the meal rather than his father, surely.

Bruce fed Damian like how he always did, humming loudly while mimicking over-exaggerated eating motions, whenever it came to this there was no shame in Bruce's mind to process, never for his little baby.

"So... did the kids eat breakfast..?" Bruce's words were loose, concentrated on scooping the food that slipped through Damian's lips and down his chin back into his mouth but he still needed to know so he flickered his eyes up to Alfred for a second.

Humming the butler began prepping a plate for Bruce given how the man was far too occupied to even be thinking about himself, "with the exception of Master's Dick and Jason, yes," setting the plate in front of the man Alfred then moved on to pouring more juice in the half empty glass from before, "they had mentioned about being busy with work, at least that was what Master Dick had said, Master Jason, offered no details other than being 'busy.'"  

Happy with the amount of oatmeal Damian had eaten Bruce leaned back into his chair before giving the baby a piece of cantaloupe to either eat or play with, turning to look at Alfred, Bruce nodded, "and Duke made it to school on time?" He had learned, much like everyone else that Jason was better left to his own devices, he would come back home no matter what. He always did. He was a good boy.

"Naturally," moving the almost empty bowl of oatmeal aside Alfred waited until Bruce had started eating before he kept going, "Miss Stephanie and Barbara stopped by for breakfast before taking Miss Cassandra out for some fun, they had spoken something about a new mall opening in Metropolis," peeking over at Bruce he was relieved when he saw the man digging into his food, well, Bruce Wayne's version of 'digging in' at the very least. "Master Tim left rather late but I didn't hear about any important meetings today so there's no reason to worry."

With that Bruce was all caught up for today.

Picking up his glass of juice Bruce took slow sips from it while turning to look at Damian who had actually eaten the fruit and was now staring at his father with ever-green eyes. Placing the glass back down Bruce sighed, pouting as he grabbed the cloth off his lap to wipe the baby's cheeks clean, "seems like it's just you and me for the rest of the day," Damian babbled as he smacked his sticky hand onto the highchair table, "that's right, sweetheart, the two of us and Alfred," looking up at the man with a smile he cleaned Damian's hands as best he could before picking him back up.

The sequel of delight Damian let out as he once again returned into his father's arms made both men present laugh, "I'm certain that Young Master Damian will enjoy himself greatly today." Alfred gently nudged the baby's cheeks, a smile playing on his lips.

"Of course, he will! It's not like he can leave," kissing the still a little sticky cheek of the baby, Bruce smiled at Alfred, "thank you for the meal," taking hold of one of Damian's small hands Bruce waved it around as he bounced the baby, "c'mon, sweetheart, let's say thank you to Alfred for the food!"

It was one thirty-six in the afternoon by the time Damian was bathed, squealing and splashing while a drenched Bruce laughed in a bathroom that multiplied the joy by twenty and more and more and a little more.

—

"We should attend the next gala with Bruce, all of us," Dick muted the video feed of Bruce bathing Damian to look over at his younger brother who was wiping blood off his knuckles.

Snapping his head up Jason pulled a face of confusion and light disgust, "I'm sorry? What the fuck did you just say?"

Rolling his eyes Dick threw his head to the side, "I said—"

"No, I meant why?" Tossing the dirty, blood-stained rag he had used to clean his hands Jason walked all the way to where Dick was sitting in front of a computer. "We're busy as it is these days with the rogues and these motherfuckers!" Yelling in the direction he had just come from a couple of whimpers rang back, "why do you want to make it worse for us?"

Groaning Dick sprung up from the rickety chair he had been sitting in, not caring about the fact that he had probably broken it given the splintered crack that came from it the moment it hit the floor. "Because! Jason! We haven't spent time with him and he misses us!" Staring at his younger brother Dick tried to lock eyes with him, "everyone knows you miss him."

"Shut up," gritting through his teeth Jason turned all the way around, he knew he should've worn his helmet, "plus! This is something that should be discussed at large, with everyone not just between the two of us—"

"Duke and the girls already agreed," Dick's voice cut through Jason like a hot knife to butter.

Whining, Jason threw his arms out, dropping his shoulders the lowest they could get to all the while he tipped his head back, "but a gala?!" Turning to his brother Jason pulled the most miserable expression he could muster.

All Dick did was hit the mute button on the computer.

"Will you leave me when you get all grown up too?" Bruce's voice filtered through the unfortunately really good speakers of the laptop, he was speaking in the soft little tone that made the edges of his voice crack. "I really hope you don't, my sweet little baby, you won't leave your Baba alone, right?" Dick and Jason stared at each other, an expression of heartbreak slowly making its way onto both of their faces. Damian's excited baby babble made their father laugh, airy and so dear to them, "of course you won't!" After that the tall-tale sound of kisses and baby squealing came through before Dick put the feed on mute again.

Clicking his tongue Jason crossed his arms, "fucking alright! We'll go to the gala tomorrow!" Quickly making his way over to the guy he had been working on just a few minutes ago Jason glared down at him hard. Now that he was pissed and maybe a little embarrassed work would go by a little swifter. "So... you were saying..."

By the time they were done cleaning up the warehouse, leaving it in much the same empty desolate state it had been a couple of days ago it was the sun was low in the sky. Seeing as they were both messes and couldn't just show up to the manor with dried blood speckled here and there they stopped by one of Jason's safe houses to get cleaned up before finally making their way home.

"Is Duke not home?" Flicking through his phone Jason buckled his seat belt while Dick got himself situated in the driver's seat, "doesn't he get out of school around three?"

"There was an attempted bank robbery a couple of blocks from his high school," turning the car on Dick looked back over his seat as he slowly began to pull out of their parking spot, "Cass, Steph and Babs ran into trouble of their own so their date unfortunately lasted a little longer than they thought it would."

Now on the road, it was just a matter of how fast Dick drove and whether Gotham traffic would be on their side or not.

Relaxing in his seat Jason dropped his phone onto his lap, "huh, but didn't they go to Metropolis?"

Nodding Dick flicked his eyes over at him for a second before going back to the road, "they did but it seems like a brand new mall opening is too hard to pass up," back on one of the main roads he settled further into the car seat, "Babs called earlier and said that Superman had taken care of things so they're probably already on their way here."

"And Timmy's busy at the big office..." Turning to look out of his window toward the impressive Wayne Enterprise Tower Jason sighed, today was supposed to be the day where they could all hang out with their father, the girls had even gone out of town to get him a little something but it seemed that nothing went their way. "We really did leave him alone, huh?"

Patting his leg Dick smiled and even with hints of sadness it still managed to be cheerful, "come on Jaylad! He wasn't completely alone, he had Damian and Alfred with him, you know how much he likes spending time with Dami," taking a turn, careful with how close the lanes were on this particular stretch of road Dick leaned forward a little, "plus, you know that everything—"

"—we do is for him. Yeah, I know Dick, but that doesn't mean I can't hate the way he feels so alone when we leave him." Bringing his elbow up to the windowsill of the car door he pressed his mouth into the palm of his hand, staring at the cars going the same speed as them, following the ones going faster until another took their place Jason allowed his body and mind to relax. "I just... I don't want him to miss us..."

"I don't either, none of us do," changing lanes Dick tried not to remember those nights when he was new to the manor, waking up because the memories still weren't memories and finding himself outside of Bruce's room, hearing him crying to people long gone to stay, to please stay! Swallowing quickly boiling emotion he looked over to his younger brother for a second before returning back to the road, "so we have to make it up to him as best we can."

Jason said nothing, merely continued to stare off into the distance out of the car window before he inhaled quietly, "I miss him." His voice was sticky as if his throat had somehow melded together after a while of not talking. "I always miss him..." Quietly he confessed to the slowly fogging glass of the window, away from his brother and even further from his father.

Smiling, Dick kept on driving.

#wrote this bad boy in so little time #fell in love with this actually #civilian!bruce wayne #civilian bruce au #bruce wayne #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #jason todd #baby damian wayne #dc #might write more of this.... #who that fuck am i kidding??? OF COURSE IM GONNA WRITE MORE #civilian bruce #my dc fic #honey ties

[puppiesandnightlock]

Link: Dear Younger Me, It's Not Your Fault

Summary: Damian gets blasted into a future where he's living his best life, and not to mention married. He doesn't think he deserves any of it. Future Damian and Jon help his think otherwise.

for super sons week bonus day 2: Magic and Mayhem

“Aw, I almost forgot how cute you were as a little kid, Dami! I just wanna squish his cheeks-”

“Tt, control yourself, Jonathan, if he’s as old as I think he is, he will not hesitate to chop your arm off if you so much as breathe in his direction.”

The child’s head was swimming, the two voices muffled as if he were underwater. He had a vague memory of being set on a bed, warm blue eyes setting him down and startled green hues tucking him in with the blanket still currently wrapped around him.

Instinctively, his hand went to the knife that was usually on the side of his hip. He grimaced as he realized even his most hidden weapons had been taken. 

Mother would be so ashamed of him, if she were to learn that he had been taken in so easily, not to mention the failure of hiding weapons. 

He sat up, struggling a bit, but managing to open his eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the light.

He was in a room, the bed set in front of a fireplace. The walls were beige, accents of gold and deep green painted along the sides. It was then he took notice of the figure in front of him. He blamed his disorientated brain on missing the key factors of the room.

(“Excuses.” Grandfather would spit.)

The person (?) was draped in a color matching the forest of the walls, poking the fire and making it leap to life.

Spotting a pair of scissors left on the bedside table, he carefully picked them up, moving to get up and sneak towards the figure.

“I know you’re awake.” The voice seemed more amused than dangerous, a discreet accent in the words.

The child startled, pushing the covers off and pointing the scissors at the person. 

“Where am I? Who are you?”

He got his answer as the person stood, turning to face the child. He wore an outfit similar to a thawb, deep green with gold accents. There was a gold cuff earring on his left ear, covering it and connecting to a dangling chain in his lobe. His skin was a caramel tone, tanned and weathered through the years. His hair was a soft brown, brushed but without gel. The eyes that met his held pain and trauma behind them, but were kind. 

(Kinder than his, he thought to himself bitterly.)

“You are safe here, please refrain from stabbing me with the scissors, although I doubt it would be an easy task.”

Damian opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off. 

‘’I assume you’ve already come to the conclusion that this is the future, and please be assured that we are working to send you back to your own time. You will most likely have all memories of this visit erased from your mind, therefore I will tell you that you are in my house, and the only other person is my partner, who is in the kitchen at the moment.”

His older counterpart moved to sit on the bed, and the younger scowled. 

“I expected us to be taller.” were the first words out of his mouth.

The older one snickered, muffling his laughter with a hand to his mouth. 

“Well, so did I. It's both hard and useful, you’ll get over it in due time, I promise.”

The door was kicked open, a much taller man carrying a tray with tea and toast on it. Both looked over in surprise, the smaller Damian immediately launching the pair of scissors at him.

To his surprise and Older Damian’s amusement, it bounced off his skin, bending as it did so and landing against the wall.

The raven-haired man grinned, dropping the tray on the bedside table.

“He’s so defensive and tiny!” 

An angry flush came over his cheeks, but instead of a retort, he asked incredulously, “Kent??”

“Aww, we’re still in that stage!” Jon cooed. “He must have just met me.”

“Do not patronize me, Farmboy!” Younger Damian spat.

Jonn squealed again, making grabby hands. “Look at how absolutely adorable you were bossing me around!”

“Do try not to antagonize him, J.” The older one chided gently, eyes sparkling with fondness.

The child took immediate notice of this, picking up the relaxed postures, the way his older counterpart held such reverence for the other in a way he never thought possible for another human being.

Similarly, this future version watched the older with admiration as if he’d hung the moon and stars himself.

His arm flailed between the both, mouth opening and closing as if speaking but no words came out.

“You–we–him–us-” 

Jon laughed aloud at the crisis the younger boy was having, shaking his head. “This is what went on when you finally realized?”

Both Damians scowled, the older one blushing a deep red.

The younger one seemed ready to scream. Both men tried to hide their hands behind their back, although not quick enough. 

The child spotted the glint of the matching bands of gold the moment they moved, his eyes going wide as saucers.

“fi 'ayi ealam lan 'afeal mithl hadha alshay'?!” He began ranting in Arabic, pacing on the bed. 

“I can’t believe you!” he finally declared, pointing at his counterpart as if he were accusing him of murder. “We married KENT?” 

“Like it’s such a bad thing.” Jon put a hand to his heart, mock offended.

“Can it, Corncob! What did Father and Mother think?” He pauses in horror. “What did Grandfather think?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Damian grabbed his hands, holding them tight as the younger one tried to wrench them away.

“He must have tried to have him killed…” 

The younger was looking anywhere but the older ones. This was horrible, he was both Robin and a feared assassin, why, why, why was he on the verge of tears at the thought of any of this?

(Deep down, he knew why. This was the forbidden life he kept inside for himself under lock and key. He was a monster, a weapon, meant to take over the League and if not the league, his father’s mantle. He was not supposed to look this happy, have this life, marry someone who was too pure for the world he was born into. Not someone who loved him, who looked at him with the knowledge of his past and still seemed to think he was capable of love.

Happiness….

That was never the plan.)

Jon watched the smaller version of his husband go through a hurricane of emotions all at once, emerald eyes shiny. He watched the internal panic and fear flit through a face too young to have such worries and felt a pang in his heart. One so strong because how many times did he watch his Damian go through that? The tears that should never have been shed, the panic and sleepless nights that should have been replaced with sweet dreams and laughter.

“It’s too nice,” The child finally rasped. “Too nice for me. How…how do I end up like you?”

He directed his question to his older counterpart, hands still trapped in his. The tears made his long eyelashes framing his eyes stick together. 

“It’s all too good…for someone like me to have.”

The older one closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

”It took me a long time, with a lot of help to banish the thoughts. Lots of help from different people. I…i can’t tell you anything that will make you believe me, because at this age, i would have been the same.”

“But I can tell you the absolute truth, and it’s that after everything we’ve gone through, and the challenges you have yet to face, we deserve everything that we’ve been given and much more.” 

“You deserved a childhood with people who loved you and did not harm you or train you to death. And this future? This is what you deserve. We earned this future. You won’t remember this visit when you go back, but a part of you will know what I say is true.”

The boy sobbed suddenly, the three curling up on the bed and finding solace in one another.

Damian looked down at the paper in his hands. His counterpart shoving it in his hands and softly smiling was the only thing he remembered from his supposed blast to the future.

Dear younger me, 

You deserve every good thing you get. None of the mess that is our life is your fault. Go on and make mistakes, give your heart a break, even if only for a moment. It will serve you well to make some friends too. Till we meet again, as your future self.

Yours, 

                        Damian W.K.

The day after sending his counterpart into the portal, Damian was flooded with new, joyful memories, and a worn piece of paper with faded ink on the corner of his vanity’s mirror. 

Absent-mindedly he wondered how long it took for the younger one to realize that the initials were a hint to his future after all.

@super-sons-week

#damian wayne #jondami #jon kent #time travel #angst #hurt/comfort #promise is a happy ending #okay ik this is like more damian-centric but i think it counts idk #its not supposed to be canon compliant #check the foot notes on ao3 for my full explanation on it #future damian and jon are married btw #lil damian cant believe it lmao #super sons week 2023

[insertmesoftly]

Reasons To Keep You Here (Yuri x AFAB Immigrant Reader Trying to Get a Visa) Part 1

I got this idea as I was messing around with the original concept I thought of with you being the Forger's neighbor. I feel this Y/N needs to be gendered, as the anime is set in an old timey period with very conservative views being a big part of the character conflicts given. So everyone regards you as a woman, but not one that fits the country's idealistic mold. Along with dressing mostly in gender-nonconforming ways and taking on jobs of any kind (including some that are considered masculine)-

You were not born there. While not from the opposing country they're at war with, Westalis, you came from a neighboring, smaller and poorer nation as a baby with your mother. Your mother managed to marry someone here. They've had other children and managed to live in some normalcy… except you’ve always stuck out and been slightly ostracized by your family.

You love your siblings, and would’ve stayed if only for them, but your step-father kicked you out of the house as soon as you turned 18, and you've been living alone since. It hasn't... been easy. Despite living there all your life, you’re still considered an 'outsider', so the only work you were able to find has been low paying jobs. You took anything and everything, leading to you gaining a lot of odd skills. Though you were always a good worker, you lack any real presence… and you never really reached out to people anyways. You haven’t had much luck making friends as your life continued.

Finally, you found an opportunity you couldn’t pass up. A job you can actually enjoy and do from home as an artist for Sunday paper cartoons. You use a masculine pen-name of course, the paper demanded it. You were worried at first about failing getting any attention, but to your surprise, your cartoon is mildly popular with kids.

