Hello! idk whether requests r open, but hope they r. just feel like reading a random damian wayne x reader where reader is his best friend. Any horror will do. Thx!!
In the Darkness
Damian Wayne x BFF!reader
Warning: scary stuff, blood, horror
It was a dark stormy night in Gotham. That terrible temperature that hovered just above freezing until almost morning where it dipped just enough to make an awful icy morning commute. Normally you would be bracing yourself for your next morning trip to school. And forget about being warm, your apartment could barely keep up with being above freezing.
But this night you sat on plush velvet with a roaring fire in a gigantic stone fireplace at one of the Wayne’s penthouses in the city. The wall sized windows showed Gotham through streaming water. It almost looked peaceful.
Breaking you from your revery was a bowl of popcorn being plopped in your lap. You looked up to see Damian with a half grin before he sat down beside you. Titus sat down on his other side.
“We have that film you wanted to watch in theatre,” he said grabbing the remote.
“D, it’s still in theatres,” you said surprised. “How did you get it?”
“A, my father is Bruce Wayne. I could probably buy it. And B, I saved a certain theatre from being robbed and they owed me one and they lent me the film. You’re welcome,” he said, still looking at the screen. For Damian, that was practically the biggest compliment, that he thought about you.
“Thanks. Yeah, I usually just block out the fact that your dad is Bruce Wayne to be honest,” you said eating the popcorn.
“Be less honest,” he said with a gentle shoulder shove. “Let’s watch the film. I have to train tomorrow.”
It was a good movie. Scary with a bit of gore, though you weren’t prepared for Damian to tell you how blood patterns worked differently.
But with only 10 minutes left and the killer almost revealed, the power went out. You groaned and moved to grab your phone. Damian stiffened and looked around.
“Great, my phone is dead,” you said rolling your eyes. Damian quickly looked at his, dead too. At this point he was tense and Titus was on alert.
“Nothing should be out,” he said quietly.
“It’s a big storm, dude,” you said about to ask about flashlights.
“We have 2 main power supplies and 3 back ups. There should be no outage. And my phone was fully charged before the movie. There was a power pulse. This is a Wayne Enterprise owned building and we are in the penthouse. This could be an attack or coop,” he said standing. Titus stood by him and you couldn’t help but stand.
“There’s 2 ways to this floor. The main elevator and the service elevator that is in the guest bathroom,” Damian said. Knowing your location could save your life.
“You think someone is coming up here,” you said quietly. He nodded and moved over to the wall and grabbed a sword from a stand on the wall. You had thought it was decorative. Of course it was real. It was Damian’s.
“Here,” Damian said, reaching in his pocket to grab a large pocket knife. You blanched. “Worst case scenario only. You could hurt yourself before someone else because you aren’t trained. But if your cornered, this could save your life. Only open it if you really need it. Got it?”
“Yeah, D,” you said with frown. He stood a few feet in front of you and Titus was a safe distance away on alert. Your heart was pounding. You really regretted not taking Damian up on the offer to teach you some self defense. At the time the idea of bruises all over your body was the last thing you wanted.
The elevator dinged. It shouldn’t have. You needed a passcode and finger print to operate it. Not to mention, the power was supposed to be out. The door opened and a green mist wafted out and Damian stepped back to avoid it. Gotham villains loved toxins and he didn’t want to be under the power of fear toxin or pheromones or something. Titus got a dose and began barking wildly.
Damian pushed you back with his arm not holding the sword. “Try not to breath it,” he said as the mist filled the apartment. He could make out the shape of a person but couldn’t identify them. Within a minute, Damian realized that they were just some poor victim of whoever set up the toxin. They were screaming silently while their eyes darted around the room. Great, it was probably fear toxin.
Damian pushed a panic button he kept in his jacket pocket at pretty much all times. Hopefully the energy pulse didn’t affect the button. You shoved your shirt over your nose but it was futile. Damian stood in front of you looking around wildly. His eyes were dilated and his breathing was rough.