So you’re content as is, even as you barely scrape by with rent being so high. The apartment is close to the editing office and its crime rate is low, making it worth it for you. Still… it has its downsides too. There's been moments where the neighbors have caught your bizarre outfits, things that people of your low background wouldn’t blink at, but with their middle class sensibilities… they have begun to talk.

An adult woman living alone and looking like that? There's something wrong with you. Not meddling with the neighbors, you stay blissfully unaware of the rumors spreading.

Hmm, perhaps you have been hitting a rough patch and were running out of ideas for your comic just as the Forger family moved next door. Though you would normally keep to yourself, a mix up with you trying to snoop around to get ideas has Anya take an interest in your line of work. Though your identity was meant to stay a secret, she quickly realized who you were. She’s a fan of your cartoon and has taken a passion to better her art skills as a way to get closer to Damian. So, she begins asking you for lessons and now you’ve been roped up with befriending her. Her mother, Yor, jumps in too, coming in for lessons sometimes just to talk to you. She’s so excited over the prospect of having a close female friend! And her father, Loid… is using this as an opportunity to seem 'more normal' to others and to use you as a babysitting service that’s much more reliable than Franky.

So, you are firmly stuck now as their solidified family friend. It’s been relatively alright, though you’ve had some confusing moments, you always chalked it up to your anxiety making you feel out of place and never that the Forgers are genuinely all weird people.

Enter Yuri. The way Yor always talked about him, you had the mental picture that he was smart, kind, soft. A sweetheart intellectual who would never hurt a fly. You remember all this as you hesitantly approach the figure sitting in front of the Forger's door with wilting flowers. He's been there for an hour.

You know he is Yor's brother by his features. It's unmistakable. Feeling a sense of duty as her friend, and a bit of sympathy, you approach him to tell him that the Forgers went on a cruise.

Yuri glares but asks when they're expected to be back. You crunch the numbers and suspect it'll probably be one more day. He gets up to leave and you offer to call him to let him know when they return. Yuri does not take the offer.

He thinks you are hitting on him, and making an obviously disgusted face, he tells you that you should pay more attention to your dressage rather than trying to meddle with the brothers of your neighbors. Your initial friendliness is immediately revoked and now you dislike the guy.

But the days go on and more adventures are had by the family out of public view. You have more run ins with Yuri. From him visiting as you were helping Yor with dinner, to run ins in the streets, you're both still not on friendly terms but he's grown more accustomed to you. It helps that he knows your entire life story with the background check he did on you. He knows you're an immigrant. With a new law passing, you'd probably be sent back soon anyways. It wasn't his concern. Until...

There's another day where he wasn’t informed of Yor having plans. He crashed the night of the couple's supposed monthly anniversary. Yuri is livid at first, drinking all their alcohol and planting his feet to stay and not let them have their romantic day but Yor is firm with her orders that night.

He is interrupting.

He needs to leave.

Yuri is... heartbroken by her tone. He stumbles out of the apartment in a daze. He's still standing outside the door ten minutes after they shut it. You were getting out to take the trash and nearly scream when you see his depressed, dark, and drunken figure. After calming yourself down, you can guess what's happened.

'Yor didn't tell you today was their anniversary?'

Yuri's shoulders slump a little more. You sighed but move to the way of the trash cans anyways. You're sympathetic to his plight, but you’re dealing with your own issues. With a new law being implemented, you’re going to have to marry someone soon to be able to stay in the country. Not even your work would vouch for you; they were already planning to lay you off if you didn't find someone soon. Their last words in their letter, 'It was about time you stopped anyways.'

.... a devious idea formed in your head. You dropped your garbage off. You return and he's still slumped on the wall between the doors. Instead of going inside, you sit beside him, nervous but desperate.

You know about his creepy obsession with his sister. You know about his disgust with other women. You've respected it and he's let you be. Now to put that trust to the test...

Yuri, even inebriated, could sense something was coming, and he hardened his face on instinct. He looked you dead in the eye.

'What do you want?'

Your breath is shaky. 'I need help...'

'And?'

You take a gulp. You work your nerves to be courageous. And you finally tell him. 'I have a deal for you… if you're interested.'

~

He has to find you a husband.

What. The hell.

Getting up the next day had been a challenge, but the hardest part of his morning came as he finally recalled the deal in the middle of a work meeting. Now he had a throbbing headache AND regrets distracting him. Getting up from his chair as the briefing was over, Yuri curses the alcohol he consumed.

It deceived him into taking the deal. He always wanted to know more about his sister... to have a tighter hold on her schedule... but the morality. The possible disappointment from his sister. It always stopped him before. He was able to hold off his curiosity with just the occasional check ups. With casually asking his friends to keep an eye on her… It used to be enough. But maybe it isn’t anymore. He feels desperate as he sees Yor changing into someone he couldn't recognize anymore.

It had been too tempting. And the deal seemed... simple.

You are young. There'd be plenty of older men looking for a wife... this could be easy!

.... except that his reassuring himself was immediately interrupted. You called him at work to 'make sure it was the right number.' You’ve added conditions to who it could be. Now you were beginning to annoy him. They couldn't exceed an age. They had to be employed. He should probably check their criminal record too... and their temperament. Basically-

You ordered him to find someone he'd let his sister be in the same room with.

That. Was a tall order.

... it would be easier to revoke this deal. It didn't have to be you that did the spying. He could easily deport you and find a replacement neighbor for his beloved sister to befriend. Someone more worthy...

He mulled all this over as he finished work and went back to Yor’s house with gifts to apologize. Yor greeted him warmly and accepted the gifts, inviting him to dinner to make up for yesterday. Yuri was excited as always to try her cooking, but today it was something new.

... It’s a recipe you taught her. Yor is excited as she recounted how patient you were with her. She felt so lucky to finally have a friend like you… The warmth in her tone makes him stop the thoughts he previously had. She's endeared to you in a way he hasn't seen before. She considers you so close...

... she would cry if you left. He can’t let you be deported.

Stupidly, he resolves himself to his fate. He knocks on your door after his visit to his sister. You open it, and though you were surprised at first, you quickly flashed him a smile. You both negotiated the terms better and agreed to have more visits in the future. Thus begins an awful partnership for survival and love.

Part 2: HERE

#spy x family #spy x family yuri #spy x family oc #yuri briar #yuri briar x reader #yuri briar x y/n #sxf yuri #sxf yuri x reader #female reader #afab reader #reader insert #x reader #FINALLY EDITED THIS MWAHAHAHAHA AND THERE SHOULD BE MORE LATER #i have stuff written but its not in the correct order of the timeline so i need to #write more stuff to fill in the gaps uuugh kjgrbgjgt but its a lot. i hope yall like it sobsob #rtkyh

[dairy-farmer]

For that latest ask with the post-suicide attempt Tim.....I’m just picturing Damian finally being allowed to ‘make love to’ Tim as a gift for his 15th birthday— the whole time before while discussing it Bruce and Dick are reminding him how fragile Tim is, how he’ll need to be gentle— Jason’s comments fall along the line more of ‘threatening’, and Damian knows from cass’s looks alone that he better treat Timmy right.

They all assume Tim’s a virgin, which is more or less true, although he had fooled around a bit with Stephanie, and clumsily masturbated to thoughts of Kon— facts he probably shouldn’t share with the bats, as they’ll view it as someone defiling or taking advantage of their sweet Timmy.

They do it with Timmy being spooned by Dick in his damians big, comfy bed— if any of them had anything smaller than a queen before, they don’t anymore, now that none of them want Tim sleeping by himself— and Damian eagerly but gently kissing Tim, then trailing down to eat him out and finger him. The whole time, dick is running his hands under Tim’s sweater— they decided keeping the top on with help Tim feel more secure and safe— gently playing with Tim’s little breasts, and gently kneading his tummy and sides to help ease the entry of Damian.

Dick is obviously hard beyond belief, but he mostly ignores it, because he knows this moment isn’t about him. He just directs Damian and soothes Tim, affectionately kissing his hair and neck and ears. Telling him how beautiful he is. How much they adore him. How good they’re going to make him feel.

Damian comes inside, because they’ve had Tim on birth control for months as a ‘precautionary’ measure. Tim seems startled and alarmed by the unfamiliar sensation, but Damian and Dick just hold him still and trap him between them until the pressure and darkness force him down.

After that, dick carefully moves out from under Tim, putting soft pillows where he was to cushion him— they’re always so careful, with Tim’s weak, fractured limbs, only ever able to be partially-healed— and with Damian curled up protectively next to him, stroking his hair, he pulls down his sweats and gives his dick a few pumps, cumming onto Tim’s cute, sleepy face.

tim is tired most days. he's certain it's the orange juice because he catches sight of bruce squeezing a clear liquid from a tube into it one morning.

extra vitamins they tell him. he needs them they tell him.

tim's not sure what he can say. he can't exactly say he thinks they're lying to him again or they'll get quietly sad and put him back on the medication that makes him feel like he's in a fog. tim hasn't used it in awhile. not since his hysterical episdoes tapered off and they took him off it.

but even though he's not doing much beyond lying on the bed, he can't help but feel out of breath as damian pushes all the way in him. it's so deep.

tim is certain that damian has popped past the pinhole of his cervix and is fucking into his womb. it's deep and tim's cunt feels so tender afterward.

damian is rough and harsh even when he's trying to be gentle. it was a special case when they all thought tim was going to be fucked for the first time. but even now the rest of the family always makes sure to check to make sure damian isn't being too rough with him.

jason doesn't hesitate to grunt at damian while dick chides him, telling him to slow down, just a little bit, not so hard dami okay? you need to fuck timmy's pussy a little slower, i know it feels good but be a little more careful with him.

tim stares at damian over him, mind hazy and mind telling him there is something wrong here. there's something wrong with this.

but dick's calloused fingers play with tim's clit as damian's slowed thrusts push into him.

damian is grimacing, lips pushed down, and his brows are furrowed. he looks like it pains him to not be able to fuck tim's cunt hard but tim is grateful.

damian has a big cock. it fills him and split him all the way open. damian always pours plenty of lube before pushing in bare skin to bare skin.

tim knows they love cumming in him. bruce has the biggest cock of all but he's always tender and gentle, only rubbing the head in and never pushing futher. he whispers about how warm tim is, how tight he is, how he's such a good boy for doing this for them.

cassandra never cums in him but that's because she can't. but she sometimes stuffs toys in tim and plays with his cunt. she likes to watch his pussy stretch around a dildo.

dick's cock is the longest. he'll sit tim on his lap and just tuck his cock inside, occasionally thrusting or thumbing tim's clit until his clenches bring him to orgasm. mostly dick likes tim's tits and mouth. he likes kissing tim's mouth or pulling out and pushing in enough so that he can cum on his tongue.

tim swallows it because dick always gives him sweet caramel filled chocolate afterward to wash down the taste.

jason is like damian, he likes his pussy.

but unlike damian, jason is gentler. sometimes it takes him as hour to cum because of how slowly and carefully he fucks tim, not wanting to jostle tim's weak limbs. he holds tim's legs on his shoulder and thrusts in, eyes locked the entire time on the sight of his cock diappearing into tim's cunt.

he too cums in tim, filling tim and whispering grunts as tim whines and squirms from the feeling.

tim doesn't like it when they cum in him. it leaks. it gets on his bedsheets and his underwear if they don't clean him out.

despite his roughness, damian still tries his best to be good with tim. he licks at tim's cunt and fucks him with his tongue. he suckles on tim's clit and tim can do nothing but tremble and moan as fingers invade him and press into his hot insides.

tim doesn't stay awake long after sex.

getting fucked is exhausting and damian is young. he has a short refractory period and can often cum three times in an hour.

so sometimes tim will fall asleep with soft hands massaging his scalp and damian fucking his pussy. only to wake up to those same soft hands rolling his nipples between two fingers, squeezing his breast, and damian still fucking him.

tim doesn't know. he doesn't often remember much of what happens to him. sometimes people braid his long hair so it doesn't get matted. sometimes people wheel him around the manor. sometimes people feed him foods or his medicine. sometime someone picks him up and carries him to a soft bed where they play with his body and fuck him until he crying from how his clit aches from cumming too much.

at tim's tears they'll kiss his cheeks and wipe them up. then they'll hold tim especially tight as they 'unghh nnghh hnnghh' into him and tim feels the familiar hot splatter of cum filling him.

that's what usually happens.

and then he'll fall asleep in their arms, swaddled in warmth and sweetly kissed. then he'll know nothing more.

#anonymous #answered asks #asks

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

You Stealing His Clothes

Batboys headcanons

(A/N): I know it's been a while since I posted headcanons, and everyone seems to like them so much more, but I've been on a writing kick lately so I've been excited to post what I've been writing. I actually have about half a dozen headcanons pre-written, and a couple that need to be lengthened, but if anyone has requests, please let me know! Hope you enjoy!

~

Dick Grayson:

You definitely stole his favorite hoodie

It’s almost a competition of who will have it at any given time

His favorite is a dark blue hoodie that he’s had for ages, and he wears it all the time, so most of the time you don’t want to steal it, you want to wash it

But there is a golden time to steal it, when he’s worn it only a few times while lounging at home, so that it’s soft and smells like him and is also clean enough that you don’t feel the need to impulsively do a load of laundry

When he gets home from patrol one day, you grab the hoodie off of his bed while he’s in the shower and he comes out looking for it

When he walks into the living room and sees you standing at the kitchen counter, he precedes to give you the biggest hug and then whine about you stealing his hoodie into your ear

The next day, he takes it back, despite your protests, because now it “smells like you”

Jason Todd:

You steal his t-shirts habitually because they’re comfortable and huge, so why should you buy large shirts if you can just steal his

Every time he sees you in them, he can’t resist giving you a kiss

But this time, you guys were going out and you took his leather jacket because it was windy enough to be chilly, and your jacket was in laundry pile (you meant to do the laundry that morning but you procrastinated it)

Anyway, you were waiting at the door and he was looking for his sunglasses in your bedroom

When he walked out into the living room he froze and just stared for long enough that you were about to get concerned before he came over to you and told you how gorgeous you looked in his jacket

You joked that he should just get you one if he thought so, but you’re pretty sure he took it seriously

That was confirmed when the next week he surprised you with a present out of the blue- and now you match

Tim Drake:

Tim is on the smaller side, so wearing his casual clothes isn’t the biggest difference from wearing your own

His hoodies though, are huge

He values comfort often, and he lives in comfort clothes when he’s not at WE or in uniform

So you guys just steal each others oversized hoodies

Eventually it gets to the point that you're not sure who half the hoodies belong to anymore

You do absolutely steal his fuzzy socks though

He has a huge collection, so why not take advantage of them, you know?

Every time he sees you wearing them, it makes him smile, which in turn makes you smile

Damian Wayne:

Most of his clothes are specific to his style and he’s very tall, so you don’t steal his turtlenecks or jeans much, unless you’re really in need of clothes and there’s nothing else, or you needed something specific

If that's the case, you’ll probably ask and he’ll lend you what you need with a request to have it back

In terms of stealing his clothes, it’s mostly his pjs and the t-shirts he sleeps in

Men’s pjs are just so much better -and so much less expensive- and they have pockets

And I mean he has so many that he definitely can’t wear all at once so why shouldn’t you wear some

He also definitely has a collection of superhero themed pjs that his family (mostly dick) and friends gave him, and he refuses to wear most of them, save the batman and robin ones (and maybe the nightwing ones once or twice- not that he’d tell dick that) so you wear them

As far as his t-shirts, you like to steal the ones he likes after he’s worn them once or maybe twice

You’ll just steal the shirt off of where he has his pjs folded on his bed

If you want to be subtle about it, you’ll replace it with one of the same color

When he notices, his lips quirk up in a soft smile that makes you heart jump

You’re pretty sure he catches on more than you think, but lets you pretend you’re being sneaky about it

#batboys headcanons #batboys x reader #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #jason todd headcanon #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #tim drake headcanon #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #damian wayne headcanon #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #my writing #headcanons #emerson writes sometimes

[jinx-jade]

Contagious adoption Part 2: Creatures

Marinette and Tim were sitting in the living room of one of Tim’s apartments. They had flown in from the Tibet village about thirteen or fourteen hours ago.

Tim had filled out all the adoption papers and any other legal papers his newly claimed daughter would need. To his surprise, Marinette had identification papers. He had thought the little deity didn’t need them. After all, Marinette had lived on the hill to grant wishes, why would she need identification papers.

Unless she didn’t live on the hill her whole life… 

Thinking back to what Marinette had said when he asked her why she stayed up on the mountain all alone. Tim had a feeling she’s been abandoned before.

Back on the mountain, Marinette had shifted from one foot to the other a few times before answering his question. She seemed to have been contemplating what to tell him. Or was it how much to tell him? 