“Don’t move. It’s all fake! Don’t fall for it. It’s all fake!” He yelled and swung his sword away from you at nothing. Your vision blurred.
Damian and Titus fought some invisible monster in front of you. You turned to see the windows melting. You gasped loudly as the glass slid down like wet gelatin. The floor grew heavy. You weren’t even facing the same direction as Damian any more. You heart thumped painfully in a hard slow rhythm.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
You heard screaming laughter. Was the fucking Joker here?? You looked around to see no one.
“It’s in your head,” Damian yelled. He was still fighting an invisible foe. “It’s fake!”
The wall began to cave in. You could feel your body slide slowly towards the gaping window. You grasped at the couch but it too began to slide towards the edge of the wall. You were 50 floors up. There was no way to survive it. You shrieked and grabbed at the slick tile floor. The cold marble bit at your hands.
You could see your blood stick to the floor before defying gravity and floating to the ceiling. It pulsed with your heartbeat. You could hear the laughter in your head. It was so loud. You grasped at your skull. Your bloodied fingers left little streaks of blood all over your face.
Damian was calling you but he was the most dangerous one in the room. He was wildly swinging a sword and he and Titus were furiously fighting a battle. Was he fighting a past foe? The man in the elevator picked the wrong moment to move because Damian came closer and closer to him.
You watched as Damian killed him. His sword sliced the man’s arm first and he barred his teeth before growling at Damian. His eyes were wild and movement was more like an animal over human. Damian slashed him, this time in the abdomen. Dark red blood pooled from the wound and the man bellowed in pain. You cried and rocked. The world was collapsing.
The man was like a wounded beast and he tried to gnarl and slash his hands at Damian. Damian jabbed quickly, almost faster than you could see, and the man breathed his last breath as Damian’s sword pierced his heart. Blood pooled out almost lazily post death. The man’s eyes froze wide and terrible. You cried freely. Damian didn’t stop. He clearly was fighting another foe in his mind.
You balance turned on you and you almost threw up as you gripped the floor. “Stop! Stop!” You yelled as Damian and Titus both continued their battle with nothing.
The floor was turning again. This time, it became sticky as the ceiling melted down towards you. Little bits of melted plaster burned the floor. You rolled away as a large chunk hit the ground. The laughter sounded again and you saw a flash of white face pulled tight in a chaotic laugh.
The second elevator sounded and you scampered away and to behind the couch. Your fingers were white as they gripped the fabric to keep from falling out of the window. Monsters, beasts, men in black suits hurried towards you. Damian screamed and slashed at the air between him and the attacker.
“Don’t touch her! Don’t fucking touch her,” he bellowed. But it was too late. A monster in red grabbed you. You screamed and fought, landing a hit to their chest and a bite to their hand.
“She fucking bit me! Goddamn,” the big man groaned. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and you bucked but it was useless. He had you and you couldn’t escape. A man in black and blue shot Damian with a taser. This was how you were going to die, in a melting building with men as monsters grabbing you. How could you possibly fight them when they took Damian down? He’s the son of Batman.
A monster with a shifting face, once a man and another a beast, came towards you with a syringe. His mouth gaped and swallowed blackness. “No! No,” you moaned. Your throat was raw from screaming. He quickly jabbed you in the neck. Before you passed out, you saw the screaming laughing face of the Joker.
12 hours later you woke up. You sat up quickly only to see Damian’s bedroom in the manor. Your head spun for a moment before stopping. His crisp white sheets and blue blanket and red ornamental rug laid on wooden floor. You were alone. You felt a small bandage on your neck and your fingers had small scabs along the nail lines on both hands. One of your fingernails was cut jagged to the quick. You grimaced as you touched the injured skin.