Her answer, “Because I have nowhere else to go and no one waiting for me anywhere.” was a well-thought-out way to respond. 

If no one wants you, then no one waits for you.

If no one waits for you, then you have nowhere to go.

“... ake, Mr. Drake,” Marinette called for the umpteenth time.

“Sorry about that, guess I got lost in my thoughts,” Tim said with a sheepish smile. “Did you need something? Oh, and you can just call me Tim, or any variation of dad that you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t need anything… ” The little deity trailed off. “But, uh, does… does Papa work?”

Tim gave his daughter a soft smile.

‘His daughter. Now wasn’t that a strange thought.’ Tim couldn’t help but think to himself.

“You can call me Papa if you want.” He said with a smile, before adding, “I can speak French and a few other languages.”

Tim was unsure why he felt like mentioning that he can speak French was important. However, when Tim saw Marinette look up at him in awe, he couldn’t help but think It was the right thing to say.

“Now, what is it you wanted to do,” Tim asked, picking his daughter up so she doesn’t have to look up at him the whole conversation.

“Can we make cookies? It’s… It’s been a long time since I’ve had any…” Marinette trailed off again.

“Of course we can make cookies. What kind did you want to make?” Tim asked with a soft smile.

Life continued like normal for the young CEO, vigilante, with the addition of a small deity. However, there were a few changes to his lifestyle.

Tim was now able to cook and bake, not as good as Alfred, but he figured that Alfred won’t ban him from the kitchen.

Tim also registered Marinette Drake-Wayne as being homeschooled. Which was fine since Tim was technically qualified to homeschool his kid. However, Marinette flew through the classes like they were nothing. Her teachers wanted to have her IQ tested, but Marinette said she didn’t want to, so no one pushed it.

Tim also worked from home, only ever showing up to meetings. He also seemed to have a little helper when it came to some of the paperwork. Turns out, Marinette knows how a business runs, and how to run one. It was slightly concerning, but his daughter waved his concern off.

Tim took a break from being a vigilante. He still helped out by sending the bats reports of the rogue of the day, or sometimes a week, that they were tracking. Marinette helped out with this as well. Apparently, she’s been a vigilante before. To say that Tim was concerned was an understatement, but his concern was once again, waved off.

After a month of living with his adopted daughter, Tim had his first in-person meeting at W.E.

“Hey bean, do you want to come with me to work?” Tim asked while making breakfast.

“Am I allowed to?” Marinette shot back in response.

“I mean, B. always took his kids to work so, I’m just gonna say you’re allowed to,” Tim answered with a shrug, setting the food at the table.

Marinette shrugged back.

“Sure! I’ll go ahead and call H.R. and let them know I’ll be making my first appearance as Marinette Drake-Wayne.” Marinette informed him, before digging into her food.

Tim chuckled at that.

“You’re definitely gonna be H.R.’s favorite.” He claimed before he began eating his breakfast.

“Papa, I used to grant magic wishes on a hill with mythical creatures, that is my version of normal. I’m willing to bet that I will be H.R.’s least favorite person by the end of the year.” Marinette claimed, causing Tim to laugh.

“Bean, sweetheart, you’re about to call H.R. to let them know about a mess they will have to clean up. The rest of the Waynes, myself included, usually just let them find out through the tabloids and news stations. You’re definitely gonna be their favorite.” Tim informed his daughter.

_______________________

Tim stepped out of his car and walked through W.E. up to his office. He was aware of the attention that was on him, not bothered by it in the slightest.

He looked down at his daughter to see that she was trying to hide from sight. She was clearly not comfortable with everyone looking at her. Well, everyone looking at her and the lack of magic. He really should have remembered that Marinette has extremely bad anxiety whenever she can’t freely use magic. In his defense, it seemed that neither of them had remembered due to having barely left the apartment the whole month Marinette has been living there.

Tim looked up and around the workplace. He raised a brow at the employees that were just watching, most of them scrambled to work, or simply turned their attention away to seem busy.

When Tim and Marinette finally made it to Tim’s office, they thought they could relax, only to see the rest of the Waynes sitting inside.

Bruce looked like he was about to ask something, but stopped when he caught sight of the little girl hiding behind Tim.

Tim of course, ignored his families questioning stares in favor of calming his daughter.

Tim sat Marinette down in his office chair with a cup of coffee, before turning his attention to the others in the room.

“I wasn’t aware everyone started working at W.E.” Tim joked with a raised brow. A clear question as to why they were in his office.

“Not all of us do,” Dick answered looking towards the small child. “Did you just give the tiny person coffee?”

Tim shrugs the question off easily, “Caffeine helps calm her anxiety when she’s too overwhelmed.”

“And who exactly is she?” Damian inquired, sounding a bit more like a demand than a question.

Tim looked over to Marinette who seemed to be doing slightly better. There wasn’t much else they could do besides give her more coffee and random tasks to do. He gestured for her to come over and talk, a simple task to take her mind off the lack of magic. She slowly made her way off the office chair and towards the group of people.

“Marinette, this is my adoptive father, brothers, and sister, Bruce, Barbara, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, and Damian. Guys, this is Marinette Drake-Wayne, my adopted daughter.”

Marinette gave a small, shy wave and smile before hiding behind her father once again.

“You disappeared for a month, and apparently adopted a kid.” Jason states. “Damn, and here I thought it was supposed to be my job to stress B. out.” He claimed with a chuckle.

“Could one of you watch Marinette for me while B. and I are in the meeting? I had asked her this morning if she wanted to come since I couldn’t leave her at home alone, but I don’t think either of us thought It would be this bad for her anxiety.” Tim states.

“How about those of us who don’t have a meeting to attend will go back to the manor, and we can watch over Marinette,” Barbara suggests.

Tim looked to Marinette to see if she would be ok with it, only to receive a shrug from the little deity.

“Ok.” Tim agreed after some hesitation. “If Marinette starts getting too anxious then give her something with caffeine in it and have her draw, or bake something,” Tim informs them.

After Marinette and Tim say their goodbyes, Marinette follows Barbara, Dick, Cass, and Steph out to the limo.

The drive to Wayne manor was awkward, to say the least. None of the Waynes had known that Tim adopted a kid, and they weren’t sure if she knew about their nightly activities, so they stayed quiet.

Tim’s daughter didn’t seem to mind the silence. Marinette was looking out the window calmly with no signs of her previous anxiety. However, every once in a while her hand slightly opens and closes as if grabbing something.

When they arrived at the manor, Dick was immediately grabbed into a hug by his daughter. Mar’i speaks too fast and excitedly for them to understand, unknowingly grabbing the attention of most of the Waynes.

Cass however, noticed the youngest and newest Waynes flinch at Mar’i’s unexpected appearance. Cass quickly and quietly, moved away from the other Waynes, bringing Marinette with her, inside the manor.

“Would the two of you like anything to drink or snack on?” Alfred asked when they entered.

“Tea. Muffin,” Cass says pointing to herself. “Coffee. Muffin?” Cass said pointing to Marinette.

“Of course, why don’t the two of you relax in the garden,” Alfred suggests.

Cass nodded her head leading them to the garden while Alfred left to prepare their snacks and drinks. Marinette seemed to be stuck in her head and simply followed Cass silently.

Marinette and Cass spent the afternoon in the garden, the plants seemed to have a calming effect on the smaller Wayne. After Marinette being in the garden for a while and drinking her coffee, Marinette seemed to have calmed down.

However, not all of Marinette’s anxiety and nerves were calmed by the coffee and plants. Cass just wasn’t sure what else could be calming the little bluenette.

After a few more minutes had passed, some small creatures started gravitating towards Marinette.

A white rabbit, some squirrels, birds, even a butterfly landed on Marinette’s nose making the girl giggle.

Cass could only watch in awe as the small creatures came closer. None of them wanted any food, water, or shelter, they simply wanted Marinette’s attention.

Then Cass noticed that the few small injuries and bruises she had received from last night’s patrol were fading away.

No.

They were healing.

Cass took out her phone and quickly recorded her injuries healing too fast to be normal, this seemed like the kind of thing the other bats would want to know. 

Cass also took a video and a few pictures of Marinette playing with the animals. She had to admit, the pictures looked adorable, so of course, she sent some to Tim. 

Chat: Tim

Cass: one attached picture*

Tim: good call on bringing her to the garden

Cass: Alfred idea

Tim: where are the others

Cass: Mar’i frightened? Marenet?

Tim: KEEP MARINETTE AWAY FROM KORI AND MARI

Cass: why

Tim: Marinette isn’t

Tim: normal

Cass: one attached video*

Tim: yeah

Tim: her anxiety is caused by not being able to use magic freely

Tim: should have mentioned that before

Tim: sorry

Cass: I text others?

Tim: Yeah go-ahead

Tim: Lunch break is over

Tim: I'll see you guys when the meetings are over

Cass: ok

Cass shot a quick text to Dick, warning him that Tim doesn’t want Kor’i or Mar’i near Marinette till he was at the manor, before looking up from her phone to check on Marinette. She seemed to be relaxed, definitely not as anxious as before. Cass probably wouldn’t have been able to tell that Marinette has anxiety from looking at her right now.

Marinette looked up from the little creatures she seemed to have befriended, with a smile. She got up with some plants in her hand and made her way towards Cass.

Marinette placed a flower crown on Cass’s head with a giggle, before running back to the animals.

Cass couldn’t help but think that Tim had a lot of explaining to do when he gets to the manor.

‘But that’s not my problem to deal with.’ Cass thought to herself as she took a picture of the flower crown and sent it to the family chat.

#maribat #maribat march 2021 #Contagious adoption

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 12: Dare

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Dare Rated: T (Drink responsibly my friends) A/N: Maribat fangirl went to Uni in the UK. Most people thought they could outdrink the Americans, and that American beer tasted horrible.  DC fanboy isn’t much of a drinker. Also we planned this earlier, but I saw this blog post from @ritacrow-blogrequesting something similar a few days ago, so here you go.  I don’t know if you’re a fan of the in vino veritas/drunken confession trope, so feel free to skip it if you aren’t.

“So, why are we doing this again?” Tim asked hesitantly, as they gathered in the Wayne Manor lounge. “Because Pixie Pop here issued a challenge, and I don’t plan on letting her win”, Jason explained with a smirk. “All she said was ‘American drinking laws are bullshit’, and it’s not like you don’t know the name of every single bar in Gotham that doesn’t card.” Tim retorted.  “She also said American beer tastes gross, so I don’t know why you brought Budweiser of all things”.

“She dared us to try and drink her under the table, and I’m sure as hell not backing down.” Jason hissed, and Tim decided that it was pointless trying to argue.  The whole reason Tim and Steph were even involved was because they had just turned 18, which meant they were allowed to take part in this little drinking competition.  Alfred was in the corner of the room keeping score, someone had to, considering the night they were about to have.

After they all gathered in the lounge, it was time for the challenge to begin.  Barbara quietly sipped her glass of wine, curling into Dick’s side as she watched the movie playing on the TV.  Jason and Dick had downed a bottle of beer each, waiting for Marinette to finish her first glass of wine.  Marinette rested her back against Jason’s arm as she watched the movie play out, the night had just begun and she wasn’t about to let them win.  She wouldn’t be able to look any non-American person in the eye if they knew she got out drunk by them. Marinette took in the soft glow of the lounge, alternating between leaning on the sofa or Jason’s leather-clad shoulder.  It almost reminded her of her home city at night. She looked around at the people she had come to know, fairly certain she had the dopiest smile on her face at that moment.  

She had arrived in Gotham City not long ago, and she was surprised to find that some of them welcomed her with open arms.  Not all of them, obviously, some were a bit more welcoming than others.  Bruce didn’t really trust her as a magic user, and Damian usually kept to himself.  Preferring to be alone with his pets, Titus and Alfred (the cat). The others assured her not to take it too personally, that they are like that with everyone.  With Jason, it was hard to tell what he thought about her.  Dick was like an older brother to everyone, and in some ways reminded Marinette of Chat Noir, alot.  While Barbara, Steph and Cass were like the sisters Marinette didn’t have.  Tim was at least somewhat curious about her powers and how they worked, hard as he tried to fight it in the beginning.

With Jason, it was much harder to tell at times.  He wasn’t quite as closed off as Damian, though sometimes she found him in the Wayne Manor library reading by the window.  They had each other’s backs in a fight, and the fact that she was much smaller compared to him earned her the nickname “Pixie Pop”.   They worked well together on missions, and there was plenty of friendly banter between them.  There was almost a veneer of sarcasm and bravado.  

The only time it showed any sign of falling was when his pit madness took over.  Even then she was more focused on asking Plagg and Tikki for help, seeing as it was their magic causing this.  There was no fixing it, but they had managed to help get it under control.  Marinette was almost frustrated when he woke up to find her waiting at his bedside, after working around the clock to keep the madness at bay.  The sounds of him screaming and thrashing around were still ringing in her ear, and the most that he could muster was “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you there, Pixie.” he drawled.  

“Pixie, you there?” Jason gently poked her on the shoulder and she realised that she had been staring into her wine glass for a moment.  She took a large gulp before setting the glass down on the table, the night had just begun.  

As the night went on, Tim was not impressed with how beer tasted. “People actually drink this stuff for fun?” he muttered. He was starting to think Marinette might have a point about how American beer tasted. Sadly the old adage of “liquor before beer, you’re in the clear” meant that it was too late to try Steph’s approach.  Steph was nursing a Jack Daniels and coke as she watched the film, letting that light of the TV screen dance in front of them.

Later into the night, Tim was getting tipsy at that point. Considering this was his first time drinking, Marinette gave him a smile that said “you get points for trying”.  If Steph wasn’t drunk now, she was going to be feeling the effects very soon.  She mostly drank spirits chased down with soda and juice.  Barbara had already left after a couple of glasses of wine, deciding to leave the rest of them to this game.  Jason and Dick had beer bottles lined up in front of them, almost as if they were competing with each other first. Marinette continued to leisurely sipped her wine, knowing that she was their final boss at that moment.

In the end, only Marinette and Jason were left in the lounge.  Steph left had already left, and Tim followed not long after,  Alfred helped get Dick into bed after he nearly passed out on the coffee table.  “It’s you and me, Poxie Pip” Jason slurred, Alfred occasionally came in to check on them.  

Marinette, who at this point was slightly tipsy, leaned in close and whispered in his ear “What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll lose?”

“There’s worse ways to go, Pixie, trust me.” he laughed, Marinette gave him a very sad smile.  He finished the last of his beer bottle before laying down on the sofa, resting his head on Marinette’s lap. Marinette was certain she could feel her face heating up, she could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she looked down at him.  

“Are you sure my teeny tiny legs can support your big head?” she joked. Great, now she was doing it too. she looked away in hopes that he couldn’t see the blush on her face.  She didn’t get Asian glow, but now she was really hoping she had that as an excuse.    

“I’ve seen you lift goons twice your size and throw them across rooms,” he laughed “besides, this feels kinda nice.” he mumbled.

“Yeah but that was me as Ladybug, it’s also what keeps me from tripping over air and landing on my face.” she explained.  She didn’t think her heart would be able to handle looking down to see one of the few times she saw him completely at peace.  She was used to people who preferred her as her alter ego anyhow.

“I guess you win this round,” he slurred, Marinette still hadn’t moved his head from her lap.  If anything, her free hand was working its way through his dark locks of hair.  He smiled, letting himself be lulled to sleep by the simple yet kind gesture.  “Serves me right,” he yawned, “getting drunk with a fairy princess.”

Marinette turned her attention back to the last of her wine, “there he goes again, making silly jokes like that.” she thought.  “Especially with one as pretty as you,” he laughed. Marinette was about to get up at that moment, now he was just being ridiculous.  “I like you...” were the last words he said before letting sleep take him.  

It was everything Marinette could do not to drop her wine class on the floor in shock.  Marinette thought she heard wrong.  She shook her head, what did it matter? I mean, she had called her friends pretty loads of times before, it’s not like he said he loved her or anything.  These were things that you said to friends all the time, right? At that moment, there was a knock on the door, Alfred came in and saw Jason asleep in Marinette’s lap.  “I was just about to leave could you maybe help Jason get back to his room? That would be great thanks Alfred.” she quickly spluttered before dashing out of the lounge and down the hallway in search of an empty guest room to sleep in.  

Jason tragically awoke the next morning with a hangover and a vague memory of what had happened the night before.  He thought this was probably the very reason why Bruce did not drink.  Alfred came in with a tray of chilli dogs and water, to nurse the hangover.  “Thanks Alfred,” Jason groaned, “do I even wanna know what happened last night?”

“If you must know Master Todd, you won second place in last night’s drinking competition.” He explained, Jason sighed, Marinette wasn’t going to let him live that down.  He still had to admit he was impressed with her. “Miss Dupain-Cheng seemed rather flustered after you compared the experience to  ‘getting drunk with a fairy princess’ and confessed your admiration and affection for her.”   It was all coming back to him now, and he was about to be sick.  He told her that he thought she was pretty and that he liked her. He wasn’t wrong, but it probably didn’t sound as romantic coming from someone who was probably very drunk.   He reached for the chilli dog, hoping that he would be able to keep it down.   “In vino veritas indeed, or in birro veritas in your case”, Alfred quoted.  Jason took a sip of water, still too stunned to speak.  “If you still hold such affection for Miss Dupain-Cheng, might I suggest telling her when you’ve sobered up?” he suggested, giving Jason a slight sympathetic smile.

“I’ll try, thanks Alfred” he replied as Alfred left the room, leaving him to his thoughts.  

A couple of days later, Marinette was sitting in her studio, drinking a warm mug of hot chocolate.  Jason hadn’t called her or spoken to her since the party, and she had hoped that he had just drunkenly forgotten his little drunken confession.  It wasn’t that Marinette didn’t reciprocate his feelings, it just felt like there was no point in putting stock in something he said while he was so very drunk.  It almost made Marinette laugh a little at the thought.  Her phone buzzed, it was a message from Jason:  “Hey, you busy today? I’ve got something to tell you.  Sober, this time”.  Marinette smiled, maybe this time there was truth in the foul tasting American beer.

 BONUS: The next morning in the Batcave... Tim: That tasted like actual vomit.  Dick: It's an acquired taste, Baby Bird. Tim: Which is to say you were peer pressured into liking it.

#jasonette #jasonettejuly2021 #ml x dc #maribat

[dccomicsimagines]

What’s Lost is Found - Batfamily Imagine - Part Ten

Warning - Depressive Content, Some Drug Use, Approach with Caution

Part One  Part Two  Part Three   Part Four  Part Five  Part Six  Part Six.Five  Part Seven  Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Eleven

***

All you knew was darkness. Time had no meaning in the dark room where you woke up. At least you thought you woke up. It was hard to tell the difference anymore.

You weren’t sure how long you had been in here. However, you did know the room was five feet by six feet or one point five meters by one point six meters. The height of the ceiling was about seven feet or two point one meters. There was one lightbulb in the ceiling, but you couldn’t find a way to turn it on. A locked door was on your right, shut tightly enough for not even a little light to slip through.

You laid down on the cobblestone floor. Pain was your constant companion. Your arm was healing incorrectly, aching. The cast Alfred had put on was gone when you came to. Your ribs were still tender, but at least they weren’t on fire like your arm. 

Maybe this was hell? Nothing, but pain and darkness.

Thoughts floated to the surface of your mind. Your family must be relieved you were gone and Gotham was safe at last. A pang hit your heart when you thought about how worried Dick probably was. At least he had Kori. She would take care of him. They had a child on the way. No one needed you.

A lump formed in your throat. Jon must be pretty worried too. You swallowed hard, coughing at how dry your mouth was. He was better off without you anyway. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you ate or drank. Dehydration was already setting in. You could feel it. Part of you was happy, because if you were dehydrated that meant you weren’t trapped in some kind of limbo. 

Suddenly, the door flew open and bright light beamed into the room. You gasped, covering your eyes. 

“Rise and shine, brat.” A man stomped in. He grabbed your broken arm and pulled you to your feet. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming in pain. Blood in your mouth. Tears filled your eyes from the pain. He grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you along after him. 

Your bare feet scraped against the rough cobblestone floor. Taking a deep breath, you caught the scent of salt water. You must be near the ocean. 

Suddenly, you were pushed into a chair. “Eat,” the Bane Lookalike said. You opened your eyes, squinting as your eyes finally adjusted. The room was a nicely decorated office. You were seated at a table with a bowl of oatmeal in front of you. Your stomach rumbled at the sight, mouth watering until you saw the glass of water next to it. 

Without any grace at all, you grabbed at the water and downed it quickly. However, once it hit your stomach, you felt sick. Someone stuck a bucket in front of you just in time for you to lose it. 

“Leave us,” the Bane Lookalike said. The man who dragged you in here left, slamming the door behind him. You wiped your mouth with your sleeve, wincing when you thought of the scolding you would have received if Alfred caught you doing that. Alfred was probably scared out of his mind for you. Guilt ate at you as you took a slower and smaller sip of water once the Bane Lookalike filled your cup. 

He stared at you intensely. You drank and ate carefully, doing your best to study him without being obvious about it. It took you a good twenty minutes to finish eating. You knew you had to keep it down, so slow it was. The Bane Lookalike waited until you were done before sitting down on the chair behind the desk.

“I was going to leave you in there, niño. Let you die of dehydration.” He crossed his arms. You frowned slightly, wondering who he was to Bane. “But that doesn’t matter now. I have debts to pay and we have people who would pay a lot of money for you.” 

You held back the shiver. “So that’s your plan? Make money off me?” Your voice hoarse. This was the first time you had spoken since you had been taken.

He slammed his fist on the desk. You jumped from the boom. “Yes!” He jumped to his feet. His eyes flashed as you looked into them. You tensed. Suddenly, you had a vision of Bane’s dying eyes. His death rattle echoed in your ears. 

However, you were brought back to the present in an instant. The Bane Lookalike grabbed the front of your shirt, lifting you up in the air to look you straight in the eye. “You ruined my life!” He screamed in your face. His breath surprising fresh and minty. You wrinkled your nose. Bane always had bad breath. It was in his files on the batcomputer. However, this new Bane brushed his teeth. 

He shook you violently, probably angered by the fact you weren’t listening to him. “I was never supposed to be here! Wearing this goddamn mask!” He used his free hand to rip off the Bane mask to reveal a young man around Damian’s age. He had Bane’s eyes, but the face was softer, his nose shorter, mouth smaller. “You shouldn’t have kill my father!” 

You tensed as he threw you across the room. Remembering your training, you went limp and twisted to avoid landing badly. Your back smashed against the wall before you collapsed to the floor. The ribs, still tender, lit up in pain. You moan, staying where you were. 

Why didn’t Tim just tell you the Bane Lookalike was Bane’s son? Anger flashed through you, but it was quickly replaced by fear. The Bane Lookalike’s boots appeared by your face when you opened your eyes. 

One boot raised to step on your head. “I’m sorry,” you choked, tears slipping down your cheeks from the pain and the horror. You caused this. You caused so much pain. Like a bomb, you hurt everything around you with one act. One act that sealed your fate.

The boot stopped. “What did you say?” he growled, kneeling down to pick you up by the back of your shirt. You went limp to avoid more pain. 

“I’m sorry.” You looked him in the eye, tears falling down your cheeks without warning. “I’m so sorry.” 

The Bane Lookalike dropped you. A groan slipped out of you as you smacked against the floor. One of your ribs cracked. You coughed, sharp pain ripping through your chest.

His feet pounded on the floor. The door to the room flew open. “Drug them and locked them back in their cell!” You tensed. Drug? Oh no.

More footsteps echoed into the room. Big rough hands dragged you to your feet and tossed you back into a chair. You didn’t fight. There was no point. You couldn’t take them all on. Sharp pain rocked through your body. Every breath was more pain.

A needle poked your arm. You closed your eyes, submitting to it. This was your punishment. Payment for the life you took. The drug made the room spin. You closed your eyes to make it stop. 

Reality seemed to fall away. The pain in your body faded. You felt like you were floating on air. It took a lot of effort to notice you were being carried back to your dark cell. Even when they tossed you inside, you didn’t feel the impact. The darkness surrounded you again, but this time you hardly noticed.

***

You stayed in a fog. Anytime you were close to clearing it, another needle would enter your arm and you got lost again. You found one bright spot in your drugged stupor. At least you weren’t feeling the pain anymore.

Finally, you felt yourself being carried over someone’s shoulder. The drug faded away enough for you to open your eyes. Your head hung limply, inches above the person’s backside. You turned to look around, frowning at the room. 

It was bare except for a chair with a video camera in front of it. You were flipped over the person’s shoulder and set in the chair. Chain restraints were placed around your wrists and ankles. You blinked, trying to catch up with the person’s movement. Your brain was operating in slow motion. 

“Be good.” The person patted your head before stepping away. You frowned. A red light appeared on the camera. You stared at it, shaking your head to try to focus. 

“Bidding starts at two million.” A voice echoed from the camera. Your eyes widened. A light turned on above you, illuminating you for the camera. 

Your stomach dropped to your feet. You wanted to scream, to fight, but the drug kept you still, complaisant. The chains rattled as you lifted your hand to your cheek to wipe away a single tear. 

The auctioneer kept naming prices, going up higher and higher. You only heard his voice. Closing your eyes, you knew it was just you and the person who brought you here in this room. They must be broadcasting the auctioneer’s voice in. The pain started to creep back into your body. 

“Sold for twenty five billion.” You flinched at the price. A cackle filled the room, tinny from the speaker it originated from. Your blood ran cold. 

“I want the kiddo sooner rather than later, boys,” The Joker’s voice said. “Baby Robin needs to come back home.”

“You may pick up Robin in two days. Thank you all for your time.” The auctioneer’s voice cut out. Red light from the camera turned off. The person came over. They grabbed your arm, sticking you with another needle. Your arm was covered in needle marks. How long had it been? How many times have they drugged you?

The drug kicked in almost instantly. Your eyes closed, falling back into the fog. Pain drained away like someone pulled the plug. The chains rattled again and suddenly you were up and over the person’s shoulder again. 

You couldn’t focus until you heard a voice you never thought you would hear again. “I’ll take Robin from here. The boss wants you to join him in the broadcast room.” 

The person stiffened. “Really? Why?”

“Didn’t ask why.” You were handed off like a sack of potatoes. Warmth like sunshine flooded your skin as you were placed over another shoulder. You moved your hand up to touch the familiar soft hair.

The other person walked off in a huff. “(Y/N), you’re okay. I’ll get you out of here,” Jon whispered, hurrying along down the corridor. He was careful not to bounce you. You kept your fingers in his hair, trying to stay awake. 

Jon shifted you to cradle you in his arms. You smiled tiredly at him, drinking in the sight of his face. Several times, you opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. The drug kept pulling at you, but you fought to stay in the present. 

He brought you to another room. You couldn’t pick up what it was. He laid you down on the soft surface. “We got to wait for Damian, but we’ll get you out of here soon.” Jon smiled at you brightly. Worry flashed in his eyes. “I’m so...God, don’t scare me like that again.” 

You struggled to keep your eyes open. Jon frowned, cradling your cheek. You moved your arm. His eyes dropped to your arm. He gasped at the needle marks. “Oh no, (Y/N), what have they been doing to you?” You could feel his x-ray vision scanning your body. “Your arm.” 

“Sorry.” You mumbled, closing your eyes. The drug pulled you into a deep dark sleep.

***

“You imbecile, you ruined the plan completely.” Someone paced nearby. “They know we’re here now, and (Y/N) is in no condition to fight.” The drug was fading again. You shivered, cold.

“I couldn’t let them put them in that cell again. Damian, (Y/N) is burning up.” A warm hand laid on your forehead. You sighed. It was Jon’s. He was always so warm. 

“TT.” Jon’s hand pulled away to be replaced by Damian’s callused hand. “This is proves how stupid you are. I told you to let me do the talking, but no, you had to go out with your white, American accent. Now we’re stuck in here, and (Y/N) needs medical attention.” 

Jon growled. “Stop it.” Damian’s hand pulled away. The blanket covering you was tucked securely around you.

You slowly opened your eyes. Damian sighed in relief. “Here.” He helped you sit up and pressed a canteen to your lips. You drank slowly, some dripping down your chin. Jon grinned like a puppy, rubbing your knee. “TT.” Damian pulled the canteen away and wiped your chin with his sleeve. 

“How?” You coughed. Damian supported you, letting you lean back into him.

“You didn’t think we wouldn’t come after you, did you?” Jon took your hand, kissing the back of it. Damian huffed at the sight.

“But...you should be in Gotham.” You tried to look at Damian, but he pressed the canteen to your lips again. 

“Gotham is fine. You are not.” Damian gestured to Jon. Jon blinked, having to drag his eyes away from you to go get something from a bag in the corner. “TT, you honestly thought we’d leave you here? Everyone is losing their minds with worry about you. I’ve never seen Grayson so upset.” Your stomach dropped at the thought.

Jon came back to you, handing Damian a bottle of pills. He shook two out and pressed them into your mouth. You took them, taking a sip of water to wash it down. Jon took your hand again, smiling dopey. The relief in his eyes hurt more than everything else. 

You took in the room. It looked like an old storage closet. You were lying on a pile of blankets with Jon’s cape covering you. “Where are we?” Damian pulled away, laying you back down. 

“We’re in Peña Dura.” Jon scooted closer, sharing his warmth with you. He pronounced Peña Dura incorrectly. Damian rolled his eyes behind him, going back to pacing the room. “We found out through Damian’s contacts that they took you here.” He gestured to his clothes. You wrinkled your nose when you realized he was dressed like one of Bane’s goons. Damian was in similar attire. “We snuck in and disguised ourselves until we found you.” He kissed your cheek, laying down beside you. You shivered. He slipped under his cape, pressing close. His warmth soaked into you.

“Except someone was dumb enough to let our cover be blown. Now the entire place is on high alert.” Damian glared at Jon. “Kent, no funny business.”

“I’m not going to do anything. Just trying to keep (Y/N) warm.” Jon snapped. “Geez, like we’d do anything with you standing there anyway.” Damian snorted in disgust. 

You chuckled tiredly. Jon was so warm like he always was. You snuggled closer to him, colder than you ever been before. “Go back to sleep,” Jon whispered. He kissed the top of your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You relaxed. Right before you passed out again, you noticed Damian studying you and Jon with a bewildered expression.

***

“We have to move now,” Damian snapped. He knelt down for you to climb onto his back.

“I can walk.” You pressed your hand against the wall to keep your balance. 

Damian turned to glare darkly at you. “Get on my back now.” You sighed, climbing onto his back and wrapping your arms around his neck. Damian stood up. Jon swung the bag over his shoulder. He studied you, adjusting one of the blankets to sit more securely on your shoulders.

“Are you sure you can handle it, Damian? I can carry (Y/N) easily.” Jon bit his lip. 

“I’m fine. Just move.” Damian snarled, holding your legs tightly. Jon slipped out of the storage closet first. You buried your face into the back of Damian’s neck. He grunted, probably feeling your fever through his skin. It had only dropped slightly, but there wasn’t time left. 

You shivered violently, wishing you could be strong. Your body ached for the drug. Despite that fact you wanted to stay awake, your body wanted the drug to push you into the stupor once again. Damian theorized your fever was partly infection and withdraw. You had to admit he was probably right. 

Damian and Jon made their way down the corridors. You kept your eyes closed, dozing. 

Damian suddenly stopped. You tensed, sensing what he did. Ironically, Jon didn’t notice until the first bullet was fired. Damian backed into a room with an open door. “Shit.” 

“Language,” you said humorlessly. Damian tightened his grip on your legs. 

“Quiet.” Damian glanced around the room. Jon fought out in the hallway. You heard the searing of his heat vision. 

Damian set you down, leaning you against the wall. “What now?” You rocked dangerously. Damian gripped your shoulder to keep you upright. 

“Let me think.” He glanced around the room. It looked like another cell with a bed in the corner and a sink on the other side. His eyes fell on the barred window. “We might have to climb.”

You frowned. “I don’t know if...” Your legs were already shaking, getting weak from standing just a few seconds. “Damian, leave me.” 

Damian flinched. He spun to you, grabbing your arm roughly. “Don’t you ever say that. I am never leaving you behind.” 

You stared into his eyes. There was the Damian you knew. You hadn’t ruined him after all. Suddenly, it occurred to you. “You two came on your own, didn’t you?” You sighed. “Damian, Dad always told you to think about how to get out of the situation before jumping in.” 

“TT, there was no time.” Damian left you. He took a laser tool out of his pocket, cutting through the bars on the window. You stumbled to the bed, sinking onto it weakly. Everything ached. You never imagined so much pain. 

Damian took off the bars and looked out the window. It was dark outside. The scent of the ocean in the air.  “This might work.” He looked at you, thinking. 

“What about Jon?” You jumped when a boom came from the hallway. 

“He’s fine. Man of steel or so he claims.” Damian pulled the blanket from your shoulders. “I’m going to tie you to my back. We’ll climb down.” 

“Are you sure you’ll be able to carry me?” You shivered, watching Damian tie secure the blanket around you. Leaning against his back, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he tied you to him. 