The walk from his bed into the hallway showed you two things: the floor was really cold and that you were wearing Damian’s clothing. A simple grey sweatpants rolled up and black Superman shirt was not enough in the chilly manor. You opened the door to an empty hallway. The floor had a thick soft rug that covered the sounds of your feet. You heard the sound of voices from the library at the end of the hall.
“I almost killed her,” you heard Damian say. His voice sounded pained and raw.
“It was the fear toxin. You didn’t do anything,” said one of his brothers. You couldn’t tell who yet but probably the oldest.
“I almost eviserated her, Grayson,” Damian said flatly. “The fear toxin made her cry in the corner and I almost cut her in 2.”
“She managed to bite me,” said another deeper voice.
“You left yourself open to be attacked,” said a third voice.
“Enough. She’s awake,” said a final voice that you definitely recognized as Damian’s father. “Come in.”
Damian sat on the edge of a wooden desk. Bruce sat in the desk chair behind the desk. Dick sat on a chair in the corner. Jason stood by Dick’s chair and Tim paced by a bookshelf. The other bat kids must have been out working.
“Hey,” Damian said searching your face and body for injury. He almost looked... vulnerable. His eyes stared at the bandage on your neck.
“Hi,” you said and your voice felt raw and painful. You rubbed your throat.
“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked. Damian quickly got you a chair. You sat down slowly. Your head still throbbed.
“Okay I guess. What happened?” You asked.
“Someone got ahold of a new street drug that uses a certain variety of fear toxin that is fast acting but short term and they atomized it and released it into the tower. They did it through a vent from the top down so you both got the largest dose. Luckily the security guard on the bottom floor only had some anxiety and a racing heartbeat and was able to recognize the situation. Damian’s tracker was activated and we got you both out as fast as we could,” Tim said.
You rubbed your temple. That didn’t sound right. What about the elevator? The man?
“Does your head hurt? We can get you something for that,” Damian said.
“I’m okay. Thanks. How long was I out?” You said trying to put things together.
“12 hours, give or take. You should probably get back in bed until tomorrow. Your mind and body need a break,” Bruce said. You nodded. Your head did hurt and you were tired but you couldn’t relax. There was just something off about everything. Maybe a side effect of the toxin. Damian offered to walk you back into your room.
“I’ll give you some medication to help with your headache. It might make you sleepy, okay?” He said pulling a syringe from a drawer in the room.
“Okay, I guess. My head does hurt,” you said climbing back in bed. Damian smiled and injected your arm.
His face. He smiled widely. Wider than he ever had before. Wide enough to have a gaping blackness. You went to scream but you were too tired. You tried to grab him to find you were tied in place. The manor’s neat clean walls faded to dirty dingy peeling mess and you could smell must and mildew. Your vision blurred.
The sound of a screaming laugh from a pulled back face was the only thing you could hear.
Let me know what you guys think 😀
It’s a part 1 of 2. The second part might be out Friday or next Friday depending on my schedule.
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prompt: If you want, a whump fic idea for Dick where he gets drugged and hallucinates the fam being hurt or attacked?
This is highkey dark, so I’ll trigger warning here for hallucinations of violence, breaking and entering, Joker being his TYPICAL asshole self...
Dick’s standing just outside the manor. He can’t remember how he got there. He can’t actually remember anything. All he knows is there’s a lingering, tight prick of pain on his neck, a small, circular bump that’s hot against his palm as he rubs insistently at it.
He stumbles forward, his legs wobbly, uncoordinated, and he glances down with a loose frown, his torn, frayed suit bottoms swimming in and out of focus. He pats a bare knee, bringing his hand up to find thick, red blood coloring his pale palm. He hums, briefly trying to supply missing pieces in his mind, but he quickly finds that thinking makes his already pounding head want to split into two.
Absently wiping his hand along his side, which weirdly hurts, an inside kind of hurt that confuses him even more, he cranes his neck back up toward the manor, body tensing to alert as a familiar tuft of overly-processed green hair slinks in through the front door.