“TT, you always did doubt my abilities.” Damian snorted. He climbed out the window. You tightened your arms around his neck when you saw the ground far below. “Calm down.” 

“Right.” You buried your face into the back of his neck. Damian freeclimbed down, using the uneven bricks of the prison to work his way down. 

Bullets rang out from the window. You looked up to see men firing down at you and Damian. Damian pressed against the wall. He swore under his breath. You glanced down. The cobblestone courtyard was far below. “Damian, drop.” 

Damian gasped. A bullet hit his shoulder. His blood splatted your face. He lost his grip, dropping one arm. “We’re not in any condition to survive a fall.” He groaned, trying to hold on with one hand. 

“Jon will catch us. Drop now.” The blood poured down his shoulder, soaking into you. You reached for his hand with your bad arm. “Let go.”

Damian grunted. He let go. The two of you dropped fast. You wrapped your legs and arms around Damian. Taking a deep breath, you screamed.

Suddenly, the wall above you and Damian burst. Jon rocketed toward you and Damian, catching you and Damian with the blanket tying the two of you together. The blanket jerked into your ribs. You squeaked, feeling your ribs snap again. Damian just grunted. Jon set you and Damian down in the courtyard. Damian crumbled. You landed on top of him, causing him to moan.

“Sorry.” You tried to untie the blanket, but your fingers wouldn’t work right. Jon reached down to help. 

“He’s losing a lot of blood.” Jon took the blanket and pressed it to Damian’s shoulder. You rolled off him. Energy drained out of you every second you tried to sit up. 

“Jon, we’re going to have to surrender.” You swallowed hard at the shocked look on Jon’s face. “Come on, I can’t walk. Damian’s losing too much blood.” 

“I’m fine.”  Damian sat up. His face paled and he instantly passed out. 

“Oh crap.” Jon patted Damian’s cheeks. “Wake up. Come on.” You tried to keep pressure on Damian’s shoulder. Black swarmed your vision. You felt the blood draining out of your face. Jon glanced over at you. “Oh no, not you too.” 

You kept your eyes on Damian. “We’ll be fine. Go. Get out of here.” You waved him off. Jon froze, jaw dropped. “Go get help. Let everyone know what happened. You can come back for us.” 

“No!” Jon jumped to his feet. “I can’t leave you two.” Armed guards swarmed the courtyard. Bullets fired around you. Jon stepped in front of you and Damian. Bullets bounced off him. He put up his hands. “We’re all going down together.” 

You shook your head at him, too weak to argue. “Stubborn.” Guards surrounded the three of you. The Bane Lookalike appeared in front of you. You blinked at him before you felt your body give out.

***

“Remember, one wrong move and we’ll blow them up.” The Bane Lookalike warned, poking Jon’s chest. Jon growled, but stayed where he was. You watched dully, running your fingers through Damian’s hair as his head rested in your lap. The explosive collar was heavy around your neck. 

The Bane Lookalike glared over at you. “I can’t wait until I’m rid of you.” He slammed the cell door on his way out. 

“Are you okay?” Jon asked, hurrying to your side. 

You shrugged. “His pulse is weak, but he seems to be resting easy.” You kept running your fingers through Damian’s hair. Ever since you woke, you crawled to Damian’s side and stayed there. 

Jon pressed his hand to your forehead. “You’re still burning up.” He grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around your shoulders. “Damian will be fine. He’s strong.” 

“And I’m not?” You shook your head weakly. A lump grew in your throat. “Why couldn’t they just kill me? Let this all be over with.” 

“Don’t you ever say something like that!” Jon wrapped his arm around your shoulders, sharing his heat like the radiator he always was. He kissed your cheek. “Why do you keep scaring me like this?” 

You rested your cheek on his shoulder, closing your eyes. “I was trying to do what was right. Trying to fix my mistake.” Jon rubbed your back. “I ruined everything by killing Bane. Everything.” 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Jon tensed slightly. “This is just a mess anyway.”

Damian moaned in his sleep. You checked his shoulder. The bandage was still holding. The bleeding finally stopped. “You know that man is Bane’s son? He hates me for killing his father and forcing him to take over. It’s the same reason Damian hates me.” 

Jon’s jaw dropped. “Damian doesn’t hate you. (Y/N), he lost it when you handed yourself over. I mean everyone was shocked, upset, but Damian had to be held down by Jason and Dick to stop him from barreling right after you.” Jon swallowed hard. “Even then, he didn’t want to wait for the others to figure out a plan. He came up with this, and told me to come with him.” He glanced down at Damian. “He loves you. He just doesn’t watch his mouth and let’s his anger speak for him.” 

You snorted. “It’s a good thing he can’t hear you.” You winced when you moved too sharply. “How long has it been?” 

“When? Since we surrendered?” Jon eyed the collar around your neck. “A couple of hours.” 

“Since I gave myself up?” You opened your eyes to look at him. “I was locked in that dark cell for a long time and I don’t know how much time passed while they drugged me.” 

Jon bit his lip. “Three weeks.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “Worst three weeks of my life to be sure.” 

You smiled into the kiss. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again. It hurt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest.” 

“I thought I was going to die. I couldn’t sleep, all I kept thinking was how I might never see you again.” Jon nuzzled your cheek. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Your heart skipped a beat.

“TT, stop it.” Damian grunted. He opened his eyes, glaring up at you and Jon. “It’s bad enough that my best friend and sibling are dating, but I don’t need it rubbed in my face.” He tried to sit up, but gasped in pain. You pushed him back down. 

“You need to rest. Not much we can do right now anyway. I have a bomb around my neck.” You traced your fingers over his forehead. 

Damian’s eyes widened, staring at the collar around your neck. “Shit.” 

“Did Dad know how much you started swearing?” You teased halfheartedly. Damian huffed. “I missed you, Damian.” 

He blinked. “I missed you too.” He closed his eyes at your touch. “I am sorry for what I said. You are not responsible for our father’s death. You didn’t ruin everything.” 

Your stomach dropped. Was Damian awake earlier, listening to you and Jon? Jon tightened his arm around you. “That means a lot coming from you.” You leaned down to kiss Damian’s forehead. He grunted, blushing.

“Aww.” Jon laughed. 

“Shut up, Kent.” Damian snarled weakly. “We need to come up with a plan.” 

“They are going to hand (Y/N) over to the Joker. He bought them at the auction they held.” Jon whispered, tensing when they heard a bang from outside the cell. 

“Joker?” Damian frowned. “But he’s dead.” 

Your blood ran cold. “What?” 

Damian blinked. “He committed suicide.”

“But that goes against everything he is.” You couldn’t believe your ears. Jon looked shocked too. “Are you sure it was him?” 

“Yes.” Damian closed his eyes, shivering. “We found his body on patrol one night. It was a few week after Father...there were clues, Drake came with me and we found him hanging from the ceiling beam in the warehouse that created him.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Does everyone else know?” You stroked his hair again, hand shaking. 

Damian huffed. “You were in no condition. When it happened, you were still having your...episodes and fighting with Grayson.” 

You bit your lip. Suddenly, you remembered the day that it must have happened. Damian came from patrol when you were all still at the manor. Dick and you were fighting as he wanted you to talk to him about your nightmares. Damian walked by. You tried to get his help, but he just brushed you off. The traumatized look on his face burned into your memory.

“The Joker was always obsessed with Father. It makes sense that he wouldn’t handle it when Father...” Damian trailed off, studying you. “Don’t do that.” 

“What?” Blood rushed to your cheeks as you focused back on Damian.

“Don’t feel guilty about him. He did it himself.” Damian rolled his eyes. “Madman.” 

“So then who’s the one who bought (Y/N)?” Jon whispered, silently listening the whole time. His thumb rubbed circles into your shoulder. 

Damian hummed. “I don’t know.” 

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” You sighed, closing your eyes again and resting on Jon’s shoulder. 

“No, we won’t. As far as I’m concerned, you’re not going anywhere,” Jon said firmly. 

“TT, we might not have a choice.” Damian’s voice dropped to a whisper. 

“I’ll stay awake to keep watch. Rest now,” Jon whispered, kissing your temple. You smiled, drifting into the blissfulness of sleep. 

***

The Bane Lookalike clutched at the back of your shirt, dragging you out into the courtyard. A helicopter sat on the helipad. Wind tore at your clothes as the rotors slowed to a stop. Chilling cold sank into your bones. You glanced back to find Damian behind you, being held up by Jon. Guards surrounded them. A gun was pressed against Damian’s head when one of the guards caught you looking. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the bomb around your neck. They didn’t take it off yet. You weren’t sure why.

“You want him to live. You go quietly.” The Bane Lookalike jerked you. You bit your lip, looking back at the helicopter. The door opened. Your stomach dropped when you saw a flash of a purple suit.

“Well, well, well, look at this welcome.” The Joker stepped out of the helicopter, waving his arms around. A few armed men in clown masks got out behind him. “Oh, Robby. Look at you.” He walked to you, almost dancing. 

Something felt familiar about him and not in the way you expected. You frowned, tensing. “You have the money?” The Bane Lookalike tightened his grip on you. 

The Joker laughed before he noticed the bomb collar around your neck. “Take that off.” He instantly lost his humor. “No one blows up Robin except me.” 

“No, we have to control Superboy.” The Bane Lookalike nodded back to Jon and Damian. 

“Can we work out a deal for those two?” The Joker clapped his hands. “I would like to have the full set.” The Joker met your eye. It was like someone punched you in the stomach. You knew those eyes. Those were Dick’s eyes.

“Depends, how much are you willing to pay?” The Bane Lookalike jerked you again. You stumbled, falling against him. The Joker/Dick’s eyes flashed before he went back into character.

A cackle escaped from The Joker/Dick. “You stupid kid. I won’t have to pay you anything.” 

Suddenly, flashbangs went off all over the place. You were knocked down by the Bane Lookalike when he was attack by The Joker/Dick. The bomb around your neck started to beep. Your breath caught in your throat. You touched it, trying to find a way to get it off.

A joker goon knelt down beside you. “Stay calm.” He took off the clown mask to reveal Tim’s face. “We’re here. It’s okay,” Tim soothed, taking out tools to try to remove the collar. 

“You don’t hate me?” Tears filled your eyes. You didn’t want to die like this. Not in front of your family.

Tim flinched. “Hush, no.” He picked at the collar as it’s beeps increased. “Stay still. I almost have it.” 

You closed your eyes. A whimper slipped out of your mouth as guns fired nearby. The collar clicked and Tim pulled it away from you. “Superman!” You opened your eyes to see Tim throwing the collar to Superman who was blocking you and Tim from a hail of bullets. Superman held it tightly in his hands. It boomed seconds later. 

Tim scooped you up into his arms and moved you behind some crates near the helipad. “Are you okay?” He quickly checked you over.

“I think so.” You shivered. Tim pressed his gloved hand against your forehead.

“You’re burning up.” Tim bit his lip.

“You have to help Damian. He got shot in the shoulder, lost a lot of blood.” You shook your head. 

Tim glanced around the crates. “We’ll get him. Superboy is protecting him.” He glanced back at you. “I swear if you do something so foolhardy like this again, I...I’ll do something.” 

You laughed despite the battle happening around you. “Sure.” Tim peeked around the crates again. “Go. Help them. I’ll be okay here.” 

“Are you sure?” Tim eyed you worriedly. 

“Go.” You closed your eyes as Tim leaned you back against the crate. “I’ll stay here, I promise.” 

Tim nodded. He pressed a taser in your hand. “Just in case.” You smiled weakly as he jumped over the crates and ran into the action. 

You wanted to get up to help, but your body refused. Closing your eyes, you tried to not think about who could be getting hurt or dying because of you. 

“Niño. You ruined everything.” Your eyes shot open to find the Bane Lookalike standing in front of you. Turning on the taser, you held it up to warn him away. He glared, kicking your hand and sending the taser flying away from you. 

“I’m sorry.” You coughed, scooting as far away from him as you could. “But you don’t have to do this. This all can stop now. We don’t have to be defined by tragedy.” It surprised you that this came to you now. You remembered Dick telling you that during the first month after your father’s death. Ironic this piece of wisdom would spill out of your mouth now. 

The Bane Lookalike shook his head. “No.” In one shift move, he jabbed a needle into your arm. You watched in horror as he injected a large dose of the drug into you. “Suffer and die, you piece of human filth.” 

It hit you instantly. Your heart stopped. Breath couldn’t enter your lungs. Black swarmed your vision. The last thing you heard was the Bane Lookalike’s laughter.

***

You jerked awake. A frown pulled at your lips when you were met with the high, elaborately decorated ceiling of Wayne Manor. You sat up, stunned to find yourself lying on a leather couch in your father’s study. 

The chair behind the desk was turned away from you, but you could see someone was in it. “What?” You got to your feet, surprised to find you were in your old Robin suit. Odd. Especially since it didn’t fit you anymore. “How did I get here?” 

The chair behind the desk spun around. Your blood ran cold while your heart skipped a beat. “(Y/N),” Bruce Wayne said, smiling sadly at you. 

“Daddy.” You ran to him, jumping over the desk and straight into his arms. He laughed. His arms strong and protective around you. You never thought you would feel this safe again. Sobs racked your body. “I missed you so much.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” He rocked you. Part of you realized you were a tad too old to be doing this, but you didn’t care. “I missed you too.”

A long time passed before you pulled back to look at him. “Was it all a dream? You never died, right?” 

Bruce rubbed your back. His face fell. “I did die, (Y/N). None of it was a dream.” 

You froze, confused. “Wait, but how am I here? How are you here? What’s happening?” You panted, panic setting in. “Did I die too? Oh no, I died in front of the others. Did they have to find my body?” 

“Hush.” Bruce caught your chin. “Breathe.” He took a deep breath. You copied him, tears still running down your cheeks. “Calm down. You are not dead. At least not yet.” 

“What does that mean?” You glanced around. Everything was a little fuzzy, unfocused. 

“You are in a coma.” Bruce wiped your tears ffrom your cheeks. “Bane’s son caused you to overdose.” He held you close. “You are currently fighting for your life.” 

Your lips trembled. “I’m sorry. I just cause pain and stress for everyone.” You buried your face into his shoulder. 

“I am proud of you, (Y/N).” Bruce rubbed your back. “You been so strong, grew so much.” He kissed the top of your head. “Don’t get me wrong. I am upset you would do something so risky as to hand yourself over.” 

You sniffled. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” You looked up at him. “I just wanted to fix my mistakes. I shouldn’t have killed Bane. It ruined things for everyone.” 

“Yes, but you have done your best to repair the damage and I’m proud of you for it.” Bruce looked you in the eye. “I know you think you should suffer for what you did, but you have and now it’s time for you to live. You deserve to live, sweetheart.”

You blinked, surprised he knew what you had been thinking. He knew you felt like you couldn’t be happy, that you couldn’t have a life. “I love you.” You hugged him tightly. 

“I love you too.” He stood up from his chair with you in his arms. “But it’s time for you to go.” 

“What?” You whimpered, not wanting this to end. Tears filled your eyes again. “But I don’t want to leave you.”

Bruce smiled, setting you down on your feet. “I know, but you have to wake up. Take care of your brothers, Alfred, and the girls. They need you and you need them.” 

“Will I see you again?” A wave of chilliness washed over you. You shivered. A beeping like a heart monitor sounded in the distance. 

“You will someday. Remember you are not alone. I’m here for you every step of the way.” He leaned forward to kiss your forehead. You closed your eyes, feeling his touch before everything drifted away. 

The beeping in the distance got louder and closer. You felt like you were floating. Your eyes couldn’t open. Your body couldn’t move. Something weighed you down. A soft surface was beneath you. Something was in your arm.

Someone cleared their throat somewhere nearby. You fought to open your eyes, hoping that it was your father. Maybe he wasn’t dead? Maybe everything else had been a dream? You knew you were wrong, but you couldn’t help it.

A warm, large hand grabbed your hand. “(Y/N), kiddo, you awake?” Jason asked. The surprise from Jason’s voice finally gave you the strength to open your eyes. You saw white first, blinking until you could focus on Jason’s smiling face. “Hey, kiddo.” He sighed in relief. 

You blinked at him slowly. Energy drained out of you simply from opening your eyes. The beeping increased. “Woah, don’t panic. You’re fine. Everything is fine,” Jason soothed, glancing up at the heart monitor. You tried to look at it too, but you could barely keep your eyes open. Your eyelids weighed heavily enough to force you to close your eyes again. “Go back to sleep, kiddo.” A kiss was pressed to your forehead in the same place your father had kissed you. Maybe you imagined the whole encounter? You wondered about it before you slipped back into nothingness again.

#batfamily #batfamily imagine #batfamily x reader #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #nightwing #nightwing imagine #jon kent #jon kent x reader #jon kent imagine #superboy #superboy imagine #superboy x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #batman #batman imagines

[anothertimdrakestan]

Heat Waves (TimKon)

Words: 3k

Hi! I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been working on this for way too long and definitely have a pt2 planned out if you guys like part one! I hope you’ll take the time to read this because I spent way too long on it and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out!

for the like 0.1% of my audience that this overlaps with, yes, i too am utterly obsessed with Heat Waves for DNF and have been listening to this song on repeat for three days straight waiting for chapter 8. But, i figured why not let that amazing piece of absolute art inspire a Timkon fic cuz they have the same dynamic as DNF in my eyes! All credits go to tbhyourelame on ao3!

if you don’t know what heat waves is that’s fine this is just a regular fic but I highly recommend you checkout the amazing song here 

It was as hot as death itself in Kansas. Not to mention a farm with no AC was just about the worst place Conner could be forced to “vacation” at. But Ma and Pa had been begging to have him over and the month of June just seemed to overlap, so there Kon was, sweating buckets in the middle of nowhere. 

It felt so cold in Gotham. Though, the temperature was comfortable- the most comfortable it had been all year- but Tim always felt colder, lonelier, when Conner wasn’t by his side. The two of them were a duo, fitting together like a puzzle piece, the absolute best of friends and best of heroes. But now, he was using his mandatory away-from-the-tower weeks up while Conner was in Kansas, it was some sort of mandate that Bruce’s kids come home occasionally and instead of suffering weekends in Gotham Tim opted to just grind out a few weeks at the manor, even if it meant dealing with Damian’s unrelenting murder attempts. But it wasn’t all bad, Tim got to patrol with Bruce again, hang out with Jason occasionally, and even see Dick from time to time. “Family” bonding at it’s finest. 

“Hello?” Tim’s voice was quiet, Kon constantly felt himself turning the volume button up on his phone just to hear a decibel more of his best friend’s comforting tone. 

“Hey Timbers how was your day?” Conner felt himself relaxing to the light sound of Tim breathing, he was laying on the floor, spread like a starfish so that no sticky part of his body could touch and create more sweat. 

“Nothing much, no patrol tonight- I guess you remembered,” Tim’s voice was filling his ears. I remember everything you tell me. “Yeah, yeah I did,” Conner quickly replied. “Any boring farm chores today?” Conner heard the familiar rustling, he could hear Tim stand up, he’d memorized the sound of Tim taking him off speaker and resting the phone in between his shoulder and ear. He could hear Tim’s hair, that he knew he was probably growing out, brush the mic. I always liked his hair longer. 

“Kon?” Tim snapped him back into the stiflingly hot room. “Oh sorry, it’s really hot here, kinda makes me zone out. Um, I’m alright I got to hangout with the cows today which was cool- they don’t like the heat either but Ma says it’ll be over soon,” Conner rambled, all too focused on Tim’s breath in his ear. 

“Sorry for making you zone out, I guess nothing interesting is happening here,” Tim sighed, Conner shook his head, rolling over on the floor, leaning down into the mic of his phone. 

“Nothing about you bores me Tim,” 

Tim didn’t reply. Conner mentally cursed himself, he was really too tired, too hot and bothered to be this flirtatious with Tim, who was a complete wild card when it came to Conner. 

And then he answered, Tim’s voice was higher pitched, the way it ascended when he was blushing- he was blushing. “Well that’s not true, I’m very boring. When I’m doing cases or training or-” Conner couldn’t take it. 

“Nothing about you could bore me Tim. I’m down to be with you whenever, doing whatever, you know that,” he felt his tone soften, loving the way Tim’s breath hitched with every compliment.

“Be with me?” Tim shot back playfully, Conner could practically hear the smirk toying on the smaller boy’s lips. 

“Did I stutter?” Conner heard a loud noise, a thump. Tim’s voice was high pitched again, “Sorry- uh I dropped my phone,” Conner felt himself growing warmer, if at all physically possible. “No problem. So, what are you doing tomorrow with Bruce?” Conner didn’t like pushing Tim too far, hell, he barely knew how he felt half the time. Tim’s voice brightened, “Oh! We’re gonna go to this old ice cream shop I adored as a kid! It’s been too long since I’ve been there, you remember me talking about it?” 

Conner didn’t need a second to answer, “Sub 30, you always get the one with the espresso poured over it,” he couldn’t lie, ice cream sounded absolutely heavenly at the moment. Tim’s voice flooded through the heat, “Right as always- I swear they programmed some sort of photographic memory inside of you,” Tim teased, Conner answered honestly, “I just listen when you tell me things”. The night went on, Tim quickly had to go, believe it or not he did sleep when given the opportunity. “Try not to die of heat exhaustion, drink lots of water throughout the day, not all at once,” Conner smiled, “will do, goodnight Timmy,” Tim answered mid yawn, “night Kon”.

And then he was alone. Alone with the heat, with his thoughts, the latter far more dangerous. He’s my best friend, of course I remember everything. Conner found himself staring at the ceiling, Ma had painted constellations on the walls and ceilings of the room, something funny about alien genes liking the stars. Conner used to be able to find every pattern, name every star, but the only shape he could trace was Tim. There were his eyes, they were pools of deep blue, they sparkled when he laughed but could glare bullets when he tried. If he stared hard enough Kon could find his hair, it’s always soft and smells delicious, layers falling effortlessly- cascading to frame his face. Then there were his lips, Conner found himself constantly mesmerized with the way Tim bit his bottom lip when thinking, the way they scrunched together when he said something funny, how they constricted when he bit the inside of his cheek just enough to hide the emotion he was so scared of portraying. They were perfect. 

He let the heat take his mind, flowing with the stars as he thought dangerous thoughts about his best friend. His thoughts danced around Tim’s waist, flowing carefully around his chest, wrapping Kon in every layer of Tim’s personality, every smile, laugh, tear, scowl, it was Tim. Kon’s Tim. 

And there, on the floor, he drifted to an uncomfortable, sweaty sleep.

~

Tim was scrolling aimlessly through his phone, Gotham was surprisingly boring. He once found the city bustling and distinctly alive but now it only left him cold, cold and bored. 

“Ice cream as good as you remember?” Bruce’s voice lifted him from his device. “Yup! Can’t believe you let me have espresso at like 10, you basically started my addiction.” Tim threw on a smile, glancing down at the half eaten dessert. “Yeah, can’t say I was the best father but, I tried,” Bruce’s shoulders shook lightly, but the laughter didn’t make it to his eyes. Did you really try? Truly? Tim dove back into the creamy sweet, admiring the bitterness the espresso brought the flavor. His phone buzzed.

K: Did you get the ice cream?

T: yeah, you remembered?

K: You literally told me last night

T: have i been off your mind since? 

K: No.

Conner always did this, every time Tim thought he’d throw him off guard with something funny or flirtatious just to have a little fun Kon took it and ran with it. And I’m always the one who ends up blushing. Tim thought, shaking his head. It was really his fault he let Conner get him riled up. They were best friends, flirting or dealing out little sexual quips were natural, and often pretty funny. 

“Earth to Tim? I’ve got a meeting you wanna head back while I head to the office?” Tim glanced over at Bruce who was now standing up in front of him. “Yeah, I can work on cases back at the manor, you gonna head to the office?” stretching his arms he stood up, noticing Bruce had put on his business face- the one stone cold and dry that only brought back the worst memories. “Yes.” His response was gruff, Tim suppressed the shudder that tried to dance down his spine. “Uh yeah, I’ll head back, have a nice day B,” he smiled, hoping it made it to his eyes. 

~

“You can’t keep calling me while I’m on patrol, it’s not safe,” Tim chastised Conner loosely, appreciating the company as his patrol with Damian was always deathly silent. “C’mon, you’re used to having me in your ear,” Tim gulped, glancing around for Damian who was three buildings over, deeply uninterested. “Kon, oh my god, I’m gonna mute you,” Tim whispered, revelling in the chuckle that stirred in Conner’s chest. It was deep, and warm, so distinctly warm Tim felt the heat budding in his chest. 

“So, patrol with the demon? He hasn’t cut your grapple line yet?” Conner’s tone was low and silky smooth. Coughing to clear his throat Tim replied, “nope, he’s most horrific when Bruce is here, when he’s not the punk couldn’t care less whether I live or die,” 

“I care,”

“I know Kon,” If only you knew how much I appreciated it. 

“Asshole, can you hear me? I said we’ve got a gang robbery on second? You coming genius?” Damian’s disgusted tone flooded over his comm, and Tim quickly turned his attention to the bat-brat who was already grappling towards the alarms and shouts. Conner’s whisper asked, “can he hear me?” and Tim replied, “no, you’re on a separate channel, Dami can only hear me when I unmute. Just be quiet while I take out these thugs,”

“Why? Because my voice distracts you?” Conner’s tone shifted into dangerously flirtatious. 

“No, cuz you’re annoying as shit,” Tim smirked, running across the top of a building, letting Damian call the signals so he didn’t get all upset. 

“Do I make you uncomfortable Tim? Do I make you forget just exactly what you’re doing, whether you want to use your batarang or bo staff? Do I make you, warm? Because it’s so warm here, so hot, god I’m just so hot I-”

“Shut. Up.” Tim struck the gun out of a scared looking man. Rolling his eyes at the man in his ear.

“Why? Are you too focused? We’ve taken out much harder criminals all while talking. Aren’t we just talking right now?” Kon’s voice was ringing in his head like never before. 

“I’m trying to focus but it’s no good when you’re in my ear.”

“And what if I wasn’t in your ear? You remember? When we work side by side, so close- are you an affectionate person Tim?” Tim could feel the heat dripping off of Conner’s voice, but he was taken aback by Conner’s new line of thought.

“Wha- what? Am I affectionate? I don’t know. Sometimes?” Tim almost missed a hit, huffing as Damian blocked what would’ve been a hard blow on him. “Start paying attention Drake,” Damian’s tone was acidic. But he was drawn back into his com as Conner’s voice flooded his ears again.

“Would you be affectionate with me?”

“Yes” Tim’s breathless reply was instant, his brain not giving him a chance to think.

“Good, I like that. You know I’m very affectionate too? I like getting to hold the people I care about close, feeling their warmth. You know I’m very warm right now?”

“I- I know Kon, I bet, are you doing alright? Drinking water?” Tim shook out the thought of Conner lazing out in his room, sweaty, lips parted as he pushed out warm breath- Stop. Focus. Your job is to defend these people. Damian’s doing a good job, You just have to round up the civilians. Tim forced himself back into the real world, taking on one of the gang members with ease, tying him up swiftly before moving on to the next.

“I heard that, I can hear it every time you take out one of those men. This is easy isn’t it? I can’t be that distracting to you. You’re too good.”

“You always do this,” Tim felt his cheeks heating up, his steps felt forced, like he had to remind himself to breathe. Tim carefully rounded up civilians, escorting them to safety as Conner started again in his ear. 

“Always do what Tim? Tell you how much I appreciate you? How much I miss you? Do you not think you deserve to be missed? To be loved?”

“Conner” Tim’s tone was harsher than he wanted it to be. But nonetheless Conner continued. 

“Why not? Why the hell not? You’re amazing Tim.”

Tim scoffed, playing it off as a cough to the people in front of him.

“What do you need to hear Tim? That you’re amazing? Brilliant?-”

“Oh my god Kon-” Tim interrupted, but Conner wasn’t done.

“Talented? Impressive? [his tone deepended] - Attractive?” 

“I’m gonna hang up,” Tim was breathing so hard he was practically hyperventilating. The compliments were all that consumed his thoughts, swirling around his brain, packing it full of deep, dangerously flammable thoughts. 

And Conner was ready to let it burn.

“You need to be kissed Tim,” Conner murmurs, throat raw, “so hard that you can’t remember your name- maybe then you’ll understand what I mean.”

The batarang in Tim’s hand clattered to the floor. Damian’s head whipped to him as Tim struggled to regain function. 

“I’m muting you, see you in a bit,” was all Tim could choke out before he ripped the earpiece out, unable to let it sit, burning into his skull. You’re almost done here, cool down, finish up. Tim told himself as he manually reminded himself to breathe. You’ve got this. 

~

Conner knew Tim ended the call. But he didn’t have the energy to stop the endless beeping from the disconnected phone. 

He was laying on the floor of his room, limbs spread out as he clawed for anything that could cool him down, but all he could feel was heat as he stared up at the stars.

He had to admit, he’d pushed Tim further than ever before. But it felt too right to stop, too good. He couldn’t stop replaying the way Tim’s breath hitched after every word, desperately grasping for the feeling budding up in his chest. It was too addictive to not let the words he’d spent too long crafting pour from his lips into Tim’s heart. 

Kon didn’t know how long he laid there, dazed in the heat, just trying to relive word after perfect word. 

Until his phone rang.

“Tim?” his voice was ragged and raw.

Tim’s was high pitched and tight. “Conner what the hell was that? Was that funny to you? Saying all those things- flirting with me while I’m trying to do my job?” 

“Flirting?” Conner mused, staring at the stars with a tattered smirk on his face.

“Don’t act dumb, I don’t know what kind of sick joke it was saying all that while I’m on patrol but I’m glad you think you’re funny,” Tim’s voice was cold. But not the cooling tone, it was sharp, like the way the freeze of ice can feel so painfully hot when applied too harshly. 

“I would’ve said it to you no matter what you were doing,” Conner whispered, resting his phone on his chest, wincing at the sticky noise it made as he tried to adjust it’s positioning. 

“So that was just all for you? To let you listen as you screwed with my brain?” Tim retorted. 

Conner was done dancing around the truth, all forms of control eluding his mind. “Yes,”

“That’s cruel Kon, can you imagine if I did that with you? Told you how you needed to be kissed while you’re out with Jon or something?” Tim sounded exasperated, but at the end of each quip Kon could hear the deep breaths he was taking. Does- Does he like this?

Tim continued. “Don’t answer that. Shut up, I know what you’re gonna say. ‘Oh Tim it’s not the same,’ just- just get out of my head!”

Conner sat up. He was floating. Floating in the middle of his room, the phone on his chest tumbling to the floor as he scrambled to grab it again, feeling his feet touch the ground as he held the phone as close to his lips as he could.

“What do you mean Tim? How am I in your head?” Do you feel the same way I do right now?

“You- you just know me. So well, and when you say stuff like that- when you’re in my ear saying those things your voice, it’s like fire, it burns.” Tim sounded desperate, his voice painfully strained. 

Conner’s head was spinning, “I burn you?” he matched Tim’s desperate tone.

“You melt me.” 

Conner’s head slammed against the roof of his room, as he tried to regain control of his senses he heard Tim murmur, “does that make sense?”

“More than you know Timbers, more than you know,” Conner could hear Tim let out a sigh, the kind that told him all would be okay. 

As Conner took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come Tim spoke first. “It’s so late Kon, I’ve been up to long, I think I need to go to bed,” Tim’s tone was soft again, the cooling, comforting tone that Kon was scared he’d never hear again. 

"Yeah, I- uh, have chores in the morning anyways.” Conner answered, hoping to give Tim some peace of mind.

“Okay, sounds good. Goodnight Conner,” Tim said quietly, his tone thoughtful and slow, finally letting the sleep crowd his mind. 

“Goodnight Tim, talk to you tomorrow?” Conner let too much hope sink into those last few words. 

“Yes, night now,” Tim answered easily, quickly hanging up the call, letting Conner sink down back into the carpet of his floor. 

“Tomorrow,” Conner whispered to himself, feeling the intense heat start to creep back in as he drifted into a sweaty sleep.

~

“Tomorrow,” Tim whispered to himself, trying to swallow the nerves he didn’t know Conner could draw out of him. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

-

-

-

not my usual fic but I really hope you enjoyed! 

taglist: @vintageroses10 @idkmanicantenglish @kishony-the-geek @foenixphire @how--are--you @psych0crybaby @romance-is-tragic @birdy-bat-writes @subtleappreciation @officiallydarkgeek also kita cuz i love u and wanted to try writing timkon more in your style hehehe @river-bottom-nightmare 

#tim drake #conner kent #timkon #tim drake fanfic #conner kent fanfic #timkon fanfic #tim drake x conner kent #kon el kent #gay dc #dc fanfic #red robin #tim x kon #tim x conner #dc fluff #superboy #red robin x superboy #dc angst #tim drake x reader #jason todd x reader #damian wayne #bruce wayne #clark kent #ma kent #pa kent #jon kent #jason todd #dick grayson #batfam #batboys #elles shitposts

[justcourttee]

Girl’s Night Out

This was a request from AO3 and I hope you enjoy!

Marinette narrowly avoided his hand as she dove into her apartment, a flash of blonde slamming the door shut behind her.