He makes to rush forward, but he falls instead, dropping hard to his hands and knees. Glancing back, he frowns when he spots dense, dark mud gluing his feet to the ground, mud that he’s sure wasn’t there moments before.
“Shit,” he hisses, twisting around until he’s clawing through the mud that seems to produce faster and thicker the harder he digs. The mud is tight and sharp at his feet, each drag of his hand bringing forth bouts of pain, but he presses forward until a sharp, familiar scream echoes from the manor.
His entire body falls rigid, and he can’t whip around fast enough. His eyes are trembling as he scans for the source, stopping at a window peering through the study. Joker’s got Damian’s arm twisted tightly behind his back, and Damian’s trying to strategically struggle against the grip, but then Dick hears a loud snap, louder than the air that puffs fast from his lungs, and Damian’s dropped to the floor.
“No,” Dick mutters clawing at the ground before him to drag his cement feet forward. He pauses when he hears a window shatter, and he whips his gaze to the sound, finding Tim unconscious and hanging over the edge of the broken window on the second floor, blood dripping like rain drops down to a pool of red at the ground below.
“Tim,” Dick gasps out, panic an iron weight against his lungs. “No, Tim!” He desperately digs his fingers into the mud below him, teeth clenched tightly. He has to...
“Watch and learn, sweet, little Bird!”
Dick’s blood runs cold, his breath squeezed from his lungs at the chilling, teasing voice that carries across the wind. He pushes himself up, head tipping toward the roof to see Bruce dangling over the edge by a tight, pale hand around his neck. Bruce is struggling, both hands wrapped desperately around Joker’s wrist, but Joker appears impossibly unfazed, and he’s laughing.
“Take notes. This is what it looks like to kill.”
Joker lets go, and Bruce’s limp body starts falling, slowly. Everything around him is suddenly too slow, and Dick reaches forward, wishing he could move, wishing...
Bruce jerks awake with a sharp gasp, and the almost immediate sounds of hard, frantic footsteps growing louder and closer tells him something is terribly wrong. He’s swinging his legs over the bed when Alfred throws the door open, eyes wild and worried. “Master Bruce, it’s-”
“Dick!” Tim shouts from downstairs, clashing with the loudly strangled “Richard!” from Damain.
Bruce doesn’t wait for an explanation, he follows Alfred out of the room, moving along a suffocating push of adrenaline until he’s stumbling to a stop out of the front door, his jaw going slack and his mind going frigteningly white hot.
Dick’s on the ground, brusied and bloody, and he’s moving his hands over Damian and Tim as if his life depends on it. He can hear the tremble in his voice, the repeated insistence that the Joker was just here, and that he watched him attack everyone, that he threw Bruce off the roof.
Bruce jumps slightly, whipping to see Alfred at his side, a syringe clasped tightly in his hand. “We’ll have to run blood work, but this antidote should take the edge off. May I?”
Nodding, Bruce finally wills his legs to move, stepping down the front steps with heavy footfalls, Alfred right at his side. He drops to a crouch in front of Dick, reaching forward but afraid his touch won’t bring comfort to Dick’s lost mind.
“B-Bruce? I saw him! You... He... He choked you. Bruce, he’s here.”
“He’s not, chum,” Bruce tries, his heart physically chipping at the loudly evident break in Dick’s voice. “It’s fear toxin. You were hallucinating.”
“No,” Dick growls, reaching forward, supporting himself with one hand wrapped tightly around Bruce’s arm. “He was here. He was... wait.” He whips unsteady eyes around, throat bobbing, entire body shaking. “Where’s Jason?”
“Richard, he’s at his apartment,” Damian tries softly. “Todd doesn’t usually stay here.”
“No... No, no, no! He has Jason! He has Jason again, and we can’t- Bruce! We can’t... Not again!”
“Call Jason,” Bruce growls to Tim, not bothering to hide the fear laced in his tone. “Get him here, now.” He can hear Tim fumbling with his phone, and then Tim’s speaking, voice shaking, small.
“J-Jay? Can you come over here? It’s Dick.”
“Jason!” Dick screams, and Bruce has to wrap both arms around Dick to keep him grounded.
“Stop, B! We have to- Jason!”
“Alfred,” Bruce growls, and Alfred bends down and jabs a syringe into Dick’s neck, pushing down hard until Dick’s frantic shaking and struggling begins to slow.
“Easy, Dick,” Bruce mutters into Dick’s sweat-soaked hair, his arms softening around Dick’s slumping frame. “We’re all here, and you are going to be just fine. I promise.”
Dick hums into his chest, and then his body all but melts against Bruce, his eyes fluttering closed and his breathing evening to slow, steady rises and falls.
“Let’s get him inside.” Bruce stands, lifting Dick with a desperate ease despite Dick’s broad, tall frame. “Alfred, prep medical for bloodwork, and call Leslie. I want a full assessment.”
“Right away, sir.”
Alfred starts off first, and Bruce keeps a slow pace to match with Tim and Damian, the two eerily quiet at either side of him.
“He’ll be fine.” Bruce isn’t sure who he’s really reassuring here, two rattled sons or his own, rapid heart. “He won’t want to see you both so somber when he wakes.”
“Bruce...” Tim starts, worrying his hands. “What do we... I mean... We should do something, right? We have to do something.”
“I agree with Drake, father. We need to track Richard’s movements over the last few hours, pinpoint his coordinates and investigate each location he’s stopped at for more than a minute.”
If Bruce weren’t seconds away from isolating himself to work through a full blown break down, he’d be impressed at Damian’s immediate willingness to agree with Tim; however, the situation at hand is very much real.
“There will be time for that, I promise. Right now our entire focus needs to be on Dick because coming out of fear toxin is-”
“-the equivalent of climbing your way out of a grave after dying,” Jason mutters as he slows his run down to a quick walk up the driveway, bike keys tightly gripped in his hand. “Heavy and confusing, but what would I know?”
Bruce can immediately tell that Jason’s attempting to deflect from his rattled fear, but he can still hear it loud and clear in Jason’s tone, a slight, frayed edge to his voice, one that’s typically reserved for his siblings.
“What happened? Jason questions, ignoring the pained, tired glare from Bruce as he falls into step beside Tim. “Who’s ass are we kicking?”
“No one’s tonight,” Bruce mutters, stepping ahead into the manor but staying close enough to hear his other, three sons.
“Christ, Jay, it was scary.”
Tim’s voice, Bruce notes, finally a little less shaky and more alert.
“We woke up to hear Richard screaming father’s name, and we found him outside. He was.... He thought the Joker broke in and attacked us.”
Damian’s voice, Bruce thinks, is still trembling far too much for his liking, but it’s the single, cracking word that follows that brings his heart to an agreement with his waning adrenaline.
“He would be the one to hallucinate bad things happening to his family. He’s such a softy.”
“Grayson isn’t heartless like you, Todd.”
“Oh, there’s a heart in there, Demon Brat. I just willingly choose to perceive it as nothing but a lumpy organ that keeps me alive.”
“That’s the most absurd thing I think I’ve ever heard from your mouth, Todd.”
“Damn, I must be off my game if that’s all it takes to rattle that tiny brain of yours.”
“Will you two shut the hell up? You’re going to wake him.”
It takes Dick a worryingly long moment to gather that he’s the “him” in question, and that he’s awake. Sort of. His mind is wrapping around the present, but it’s a long process that’s slowed down by fuzzy roadblocks, unhinged snapshots of memories that aren’t quite forming fully.
“Wha..?” He croaks out, eyes flying open at the shouts that follow.
“Easy, idiots! You’ll overwhelm him.”
Dick’s eyes dart around each face, drinking in each sight. He’s not sure why, but he’s desperately relieved to see his family. His eyes linger on Bruce’s face, a need he doesn’t fight, but then panic hits, and he whips his entire head until he finds Jason, alive, not... captured? He thinks; he’s not sure.