“Marinette! It’s just a date! Why do you keep avoiding me?”

The pounding on the door prattled on for a few moments more as Marinette laid face first on the ground, catching her breath. As the noise drifted into silence, she risked a peek to where Stephanie stood, her eye glued to the peek hole.

“Are we clear yet?”

“Almost, Mrs. Baker from across the hall is giving him her signature lecture.”

The two girls shared a giggle as Marinette pushed herself into a sitting position.

“But you know Mari, he did bring up an interesting point.”

“And what was that?”

Stephanie’s mischievous glare turned to her, her stunning blue eyes boring hole into Marinette’s.

“At least twice a week, some guy offers to walk you home in an attempt to ask you out and every week, you always turn them down. Why is that I suppose?”

Her hand gracefully extended to offer Marinette help. Marinette’s eyes darted to where the hand awaited, the rogue in her cheeks beginning to monopolize her face as she slowly reached up to accept it.

“I don’t know Steph. Maybe I’m not just that into them.”

In one swift motion, Stephanie had pulled her to her feet, Marinette’s forehead level with the girl’s chin as she tilted up to get a better view of her roommate. While she had grown some over the year, Marinette had barely hit 5’0” leaving the blonde girl a cool half foot taller than her.

“Hmm, I don’t think it’s just them.”

Stephanie’s slim fingers cupped her chin as she pulled her tilted head upward, Stephanie’s own head tilting down until their noses were mere centimeters apart. Her eyes were sparkling, captivating Marinette every thought until she couldn’t remember how she had gotten herself into this position. She was so close to the very lips that had starred in her dreams for the past six months. She wondered if they would taste like strawberries, just how she imagined.

“Maybe, you’re not into guys at all. Could that be it Ms. Dupain-Cheng?”

“I-i,” Marinette’s eyes flickered between her roommates lips and the piercing, inquisitive eyes that seemed to be taunting her.

“Oh well, you like who you like huh? What do you want for dinner? I’m thinking of ordering a pizza, whatcha think?”

In a flash, she was gone, leaving Marinette a stumbling hot mess as she coyly walked away, her ever present smirk returning to her face. The smaller girl couldn’t help the flustered red that had moved from her cheeks to down her neck. The lingering smell of something tropical followed wherever Stephanie stood, and now as Marinette shook away her previous thoughts, she could notice the small blush that lingered on the blonde’s face as well.

“Um yeah, Pizza-a sounds me to great, I mean great me to, ugh great to me.”

Stephanie’s giggle rang in her ears as she darted past the blonde and into her room, mumbling something that sounded close to ‘call me when it’s here’ before slamming her door shut. She couldn’t will her heart to still as she slumped against the door, her mind replaying just how close she was to her roommate.

Absentmindedly, her hand reached up, tracing her lips. Her imagination began drifting to the idea of closing that distance the next time she had a chance, but if she tried and she was wrong about how Stephanie felt, she would be no better than the guys that pursued her from class.

With a great sigh, Marinette stood, moving herself onto her bed before her legs gave out again. Her hand flailed around her comforter until it connected on the cold smooth screen of her phone. Rolling over, she clicked on the first contact that she had, the one she always called about her girl problems.

“Mariiiii, when are you coming to Gothammm? Dami is only ever nice to me when you’re heree.”

“Hi Dick, how’s it going Dick? I’m doing great Dick, thanks for asking.” Marinette chuckled as the boy sighed dramatically, the sound of him plopping echoing through the speaker.

“Fine, how are you Mari? I’m assuming you’re calling to gush about Steph again instead of fixing my Damian problems?”

“I never gush about her,” Marinette felt her cheeks flush again as Dick continued trying to shame her. “Dick, I just wanted to ask you how to ask her out?”

The line went silent, almost too silent for Dick. Marinette pulled the phone away from her cheek to ensure that she had not accidentally ended the call. Bringing it back to her ear, she called out hesitantly for her friend.

“Ohhhhh, no no no, I’m still here, I’m still here, you just caught me off guard. You’re finally going to do it? Awww, Mari! I’m so excited! Okay, okay, where to start?”

Marinette felt wary as she listened in on the incoherent mumbling of Dick as he spewed what sounded like multiple scenarios for her love life.

“I’ve got it!” The smaller girl couldn’t help but flinch as his voice rang through the phone. “You should invite her to a dinner and movie! That way you only have to talk for like an hour and the rest of the time gives you a break to step back and try to hold her hand. Yes, yes, it will be perfect!”

She wasn’t sure if perfect was the right word for it, but hearing the excitement in Dick’s voice gave her the push she needed. After some brief words of encouragement, Marinette tossed her phone to the side before pulling out her sketchpad, her eyes determined as she placed the tip of the pencil to the clean page.

For a stunning woman who could make anything look good, Marinette was determined to make Stephanie the perfect date night outfit, one that her effortless beauty coils shine through. She was so lost in thought, she didn’t even notice the pitter of soft footsteps as they retreated from her closed door. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As Friday evening rolled in, Marinette finally felt the nerves crashing down that she had been bottling all week. Gripping her carefully wrapped design, Marinette tried to count backward from ten to calm herself before entering the living room.

“Marii, you home?”

Her voice was so sweet as it echoed through the hallway, so soothing calling her name.

“Ah, there you are! What’s that?”

Marinette jumped slightly as the blonde seemingly materialized before her. Stephanie leaned in, her hair smelled fruity as it tickled Marinette’s nose. Gingerly, she poked the package, her eyes sparkling as the material gave way.

“No way, did you make me something?”

Marinette nodded quickly as she shoved the gift into her roommate's hands, her face on fire as their hands brushed. Stephanie gently unfolded the paper, her eyes widening as she lifted up the dress, allowing it to fall to its full length. With a giant smile, she darted past the smaller girl and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Moments later, she reemerged, sending Marinette’s heart into a frenzy.

“So, what do you think?”

The fabric hung off her every curve, just as the designer had anticipated, but perhaps she anticipated it a little too well. Her body was too distracting and Marinette’s eyes were traveling no matter how much she begged them to stop.

“Mari?”

Her eyes snapped up to meet two mischievous blue ones, her blonde hair swinging freely around her pale face, just as distracting as the rest of her.

“You’re beautiful Steph.” Her voice sounded foreign. Did it always crack like that? She wasn’t sure.

“You’re right, I was thinking I would wear it on our Girl’s Night Out tonight!”

Stephanie’s smile was blinding as she feigned a twirl, admiring the fluttering material.

“Girls night out?”

She nodded vigorously as Marinette’s skipping heart dropped to her stomach.

“I overheard you and Dick saying that we needed to go out and\\\\ you’re so right, we haven’t been out just the two of us in a while. So what’d you say? Dinner and movie for a couple of besties?”

Marinette swallowed hard as she forced herself to nod. This wasn’t anything like she had planned. She was supposed to finally ask her on a date, show her the time of her life, find out if her lips really did taste like strawberries like they had in her dream.

“Great! Now you go get changed and we can leave!”

Stephanie ushered Marinette into her room before pulling the door shut behind her. The designer stared at the outfit she had picked out on the bed, a pair of flared pants with a white turtleneck and the necklace she had never returned to Stephanie. It felt pointless and she couldn’t stop the hot tear that forced its way down her cheek.

“Hurry up Mari!”

The knocking on her door snapped her out of it as she slipped out of her clothes and into the ones on her bed. This wasn’t the time for crying, this was the time for a change of strategy. Stephanie wanted a girl’s night out? Fine. But for Marinette, tonight would be the night that she answered the question she so desperately wanted to know.

Cracking open the bedroom door, she forced a smile as Stephanie gushed over their coordinated outfits. Gathering her purse and keys, she allowed her roommate to drag her out of their apartment, the wheels turning before the door had even shut. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Every single one of Marinette’s plans had failed.

She tried at dinner to ask Stephanie how she felt, but the girl became easily distracted by the band that traveled from table to table serenading couples. As they walked to the movies, she attempted to grab her swinging hand, but Stephanie was faster as she linked their arms, dragging her faster to the theater. Finally, during the movie, she tried to sneak her arm around Stephanie’s shoulders, but the girl mistook it for her grabbing popcorn and moved the snacks into Marinette’s lap.

At this point, it felt hopeless.

“Marinette, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been down all night. Kind of hard to enjoy a girl’s night out when you’re all bummy.”

Marinette couldn’t help the cringe that came with those cursed words leaving Stephanie’s mouth. They mocked her every attempt to turn this into a date.

“Stephaine, I never meant for this to be a girl’s night out.”

“Oh?” The blonde cocked her head to the side as she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, her mischievous blue eyes glistening as always. “Then did I misunderstand something? Was Alya supposed to come in and you were going to ask her to accompany you this evening?”

“No!” Marinette cleared her throat before trying again. “No, I wanted it to be you, but I-uh-well-you see- itwassupposedtobeadate.”

“What was that?”

Stephanie was just rubbing salt into her wounds as those blue eyes shined like two spotlights on Marinette’s face. Of course, she wasn’t interested, why would she be?

“Nevermind, forget I said anything, let’s just go home.”

As Marinette took a step forward, a hand shot out, gripping hers, forcing her to turn around.  Her forehead collided with Stephanie's chest earning a small yelp of protest from the girl as she tried to pull away from the hug.

“Stupid Marinette, I knew you were going to ask me out, I just was curious to see if you’d correct me.”

Marinette stopped struggling as she propped her head up to get a better view of her roommate.

“You...knew?”

Stephanie nodded before a giggle slipped through breaking into full-blown laughter. Marinette felt the blood rush to her cheeks from both the embarrassment and anger she felt.

“Don’t play with my emotions like that Stephaine! I really like you okay?”

The giggles ceased as Stephanie raised an eyebrow at the smaller girl. With one sudden movement, her lips came crashing down onto Mari’s. It was quick and messy and when she pulled back, Marinette was positive that she was going to explode.

“I’m not playing with anyone’s emotions. I like you too Marinette.”

Marinette stared in awe at the blonde as her forehead rested on hers, both girls donning ear-splitting smiles as the world seemed to stop.

“Uhm, Stephanie, would you like to be my girlfriend?”

“Is that your extremely adorable way of asking me out?”

Marinette nodded slowly, careful not to break contact with the blonde, terrified the moment would end.

“Then yes, I absolutely would love to.”

Stephanie’s lips inched closer, patiently waiting to connect with Marinette’s once more. As they were mere centimeters away, Marinette pulled back her head, breaking the serenity they had formed.

“One rule though.”

“Oh?” Stephanie raised her eyebrows in challenge at the smaller girl.

“You are never ever allowed to utter the words girls night out ever again.”

Stephanie’s smile was blinding as she pecked her girlfriend's cheek.

“Never again, I promise.”

In one smooth movement, Marinette tangled her fingers in the blonde’s hair, pulling her face down until their lips met.

Only one thought crossed her mind as she rode on the high of kissing the girl before her.

Her lips really do taste like strawberries.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb @glitterflowercat

#maribat #marinette dupen chang #stephanie brown

[hoodedwing]

Inhisar

Summary: After an hour of waiting, Dick goes to hunt for Tiger who didn’t make an appearance. Tiger isn’t just fighting a migraine but something else he refuses to meet head-on with.

Characters: Tiger King of Kandahar, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd (mentions), Damian Wayne (mentions), Bruce Wayne - as Batman (mentions)

Warnings: Mentions of a knife but no blood, gore or anything. 

Additional notes: 80% of the fics I see revolving Dick and Tiger are usually Tiger looking after Dick but because I’m a sucker for hurt characters who’ve been through hell and refuse to open his/her/their mouth, I swapped the roles and did something hurt/comf ish. I’m also setting up my ao3 where I’ll transfer my fics there too. Enjoy!

Word Count: 1,801words

-

inhisar - reliance 

***

Dick waited at the rooftops for close to an hour already. He couldn’t shake the buzz from his body as he did a few backflips to shake the feeling off. He was supposed to meet Tiger here close to thirty minutes ago but he hadn’t shown up. It was strange of the usually punctual man who promised some vital information on Dick’s current case. The extremely resourceful man never ceased to amaze Dick although he came off rather cold sometimes. 

No matter, he thinks as he shoots his grapple towards the neighboring skyscraper and swings with ease. Metal after metal building appeared in the backdrop of the neon Wayne Industries signage, a testament to Gotham’s cry of need. Dick snorts at the idea before heading over to Tiger’s small place in Gotham. His usual residence wasn’t here but Dick insisted he take one of his safehouses (to which Tiger begrudgingly agreed to). It was one of the smaller ones Tiger argued about since one man doesn't need too much space, idiot.  

He nimbly sweeps down to the window and sees it’s dimly-lit, almost dark inside. Frowning at the fact that it was ajar, he pushes it and rolls in silently. He flashes out his escrima sticks, lightning blue and making the crackling sound he’s accustomed too and sneaked to the obvious occupant on the couch. He’s about to swing when he realizes-

-its Tiger.

Asleep?

Dick has to hold back laughter. His previous anxiety was ill-seated as he cheekily leans against the armrest of the sofa.

“Excuuuuse meee?”

He starts, in a fake and airy voice that’s loud but not enough to somehow wake Tiger up who just changes his position and curls deeper into the leather couch, pulling himself up in a small ball.

Dick’s eyes are up at him like a wolfhound. He knows that Tiger is indeed a very light sleeper and he should be awake right now and calling him an idiot and realize he’s the bigger idiot for missing their meeting. He lazily curls himself in a painful-looking position and waits on him.

Sensing the pressure change, Tiger suddenly opens one exhausted green eye and looks at a smiling Dick in civilian clothing. Blinking and clearing his sleep-ridden eyelids, he tosses a cushion at Dick who caught it easily.

“Idiot-”

“Don’t flatter yourself, you didn’t make to our meeting so as a friend-”

“We aren’t friends”

“-okay, okay whatever but hey I gotta make sure you didn’t die out there.”

“I’m not incapable, Agent-”

“-I’m in civvies! You can’t just Agent 37 me.”

Dick retorts, smiling widely. Tiger mutters something under his breath before swinging himself up but his vision spins before he falls back on the couch, angrily staring down at the floor. His head is pulsating again wildly. He only hears the roar of gushing blood in his ears.

Dick is still talking in the background, probably a lecture about something Tiger couldn’t care much about right now. He just needed to make sure he’s not about to kneel over and possibly embarrass himself.

“WIll you shut up for a minute?!”

He hisses, head in his hands, pressed tightly as he tries to filter out the remainder of the supposed light present. Dick is immediately silent before he asks, undisguised concern in his voice.

“Are you okay?”

“Sit down,”

Tiger tests his limbs, and slowly gets up before half-stumbling to the small attached kitchen. Dick had worry etched all over his face as he tossed his jacket onto the vacated couch before switching on the television. He knew no matter how much he insisted, Tiger never told him what was wrong.

He chose to keep to himself, quiet and only spoke when needed. Dick was the one who added life, chatter and still kicked ass alongside the man. Don’t get him wrong, Tiger was a brilliant fighter but he was too quiet, more than usual. Dick was usually good at reading people, seeing the truth in their eyes and figuring out what’s wrong before they can.

Dick cannot say the same for Tiger. He remembered when he met him for the first time. Tiger was unreadable, almost neutral and it threw him off balance. The few things he figured out was his upbringing in war-torn Afghanistan, his love for really hot qehwa and Medjool dates as well as his preference for darker colors.  Belatedly, that was it. The rest of it was shut behind cold, emerald eyes almost similar to Damian’s ones. Tiger was a man with calculation, precision and silence, that much Dick knew. 

Speaking of silence, it had been ten minutes since Tiger left the couch for the kitchen. Dick decides to go there anyway, at worst a pan might hit his head. He enters the sparsely furnished kitchen and the first thing he registers is a man leaning against the counter, lost in space as he absentmindedly swung a paring knife and his trigger finger constantly twitching. Tiger hadn’t worn his shemagh so Dick can see the ebony hair and slight curls . 

“Yes?”

Dick is now slightly afraid of the paring knife in Tiger’s hand so he makes sure he’s a safe zone away from him. Still absentmindedly flicking the knife, Tiger looks at Dick questioningly and with deadly ease, throws the knife at a poor apple sitting on the countertop.

“You didn’t answer me back there, Tig..”

“Hm?”

Hands in his pocket, Dick tries to start a conversation but Tiger pinching his nose bridge stops him from opening his mouth. He observes his silent friend lean a little more against the cold exterior of the marble countertop as the water boiled with lazy wisps of steam trailing near the surface. 

Pity washes over Dick who lowers the blinds at the kitchen window and sees some tension from Tiger dissipating. 