“Fear toxin,” Jason supplies quietly, knowing that look all too well. “You saw the Joker.”
Dick’s immediate response is to bark out question after question, his memories flooding through is mind like murky, cold water, but Bruce rakes steady fingers through his hair, easing some of the panic pressing against his ribs.
“There’ll be time to talk, son. But right now, you need rest. You’re concussed, you have three broken ribs, various lacerations, and your ankles and feet are scraped up pretty badly.”
“We’re all fine, Dick,” Jason presses firmly, catching Dick’s clouded eyes.
“And we will still be fine when you wake again.” Damian takes a seat on the edge of Dick’s bed, mindful of the tubes and wires. He places a single, steady hand to Dick’s covered arm, a wordless reassurance that Dick clings to.
“You’ll all still be here?” Dick rasps, throat a dry burn from disuse. He’s bone tired, exhaustion tugging at him from all angles, tethering him to another bout of dreamless sleep.
Tim steps closer just as Dick begins to fade, his arm brushing against Jason’s, and he brings a voice to what’s colored in everyone’s eyes, what’s reflected in the strong, protective postures surrounding Dick’s bed.
“We aren’t going anywhere, Dick.”
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(For the request/ask thing) Duke Thomas and Birds by Imagine Dragons
A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I have SUCH a soft spot for Duke! This is a little short, but I hope you enjoy!
Also, this centers around Duke’s parents, which is a warning in it of itself. Might I suggest tissues.
“In Different Directions”- A Duke Thomas fic.
It was a little after dusk when Duke sat down in that cold, white hallway, his nose filling quickly with the stench of antiseptics. Slowly healing bruises still lined his face from a run in with the Riddler the previous week and his body felt heavy and worn, yearning for a moment of quiet. A moment of life before.
He sagged down in his chair, eyes fixed on the room he was a mere glass panel away from being inside of. Before him, he saw two beds, one on each wall, with a man and a woman tied to them with thick leather restraints. The woman was laying as flat as a corpse, as if she was posed by a taxidermist. The man, however, was craning his neck with violent force toward the door, spewing loud nonsensical growls from his mouth. Duke swallowed, leaning forward and pressing the newly installed microphone button.
“Hi mom. Hi dad.” No reaction. Duke didn’t know if that broke his heart or took a weight off of his shoulders. As badly as he wanted his mother to suddenly spring up from her bed, and his father to quiet down and turn to him, he wasn’t sure if that was worth facing the blind, indiscriminate rage that had wiped out any semblance of tenderness from their eyes.
He noticed then that his hands were shaking. He wanted to pinch himself, like he did every time this happened, but that wasn’t going to make things easier. He’d given up hope of waking up to find his very normal, very caring parents at his door, looking on with concern. That dream had been wounded since his days in the foster care system, but seeing his parents like this time and time again shot it dead.
“I came because I have something to tell you,” He took a deep, steadying breath, casting his eyes down to the metal table, “This is gonna be my last visit for a while.” A sob bubbled up in his throat, but he stifled it, the idea that this was the right decision casting over his doubt. “I have a mentor, now,” he said darkly, “A place to go. I don’t have to move anymore.” He stared at the symbol on his cuff, rubbing it as if to siphon its strength. “Now I have a real shot at helping you. At getting the bastard who did this to you.” He smiled to himself, looking back up at the room.
No change. No response. No progress.
Duke sighed heavily, pressing a kiss to his hand and then to the glass. He let his palm linger there for a moment, a childish sense of need coursing through him. He couldn’t move in that moment, the part of him that was still seven years old and still needed his parents to be here told him to stay, to enjoy it.
But the new side of Duke won out. With a heavy heart and a deep breath, he stepped out of the room, vowing that no matter what he’d find a way to see them, the real them, again.
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