The water is whistling, bubbles frantically escaping and Dick steps forward to switch it off. Tiger looks up and Dick can see him clearly. Exhaustion, frustration and irritation all rolled up in one impressive eyebrow raise.

“Go back, I’ll finish this. I’m sure you trust me enough to fuck this up.”

He doesn’t bother with a jibe, just heads back to the couch and loses all track of time. Face buried in the leathery couch, everything was tilted off its axis. He vaguely registers throwing a warm jacket left there off the couch before sinking into the cold surface.  

A strong smell of qehwa enters the room as Dick balances both cups at a ridiculous angle. Setting them down, he feels Dick sit beside him on the carpet, cross-legged and rocking back and forth.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Minor inconveniences”

Is all he says as he buries his face deeper into the couch, blocking all light because it was making his head worse and then Dick had to come here and be an annoying prick. He woke up that morning with a dull pressure from his neck and decided to sleep it off since he had no urgent things to do, blessedly. However, he swore he did set an alarm two hours in advance before their meeting-

Oh no.

“I can give it now and you can be headed on your way.”

Dick stops rocking and narrows his eyes at the figure on the couch, wondering what Tiger meant before a slow grin starts appearing on his face.

“You can’t even walk straight to the kitchen so I’m staying. It’s like a sleepover and don't feel bad about missing our small reunion. It’s okay to feel like absolute shit sometimes.”

He helpfully suggests as he passes a cup of the hot beverage to the man whose face is still planted on the couch. Tiger points one finger at the small coffee table and shakes his head, the action making everything worse. He doesn’t understand why his stupid little... headache isn’t leaving him but he doesn’t care anymore. 

Dick had been watching his actions the entire time, evaluated if his chances of dying were high and then gently but softly asked Tiger.

“Migraine? Seems pretty bad. I’ll be back.”

He gets up to hunt for some Imitrex and grabs a cold compress before turning off the lights completely on the way back to the lofty living room where Tiger had already fallen asleep in a very still position. 

He has no heart to wake him up because he knows he gets only so much sleep. Gently tapping his shoulder and shaking out a tablet, he probes him again.

“Sit up, I got you some meds. It should help.”

A small groan comes from the couch and then a reluctant turnover as he faces Dick blankly, eyes squinted and Dick instantly feels terrible for waking him up.

“Tell me about one of your inane adventures.”

Tiger asks quietly from where he’s still laying with Dick hovering over him, pill in hand. Confusion momentarily graces his face before he launches into some story about a mission with Damian.

Dick is animatedly whispering about the entire thing as his unconscious hand reaches out to ruffle Tiger’s thick hair. The heavenly head scratches surprisingly comforted Tiger who leans ever so slightly to the touch. It felt nice to be treated like this for once.

Don't get sentimental.

He faintly ignores that voice and reaches out to his primary need of relief and comfort. Dick had gone on to his second story about Jason and how he loved reading. He joked about how he’d spit lines from plays and shoot with equal jest. There was a wistfulness in his tone and a small part of Tiger hated himself so much for being so soft and vulnerable and letting Dick comfort him but it felt normal and everything else considered. He’s unnerved by this unfamiliar experience and he has to get it to stop before he’s caving in and dependent.

He can’t do that.

It’s incredibly stupid and dangerous in his line of work.

What if one day he’s gone?

What would he do?

“Are you feeling any better?”

Dick asks kindly, softly smiling at Tiger who’s trying to suppress all the new emotions Dick stirred up and it somehow warmed him a little but he doesn’t show it.

“Thank..you?”

He fumbles slightly, awkward and the usual firm line on his face was replaced with one slightly curved at the ends. Dick is grinning wildly.

“Did I make the great King smile?!”

Tiger is trying to hide his face before Dick lets out an ecstatic yell.

“You’re smiling! I didn’t know your facial muscles allowed for that action!”

Another cushion was thrown at Dick who’s caught it again before sticking his tongue out at Tiger.

“Agent 37, still childish as ever.”

Tiger doesn’t mind, he really didn’t mind, even if his qehwa turned cold.

#tiger king of kandahar #Tony #Tiger #Agent 1 #Richard John Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Agent 37 #they're like blood brothers i love them so much #brothers #Jason Peter Todd #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #incorrect dcu #writingunderthehood #Damian #Spyral #exploring soft feelings #not feelings for each other broski just brothers #hoodedwing #hurt/comfort #self-evaluation ish #this is gotham #and they deserve more comics #can i mention that @ dc my brothers #tiger HAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL and you didn't use him? :( #i will forever fucking love him and dick's banter and how he says we aren't friends but dumdum u are his fRiEnd #man im rly triggered today #there's like fics on these 2 and i can count them with my one hand #iimagine #listen now im in charge of these 2

[soulmate-game]

Part 2 Of that brucinette one-shot I guess

Caution, this gets a little steamy in the beginning. Nothing explicit, but I’m not subtle.

Part 1

Marinette placed down her now-empty wine glass. Her deep red sleeves, fanned out around her wrist to create a dramatic drip and natural yet artistic wrinkles in the delicate fabric, pooled against the silver tablecloth as she leaned on that now-empty arm. Her blue eyes, partially obscured by thick lashes, looked up at her company as her wine-colored lips tilted upwards at the corner. Not a spec of lipstick was out of place, not a wrinkle could be seen that wasn’t deliberate. Despite the homey, slightly awkward person she had been when in front of his family, this version of Marinette was very much comfortable to be as teasing as she wanted. After all, the two of them were alone on a rooftop and she had waited for this date for twenty-three years.

Sure, she hadn’t stopped dating during that waiting period. She tried to get over him, and she didn’t moan and groan every day at not having him there. She lived normally, for the most part. Had normal relationships, even managed to hang onto one particular boyfriend for two years before she admitted to both of them that it just wasn’t working. It wasn’t what either of them needed.

But despite the normality, despite the attraction and the feelings she built and lost for other men, she never forgot Bruce Wayne. Not truly. Of course, it was hard to completely forget about the man when he still commissioned her twice a year for a new suit but refused to entertain any non-business related conversation. The guy was frustrating, aggravating, but damn did that just endear her to him more. Even when she was in relationships with other people, her image of a perfect family always seemed to star him at her side.

In the end, she knew exactly why she never mourned his loss for long or despaired over their lost relationship. It was never lost. She knew that she would stay in Paris until HawkMoth, and later Monarch, fell. She knew Bruce would avoid Paris just as long. But she also knew that she would see the day that Paris was no longer oppressed by supervillains, and she knew that once that day came Bruce wouldn’t have the chance to get away from her. If he broke it off even after that, then she would leave well enough alone and mourn for real.

But, her smirk widened as she saw Bruce place down his own glass from his spot across from her, a part of her knew he wouldn’t run. He had stayed away because he was bad at emotions, something Marinette had become an expert in herself. He was scared and worried, he didn’t want to lose someone else close to him and knew that superheroism rarely allowed a death of natural causes. He wanted to shield her from everything, keep anything bad from happening, but she told him that she couldn’t allow outside heroes to try to help. He felt like she was keeping him from doing the one thing he wanted to do, be there and make sure she stayed alive.

As usual, his issues with emotion led him away from realizing that she only forbade Batman from helping, not Bruce Wayne. She never would have stopped him from coming to help outside of his costume. He had more to offer than just brawn, after all.

Her eyes trailed along his arms. More to offer, indeed.

What? She was a grown, forty-three year old woman. She was entitled to a bit of fantasy about the guy of her dreams.

“So,” said dream guy spoke up, watching her with an equally, sweetly dark smirk. “I believe I owe you a patrol now?”

Marinette barked out a short peal of laughter, taking the hand he offered to her and allowing him to help her up.

“Are you sure your kids don’t realize that patrol is basically foreplay for seasoned urban-city heroes like us?” She teased him back, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth. Bruce chuckled, resting a warm hand on her lower back, right above the low dip of fabric in her dress and on her bare skin.

“No, because it’s only like that for us and not all seasoned urban heroes,” he corrected, his voice a low rumble in his throat that did things to her, especially with the way he gazed down their gaping height difference into her now dilated pupils. Marinette’s smirk widened into a heated grin.

“I suppose you’re right. But I’d like to get started, and standing on the top of your business’s tower in formal clothing and flirting isn’t exactly going to help us get to that patrol any faster, you know.”

Bruce smiled down at her, picking the smaller woman up to place a gentle kiss on her wine-painted lips. When he pulled away, his own blue eyes were sparkling in mischief to match her own. “Lucky for us, I have an extra suit in my office downstairs.”

“Pfft, amateur,” Marinette teased, tapping her earlobe. “I carry my suit with me everywhere.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Polite knocking on the door caused Marinette to groan, flipping over to bury her face in the scarred, solid, and deliciously bare chest that had been holding her while they slept. A soft chuckle, still deep with leftover grogginess, rumbled through the warm skin and made Marinette burrow in even closer. Her protection from the blasphemy that tried to awaken her rose slightly, making her groan again in protest of her comfort being disrupted. A warm arm wrapping over the top of her body to pull her closer silenced the groan and replaced it with a pleased hum.

“We’re awake, Alfred.”

“Good. I seem to remember Miss Dupain-Cheng having trouble getting up in the morning, so there is still half an hour until breakfast is ready. Masters Tim, Damian, and Miss Cain are already downstairs.”

Bruce laid back down all the way, allowing one hand to smooth down Marinette’s hair. It was still tangled and messy from the previous night. “Thank you, Alfred. It might take more than half an hour to get her up, but we’ll be down for breakfast.”

“Very good, sir.”

Bruce waited until he was sure Alfred was gone, allowing himself the luxury of just enjoying the feel of Marinette’s skin against his own as they laid peacefully in bed. Finally, though, he knew he had to get the both of them started for the day or they would miss breakfast.

“Mari, it’s time to wake up,” he made sure to speak at his normal volume, knowing from experience that trying to wake her up gently would not work. Out of all the heroes he had ever met, she was the deepest sleeper. He never understood how she managed to get away with it.

“Mmmm. I am awake,” she grumbled, but the way she just pressed herself closer to him to absorb more of his warmth just gave her away. Bruce rolled his eyes fondly, running his hand through her hair and picking apart tangled as gently as he could with one hand.

“That’s a lie. Come on, we need to get up and take a shower.”

“Is that an offer?” Was the mumbled response against his chest. He raised his eyebrow despite her not being able to see it.

“If we miss breakfast, Alfred will kill us both. Besides, if we aren’t down in time then the kids will know. They are old and smart enough to put that together, and I rather not scar them for life or endure their relentless teasing.”

“Uuuughhhhhh,” Marinette finally flopped over to lie on her back, one arm slung over her face as she groaned in despair. “I guessssss you have a poinnnnt,” she whined reluctantly.

“But, considering we only have twenty minutes left, we don’t exactly have time for individual showers, do we?”

Marinette’s pout turned into a grin.

Once they both rushed through a shower, absolutely innocent despite Marinette’s sleep-induced teasing earlier, they got dressed. Marinette just raised her eyebrows when she saw that Bruce had a small section of his massive closet stocked with clothes that were mysteriously in her size, but accepted them without a word. She wasn’t surprised.

Walking down the stairs together, Bruce realized he miscalculated when they were greeted by a wolf-whistle. Tim was the culprit, grinning unrepentantly. Damian looked sour as ever, pointedly ignoring the couple, while Cass just smiled knowingly.

Of course. He would have to endure their teasing anyway, because coming down the stairs with Marinette pretty much announced to all of them about how their night went. Great.

Marinette, however, just blushed. She had matured a lot over time, and owning her own fashion label for over fifteen years had helped her get used to being in the spotlight; she still wasn’t the best at dealing with attention though. She waved at the kids shyly before dragging Bruce over to where she knew he sat at the head of the table so that everyone could be distracted by Alfred’s cooking.

Most of the day went by fairly casually. Bruce had brought a lot of his work home with him, so he and Marinette spent a lot of time in one of his sitting rooms just doing paperwork side-by-side on a couch. Owning a company didn’t always allow for vacation time after all, and even though she was overseas Marinette still had forms to fill out and reports to read.

Throughout the day the amount of people in the mansion fluctuated. Damian and Cassandra left for their respective schools, and Barbara went to work. Dick popped by during his lunch break to waggle his eyebrows at the finally official couple and steal some of their cereal. Jason even entered through the window of the sitting room that they were working in, somehow with a knife already in his bicep, about an hour before dinner.

Jason Todd-Wayne learned to fear Marinette Dupain-Cheng that day, as Bruce allowed her to be the one that stitched him up and berated him for not being careful. He would never admit just how much he adored the unfamiliar feeling of being mothered.

And that led to patrol. Marinette knew she couldn’t get Batman to relax for more than a day or two at a time unless he was injured and it was logical for him to rest (and even then she knew it would be an uphill battle).

Having immediately connected all of Bruce’s myriad of children to the appropriate members of the BatFam, and having known Bruce’s identity longer than anyone else in that mansion besides Alfred, she was allowed into the Batcave to watch everyone train and get ready for the night. She was serious about relaxing though, and was sitting back to monitor things at the cave with Oracle this time.

Marinette blinked as Bruce sparred against Damian, the young teenager aggressive in his combat style. She didn’t know his full backstory, but she could piece together the obvious bits. Bruce hadn’t been aware he was conceived, she would have heard about it from Alfred if Bruce knew he had fathered a child, and something about his birth mother must have been touchy enough for Alfred to not have told her about the child when he finally did make his way to Bruce’s care. But seeing the way Damian fought was familiar, and made Marinette stand up and walk over to the spar. She pretended to not care about the heavy gazes that followed her.

She waited until Bruce pinned his son to speak.

“So your biological son has a history with the League of Assassins,” she mused, raising an eyebrow at her boyfriend even as the atmosphere grew thick with tension. “Honestly, What is with you and dangerous women? At least compensate a bit more for his past training,” she shook her head as if she was scolding a child before holding her hand out to Damian. “Come on. Bruce is trying to teach you defensive maneuvers, yes?”

Damian looked cautiously between his father and his father’s new lover. As soon as his father let him go and allowed him to stand up, the boy grabbed Marinette’s hand and tried to toss her over his shoulder. Little did he know, she fully expected that. She pushed herself off the ground, going along with the momentum he had given her. But when he tried to let go of her hand, she held on tight and tugged him along with her. Spinning in midair, she pinned Damian’s arms against his side in mid flight, and when they landed the force allowed even her light weight to completely knock the wind from him. The thirteen-year-old was already just as tall as Marinette and had more solid muscle mass, yet he ended up thoroughly immobilized in less than ten seconds without Marinette ever attacking.

“First off, if you don’t know what your opponent plans to do then it is a good idea to let them attack first. Go with their momentum instead of against it, because nobody is weaker than when they think they have you right where they want you.”

She held the position for another second before stepping off of Damian, and dusting her hands off. Dick whistled appreciatively.

“Wow. Amazing fighting, and good tips to boot. Have you taught other heroes before?”

At that Marinette couldn’t help but cackle, a hand flying to cover her mouth and try to muffle the sound. Once she calmed down, though laughs still forced their way from her throat every few seconds, she waved her hand over to Bruce. He was trying valiantly to loom intimidatingly since he knew where this was going. It did nothing to deter his girlfriend.

“Why do you think I met Bruce when he was eighteen?” Bruce had told her how much of their past he had relayed to his kids. “Back then he was in the thick of his training to become Batman, he didn’t think about much of anything aside from the next person to learn from. He found his way to Paris because a friend of mine happened to meet him in Tibet. Her own family had ties with the League back then and she was making sure they were severed for good. She saw how he was being trained, and after a few days of examining his character, she hinted to him that he could find a good teacher in Paris for what he wanted to achieve.”

“No way,” Jason breathed, eyes growing wide as he and the other kids already started to put together what she was getting at. She smiled widely, nodding.

“I had years under my belt as a hero by then. I’m not versed in nearly as many combat styles as Bruce, but I had a lot of practical experience. I taught him tactics and field improv. The whole reason he decided he needed to carry around Batarangs with him all the time is the fact that I once told him to try to attack me when all I had on me was a normal yo-yo and a length of rope. I handed him his ass for four hours straight. After that, he decided that having something sharp on hand at all times was necessary.”

While she spoke, Marinette went over to her purse and pulled out a normal yo-yo. It was a metal one, but not made out of anything expensive or unbreakable. Just a normal metal yo-yo.

And when she walked over to pull a coil of rope down from their weapons wall, everyone seemed to realize where this was going. She turned back to Damian, ignoring the feral smirk that was now on Batman’s face. She smiled with false innocence.

“Now, for some defensive training you benefit from a bit more, Damian. I’m going to attack you with nothing but this yo-yo and this coil of rope. Defend.”

—*—*—*—*—*

#mlb x dc #ml x dc #brucinette #aged up marinette